Havan

𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖜 18+| Sinful & Smutty 26🖤 “Its about me. Figuring out what I got to do today that keeps me alive tomorrow.”

[slowburnsins]

Requests Are Open

🐦‍⬛🚬🪦

One-shots:

Scream for me - Gemma is hosting a Halloween party at the clubhouse, but you’ve not heard from Jax all day. Not to mention he hates Halloween and never told you what he’d be going as, so imagine your surprise when someone breaks into your house dressed in a Scream costume

I’ll Make You Regret It - When a rich prick comes up to you at a bonfire making advances, things take a violent turn as Jax gets jealous and you defend yourself

Bloodstained Hands - You try to save Jax’s life

“You Want To Cause A Scene?” - you get jealous and take your frustration out on Jax **MATURE**

Funnel Cakes & Photobooths - you’re at the fair with Jax and he gets jealous **MATURE**

Mini One-Shot Series:

STAY WITH ME (All Parts)- Jax drunkenly confesses his love for you on the night of your bachelorette and things get complicated when you go back to tell your fiancé what happened

Fanfics:

Chasing The Devil

Sons of Anarchy//Jax x OC

Summary: Sam Winston thought she had left Charming and everything in it behind. But after one violent night, there is nowhere left to run. The only place that still feels like home is the one she swore she would never return to.

But back in Charming, nothing is the same. Her brother is caught between confusion and concern, trying to understand why she came back after all these years. The club watches her warily, uncertain what ghosts she might have brought with her. And Jax Teller, the boy she once loved and the man she broke, looks at her like she is both a ghost and a sin he cannot stop chasing.

But secrets have a way of surfacing, and Sam’s past is darker than anyone realizes. As her lies begin to unravel, she is forced to face the truth. She may have come home to outrun her demons, but every step only brought her closer to the devil waiting to collect her debt.

And the devil doesn’t care if you are ready to pay your penance. He’ll reap what is owed

{Rewriting}

Mercy’s Edge

Sons of Anarchy//Jax x OC

Summary: Detective Lorelei Hale has spent her life chasing justice, believing in clear lines between right and wrong but Charming has always been a town of shadows and compromises. She never imagined she would be pulled so deep into them.

Then Jax Teller comes back into her life. The boy she once knew has grown into a man shaped by danger, loyalty, and a world she cannot fully trust. He is not the man in charge yet, but he carries the weight of the club and the streets in a way that makes her question everything she has sworn to uphold.

A series of crimes drags her closer to the Sons of Anarchy than she ever intended. Every investigation forces her to navigate a world where survival often outweighs morality and where loyalty is measured in blood. She begins to realize that in Charming, justice is rarely black and white and mercy is even harder to find.

Every choice has consequences. Every secret threatens to unravel her. And standing on the edge may be the only way to survive.

<<WIP>>Coming Soon

Dividers Credit

[darkmoondarling]

Motorcycles were invented just to sexualize men, and you can't convince me otherwise

[ashilesun]

JAX TELLER + back tattoos

[bloatedandalone04]

The Kitchen Table

Summary: Your morning in bed with Jax gets interrupted by club business, and after a long day spent barely staying in control of himself, he finally gets to pick up where you and he left off, this time on the kitchen table.

Word Count: 3.2k | I do not give consent to having my work republished or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own. | Masterlist

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), swearing, hair pulling, unprotected sex, kinda rough sex, spanking, husband jax bc i just need him okay, enjoy.

Jax had been out all day long with the club, handling business that was more annoying rather than stressful to deal with, like it usually is. 

He’d missed you for the majority of the day, especially since yours and his morning got interrupted earlier. 

Jax had been in the middle of getting his fill of you, starting his day off right with his head buried between your thighs, when he’d gotten a call from Chibs. Apparently there were some issues with the side business they’d been working on, and it needed to be fixed right away so the club didn’t look like they had no idea what they were doing. 

The Sons had a certain reputation, and yes it needed to be upheld, but it couldn’t have waited another half an hour?

Apparently not, so Jax had to leave you before he could make you fall apart on his fingers, tongue and cock, and he had to go deal with it. It took most of the day going back and forth, which was quite irritating since it could’ve been dealt with at a much later time in his opinion, but it was still important either way. 

With that being said, Jax missed you, and he was wound up really fucking tight and wanted to get back home to you and finish what you and he had started in the bedroom this morning. 

He got home just after dinner, his eyes instinctively searching for you as soon as he stepped through the door. When he saw movement in the kitchen, he looked over to see you slightly bent over the table, your hip jutted out as you flipped through the cookbook his mother had let you borrow. 

Jax felt his jeans tighten instantly, his cock twitching with interest as he walked into the kitchen, standing behind you as he held back a groan at what you were wearing. 

A flannel, his flannel that looked massive on you, a pair of panties, and nothing else. The buttons of the flannel were done up just halfway, and he wanted nothing more than to rip it open, bend you over the table, and grab your tits as he fucked you from behind. 

He stepped closer, his hands coming up to grab onto your hips, and he leaned down to kiss your cheek, “Babe,” he greeted, noticing how deep and barely-restrained his voice sounded even to his own ears. 

You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled. “Hi, baby,” you said back, only letting your eyes linger on his for a few more moments before you looked away again and back down at the open book. You flipped through the pages, biting down on your lip and making Jax refrain from bending you over right then and there. “I can’t find the recipe for that chili your mom made the first time I met her. She told me it was in here, but I can’t find it and I wanted to make it for dinner tomorrow.”

Jax listened to you ramble as best as he could, but he really wasn’t paying much attention to what you were saying. His focus was very far away from some old family recipe he’d had countless times before. 

One of his hands left your hip and lifted to your stomach, and he placed his palm firmly against you, pulling your body back against his. He heard the way your breath hitched, your body tensing up just slightly before relaxing again, and he smirked, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck. “I really don’t give a fuck about the chili right now, baby,” he murmured, dragging his teeth along the shell of your ear as his fingers started to pull at the buttons of the flannel. “I’m starvin’ for somethin’ else. Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all goddamn day.” 

He pressed himself closer to you, letting you feel just how true those words are as his cock strained against the zipper of his jeans. “Oh,” you breathed, staying still as you let him undo the buttons on his shirt. “Have you?” you asked, and you were already starting to tease him as you subtly wiggled your ass back against him. 

Jax groaned, cursing under his breath as he pushed his hips forward, grinding against you. “You know I have,” he muttered, “Couldn’t focus on a fuckin’ thing. Kept thinkin’ ‘bout how I left you this mornin’. Didn’t even get to make you cum. That makes me a bad fuckin’ husband.” 

You whimpered softly when he tugged the flannel down your shoulders, the fabric pooling around your elbows and exposing your breasts to his dark, greedy eyes. His hands came up to palm them both, and you pressed your lips together as you shook your head, “You’re not a… bad husband, Jax,” you whispered as his thumbs brushed along your nipples. “You just have… a lot of shit you need to do every day. I don’t blame you for that.”

He grunted against your skin as he leaned in and pressed kisses along your neck and throat, one hand leaving your chest and sliding down your body. “I know you don’t, babe. ‘S why you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasped, slipping one hand inside your panties and covering your core with it. “But I still gotta make it up to you. Don’t like leavin’ you like that at all.”

You moaned, your eyes falling shut as your head tipped back onto his shoulder. “We did get interrupted this morning, didn’t we?” you relented, still teasingly dragging your ass back and forth along the front of his jeans. 

Jax groaned at the reminder, his mouth watering at the thought of picking right back up where you and he left off. “Mm, yeah, we did. Was in the middle of eatin’ my breakfast,” he mumbled, “Was gonna make you cum so hard for me, right on my tongue. Guess I’ll just have to do it now instead.”

His hand gave your breast a firm squeeze, his other hand leaving your core and latching onto your other breast once more. He rocked his hips against your backside, feeling his cock throb inside his jeans as he dipped his head further down and kissed along your jaw. 

“You have no fuckin’ idea how hot you look right now,” he muttered, turning you around to face him, his hands moving to your waist to gently shove you back against the edge of the table. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this fuckin’ body all day.” he added as he ducked his head down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking roughly. 

Another moan left your mouth, and you shut your eyes as his hands moved around your body, giving your ass a rough squeeze. “What have you been thinking about?” you asked, lifting your hands up and tugging at the leather of his kutte. You tugged it away from his body, and he let it fall to the floor before his hands were back on you. 

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this. Thinkin’ ‘bout bendin’ you over and fuckin’ you so good. How wet and tight you are for me,” he grunted, “Could taste you all day, baby. Drove me fuckin’ insane.”

Your eyes opened at that, and you grabbed onto his shoulders as he grabbed onto your hip with one hand, the other one sliding beneath the thin fabric of your panties once more. “That’s what you get for leaving without making me cum,” you said, and Jax huffed out a laugh. 

His fingers became coated in your wetness, and he slowly eased two of his fingers inside you, his teeth dragging along his lower lip as he watched your expression shift at the feeling. “Shit, you’re so wet for me. Been waitin’ for me, huh?” he said under his breath, watching the way you eagerly nodded. 

Jax hummed, dragging his fingers along your walls before pulling them back out, and he lifted them to his mouth, cleaning them of your arousal. He watched the way your eyes flickered down to his mouth, your face flushing as he sucked on his fingers, and your grip on his shoulders tightened just slightly. 

He reached down and yanked your panties down your legs, tossing them behind him before he lifted you up onto the table, spreading your thighs wide. Jax dropped to his knees before you, guiding your legs over his shoulders and pulling you close to the edge of the table. “Gonna finish what I started,” he said, hearing the way your breath hitched before he leaned in and licked between your folds, collecting your wetness like he’d been craving all day. 

Your hands braced behind you on the table, your head tipping back as soon as his mouth was on you. “Jax,” you whined as he picked right back up where he’d left off this morning. “Needed you so badly.”

Jax looked up at you, and the sight had his cock throbbing even more. You were leaning back on the table, his flannel around your elbows and exposing your tits, and God, you looked like every single wet dream he’s ever fucking had. 

He was starving for you, and that much was obvious from the way he buried his face in your pussy, his tongue licking and lapping at you with even more desperation than it was this morning. “Needed this too,” he muttered, finally tearing his gaze off your face. His nose bumped against your clit as he dove back in, his hands holding onto your hips to keep you in place when you started bucking against his mouth. 

His tongue slid inside of you, creating a wet, sticky mess between your thighs, but that was how he liked it. He liked when you made a mess of him, too. 

A sharp gasp left your lips, your hands grabbing onto his hair as you pushed against his hands, bucking against his face once again. “Jax, please,” you begged, already reduced to how he’d gotten you earlier, but this time he had no plans on stopping, and he was not allowing himself to be interrupted again. 

His hands wrapped under your thighs, bringing you closer and making your fingers cling onto his hair tighter as you almost lost your balance. Jax huffed out a laugh, pulling away from you with wet lips, “It’s alright, babe. I ain’t gonna let you fall,” he mumbled deeply, the corners of his lips turning upwards. “Least not like that.”

You rolled your eyes at that, digging your heel into his upper back, trying to not so subtly pull him back in. “You’re funny,” you said under your breath, “But I don’t feel like laughing right now, so keep going.”

Jax let out a deep laugh, shaking his head even as he moved back towards you. “Bossy,” he muttered, holding onto your thighs with a firm grip. 

“You married me,” you pointed out, your thighs shaking a bit as he leaned in and dragged his tongue along you once more. 

He hummed, “Best decision of my life,” he said, giving you a much softer grin before he was all over you again. 

His tongue dragged up and down your folds, feeling the way your thighs trembled even more at either side of his head, and then he was sucking your clit into his mouth. Your body jolted, your nails scratching along his scalp as you ripped one hand away from his head, reaching behind you to grab onto the edge of the table instead. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, closing your eyes again as your head fell back. Your chest pushed forward as your back arched, and Jax looked up at you through hooded eyes, his tongue moving between your clit and your opening over and over again until he got you there - right where he wanted you. 

A loud, dragged out moan left your lips as you came, your legs trying to close around his head but he didn’t stop, instead working you through it as you gasped at the sensitivity. Jax lapped at your core, licking and sucking and kissing all over until you slumped back on the table, your body still tense as your stomach quivered. 

“There you go, that’s it. Tastes so fuckin’ good, baby,” he murmured, turning his head and nuzzling his nose along your inner thigh before placing one final, open mouthed kiss there. He pulled back and stood up, shamelessly licking at his wet lips as he reached down and undid his belt, then unzipped his jeans. 

He stepped closer to you, reaching down to grab your hand with one of his, gently pulling you back up so you were sitting. His other hand slid up your back before tangling in your hair, and he tilted your head back before leaning down and kissing you deeply, sharing your taste with you. 

Just as you were starting to deepen the kiss even more, Jax pulled away, his hands moving down to your hips. He lifted you from the table, then turned you around and bent you over it, one hand on your back guiding you lower until your chest was pressed against the surface. 

He pushed down his jeans and boxers, freeing his cock that nearly ached at the relief of escaping the tightness of his boxers. He grasped himself in one hand, guiding the head of his cock to rub up and down your puffy folds, and a slow, smug smirk formed on his face as you whimpered. 

“Jax,” you begged, “Please.”

His smirk only grew as he leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. “It’s okay, baby,” he teased, “You don’t gotta beg me. Not tonight.”

You huffed out a breath of air at that, only to quickly inhale it back in when he pushed the first couple of inches of his cock inside you, your hands instantly moving to grab onto the edge of the table. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped as he pushed all the way in, his hips pressed right up against your ass. 

“Shit,” Jax grunted, pushing the flannel up around your waist so he could grab onto your bare hips. He looked down as he slowly pulled out, watching the way your tight walls stretched around him to be able to take all of him, then he pushed back in a little faster than before. “This is what you needed, isn’t it, baby? To be fucked just like this.” he muttered harshly, fucking into you a little faster as his cock became completely coated in your wetness. 

You whined, nodding all too eagerly, “Yes. Fuck… yes,”

Jax let out a short laugh, one hand moving from your hip and sliding down to grab onto your ass. “Feels so good, baby. Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he praised, rolling his hips forward and watching the way you took him with each thrust. “Fuck. I needed this too.”

You moaned loudly, your hips hitting the edge of the table every time he fucked back into you. “Oh, my God,” you whined, your upper body pressing against the cool surface of the table with every thrust of his hips. 

He leaned over you, his left hand grabbing onto the edge of the table next to yours as he started to fuck you a little harder than before. His hips hit your ass over and over again, his other hand sliding into your hair and tugging your head back a bit. “So fuckin’ good… fuck,” he grunted, holding your body in place with his own as he pressed you down against the table. 

A choked moan left your mouth, your sounds filling the kitchen as he fucked you exactly like how he wanted to before. The few objects still on the table shifted every time he bottomed out inside of you, the cookbook you’d been flipping through dangerously close to falling off completely, but neither of you cared. He was sure Gemma would give him shit for a few bent pages, but he didn’t give a shit about that either. 

“Yes, oh, my God, yes. Fuck, don’t stop, baby,” you cried out, tightening your grip on the table.

Jax grunted, your sounds only fueling his movements and making his cock throb deep inside of you. He let go of your hair, dragging his hand down your back until he reached your ass, and he pushed the flannel up once again since it had slipped back down. He gave you a firm squeeze before giving you a sharp smack, feeling the way you clenched around him as your skin burned. 

“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, grabbing onto your waist with a tight grip as he pulled you back against him now with every thrust. “C’mon, babe, squeeze that cock. Cum on my dick like I know you want to.”

You whined loudly, squeezing your eyes shut at the same time your core squeezed his cock, instantly obliging to his request. Your body started to shake, your hands trembling from where they held the table in a death grip as you came with a long, needy cry. 

Jax groaned deeply, his eyes locked onto where you and he were connected as his cock became even wetter, even warmer from your release. “That’s my girl,” he rasped, slowing down just slightly as he felt his cock twitch inside you. He came only seconds later, his chest heaving as he filled you with his cum until some of it started to leak out around him. “Shit. So fuckin’ good.”

He leaned over you, covering your back with his chest as you went limp on the table, thoroughly fucked out. Jax kissed along your bare shoulder, one hand sliding under you until he reached your throat, and he turned your head, guiding your mouth into a deep kiss. 

You moaned weakly against his lips, kissing him a little desperately before he pulled away, his lips as puffy and kiss swollen as yours are. He slowly pulled out of you, pressing his lips together as he watched a few beads of cum drip out along with his cock. 

The sight had one corner of his mouth turning upwards as he helped you stand up straight. Your legs were still shaking as he turned your body around and pulled you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “You good?” he asked, unable to stop the teasing and smugness from seeping into his tone. 

You nodded, burying your face in his shirt as your hands grabbed at his back, your body still trembling with the aftershocks. “That definitely made up for this morning,” you said once you were finally able to find your voice and speak again. 

Jax let out a deep laugh, one hand cradling the back of your head as he brushed a soft kiss along your temple. “I’ll make it up to you even more tomorrow mornin’, with no interruptions,” he said, pulling his flannel back up your body so you were properly wearing it again. He pulled back with a smirk, “Told the guys no more callin’ me at nine in the mornin’ unless it’s a real emergency.” 

You lifted a brow, watching as he pulled his boxers and jeans back up, but left them unzipped. “What, today wasn’t a real emergency?” you asked, taking his hand when he offered it to you. 

He pulled you with him towards the bedroom, keeping his other hand planted firmly on your ass as his front pressed against your back. “Not nearly important enough to be interrupted for,” he answered, his smirk softening when you let out a laugh.

-

Dedicated to @hunnamandhoney because you mentioned in a reblog of a gif set of a shirtless Jax sitting at his kitchen table and of him wearing a flannel, and you said you wanted to be bent over that table while wearing his flannel, and it’s been in my head ever since. So. Thank you and I hope you enjoy x

Apologies for being MIA. Just went through something really hard and had no motivation, and the only form of outlet I had was this, so I guess I’m like Jax in that way loooool.

Tags: @baleyszrian @devilslittlehelper @buckyslilalpine @meet-mr-mayhem @kimxwinchester @stevie75 @tellersgal

[hunnamandhoney]

BABES YOU STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!!! 🥹😭🥰

I’m just about to shut my peepers and dream of Jax 😴 but I already cant wait to wake up and read this! 🤗

[bloated04sreblogs]

Hope you had an amazing, Jax filled night of sleep 🫠❤️ (Lucky you).

He’ll still be waiting right here for you when you wake up 😏

[hunnamandhoney]

😭😭 the dedication alone had me grinning before I even started reading!

you absolutely nailed established Jax. the mix of domesticity and obsession is one of my favorite things. 🔥🖤

“Been thinkin’ ’bout this. Thinkin’ ’bout bendin’ you over and fuckin’ you so good. How wet and tight you are for me,” he grunted. “Could taste you all day, baby. Drove me fuckin’ insane.”

thank you for indulging my brain rot and turning one random comment into such a delicious fic!!! I love it and I feel so spoiled! 🥹💜

literally me after getting railed on that table 🫠

[secretlysamcro]

Jax Teller x Reader | toxic exes who fight & fuck with equal amounts of passion | drunk reader & jax | unprotected ROUGH (to some) smut | mention of blood | explicit & violent language | implied adultery | violence but in the name of passion | jealousy | 18+ MDNI

୨ৎ tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed) : @sweetiekayy @christianzior @tragicallysamcro @mylifeisanoxymoron21 @bellaxgiornata @hunnamandhoney @daryldixonswifesworld @primadonnasdream @desperate-and-broken @mylifeisanoxymoron21 @mayanqueenxx @ibeliveinunicornsandmagic @cinblogs @rideandruin @g0rewyrm @magic-sprinkled-daydreams @stevie75 @jaxtellerpls @deesh-e @mermaidlover006 @leighla3 @venusesworld @etclouie @thiccemochic

“It’s been what…” he looks at his watch like the cocky fucker he’s always been. “Nearly two hours since you got here and you still haven’t found your way to come say hello…that’s pretty mean darlin’”

“That’s cause I’m not here for you” I reply with a smile dipped in venom, “I’m here for my brother” I take the drink Cherry slides across the bar, never breaking eye contact with Jax.

“Yeah?” He chuckles, shifting until he’s even closer to me. “Pretty sure you use that line every fuckin’ time you walk in here”

“Life’s not all about you Jackson”

“You sure about that darlin’?” He lets out a quite laugh scratching his beard “what are we at now? three…four years?”

“Yeah well…shits changed. I’m with someone”

“Mmmm, right…” he nods, “...and weren’t you with someone the last two times we did this?” That anticipated mischief glimmers at the tip of his tongue as he swipes it knowingly across his bottom lip. The beautiful bastard.

“Nah, I’m being foreal this time. It's serious...and I really like him” the lie immediately tastes sour on my tongue. There isn’t someone new. Never has been, I’m just trying my hardest not to let myself get dragged back into this toxic fucking mess.

His eyes flick over mine, “is that so?” His cocky facade slips for just a second, so quick I’m sure I fucking imagined it. But then I catch the twitch in his jaw, the one that only makes an appearance when he’s pissed at something, or trying hard not to be.

“Good for you” he drains the rest of his beer in one quick swig, setting the bottle down on the bar with a loud clang before turning and strolling out of the clubhouse doors without another fucking word.

“Love you too loser” I laugh, wrapping my arms around my older brother as the alcohol begins to hum through my veins. He smells like gin and a badly baked birthday cake as he leans in, placing a sloppy kiss to my cheek, smearing left over cake crumbs across my skin.

“Ew. Stop, get off me” I wriggle from him as we break into that uncomfortable burst of laughter like we’re 12 again, and not two grown adults standing in the middle of the samcro clubhouse.

My eyes wonder mid laugh to the back of the room, and I wish they fucking didn’t. Jax is tucked away in one of the corner booths, one arm slung across the back of the seat, and the other stroking that skanks hair. Ima, fucking hate that slut. Her fingers trace lazy shapes over the denim covering his inner thigh, and he’s fucking letting her do it.

His drunken eyes find mine the exact moment I notice her hand edge even closer to his zipper. The asshole doesn’t look away, no he holds the eye contact like he wants me to react. Don’t do it. Don’t. Do. It.

“Not on my birthday y/n” Juice mutters, his hands firm on my shoulder, facing me away from the beauty and the beast, Ima, being the beast. “You two pulled this shit last year”

“Dunno what you’re talking about”

My brother scoffs, always so dramatic. “Really?” He gestures across the room with his half finished bottle. “You two ever gonna admit you still love each other? Shits exhausting”

“Shut up asshole. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re talking about”

He laughs stepping back with both hands raised. “Shits old now, y/n” he raises his voice the further he gets away “move on with your life…or just fucking tell him” I just about hear him over the music.

I turn back to face Jax, I’m not backing down. Our eyes lock again instantly, probably cause he never took them off of me. Ima’s now tucked into the crook of his neck with her hand still resting too fucking comfortably on him. And Jax? He just looks at me like I’m spoiling his fun.

“How much do you really like him?” He mouths the fucking words. The cocky, arrogant fucking asshole, I swear to god I hate him.

The alcohol that was once humming through me, is now fucking fuming. My feet move without thought, weaving through bodies and tables. I walk straight past them at the booth, my brothers voice calling my name somewhere behind me. I don’t stop though, don’t even turn around, making my way into the hallway, the quietness like a breath of fresh air. The music fades behind me as I pass JT’s bike and head straight into Jax’s dorm. I slam the door shut - harder than I meant to, but fuck it - the smell of him hits me immediately and it only makes me even more pissed. I’m unsteady on my feet now, the drunk me here to stay. My hands sweep across the top of his drawers in one swift motion, sending everything scattered on top crashing to the floor. The sound of it all hitting the worn carpet, and breaking the lonely silence forcing a laugh out of me.

“The fuck are you doing!” His voice hits the room before he’s even stepped fully inside.

I don’t turn straight away, I stand in the same spot with my back to the door, eyes scanning over the mess I’ve made of his things, my chest still tight with rage. Then, to make matters worse, I hear her fucking voice. That high pitched whiny fucking voice.

“Whys she done that Jax?”

I finally turn to see him standing in the doorway, blocking most of it with his broad shoulders and eyes displaying pure fucking thunder. And behind him, like a lost fucking puppy, stands Ima. She opens her mouth again, fixing to say some more dumb shit but I don’t even give her the chance.

I lunge forward, raising my hand in the air, his hands shoot out clamping around my waist attempting to move me out of arms way. “y/n don’t-” too fucking late.

My hand meets her face nice and sharp. Jax shoves me back hard enough that I stumble straight onto the bed behind me, and at the same time he’s already turning back to Ima. She has one hand against my handprint and the other outstretched towards Jax, as if he's her saving grace. Like I knew he would, he shoves her hand away, pushing her back into the hallway and slamming the door shut in her face. And I’m sure I hear the lock catch.

“Why’d you always do this?” I demand, pushing myself upright on the bed.

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at me. Instead, he crouches down silently, beginning to gather all of his things I'd thrown across the room. One by one he places them all back where they belong, acting as if I’m not even there.

“I’m talking to you”

Him ignoring me, feels like pouring petrol onto an open fucking fire. I know I probably look like a complete bitch right now, and maybe I am. But I swear to god there isn’t another person on this planet that gets under my skin as much as Jax Teller does. He makes me fucking insane.

I reach back, grabbing the nearest pillow and launch it at him. It knocks straight into the side of his head before dropping to the floor. He freezes. Then his shoulders rise slowly as he takes in the deepest of breaths. Fuck. There goes that twitchy jaw again, I follow his movements as he bends picking the pillow up and places it back on the bed with so much fucking restraint, which pisses me off so much fucking more. Then I watch as he trails around, removing his blade, his gun, then throwing his kutte onto the lone chair in the corner of the room. I push myself off the bed, slamming each hand down beside me “I fucking ha-”

“YOU HATE ME?” he finally cracks. “YOU HATE ME SO MUCH YOU COULDN’T STAND TO SEE SOMEONE ELSE NEXT TO ME AND HAD TO COME IN HERE AND FUCK UP MY SHIT?” He’s already got me pushed up against the back of the door, calloused hands framing my face.

“Fuck you” my lips barely move around the words.

“Fuck me?” He laughs like a maniac, letting go of my face and taking a step back. “Yeah that’s what you fuckin’ want isn’t it?” He punches an inch away from my face, splitting the faded poster of some random porn whore in two.

“You’re so full of shit Jackson” I scoff, peeling myself away from the door, my eyes rolling at the smear of blood he’s left behind.

“Yeah?” He lets out a laugh so bitter. “And you’re usually full of me right about now, but you’re actin’ brand new cause you got another man…again” he shakes his head like he’s disappointed in me. “Didn’t stop you needin’ me before though, did it?”

“I never needed anything from you” I spit, shoving him in his chest, the VP patch rough against my palm.

He storms straight at me with enough force that I stumble back a little but I plant my feet firm before he can knock me any further. “I almost believed you y/n…” the tip of his nose now touching mine. “…almost” he sighs, gathering himself to his usual height. “But it’s what we do right? Fuck and then run away from each other…you’re angry for a reason can’t you fuckin’ see that?”

My fists are clenched, nails denting little crescents into my flesh. “And what reason do you think that is you prick?”

His eyes move over my entire being so fucking slow. “Lover boy ain’t doin’ it right?” He taunts, that cruel fucking smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You missin’ somethin’ real?” He grabs himself through the denim, daring me to deny it. I almost moan at the sight of his cock becoming hard underneath the fabric. “So what, we gonna do this for the rest of our lives huh, sneakin’ and duckin’...fuckin’ on the low?”

“I-” he moves in closer again, stopping the words in my throat. He runs a bloodied hand across my cheek, marking me with his DNA.

“Why don’t you take what you want from me…take what you need from me” a faint tremor of his chin betrays him. “Take what you want… and go”

I give it to him, he’s fucking good. But I know him well, too fucking well. Him telling me to “go” is a load of bullshit, but if he wants to play that game…again, then fuck it I’m bout to join in.

I push at him, and this time the back of his knees buckle against the bed until he’s lying flat on his back, the mattress moulds to the shape of my knees as I climb over him like I’ve done a thousand times after saying I never would again. He grabs my face hard between his thumb and finger, pulling me down forcing my lips against his. Fuck, I’ve missed him. “I knew you couldn’t resist” he mumbles between our lips as I cherish the scent of his breath.

I break away, sitting up and hovering a lil above him as I begin to fumble with his belt buckle. “Always hated this fucking thing” I snap with frustration.

Jax hoists his hips up in response, knocking me off balance and dragging every piece of clothing he has off, waiting for me to do the same. When I do, he rolls on top of me, the weight of him presses me deep into the mattress, both of his hands pin mine above my head as he leaves wet, open mouthed kisses against my neck, the tip of his cock solid hard against my inner thigh.

“Fuck” I breathe, using my teeth to clamp my mouth shut again, not wanting to give him the fucking satisfaction of knowing how good he always makes me feel.

“What was that, huh baby?” He teases, cock twitching against my hole, silently asking for permission. He knows he doesn’t need it, he never fucking does.

“Shut the fuck up before I change my fucking…” my words dissolve into a moan as he thrusts every inch he has to give into me, stealing the rest of my sentence. My hands fly to his biceps, holding on tightly as I take pleasure in watching his face contort with euphoria.

“F…fuck baby” he moans, holding himself up on his palms, the chain around his neck dangling between us, hypnotising the fuck out of me. He lets out a shaky breath before our eyes meet again, “you were really gonna keep all this from me?”

“This is…the last…fucking time, Jackson” I pant, arching my hips off the bed as he hits that exact spot I fucking need him to. That dull ache, flickering in the pit of my stomach like an old lightbulb coming back to life, threatening to give out but flaring back again at the last second. And he knows all about that spot, he’s the only fucker who ever has. He moves himself to his forearms, angling himself until he lands just right again, and again, and again.

He keeps fucking into me like it’s the last fucking time. Maybe he thinks it will be, maybe it actually will be, but none of that matters, not right now, not in this moment.

He drags me up and towards him as we switch positions, the bed creaking beneath us. My body moves in perfect time with his, this dance we’ve done a hundred times before. Then I’m above him, sliding down gracefully onto his cock, like a queen to a throne.

He pulls me forward, locking one arm against my ass and his other grabbing at the back of my neck, dragging me in so close to his face he could probably inhale me if he tried. “When are you gonna get it through that…” his voice deepens, as he drives into me, punctuating each syllable. “Thick…” thrust. "Fucking..." thrust. “Skull…” thrust. “Of…” thrust. “Yours…” thrust. “…that nobody will ever fuck you like I do”

He lets go of me, and I rush to rise above him again. The slap that lands across his sweat glistened cheek is brutal, and I’m fucking proud if I must admit. His head snaps to the side, his perfect blonde locks spilling with the force of it, he exhales deeply through his teeth, eyebrows raising in surprise. Blood begins leaking from the corners of his mouth but he drags that talented tongue along slowly, tasting the aftermath.

“I was waitin’ for this part sweetheart” that sickly sweet grin creeps back into his face, teeth stained all red and eyes shimmering with delight, like I’ve given him exactly what he wanted. He pulls his hand back and lands the hottest slap against my ass before throwing me off him and forcing my face into the mattress, pushing my lower back down so I’m arched in his most favourite way, and slides in all the way home.

The moans I’m letting out need their own exorcism, fuck knows what the other guys are thinking if they can hear me. Shit, my brother. My arms stretch out in front of me, fingers digging into the linen sheets. One thing about Jax though, he doesn’t like to play fair. Not at all, he catches my arms, pinning them behind me with one hand, while he leans over me, the other smushing the back of my head deeper into the mattress. I’m fucking helpless, I can’t move and my screams are being swallowed, but it’s just how I like it. How we both like it.

His grip relaxes against the back of my head, before slowly wandering the length of my spine with his rough to the touch fingertips, tracing every dip and curve of my back as he presses his weight into me once more, reaching beneath me to manoeuvre his fingers through my folds with all the slickness he’s helped to create. “Fuck y/n” he grunts the words, “always so fuckin’ wet for me baby, you know that’s how I like it don’t you?”

“Yea-”

“Did I say you could talk yet baby girl?” He splays two fingers wide then clamps them both around my clit. “Matter of fact, I must not be fuckin’ you hard enough if you can still talk” I wince in pleasurable pain.

“You came here for your brother…” his hands trail lower, fingers ghosting against his own dick as he slides in and out of me. “But did you really think you’d leave here tonight without coming for me?”

I rise from my arched position, Jax still throbbing inside me as he holds me for balance. “Please…” I grind impatiently against him, I don’t care how pathetic I sound right now. “…make me cum Jackson… please” my breath catches in my throat as I struggle to keep still under his grasp.

I feel his wicked smile grow against the skin of my neck, as he kneads my tits, the flesh spilling out of his hands. “You still on the pill?” he rumbles, I just about manage an incoherent yes.

“Good.” He grunts, “cause if this is the last time…which I doubt it is, I’m fillin’ you up so god damn much you’ll be leakin’ me for weeks”

© GIFs & photos used are NOT my own, all sources & found on Pinterest, Tenor & Giphy. Credit to all original owners. | dividers by @/honeyluvsw | bow divider by me - please feel free to use x

xoxo secretlysamcro

the jax & y/n playlist | main jax teller masterlist (requests closed)

[calmwitch-deactivated20170102]

im so bad at maintaining online friendships!! im sorry to everyone i’ve had a lovely chat with but havent followed up with!! im a very isolating person and i still consider you my friend i promise !!!

[j4xteller]

My belovedddd.👀🌸

[bellaxgiornata]

No Chance in Hell 2:| Wasting Your Breath

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!fitness instructor!Reader Word Count: 4.8k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings: 18+; gym rat!Reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, sexual tension, forced proximity, smut, arrogant Jax, canon typical violence

a/n: I'm going on a long weekend trip after tomorrow and wanted to give y'all another part before I left. All feedback (reblogs/comments/likes) is very appreciated!

Series tag list: @kmc1989 @lycanbeks92 @catswonderland @magic-sprinkled-daydreams @shiggynuggiez @rayray0171 @stevie75 @deesh-e @chloe-skywalker @kylorensbaby @themusingofagothicsoul @lanadelrey10 @dugiioh @latinakitty17 @persephone-in-the-reeds

[if anyone else would like to be added to the tag list let me know!]

“He's not–that bad,” Juice panted, forearms shaking as he struggled to hold the plank. “Really.”

Leaning your shoulder against the black brick wall of Iron Pulse, you stared down at Juice as he held the pose atop a blue yoga mat. Beads of sweat glistened along his brow under the fluorescent gym lights, and a tremble began advancing from his upper body and down to his legs. He still had two more of these one minute sets left to complete after this one, but he was already worn from the brutal arm and chest day that you'd thrown him through this morning, which was apparent in how out of breath he sounded.

One of your brows arched skeptically onto your forehead at his defense of Jax, not entirely certain how you’d both landed on the topic. Teller wasn’t someone you cared to place any level of thought on for any duration of time. You preferred to pretend he didn’t exist.

“Of course you're going to say that,” you flatly replied. “You willingly chose to follow whatever brainwash slop that club fed you.”

“Not–brainwash slop,” he disagreed, breathless. “It's a–brotherhood. Like family.”

“Seems more like a cult,” you countered.

Juice's head tilted just enough so that he could peer up at you from the plank he was holding on the mat, disapproval etched into the lines around his eyes. You simply shrugged a shoulder in response, not caring what he thought about your opinion of his president or his club. Your attention shifted across the gym and landed on the large digital clock mounted on the wall, monitoring the bit of time remaining as Juice held his plank. The last ten seconds of his first set ticked by slowly while he continued watching you, but you ignored the staring.

“Time,” you eventually called, glancing back down at him. “Two minute rest before the next set.”

He collapsed onto his stomach with a heavy thump, his eyes falling shut as he laid there on the yoga mat breathing heavily. Your attention wandered around the gym as you let Juice catch his breath, taking in the few others that were already here this morning. 

You recognized the usual morning crowd. It generally consisted of older folks who came to get in their light workout walking along the treadmills to start off their day. Things didn’t usually pick up at Iron Pulse until most people finished work around four in the afternoon, and you weren’t here much longer after that, never wanting to work the later hours with how busy the clubhouse across the street became at night. It made you uncomfortable.

“You spend too much time listening to the town gossip.”

At the sound of Juice’s somewhat recovered voice, you focused back down on him. He was still lying flat on his stomach along the blue mat with his eyes closed, sweat trickling down his temple now. Lips twisting into a frown, you realized today wouldn’t just be friendly discussions and jokes as you finished his session, because apparently he was intent on addressing the leather-clad elephant in the room.

“It’s not all true,” Juice finished.

“Maybe not,” you conceded. “But I’ve had the displeasure of encountering Teller on more than one occasion in the time I’ve been working here. He’s a crude, infuriating asshole and you will never change my mind about him.”

Juice opened one eye, peering up at you from the mat. You shot him a look which clearly stated I-am-digging-my-heels-in-on-this. You’d never once had a normal, friendly interaction with Jax. He’d always been rude and excruciatingly inappropriate if he wasn’t downright insulting. You doubted you’d ever cross paths with a more vile human than Jax Teller.

“He’s only like that ‘cause you insulted him,” Juice told you.

Taken by surprise, your mouth fell open in disbelief at the accusation. He made it sound as if Jax’s treatment of you was entirely your fault. You stood there leaning against the wall with your mouth agape, a stunned noise sneaking out of you as you waited for him to walk back what he’d just said. When he didn’t, a nearly hysterical laugh broke through the tension before a sardonic smile ripped itself across your lips.

“Are you serious?” you shot back. “You really think this is my fault? Because I what? Stood up for myself when he made those crass comments about my body and openly propositioned me for sex? Which need I remind you–he shouted everything across the street at me. And that was before someone else started making some rather disgusting observations about my ass.”

Juice’s face drew tight into a wince, the corner of his lips dipping to the side as he propped himself up on one arm. “Okay, yeah,” he replied slowly. “That wasn’t exactly his best moment. And well, I got no excuse for Tig sayin’ the shit he did. But you called Jax some pretty colorful things in return. And I mean he’s…” He trailed off, tipping his head from side to side as he searched for the words. “Well, y’know, not exactly someone you talk to like that without repercussions. He’s the Sons’ president.”

“Wow,” you sarcastically replied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well excuse the ever loving fuck out of me for not bowing down to Charming’s white trash royalty because he wants to fuck me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Juice argued back. “I just meant that he’s got a reputation to maintain. You sayin’ that shit publicly makes him look bad. He can’t just have you talkin’ shit to his face, y’know?”

“No,” you snapped. “I don’t know. Being some biker president doesn’t excuse the shit he said to me that first time, or all those months of him intentionally seeking me out just to harass me. Stop wasting your breath trying to paint him differently, Juice. Teller is a misogynistic scumbag. He’s repulsive and I want nothing to do with him.” 

Juice ran a hand across his sweaty forehead as you scowled down at him, your mood now soured by this entire discussion and it wasn’t even ten in the morning. It didn’t matter what Juice said to you, you would never change your opinion about Teller. He’d done too much damage for you to ever believe there was something redeemable about him. 

“I just think you need to give him a chance. Get to actually know him before you pass judgement,” Juice diplomatically tried again. “And not just him. The Sons aren’t that bad, either.”

Your tongue poked into your cheek as you fixed him with a pointed look, brows slightly raising onto your forehead. He’d gotten a membership here barely two weeks ago, but he’d worked things out with you and the other gym employees so that he could enter and exit through the back door instead of using the front entrance. Juice claimed it was due to the animosity between the Sons and the Iron Pulse employees, saying that he wanted to keep it quiet that he’d started coming here, not wanting to spark more issues between his club and the gym across from it.

“Is that why you need to hide where you go to work out from them?” you questioned, tipping your head condescendingly to the side. If he was going to make you think about Jax far more than you’d wanted to at the start of your day, you weren’t going to go easy on him. “Because they’re not that bad? Because they’re such good, nice, upstanding guys? Guys who wouldn’t care about where you choose to go in your free time?”

Juice released an exaggerated huff as he rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll stop hiding it,” he relented. He gestured a hand across the gym, waving it at the propped open front door behind him. “I’ll leave through the front like everyone else today. No more hiding where I go in the mornings. Happy?”

“Congratulations, it only took you nearly two weeks to stop hiding from your club,” you deadpanned. 

Gaze shifting back to the clock on the wall across the gym, you noticed his two minutes of rest time were finished. Grateful to give Juice a reason to stop talking about the Sons and focus back on why he was actually here, you crossed your ankles and stubbornly set your jaw. 

“Begin the next set,” you ordered. “Another front plank. Hold it for a minute.” Still feeling embittered by the entire discussion he’d dragged you into, you added, “Then you’ve got a final set and stretches before you can exit out of the front door to a round of applause from me.”

With a heavy sigh, Juice rolled back over onto his front along the mat before pushing himself back into a plank. “For someone who hates him so much,” he muttered under his breath, “you sure sound just like him.”

By the time your shift had ended at Iron Pulse, your mood hadn’t improved much. Juice’s comments had plagued you throughout the day, which unfortunately kept Teller lingering in the back of your mind like a terrible headache you couldn’t shake. It didn’t help that you’d had to deal with multiple gym members refusing to put their weights away and wipe down their machines after they’d used them, so your mood had only worsened when you’d finally gotten to your own workout.

You’d felt it during your entire routine–you were off today. It was a struggle to get through your usual chest workouts, fighting just to push yourself to complete each exercise. It was as if the plates had somehow become exponentially heavier on purpose solely to make you even more bitter. Because you hated feeling weak. That usually only happened during your period weeks, and that was irritating enough, you didn’t need to be thrown off your game when you weren’t even menstruating. 

But your bad day was finally over. Now you'd get to go home, and you were looking forward to briefly washing up in the shower, cleaning away the stench of sweat and gym which clung to you like a second skin. The warm water would ease your tense, sore muscles as you relaxed beneath the shower spray, letting all the negative things from today flow down the drain. Afterwards, you planned to make pasta for dinner, which you were excited to devour with how ravenous your workout had left you.

So the absolute last thing you'd wanted was to see the odd, uneven tip of the back end of your Toyota as you approached it. The repetitive buzz and whir of tools over at the Sons’ garage drifted across the street, carried towards you on the late afternoon breeze as you came to a stop by the trunk of your car. You took one look at the awkward slant of your Toyota before the black gym bag hanging on your shoulder slid down your arm and collapsed onto the sidewalk beside your feet with a solid thunk. 

The back right tire of your car was entirely flat, and it now sat dangerously close to the rim. The rubber of the tire looked as if it had melted into the asphalt in the heat of the day, and your shoulders sagged miserably at the realization that you’d most likely need a new one. 

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Eyes snapping shut, you fought down the sting of frustrated tears that abruptly sprung forward. Pressing the palms of both your hands against your closed eyelids, you sucked in a deep breath and held it, trying to calm yourself down so you could think. You knew that there was a spare tire in the trunk of your car, and you theoretically knew how to swap them out. You could change it yourself, though you questioned your ability to accomplish the task before one of the guys over at Teller-Morrow Automotive noticed you and probably came to bother you. 

They were also the only mechanic shop in Charming. The next closest was probably thirty miles away from the small town. Could you manage to drive that far on a spare tire? You’d never driven on one before, yet it seemed do-able. But it was getting late and you doubted a garage would be open too much longer tonight, which meant that your car wouldn’t get fixed until tomorrow, leaving you stuck trying to find a way back to Charming without your Toyota. Paying for a ride would only add to the cost of just getting the flat fixed, and that was already going to be pricey–you didn’t make a fortune as a trainer.

How had this even happened? You’d driven here without issue earlier this morning, and your car had been parked on the street all day. You hadn’t driven it since you’d arrived at work. Had there been a slow leak that’d been steadily deflating while you’d been at the gym?

“Why today?” you groaned, hands scrubbing down your face. “Why this?”

“I see you’ve already found the flat, Peaches.”

That irritatingly familiar voice had you tense instantly, your face still buried in your hands. The unmistakable lilt of arrogance and amusement grated on your nerves, darkening an already bleak day. Your tongue pressed against the back of your teeth as your back straightened, anger already igniting in your chest. You were not in the mood to have an argument with him. 

Your hands slowly slid down your face and fell to your sides as you looked over, your eyes easily finding him. Teller swaggered across the street towards you, the corner of his lips quirked into a wide grin. His eyes ran over you twice, gaze lingering along your ass and your chest before they drifted over to the flat tire you were currently lamenting. 

“Looks pretty done to me,” he commented. He pointed a grease-stained finger at the tire as he added, “You’re gonna need a new one.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you ground out.

He glanced back at you, eyes alight as he openly reveled in your misfortune. “Relax, darlin’. I came over here to help.” He paused, the corners of his lips curling back further. “But only if you ask me real nice.”

The audacity of this asshole. I’d rather prop my car up with his stupid face and change the tire myself.

“You’re the last person I’d ever ask for help,” you retorted.

Jax casually shrugged his shoulders as he neared, the grin lingering on his lips. “Suit yourself, Peaches,” he said. “But you still gotta flat to deal with.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously back at him, your mind beginning to slowly mull over the entirety of the situation. While it was possible that you had run over something and punctured the tire which had led to a slow leak, it also seemed just as likely that Teller might’ve popped your tire on purpose simply to mess with you. The last time you’d encountered him nearly a week ago, you’d certainly pissed him off. Maybe this was his way of getting back at you, especially since he’d left you with that threat of needing to watch yourself. He seemed far too pleased with your misfortune right now, and he did stand to benefit from you paying his garage for the work. Then there was the obvious satisfaction he’d gain from you having to need his help with something.

“Did you do this?” you demanded, pointing a finger at your tire. “Is this your idea of a joke? Or some kind of payback for hurting your fragile ego?”

Jax’s grin vanished at the accusation, his own eyes narrowing to slits. The mischievous glint in them extinguished, suddenly replaced with the usual simmering disdain and irritation he harbored for you. You studied him closely, searching for any signs of an admission of guilt. 

“You serious, Peaches?” he questioned, voice lowering as he took another step closer. “You think I got nothin’ better to do than sit around and slash your fuckin’ tire or somethin’?”

“I definitely wouldn’t put it past you,” you bitterly replied. “You stand to benefit financially, and you get to annoy me about it. Sure sounds like something you’d do.”

“You’re fuckin’ bat shit,” he shot back. “I got better things on my mind to think ‘bout that ain’t you, darlin’. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Your nose scrunched. “Ew. I wouldn’t call your attention something to be flattered by, Teller,” you retorted. “I’d rather never share air in your vicinity.”

With a heavy roll of his eyes, Jax took two steps backwards throwing his hands up into the air as if he was done with you already. “Whatever,” he said. “You still gotta problem to deal with, and if you wanna be a fuckin’ priss about it, go ahead. Next closest garage is near Stockton, and they’re closin’ in forty. Have fun figurin’ your shit out, darlin’.”

He swung around and started to cross the street, the reaper on the back of his kutte taunting you with its ghoulish smile. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you gnawed it in frustration as your attention returned to the flat tire. As much as you hated to admit it, Teller unfortunately had a point, you did need to deal with this. Taking it into Teller-Morrow would’ve been the easiest and fastest solution–the garage was right there across the street. It’d save you from having to slip on a spare tire or call for a tow to another shop before attempting to try to find a ride back out to Charming.

But the idea of having to ask Teller for help and dealing with the Sons sounded like sheer torture. He could charge you whatever he wanted for the service just to be an asshole, and you’d be helplessly at his mercy. The thought of that alone made you want to run headlong into oncoming traffic. But despite that, forcing yourself to set aside your pride and interact with him for a brief period of time solely for the sake of fixing your car might be worth it in the long run. Even if you heavily suspected the flat was his doing all along. You doubted–or at least desperately hoped–that whatever he put you through and whatever he charged you in the end would still be less than the hassle and expense of the alternative.

Sucking in a deep breath, you fought down the nauseating twist of your stomach. Jax hadn’t stopped in his retreat towards the garage, making it quite clear that he wasn’t going to wait for you to change your mind. Closing your eyes, you slowly exhaled the breath you’d taken, hating what you were about to do with every fiber of your being.

“Wait,” you called out.

Jax paused mid-stride at the sound of your voice, stopping just before he stepped up onto the curb across the street. The slow, smooth way he casually turned back around towards you, with his head slanting to the side and that irritatingly smug smirk stretching over his lips, made you want to double over and vomit right on the street. But you forced yourself to push on, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

“Can your garage fix my flat?” you reluctantly questioned. The words were acid as they passed over your tongue, burning on their way out. “I’d rather not drag it all the way out of town this late.”

“‘Course we know how to fix a flat, Peaches,” he called back. He began taking a few measured steps back towards you with a glint in his eye that you didn’t like. “But…”

For the love of God, do not ask me to say please. I may just murder you.

“But,” he continued, the smirk sliding further across his face as he sauntered towards you, “I don’t tolerate hostility in my place of business. So I’m gonna have to ask that you’re friendly to my staff, darlin’.”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your nails digging sharply into your palms. He continued closing the gap between you both, obviously pleased with having the upper hand around you for once, which only heightened your suspicions about the tire. He knew exactly how to get under your skin and you absolutely hated that. And you knew he’d expect you to be friendly while dealing with the guys at the garage or he’d find some other way to fuck with you. 

“You good with that, Peaches?” he pressed.

“Yes,” you tersely grit out between your teeth.

“Good girl,” Jax drawled. Stopping in front of you, he held out his hand, palm expectantly upturned. “Gonna need your keys then, darlin’. And you’ll get your car back whenever we’re done with it.”

With your lips pressed firmly together in frustration, you slipped your hand into the side pocket of your biker shorts, pulling out your car keys. It felt as if you were handing part of your soul over to the devil when you reluctantly dropped them into Jax’s awaiting palm. His fingers curled around your keys, and the thought of him touching and driving your Toyota made your skin crawl.

“Better get it back in one piece,” you warned him.

“Hey, I run a respectable business, Peaches. Don't insult me,” he reprimanded, though his smirk continued to taunt you. “You gonna want a ride home? ‘Cause I can have a prospect drop you off.”

“Hard pass,” you immediately declined. “I'd rather walk.”

Shortly after you'd arrived home, you'd headed directly for your shower. Covered in a light layer of sweat from the mile walk back in the summer sun, you'd welcomed the warm water once it fell over you, but it ultimately hadn't done much to relax you after the day you'd had. 

You'd spent half the night afterwards wondering if you'd made a huge mistake leaving your car at the Sons’ garage. Would they fuck things up further? Oversell you on a tire and their labor? Take their sweet ass fucking time and finish your car days later, claiming they were backed up and busy? Cut your brake lines for shits and giggles? 

Your mind had raced with hundreds of scenarios while you'd made dinner and ate it. By the time you'd finally sat down on the couch before bed, you felt as if you'd just done one of Dominic’s crossfit workouts. Your brain was like a bowl of oatmeal–thick and sluggish. 

Laying stretched out along your couch, your eyes were half-lidded as you watched one of your guilty pleasure shows before bed. You'd been gradually starting to drift off to the soft hum of your television, succumbing to sleep with how worn out you were, until a rumble of engines and a flash of headlights cut through the room and caused your eyes to snap fully open. 

The headlights shining through your living room windows cut off at the exact same time one of the engines outside silenced. A cold trickle of fear inched its way up your spine as you went entirely still on the couch, your heart beginning to pound in your chest. A car door slammed shut in your driveway and your head darted up from the couch pillow, your entire body suddenly alert as you looked out the living room window.

It was hard to see much through the darkness outside, but you spotted a figure pass up the path that led to your door. Along the street sat a dark gray van, the lights shining down the road as it idled and completely blocked your driveway. Two sharp raps came at your front door next and fear seeped into your bones, your body sinking into the cushions.

Who the fuck was at your door? It was just after nine at night on a Thursday. You had no one planning to stop by, and certainly no one who would be showing up in multiple vehicles. Your mind raced as your breath came in shallow bursts, eyes still lingering on the familiar looking gray van parked outside. Where had you seen it before? 

You startled on the couch when the person behind the door called your name through it, a soft shriek of surprise slipping out of you. Clutching the pillow beside you on the couch, you gripped it as if it would somehow protect you from whoever was outside.

“You home?” the voice called again. “Look, I know it's kinda late, but Jax asked us to drop off your car. Said you'd probably need it for tomorrow.”

Sitting rigid on your couch with your nails still digging into the soft fabric of the pillow, you gradually began to process what he'd said. The adrenaline coursing through your veins steadily began to fade as everything started to piece itself together. It was just the Sons dropping off your fixed car. But why so late at night? The garage had closed down hours ago.

Rising up from the couch in confusion, you carefully crossed the living room and headed to the front door. You turned on the outdoor lights before leaning forward and looking out through the peephole, not wanting to blindly open your front door without double-checking who was standing there first. A dark haired man stood on the small porch, and he was wearing a leather kutte which resembled the ones the other Sons wore, except his boasted a single patch which just read ‘prospect.’ 

Trying to calm the nerves that their arrival had sent coursing through you, you began unlocking the front door. When you finally opened it, you came face to face with the man you swore you remembered you’d overheard them calling Rat before. He offered you a friendly smile which immediately set you on edge before he raised a hand in the air, jingling your car keys in the space between you both. 

“Your car is finished,” he told you. “Jax wanted us to drop it off. It's parked in the driveway.”

He gestured his other hand towards the car that had shined its lights through your window, and your gaze followed after it. Your silver Toyota sat innocently there as the van continued idling behind it. You now understood that it was Rat's ride back to the clubhouse.

Turning your attention back towards him, your brows furrowed as you glanced down at the keys in his hand. “I don't understand,” you said, looking back up to meet his stare. “Why’re you dropping it off? Don’t you guys want me to come in and pay for the repair first?”

Rat's expression grew sheepish, his hand still holding your keys out to you. “Well, uh,” he began, tone turning a little awkward. “Jax said that there was no charge.”

Suspicion washed over you in an instant, your eyes narrowing back at him. No charge for the new tire and the work his guys did to put it on? Something was definitely going on, and now you were regretting taking your car there. Was he expecting you to owe him a favor for this? The idea made you internally cringe.

“Why?” you pressed.

“He said to tell you that there's–” he paused, his sheepish smile growing a little wider and more uncomfortable, “–there's nothing that he could ever want from an uptight, self-righteous bitch. Including her money.” 

Your mouth fell open in shock, your eyes widening slightly. So Jax was throwing your insult back at you, the one from the other day? The one that pissed him off for some unknown reason? All because you'd said there was nothing you'd ever want from him? This was certainly proof that it'd somehow struck a nerve, especially if he was still thinking about it enough to have a prospect deliver that message along with your car. 

Is his ego truly that fragile?

Reaching out, you finally grabbed your keys from his outstretched hand. Rat looked relieved when he took a step back, as if he was glad that he'd completed the task he'd been given without having to enter a verbal sparring match with you. 

“If he's expecting a thank you, he's not getting one,” you stated. 

“Don't think he'd want one anyway,” Rat replied.

His hand rose and fell quickly in a half-hearted wave before he turned and cut through your grass, heading straight towards the gray van parked in the street at the bottom of your driveway. You watched him for a few seconds, fingers toying with your keyring, before your gaze shifted to your Toyota. Your eyes dipped down to the back tire, and as a cool breeze brushed past your cheek, the suspicion that Jax had been the one to pop it still lingered at the forefront of your mind.

[tragicallysamcro]

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[secretlysamcro]

jax teller x reader | forbidden love | step!siblings (not everyone’s cup of tea, if it’s not yours scroll on) | touches lightly on the subject of non consensual sex & other things - nothing graphic | explicit language & violence | dual 1st person pov | y/n’s description is limited but in moments where it’s needed will be black!reader

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𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚖 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚊𝚍𝚜, 𝚘𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢. 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙹𝚊𝚡. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚡 𝚒𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚎, 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍.

𝙹𝚊𝚡 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚜. 𝚆𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚜, 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝚂𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙶𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚠𝚎’𝚍 𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚘 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝙽𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚜, 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚎𝚊𝚛. 𝚆𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏𝚏. 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝚊𝚡’𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔. 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚊𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕.

𝙼𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝. 𝙸 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 𝙱𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙹𝚊𝚡 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝. 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏𝚏, 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛. 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝙹𝚊𝚡 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜. 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝. 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚝, 𝙳𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙶𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎…𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢.

We didn’t say much between leaving the hospital and getting home. Part of me wanted to beat Rayes ass for being out of town. Id rather she spent the night with me than having to spend it with Jax. Not because I didn’t trust him, but because I didn’t trust myself. I'm not gonna sit here and lie and act as if I hadn’t thought of that night, that kiss, every single fucking day since it happened, because I had.

Part of me felt bad. I feel like I antagonised him into doing it. Maybe if I didnt piss him off so much he wouldn’t have done it. Either way, its happened now and i cant get it out of my fucking head. Especially now, sitting at Gemmas large dining table, watching him move domestically around the house. Closing the curtains, turning on the TV. I havent allowed myself to look at him in this much detail for a long fucking time.

Our life, since that night has consisted of avoiding each other, no matter how hard it could sometimes be. But now, as I sit here, watching him closely I can physically see the weight of the patch draining the life from him. His knuckles all raw and calloused and his kutte looking exactly the same.

After finishing warming up the house, Jax pulls out the dining chair opposite me slowly, shrugs off his kutte and takes a seat. A small sound of breath leaves his nose as he does so. His eyes are on mine and at this precise moment in time, I wish I could read his thoughts. I wanna ask him about Tara, I wanna know what the fucks going on with those two. I saw them as I was coming out from saying bye to Dad, talking in the corner. She looked all professional, different to the teen girl who would keep me awake at night from my brothers bedroom. I don't know what the fuck they are, I just wish they wasn’t.

He leans back in his chair, his smirk already tugging at his mouth. “First time back on a bike since you ate shit off the one me and Ghost rebuilt?”

I let out a laugh, rolling my eyes. “I told you I’d never get back on one again.”

“Yeah,” he drawls, shaking his head. “Guess I can’t blame you. I thought you actually died that day.”

“You were the one closer to death than me. Did you see Dad’s face when he ran down to us?”

Jax laughs, that rough throaty sound. “Yeah I remember, pretty sure he was already plannin' my funeral...don't blame him though, you were bleedin’ out on the ground and I was just stood there all frozen”

I shake my head, still smiling. “I still got the scar you know”

That makes his grin slip into something smaller, his eyes dropping towards the floor “Yeah I know”

Because he does know. He's always known, He’s seen that scar more times than he could count. Catching glimpses when I wore shorts in the summer, when I curled up on the couch, the night that we kissed, when everything shifted between us. Even after that, in all the stolen moments that followed, his eyes always found it. He always fucking saw it.

The silence between us stretches, a little heavy, borderline uncomfortable. Until he clears his throat, sitting forward, resting his elbows on the table, his tone shifts almost immediately. “Ghost told me about Logan…” his voice is more serious now “…that's what the screamin' was about when I showed up, right?”

I suck my tongue across my teeth, of course Dad told him. He's his VP, he has to know. But it doesn't make it easier sitting here with just the two of us “Yeah” I mutter, shifting in my chair.

“You good?” The question catches me off guard, Id braced myself for some form of lecture, but instead its like he's trying to help take the weight off my shoulders.

“I guess…” I say, “more worried about Dad, you know?”

Jax nods once, “He'll be good. He's tougher than any of us. Don't stress over it…” his tone darkens “…Logans the one I don't give a fuck about. Whatever happens to him? Couldn't care less. You're my priority. You're the one I'm lookin’ out for...we’re lookin’ out for”

“What's gonna happen?” I ask finally, part of me already knowing whatever answer I get isn't gonna be pretty.

“I'm sittin' down with Laroy tomorrow…” his tone returns to normal, but still stern “…I'll let him know who you are. We don't know for sure if his guys are actually gunnin’ for you, but I'm bettin’ they've been tailin’ Logan, seen you both together and if they can't get to him, they'll try any route that they can”

I nod in response as he keeps going.

“But once Laroy knows you're ours, know's you ain't got shit to do with Logan's mess, he'll leave you out of it” his next words come out harder. “Whatever they do to Logan after that...ain't my problem.”

There's something in his tone, something maybe a little possessive, something that doesn't entirely feel just like club business, but I ignore it, just nod again. The thought of Logan getting his ass beat, or worse, doesn't bother me. Not even a little. And that's all the confirmation I need to know that it’s over. Not tonight, but soon. Tonight, I'm staying here, alone with my brother for the first time in years.

“You got somethin' to change into?” Jax's voice breezes through the crack in my door. There's a quiet knock before he pushes it open and steps inside without waiting for me to answer.

His eyes move over everything, and I know he's remembering too. All the late nights we spent talking here, all the times he crashed on my floor or snuck into my bed when he couldn't sleep.

Back then, it was innocent. Just a couple of kids who didn't like the dark. It all stopped after that morning Dad caught us curled up together. He didn't yell, didn't blow up. Just smacked Jax awake, grunted for him to get back to his own room. No lectures, no drama. But I still remember the look in Dad’s eyes. The way his brows crossed like maybe he was worried about what we were growing into. And I guess he wasn't wrong. But he must of forgot about it soon after cause nothing was said again.

I hold up one of my old tees that I had left behind. Soft and worn, the collage of Tupac cracked and faded but just enough to still be recognised. “Fuck” Jax's voice comes from the doorway, stepping further into the room and dropping onto the edge of my old bed like he's done a thousand times. “Never thought I’d see that fuckin’ thing again” I glance over my shoulder, holding it up at the hem. “Jax. Rule still stands, no Tupac hate”. He smirks leaning back onto his palms like he's settling in. “Never Pac hate. Just that fuckin’ shirt. You used to wear it like three days in a row” “Yeah...and?” I snap back, heading for the bathroom. I hear his voice through the door as I peel off my top. “And I could smell you from round a fuckin' corner” He taunts. I laugh under my breath, shaking my head as I slip the tee over my body and it falls against my skin like an old memory. When I step back into the room, Jax is now sprawled out on my bed. legs spread, white tee clinging to his shoulders with those same fucking grey pants loose on his hip. He looks so...at ease. Like no time has passed at all.

“Shut the hell up” I say, grinning as I ball up the shirt I just took off and throw it at him. He catches it one handed, smirk deepening, and tosses it towards the corner like it’s nothing.

I sit down next to him, just close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. For a second, neither of us speaks, just listening to the old house creak around us.

“I saw you and Tara talking earlier, as I was leaving Dad's room. Everything Okay?” I ask, picking at a loose thread on my shorts.

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Just lettin’ me know when she's droppin' the keys off. She's movin' back to Chicago”

A scoff of a laugh escapes me. “Again?”

“For good this time” He somewhat mumbles.

“Gemma and Dad know?” I ask, still holding onto the edge of the conversation.

He lets out a short laugh. “Ghost does, but Mom?”he shakes his head “I'd rather tell her once Tara's actually gone. No use givin' her a reason to start swingin' before it's even done”

I laugh quietly, because he's right. Gems temper is something different. “Thought so.”

“Yeah... she's been ready for that fight for years.” he sighs.

“So what she’s just gonna move all her shit out of your place and fuck off back to chi-town?”

There's a beat of silence, the kind that's comfortable but feels like its balancing on the edge of something heavier. He suddenly shifts, leaning back further until he's laying flat on his back, hands laced behind his head with one of his elbows pressing lighting into my thigh where I'm sitting. I nod slowly, letting out a quiet breathe “I'm sorry”shocking myself at how much I actually mean it.

“Don't say sorry” he smiles faintly, a flash of that boyish smile I haven't seen in years. “You hated her”

“Hate” I correct with a dainty smirk. “I hate how she made you feel” the confession slips out before I can stop it. “I mean...” I stumble the words a little. “I only know what I heard through Gem and Dad but...me and you, we weren’t really...” I try to think of the right word to use. “Around each other” he finishes for me. “Yeah.”

Then he stands, his hand wrapping gently around my wrist, giving it a squeeze before letting go. “Well, you don't gotta worry little sis, I'm all good”The words hit like they shouldn't do, especially those two words, sending that weird shiver low in my stomach. Heat crawls up the back of my neck before I can stop it, and I swear my thighs press together on their own accord. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me? He doesn't notice, or if he does he doesn't show it. His expression is unreadable, like always, before he steps towards the door.

“Gonna make somethin' to eat” he throws over his shoulder “want anythin'?”

I shake my head a little too quickly, forcing a small smile “Nah. Just gonna try and get some sleep”

“Alright…” he nods once, “…If that asshole calls or texts you, don’t answer it” then he leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

I can't lie. The way she reacted to what I said had my cock twitchin’ in my sweats.

she thinks she hides it. Most people wouldn't notice. But I know her too well. I don't need to see the blush to know it's there. I can read it in the way her lashes flutter, the way her tongue rolls into the corner of her mouth like she's tryin’ to keep it together. And yeah, maybe it shouldn't get to me like that, but it did.

Callin’ her little sis should’ve been enough to build a wall back up between us, Instead, it just twisted somethin’ low in my gut. Had me thinkin’ about a few things, maybe she's just as fucked up as me. I shove the thought down and head back downstairs, the house quiet except for the low creak of the floorboards under my feet. I slap together a sandwich, eatin’ it at the counter not even botherin’ to take a seat. I flip the TV on, some bullshit reality show playin’. I'm starin’ at it but I'm not really watchin’ it, its just noise fillin’ in the silence.

When I’m done I kill the lights, and head back to my room. I pass Mom and Ghost's without enterin’. No birds to cover anymore, Mom's little ritual long dead with them. Halfway down the hall, I see a glow under her door. For a second, I think she's still awake, but then I hear it. That soft snore she's always had. It makes me pause, restin’ my head weakly on the cool wood of her door. When we were kids, I used to sneak into her room almost every night. Couldn't sleep alone, hated the fuckin’ dark. She never asked questions, just moved over to let me climb in. It was the only way I could sleep some nights.

It all ended the mornin’ Ghost caught us. He didn't say anythin’ to her, didn’t even raise his voice in front of her. Just sent me back to my room and followed me down the hall. Shut the door behind him and stood there anger fillin’ his face. Told me a fifteen year old boy had no right climbin’ into bed with his fourteen year old sister. Said I better never let him catch me in there again. Later that night, mom cornered me in the kitchen. Of course he told her. She said I needed to start actin’ my age, that people would get the wrong Idea. And that was it, I never slept in her bed again, even when I really wanted to.

I drag myself away from the door, cause standin’ there listenin’ to her breathe feels too much like back then. I head for the bathroom and crank the shower cold, lettin’ it rain down on me until the memories stop playin’ in my head. Tomorrows gonna be a long fuckin’ day. Need to sit down with Laroy, clear her name. Logans got what's comin’ to him, one way or another. But y/n? she stays out of this. No matter what it cost me.

“Long way from Charming to Oakland” Laroy says, grinnin’ as I step towards him. His voice lazy but with that smooth edge to it. “What brings the Prince of Samcro down here to meet me face to face?”

I don’t sit, just stand in front of him. “Logan”

That gets a reaction, his grin fades just a little. “What about him?”

“That brick that went missin’?” I let out a sharp laugh but there’s hardly any humour in it. “Woulda been better puttin’ Stevie fuckin’ Wonder in charge of it. At least then nobody woulda been surprised when it went awol”

He chuckles at that, but his eyes zone in on me, probably tryin’ to work out how the fuck I know about it.

“I know you and your boys are casin’ him” I say, pullin’ my jeans higher before finally takin’ a seat next to him. “Do what you gotta do to settle that debt. But you and your boys gotta leave my sister out of it. She’s not part of his shit”

That wipes the grin completely off his face. He sits up, the business armour now in place. “Sister?”

“Yeah” I say through clenched teeth. “Ghost’s kid”

“Shit man” Laroy rubs at his chin, “Never knew that fool was wrapped up with you”

“Not wrapped up” I correct him, “Far fuckin' from it. We ain't got no ties to him. Don't give a fuck how you handle that shit I'm just here to make sure my sister stays safe”

Laroy's face tightens for a second, like he’s weighin’ on tellin’ me somethin’. He bites his bottom lip, eyes flickin’ to the goons posted around us. “I won't lie to you man...she was on our radar. The next step. But now I know she's Ghost's kid...your sister, that shit's done. We'll pull back no problem”

I try to keep my anger steady at his admission, Laroy isn't the one who deserves it. Its all on Logan.

“You gotta watch that fool though” Laroy says, leanin’ forward. “Motherfucker had no problem throwin’ your sister under the bus to keep us off him”

My head snaps up. “What do you mean?”

He raises a finger, not to shut me up but to call one of his boys over. “That plan tonight? off the table. Girl don’t get touched. Not by anybody, ya hear me?” he says loud enough that it grabs the attention of the others standin’ around.

The guy nods, mutterin’ a “got you” before backin’ away. Laroy turns back to me, ready to finish the conversation.

“Coupla days ago, after we found out that fool lost my property, Logan came to me. Said he didn't have the money but he had...somethin’ else"

My stomach twists as I swallow hard “What?”

He licks his bottom lip like he's workin’ out how to say it. “Videos, man” he looks at me from the corner of his eye.

My brows arch together, not clockin’ what hes goin’ on about, until he carries on.

“Him and his girl. Sent us a whole fuckin’ stash. One of my boys runs a site, makes good money. Logan wanted us to post em, get the money back off the views”

I watch him talk, the anger building slow and ugly, but he keeps goin’.

“Had a look at a few-”

The snarl slips before he finishes. He throws his hands up quick “Aye man, we never knew it was your sister” he pulls a joint, lights it then offers it to me, guess he can tell I need somethin’. “Anyway, we looked. But most of em? unusable.”

My jaw grinds, not sure I even want the answer. “Why?”

He shrugs like it disgusts him. “I'm a lot of things man, but non consensual shit? not my thing”

“What the fuck do you mean by non consensual? Are you sayin' he's ra-”

“No, no, not like that brother” Laroy says, palms slidin’ down his jeans. “Trust me, she's more than willin’” his eyes cut to me.

“Laroy.” My tone a warnin’.

He exhales, “Nah, what I mean is, some of the videos she knows, like…playin’ up to the camera of sorts…but most of em’? She don't even know she's bein’ recorded. Hidden camera type shit. Real fuckin’ sneaky”

I bow my head, shovin’ my hands through my hair like it can make this any better. “Are you sure its her?”

“Tattoo on her lower back. Big ass scar on one of her thighs?”

The image of the scar that I put there hits me like a punch. “Shit!” I stand, kicking at the trash can beside the bench.

“You still got them?” I finally manage to get out.

“I'll get them deleted. No traces from our end. You have my word Jax…” I do trust him “…but he’ll still have copies so…”

“I'm gonna kill him” I say low, more to myself than anyone else.

But he hears it. He chuckles dry as a bone “please do. Saves me the fuckin' trouble”

“Appreciate it, brother” I tell Laroy as he stands. “I might need you in on a few things later” I say, thinkin’ how the hell I’m gonna get this fuckin’ asshole. We shake hands, pullin’ each other in and finishin’ it of with a clap on the back like always.

“Heard about Ghost…how’s he doin'?” Laroy asks.

“Still laid up. Should be home in a few days, but ridin's off the table for a while”

He nods, “Toughest bastard in Charming. He'll pull through”

“Yeah” I say quietly. “He will”

Myself, Tig and Opie roll in side by side to the clubhouse after the ride back from Oakland, the gravel crunchin’ under the tires. Tig kills his engine first.

“Man, I need a fuckin' drink” he mumbles before headin’ towards the clubhouse doors, and straight to the bar.

Opie swings a leg off his bike and gives me that scowled look he saves for when he knows I'm full of shit. “Somethin' you're not sayin’?” he asks. He knows me too fucking well.

I drag a breath and shake my head, not even sure where to start. “Logan, man...tried to give the Niners videos of him and...” my jaw grinds before I force it out “…him and y/n instead of the money for the brick that got jacked.” I cut my eyes up at Ope.

“Videos like...?” Opie's brows pinch together cause y/n's his little sister as much as she is mine.

“Yeah. Exactly what you're fuckin' thinkin’”

“Jesus Christ” He rips his beanie from the top of his head and fists it “She know?”

I bite down on my lower lip. “Some of them she clearly knows whats goin on...playin’ to the camera I guess or whatever. But some? the angles and shit...she doesn't even know”

“Wait...you watched them?”

“Fuck no!” I snap, “No”

“Then it could be anyone. Might not even be y/n”he says, tryin’ to make me feel better.

“Nah, it’s her. Laroy mentioned the scar on her leg, and the tattoo she has that the rest of the world probably wont ever see”

Opie squints at my words “Then how d'ya know she has it?”

“Has what?”

“The tattoo that isn't visible to others...” his face scrunches as he digs into the past.

“No dipshit” I mutter, “Saw it the other night on accident when I went to pick her up, she wasn't exactly expectin' me. She had these little black-”I cough away the distraction “Look that aint the point. How the fuck am I gonna tell Ghost? How am I gonna tell her? Better fuckin' yet...you gonna help me bury the fuckers body or what?”

“You know I’ve got your back Jax” Opie says, “But this? You gotta be the one to tell her. Then you tell Ghost. Can't act without his say so. You know that”

“Yeah I know” I rake a hand through my hair and start walking towards the clubhouse.

I'm sitting cross legged on my bed, flicking through old pictures in one of the albums that's been sitting on the top shelf of my closet for fucking ever. They're a little dusty and faded but still clear enough to pull me straight back into the moment, like the last christmas me, mom and Dad had together, and the first one me and Dad had with Gemma and Jax after everything had changed.

The front door slams downstairs, the sound rattling through the old house. I pause letting out a quiet breath. Jax must be back from the sit down with Laroy, thank fuck. I keep looking through the pages, there's a picture of Jax and Dad standing beside the bike they spent forever restoring, grinning like idiots with grease smeared across both their faces. Despite everything the next one makes me laugh. Me and Jax in those awful matching Christmas jumpers Grandpa Nate picked out for us one year, Gemma forced us to take the picture as proof we actually wore them for all of two minutes.

I'm so caught up in the memories I almost miss the shadow shifting in the doorway. When I finally glance up, Jax is standing there, one shoulder resting against the frame, eyes watching me. He doesn't say anything at first.

"Remember this?" I ask, holding up the photo of us.

He huffs out a quite laugh, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking into the room. The mattress dips when he sits down on the edge of my bed.

“Maybe we should go see him soon” I add quickly, filling the silence while I flip to another page. “Gem said he’s getting worse and we haven’t seen him together in ages…” My fingers move over the plastic sleeves “I mean like… like...once Dad and Gemma are back obviously” I say, making sure he knows I don't mean just the two of us.

“I, uh...” Jax starts, ignoring everything I just said. He looks down at his hands for a second before speaking again. “Laroy knows who you are now...”he says quitley. “So you don't need to walk around thinkin’ you still go a target on your back or anythin'”

I let out a small laugh, trying to keep the mood light. "Never thought that anyway, and plus I’m not scared of your friends Jax" But when I look up at him properly, the laughter dies in my throat. His jaw is tighter than ever, the muscles twitching slightly, and theres a look on his face I havent seen in years, but recognise immediatley.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask slowly, closing the album and pushing it aside. “It’s the same look you used to give me when you knew Dad was about to cuss me out for doing something wrong”

Jax shifts in his space, turning his whole body to face me now. “Did you know Logan tried to pay for that brick?” He asks.

“No...he didn't...that's why all of this is-”my voice falters as I see the pain radiate over my brothers features. My stomach drops so fucking hard. “What did he do?” The words come out barely above a whisper, already knowing I'm not gonna like the answer.

Jax drags a hand down his face like he's trying to pull himself together before he speaks. “He tried payin' for the brick y/n” he actually mumbles, I'm struggling to even hear him correct. “Just...not with anythin' Laroy was willin' to touch. Some shit that-”

He clenches his jaw so fucking hard he stops talking. Then pushes off the bed so fucking hard. His hands go straight to his hair, dragging back through the slickened strands as he paces like there's too ,much anger brewing inside of him.

“Jax?” I get up and follow him without even thinking. “What did he...” He turns on me so fast my breath catches in my throat. His lips are pressed tight like he's trying to will the words to come out but they just wont.

“Tell me...” I say, stepping closer. “...please”.

His eyes lock onto mine and for a second I see the protective anger shimmering under his mask. “You”the words leave his mouth reluctantly. “He tried to give him videos of you.”

The entire room goes silent. It doesn't make fucking sense. Until it does. All the nights we shared, the shit we'd do...the shit we filmed. Plus all of these other videos Jax is talking about, some where I’m not even aware I’m being recorded. “Oh...” is all I can manage to say, my voice as broken as my trust.

“Fuck!” Jax explodes, the curse ripping out of him as his fist slams into the back of my bedroom door. The crack is so loud it echoes through the house. I flinch, staring at the fresh dent he's left behind. Right next to the old one, slightly higher but just the same impact.

Like nothings fucking changed.

© GIFs & photos used are NOT my own, all sources & found on Pinterest, Tenor & Giphy. Credit to all original owners. | dividers by @/honeyluvsw

a/n: So I planned for this to be wayyyy longer BUT I ended it on a lil cliffhanger as I wanted to get it out asap hehe, hope you enjoyed 🖤

xoxo secretlysamcro

JAX TELLER MASTERLIST (requests closed)

[hunnamandhoney]

Adore You

Pairing: Jax Teller x Female Plus Size!Reader Word Count: 1k Summary: You’re in a full spiral, but Jax knows exactly how to talk you out of it. Warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+ only please, minors DNI!!!! body insecurity / negative self-talk, explicit language, praise-heavy reassurance, mostly fluff with a tiny bit of filth (it's Jax), implied smut. this list is not exhaustive. individual triggers vary. you acknowledge responsibility for the media you choose to consume. AN: writing this was a little bit self-inflicted emotional damage, lmao. but honestly, I wanted to write something for those awful body-image days. and I wanted it to feel sexy, tender, and a little filthy, because that’s Jax. but also because being desired doesn’t stop on the days you’re struggling to feel good in your skin. 🫶🏻 feedback is always appreciated—reblogs, comments, likes, all the love 💕 enjoy, beauties!! 😊

The bedroom looked like a damn wreck. Clothes were everywhere—jeans puddled by the bed, two tops thrown over the chair in the corner, a dress hanging half off the end of the mattress, and one bra lying on the floor where you’d apparently flung it after deciding it made your back look worse than the last one.

By the time Jax came down the hall to check on you, you were standing in front of the mirror in just your panties, turned halfway to the side, staring at yourself with a look he hated.

He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned in the doorway and watched you suck in hard, hold it, then let it go with an angry breath. You pinched at your side, tugged your panties higher over your hips, then smoothed both hands down your thighs only to stop and press at the cellulite there with that same unhappy look. A second later your hands came up under your chest, lifting your breasts like you were checking if they sat right, then dropping them again when they didn’t magically become somebody else’s.

“Babe?” he asked finally, quiet enough to make you jump. “What’s the matter?”

You looked at him in the mirror and then right back at yourself, already annoyed he’d caught you like this. “Every single thing I own makes me look like a busted can of biscuits.”

Jax pushed off the frame and came toward you, eyes still on your reflection. “Jesus, baby, knock it off. You’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes automatically, because that was easier than letting yourself feel how close you were to tears. “You lie.”

That got a frown out of him. Jax stopped behind you and set his hands on your hips, warm and steady. “Why do you do that?” he asked. “Why do you look at yourself like that, then act like I’m just sayin’ whatever I’m supposed to say?”

You looked down. “Because you love me. You don’t see me the way I do.”

“Yeah, I do,” he answered, no hesitation at all. His thumbs dragged once over your sides. “And I know exactly what I see. You walk into a room and make it real hard for me to pay attention to anything else.”

You swallowed, still staring at the mirror. “I just feel gross.”

Something in Jax’s face tightened, like the words hurt to hear. Your eyes met his in the mirror, and the look on his face made your chest ache.

His hands tightened on your hips. “Don’t say that.”

The words came flat and immediate, not harsh, but firm enough to make you hold his gaze in the mirror. One hand slid down, slow and certain, until it settled full on your ass.

“You’re standin’ here pickin’ yourself apart while I’ve got this plump ass in my hand,” he rasped near your ear, his palm dragging over the full curve of you before squeezing. “You really think I’m gonna let you talk shit about a body I can’t keep my hands off?” Another slow squeeze. “Not a chance.”

Heat rushed up your neck.

When your stomach tightened under his other hand, Jax caught it immediately. “Quit that,” he chided, flattening his palm there when you tried to suck in, his mouth brushing your shoulder. “Quit tryin’ to make yourself smaller for me.”

He held you exactly as you were, broad hand warm over your stomach, then dipped his head to kiss your shoulder and the side of your neck. “I like this,” he nibbled against your skin. “I like all of it.”

Your throat tightened. “I don’t know how to see what you see.”

“Let me show you.”

Jax traced lower, palms skimming over the fullness of your thighs before his thumbs pressed into the cellulite there with slow familiarity. “These thighs,” he said, kissing just below your ear, “I know every soft little spot in ’em. Know exactly how they feel under my hands and just how pretty they look spread for me when I’m between ’em.”

A shaky breath slipped out of you, and Jax smiled against your skin when you shivered.

He brought both hands up to cup your breasts from behind, lifting them slowly, appreciating the weight while his mouth stayed at your shoulder. “Your big beautiful tits,” he praised against your skin, “I could spend all night on these alone. Love the way they fill my hands, the way they bounce when you walk over to me. Especially love how they look when you’re on top and I can’t stop watchin’.”

A helpless sound escaped you, and Jax’s mouth tipped into a satisfied smile. “That’s my girl.”

He eased you away from the mirror until you were facing him instead. He kept his hands on you the whole time, from your waist to your hips to your ass and back again, open and shameless in the way he touched you, like there wasn’t a single part of you he wasn’t happy to claim.

“We’re not goin’ anywhere tonight,” he said, lips skimming yours.

“Jax—”

“Nope.” Another kiss.

His mouth drifted to your cheek and down the side of your throat as he pulled your body flush against him, the hard bulge in his jeans pressing into you. “You and me are stayin’ right here,” Jax said, mouth brushing your neck, “and I’m gonna spend the rest of the night puttin’ my hands on all the parts you were just tearin’ apart.”

He kissed your shoulder, then let his mouth hover near your ear, rough and fond and filthy all at once. “Gonna kiss every soft inch. Get you so worked up you forget what the hell you were even upset about.” His hand stayed at your hip, thumb dragging once before settling there. “And if you still wanna argue with me after that, I’ll keep remindin’ you just how fuckin’ wrong you are.”

A shiver rippled through you. Your pussy fluttered at the promise, slick heat gathering before you could do a damn thing about it. “Yeah?”

Jax’s expression went slow and wicked. Then he kissed you again, hard enough to make your knees weaken, and walked you backward away from the mirror until the backs of your legs hit the bed.

“Yeah,” he breathed, eyes on yours, guiding you onto the bed. “Now lay back for me.”

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[secretlysamcro]

A Mothers Work | 🐦‍⬛🖤

Jax reacting to you randomly breaking up with him one night, without any particular reason.

Requested by the beautiful @cindsvibes loves u 🫶🏽 TW: Explicit language

JAX TELLER MASTERLIST

xoxo secretlysamcro

[bellaxgiornata]

Until It's Gone {coming soon}

Pairing: teenage!Jax Teller x teenage!Reader Warnings/tags: angst, infidelity, relationship breakup, mentions of abuse/alcoholism, no happy ending (*may eventually turn into the prologue/prequel to a future enemies to lovers/second chance series*)

Living with an alcoholic, abusive father, you'd never quite known love. Until you met Jax at sixteen, then your whole world shifted. Despite all the warnings Charming tried to preach about the club, you finally found safety and a home among the Sons. But after graduation when Jax had finally patched into SAMCRO, you were hit with a harsh realization–you were always going to lose it all.

[j4xteller]

Babyy 🍉

[secretlysamcro]

jax teller x reader | just a cutesy little situation I couldn’t fucking get out of my head & needed to write down | no smut (I know I know lol) just that childhood best friends, wrong timing kinda angst, you know? | explicit language

“Since when do we do birthday presents?” I ask, eyeing up the sleek black box he’s toying with in his hands.

“We’ve always done birthday presents y/n” he chuckles shaking his head.

“Yeah but not…” I point to the box, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. By birthday presents he means we’d buy the other food, or a drink, or something basic you know? “…whatever’s in that fucking box”

“It’s not a ring if that’s what you’re thinking” he sways slightly, leaning back against the TM railing.

My throat goes dry as I try to swallow. “That's not what I was thinking” Technically I'm not lying, cause I wasn’t thinking it in that moment, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve never imagined it before. The future...our future. What it could look like if one of us stopped being such a pussy and finally admitted how we felt.

“I’m kiddin’…nah it’s just a lil’ somethin’. Plus I felt bad not seein’ you on your actual birthday. Kinda felt like I was breakin' tradition”

“Yeah…well…” I force my expression into something a little more friendly. Don’t let it show. “Can’t leave your new girl hanging for lil old me”

He lets out a tired sigh, one I don’t think he was meant to make obvious. “She’s not my girl”

“Not what Ope said” the words come out sharper than I intended them too. I clear my throat, repositioning myself beside him, our shoulders brushing just a little but I already feel the warmth in my stomach so fucking bad.

“You want this fuckin’ present or not?” He deflects as always, his hand coming into view tilting the box towards me.

“Gimme it” I laugh, taking it from him and inspecting the outside.

“I know you’ve always wanted a kutte but unfortunately, that’s not possible”

A laugh bubbles over, “yeah, cause you’re all sexist assholes”

“Somethin’ like that…” he huffs a laugh, “…will you just open the goddamn box y/n”

Inside the black velvet casing is a chunky gold chain, and the pendant swinging from it…oh my god.

“It’s one of one. No one has, or ever will have somethin’ like it…Not even my mom” he winks at the mention of Gemma.

I gently lift the necklace away from its spot, holding it up as the sun catches the gold crow. In its claws, tiny diamond encrusted letters. SAMCRO. The sunlight flickers off every single one.

“Jax…this is…”

“I knew you’d like it” that oh so familiar grin presents itself once again, though this time less mischief and more pride. “Got it a lil’ longer than the others, so it doesn’t knot up with all that other gold on your neck”

“This is…I don’t even…” I let out a breathy laugh, me speechless…something you don’t see a lot. “Thank you Jackson, I… I love it”

The space between us suddenly feels smaller than it’s ever been, and I see the way his expression shifts ever so slightly, like he’s holding back something he knows he can’t say out loud. His eyes rake over my face like he’s trying to memorise every last detail, then they go lower, pause at my lips for a fraction of a second, before landing back on the chain still sitting pretty in my hand.

“Turn around darlin’” he says softly.

I place the necklace in his hands before doing so, turning my back to him.

“Hair” he mumbles.

I follow his instructions, exposing the back of my neck as he steps in behind me. The cool chain slides around my neck, his gentle and calloused fingers brushing against my skin. I hate how it makes me feel, like the goosebumps are a reminder of something I’ll most likely never have.

Once I feel the clasp close, and his hands move away from me, I turn to face him again. “So…” my turn to deflect. “You been buying jewellery for all your friends now, or am I just special?”

“Don’t start” Jax shakes his head with a laugh as we make our way over to the picnic benches.

He pulls out a pack of smokes from his pocket, taps one out for me first, lighting mine before his own as always.

“You ever wonder what it’d be like if we weren’t brought up in the MC?” I ask, running a thumb over the SAMCRO lettering on the pendant, looking out towards the main road behind the clubhouse gates.

“Not really…” he exhales, blowing away from my direction. “why…you thinkin’ about leavin’?” The concern is hidden beneath his tone, but it’s obvious on his face.

“No…” I shake my head, “I just-”

An old cutlass rolls through the gates, parking just out of distance at the top of the lot. “Who the fucks that?”

Jax glances over his shoulder, “shit” he sighs, rising from the table and dropping his smoke before crushing it beneath his air force. His face twists apologetically “gimme one sec”.

I watch him stride across the lot towards the car, his gold still cool between my thumb and index finger. The new girl…or I think it is, I’m just assuming it is.

He leans down, saying something through the window before climbing into the passenger seat. Not even a second later, the cutlass pulls away faster than it arrived, disappearing back through the metal bars.

I push myself up from the table, my eyes still burning through the tarmac where she was parked, the crow resting heavy against my chest. “Don’t ghost me Jax” I whisper under my breath, turning away from the road and heading back into the clubhouse.

Fuck.

© GIFs & photos used are NOT my own, all sources & found on Pinterest, Tenor & Giphy. Credit to all original owners. | dividers by @/honeyluvsw

xoxo secretlysamcro

JAX TELLER MASTERLIST (requests closed)

[bellaxgiornata]

Elephants

It wasn't often when Jax wasn't busy with the club, but there were rare nights he'd come home early from the clubhouse–nights where you spent time as a family. This time he'd offered to watch the boys while you ran out for a quick grocery trip without toting them around and calming meltdowns in the produce aisle.

Which is how you found him seated at the kitchen table with Abel and Thomas when you returned, everyone's heads bowed down over the table while Play Doh tools were scattered along it next to the bits of colorful smears of clay. Laden with a handful of grocery bags, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight, especially when both little blonde heads darted up to greet you as you stepped into the kitchen.

“Mama, look!” Abel exclaimed. He proudly held up his arms, displaying a few round lumps of bright blue stuck together in his palms. “I made a kitty!”

“That's great, buddy,” you said. “I like his ears!”

Heading over to the counter, you set the grocery bags down as Thomas bounced up and down on his knees in his chair. Looking over your shoulder, you saw him raise his small hands and hold up a smushed ball of green that was truly indecipherable.

“It's a turtle!” he explained, grinning a toothy smile.

“What a cute turtle!” you gushed. “Did you make him all by yourself?”

Thomas nodded wildly, his attention returning to the glob of green that he claimed was a turtle. He picked up a rolling pin before running it over the turtle, which is when your gaze shifted to Jax. He was quiet in his seat, head still bent down as stray blonde hairs framed his face. His hands were busy molding yellow Play Doh between them, the color embedded in his rings and nails, but you couldn't quite tell what he was constructing.

“And what's dad making?” you asked.

Taking a few steps away from the counter, you crossed the kitchen and stopped beside him, peering just over his shoulder. Jax straightened in his chair, his hands resting on the table and giving you a clear view of his creation. You looked down at the two yellow balls stuck to either side of a long, thick length of rolled out Play Doh before a single brow flicked up onto your forehead. Both boys were leaning over the table to get a better view while Jax simply looked up at you, a gleefully boyish smile stretched across his lips.

“What is that?” Abel questioned, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, babe,” Jax began. “What is it?”

The kick to his foot beneath the table was so subtle that the boys didn't catch it, but a devious glint flickered in Jax’s eyes.

“It's an elephant,” you lied to the boys. “Dad made an elephant.”

“With a really big trunk,” Jax added, shooting you a wink.

[hunnamandhoney]

Know

Pairing: Jax Teller x Female!Reader Word Count: 3.9k Summary: Everyone still sees you as somebody else’s. Jax doesn’t. One ride home is enough to make you wonder what you could have if you weren’t. Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only please, minors DNI!! canon-divergent, explicit sexual content, sexual fantasy (brief mention of p in v sex, light dirty talk), brief mention of drinking, forbidden attraction, infidelity-adjacent themes (no physical cheating)—this list is not exhaustive. individual triggers vary. you acknowledge responsibility for the media you choose to consume. A/N: here's the next part in the If He Could one-shot fantasy series. this time we’re in reader’s POV !!! does she share Jax’s fantasy enthusiasm?? *wiggles eyebrows* (I bet she does) all feedback (comments, reblogs, likes) is very much appreciated & encouraged!!✨🩷

Nicky’s old lady.

God, you were so tired of hearing that.

It followed you around like it was your actual name sometimes, tossed out casually by people who thought it covered everything. Like years of showing up, helping, and quietly carrying your share of the weight could be reduced to who you came in with.

The clubhouse had thinned out, though a few guys were still around. A half-hearted game of pool dragged on in the back, the jukebox humming beneath it all instead of drowning everything out. It should’ve felt calmer than it did.

You sat at the bar with a beer going warm in your hand, chewing lightly on the inside of your cheek while you let the clubhouse noise roll over you, trying not to let it get under your skin, trying not to think about how much harder it had become to wear that label now that Nicky was gone and you were still the one here.

There was a time when it felt a lot like safety. You were younger then, in over your head and trapped in the kind of trouble that left little room for pride. Nicky found you at the right moment and offered you a way out when few others would have. A life safer than the one you’d been living.

For a while, being Nicky’s old lady felt a whole lot better than being nobody’s anything.

Gemma took one look at you and decided you would either toughen up or be swallowed whole. So, she taught you how to stand your ground, make yourself useful, and survive men like these without ever seeming fragile. In the years that followed, you built another kind of armor—beauty, confidence, and the quiet assurance of knowing exactly what you brought into a room. Between the clubhouse, the business, and everything in between, this life had taken root in you.

And over time, you became damn good at it.

You accepted the life for what it was, learning how to read a room, when to stay quiet, when to step in, and how to stay steady when things got ugly. You kept the coffee hot, patched up cuts, knew which bottle belonged to whom, who got mean when drunk, and who was all bark with no bite.

Nicky may have been why you came, but he wasn’t the only reason you stayed. Somewhere along the way, the club stopped feeling like his world and started feeling like yours.

Which was why hearing “Nicky’s old lady” grated worse now than it used to.

Because it wasn’t wrong. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

You took another sip of your beer and scanned the room. A couple of crow-eaters still lingered by the couch, waiting for a prospect to notice them. You rolled your eyes and looked away, more weary than judgmental. Everything seemed ordinary, but you still felt restless in your own skin.

When the clubhouse door swung open, your eyes lifted on instinct. The reaction was immediate, a small swoop in your stomach, and sure enough, your eyes landed right on Jax.

That had been happening more often lately, which was its own problem. You’d always noticed Jax—anyone with eyes would. He’d been around long enough, and close enough to your life, that ignoring him was never really an option. But lately, noticing him felt different, harder to dismiss, like something quiet and long-buried finally decided to make itself known.

He stepped inside with that easy stride of his, kutte open over a hoodie, white sneakers dragging lightly over the floorboards as he pushed the door shut behind him. A black hat sat low over shorter blond hair, the cut making his face look a little rougher, his beard neater, his jaw more defined. His storm-blue eyes swept the room in one quick, automatic pass before landing on you. The exchange between you was subtle enough that no one else would have noticed—a slight lift of his chin and a polite smile from you. Even so, it felt like more.

By the time Jax got across the room, you’d nearly talked yourself out of whatever you thought had passed between you.

He leaned one forearm against the bar beside you and tipped his head toward the beer in your hand. “A clubhouse beer? You hate those.”

You laughed softly, lifted the bottle slightly, and made a face at it. “Yeah, well. It’s been a long fucking day helping Gem with all the Taste of Charming shit.”

“Yeah?” he huffed. “Heard she’s had you runnin’ around.”

“She had all of us running around.” You tilted the bottle back and finished it, giving him a look over the rim that said he had no idea. Your eyes drifted toward the hallway and the back room, irritation tightening quietly in your chest. “I was supposed to catch a ride home with Ari, but Ari is nowhere to be found.”

Jax looked around too, following your line of sight.

A soft snort slipped out as you rolled your eyes. “She’s probably getting bent over something with Chibs right behind her.”

Jax let out a quick, warm laugh—head dropping for a second before he looked back at you, the smile still there, curving a little crooked at his mouth and softening the usual firmness of it. His lips parted just enough on the tail end of it, and for one stupid second, your eyes caught there before you made them move. The sight of it coaxed a smile out of you too—despite how tired you were—easing some of the anxiousness in your chest.

His eyes moved over you a little more closely. “You been alright, sweetheart?”

The usual answer almost came out on autopilot. Fine. Managing. But the truth slipped free before you could stop it.

“Better than I thought I’d be.”

The empty bottle turned slowly against the bar beneath your fingers, your eyes dropping to it for a beat before lifting back to him. Hiding behind the usual bullshit got a whole lot harder with Jax looking at you that way. He didn’t say anything, just held your gaze with something earnest and almost comforting in his expression.

“It’s weird.” Your head tipped slightly, attention wandering past him for a moment. “Some days I feel guilty because I’m not falling apart the way everybody probably thinks I should be. Some days him being gone feels a hell of a lot easier than I want to admit.” A swallow caught in your throat. “And some days I’m just tired of being seen the same way all the time.”

His expression made your stomach turn over. Not pity. Not judgment. Understanding.

Which somehow felt worse.

You exhaled a small breath that almost passed for a laugh. “Well. That was probably more honest than you were askin’ for.”

Jax’s mouth softened a little. “Doesn’t make me think less of you.” He kept his eyes on yours as he added, his voice gentler now, “Maybe it’s easier because you’ve been doin’ the hard part alone for a while now.”

Your throat tightened, and you hated that it did.

Looking down, you shook your head once, more to buy yourself a moment than anything else. “Anyone ever tell you you’re annoyingly perceptive?”

It should’ve sounded more teasing than it did.

That drew a low chuckle out of him, his lips pressing together like he was holding back a bigger smile. “Blessin’ and a curse, darlin’.”

It would’ve been really easy to stay in that moment a second too long and make it into something more than it was. The air had shifted just enough to make you keenly aware of where he stood, the way he looked at you, and how quickly the rest of the room faded with his attention settled on you.

It’s not like the attraction had come out of nowhere. It’d been there a long time, in small, easy-to-dismiss ways. The way he looked in a white tee, the warmth of his hugs, the rough drag in his voice when he said your name. He’d always gotten to you. You just hadn’t let yourself sit with it long enough to call it anything.

Now it was harder not to. Being around Jax started doing things to your body before your mind had the chance to catch up. Something slow climbing up your chest, a stammer in your pulse—a restless pull in your stomach that only got worse the longer he stood there looking at you.

It was ridiculous how quickly he could get you there without touching you at all, and maybe that was the most dangerous part. The rush of it felt good, intoxicating enough to make staying right where you were feel like a worse idea by the minute.

You pulled back before it got any more obvious. Pushing off the barstool, you reached for your bag and slung it over your shoulder, giving yourself something to do besides sit there under his stare. “I should probably go,” you said, trying for casual. “I’m exhausted.”

Your eyes drifted toward the hallway, irritation flickering again. “I’ll have one of the prospects give me a lift home.”

“What? No.” Jax straightened a little. “I’ll take you.”

A small shake of your head was all you gave him, doing your best to keep your expression even. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” His eyes stayed on yours. “But I want to.”

The words were matter-of-fact, but there was something too quick in the way he said them. His mouth tugged at one corner; your pulse fluttered before he added, a touch more casual, “Long as you don’t mind the bike.”

Your body reacted again, immediate and shameless. The thought of wrapping yourself around Jax on the back of his bike, close enough to feel him under your hands with that low vibration working between your legs, turned you on so fast it almost pissed you off. You kept your face as still as you could manage, teeth catching lightly on your bottom lip.

“No,” you murmured. “I don’t mind the bike at all.”

Outside, the sky over the lot was still holding onto the last of the light, soft pink and faded orange near the horizon while the rest of it cooled into that dusty blue-purple the valley got right before dark. The air had a little bite to it compared to inside, but it did nothing for the heat already moving under your skin. The parking lot was mostly empty, washed in weak yellow light, a few bikes still lined up in crooked rows. Jax led you over to his without saying much, holding out the spare helmet once you got there. Your fingers brushed his when you took it, your pulse giving that same stupid little flutter all over again.

The helmet strap clicked into place under your chin while you watched Jax swing one long leg over the seat. He held it steady beneath him with an ease that made it obvious how natural this was for him—both feet planted, one hand dropping to the bars, his shoulders shifting beneath the kutte as he got comfortable.

After a moment spent watching, aroused by how good he looked doing something so simple, you took a breath and stepped in close to climb on, one hand braced on his shoulder, the other catching lightly at his side for balance. It was practical, just a way to steady yourself, but it still gave you too much—the flex of muscle beneath leather and cotton, and the simple, unfair fact of how sturdy he felt.

You knew exactly how to do this. How to settle into the seat, how to fit yourself behind him, how to move with the machine before it even started. And once you were there, close behind Jax with your knees bracketing his hips, it hit you all over again how much you had missed it. The bike. The power under you. The way it woke your whole body up.

Jax reached for the handlebars, and you were instantly, stupidly aware of all of him—the width of his back, the heavy shape of him in front of you, the play of muscle in his forearms as his hands settled into place, and exactly how little space there really was between your bodies now.

The bike rumbled to life between your legs, low and deep and rough enough to knock a breath out of you. Your arms went around his waist on instinct, palms flattening over his stomach, and the second you touched him, you felt the smallest tension move through him.

Your mouth went dry. Beneath your hands, he was all warmth and solid muscle, enough to send your mind somewhere filthy before you could stop it. The faint scent of soap lingered on his skin, mixed with leather and smoke now that you were this close. Your thoughts came in flashes. What he’d feel like over you. What those shoulders would look like above you. What exactly those hands would do if they weren’t busy keeping the bike steady.

You leaned close, your mouth near his ear. “Take the long way home.”

Jax turned his head just enough for you to catch the slow, satisfied curve of his mouth, a smirk he didn’t even try to hide before he rolled the throttle.

Wind rushed over your skin, cool and sharp, but your body stayed hot. The engine’s steady vibration settled deep, every shift of the bike pressing you tighter to him, every turn dragging your body against his in a way that stopped feeling innocent almost immediately.

It all felt too good too fast.

Your hands stayed spread over his stomach, and the longer you held on, the more your thoughts slipped. Beneath your palms, the flex of him every time he moved made it impossible not to think about how easy dominance seemed to come to him.

You started to wonder what that same dominance would feel like in bed.

What he’d be like if he ever stopped holding himself back around you. Not sweet. Not soft. Would he take his time just to make you beg for him. Would he pin you down with that same certainty he rode with, already knowing you’d take whatever he gave you.

The next curve pressed you flush to his back, a gasp catching in your throat as your thighs hugged in tighter and your chest pressed more firmly against him. You should’ve adjusted, given yourself some space, but you stayed where you were, feeling all of him through layers that suddenly didn’t feel like enough.

Your mind went straight to his hands on your thighs, guiding them apart, his mouth at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you moan. That gravelly voice of his in your ear, telling you exactly what he wanted, but holding back just long enough to make you ask for it first.

You shifted once on the seat and the vibration hit lower that way, dirty enough to make you suck in a sharp breath. Relief shot through you before shame could. Suddenly you were very, very aware of the fact that if this ride lasted much longer, you were going to be in real trouble.

Because if this had been anybody else, you would not be thinking about what Jax Teller would feel like buried inside your pussy. You would not have been picturing the set of his jaw while he fucked you or wondering if he’d finally lose that control when you came around his cock.

Your cheek rested briefly against his shoulder, the edge of town sliding by in a blur of streetlights and dark storefronts, and more than anything, you wanted to know what he’d do if you stopped being good.

Just once. Just to see what happened if you pressed your mouth to his neck, if you let your hands wander lower. If you told him to pull over and dragged the quiet, dangerous restraint right out of him with your own hands.

The thought hit you so hard it made you hold him tighter. Jax had to feel the way your arms cinched around him, the way your body kept melting into his with every mile. Maybe he thought it was the ride. Maybe he knew better.

By the time the edge of town had disappeared behind you and home was only a few turns away, your body was wound tight with restless energy. Your thoughts had turned fully indecent and you weren’t even trying to stop them anymore.

Imagining him gripping your chin and making you look at him, that focused intensity in his eyes never wavering. His voice low and rough in your ear, telling you how good you were for him, how wet and tight you felt. Just the thought of hearing those words in his voice sent a thrill straight through you.

And more than anything, you hated knowing you were going to have to let him go.

He pulled up in front of your place too soon.

The engine dropped into a low idle before he killed it, and the sudden quiet made everything feel louder somehow. Your breathing. Your heartbeat. The fact that your arms were still wrapped around his waist like they hadn’t spent the whole ride getting you into trouble.

You let go slowly, hands sliding from his stomach, and the loss of contact felt immediate. Annoying, really.

Using his shoulder for balance, you swung your leg over and climbed off. The ground felt strangely unsteady after the ride, your pulse still humming beneath your skin as you adjusted the strap of your bag and took a step back.

When you slipped the helmet off and handed it back, his fingers brushed yours. Barely anything, but it still felt electric. Neither of you moved right away. You just stood there with the last of the evening fading around you, the bike ticking softly as it cooled, silence stretching between you. The way he was looking at you made it hard to be the one who broke it.

“Thanks for the ride,” you murmured.

Jax nodded once, the helmet hanging loose from his hand. “Anytime.”

Instead of letting you go, he swung off the bike and came around to your side, walking with you across the short stretch of driveway to the porch.  He stayed close enough that you could still feel the warmth of him beside you, and by the time you reached the steps, the ride might have been over, but your body had not gotten the message.

Keys in hand, you turned toward him, meaning to say goodnight and end it there, but something in his face stopped you. He looked more serious now, more settled in whatever he was about to say.

“Ya know,” he began, his voice softer than before, “I see all the ways you help the club. With my mom. Down at the shop. All of it.”

Your eyes lifted to his, surprise flickering there. “Jax, you don’t have to—”

“Yeah,” he cut in quietly. “I do.”

Something in the way he said it made your heart clench, because he’d clearly been paying attention for a while now. He shifted his weight, one hand resting near the railing, his eyes still on you in that calm way that somehow felt more dangerous than if he’d done something reckless.

“A lot of people still see the old version,” he went on. “Somebody tied to a patch. That kinda thing.” His mouth tightened slightly before he added, “But that’s not all you are. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

You just looked at him, your stomach dropping and flipping all at once.

Maybe because you hadn’t expected it. Maybe because it was the exact thing that had been sitting under your skin all night, the thing you never said out loud because it sounded petty when it wasn’t. It was personal. It was years of being folded into somebody else’s name after giving pieces of yourself to a life that had long since become your own.

Jax glanced toward the door, then back at you. “You’ve been holdin’ more together than most people know.” His gaze dipped briefly, the toe of his white sneaker scuffing against the worn porch step, and when he looked up again, his eyes were as blue and sincere as you’d ever seen them. “I’m real grateful for you, darlin’.”

A flush crept up your neck again, softer this time. Not embarrassment. Something more tender than that. Too close to relief.

“I do what I’m supposed to,” you managed, your voice catching more than you wanted it to. “Same as everyone else.”

He gave the slightest shake of his head. “Nah, it’s more than that.”

With your bag hanging from your shoulder and the last of the ride still humming in your body, you stood there and let his words settle into places you’d kept shut for a long time.

Exhaling a breath, you ducked your head and tried for a smile, because this man was absolutely wrecking you. “You always this good at saying exactly the thing you shouldn’t?”

A small, sincere smile touched his mouth. “Only when I mean it.”

Your gaze dropped to his lips before you could stop it. It was quick, but not so quick that it went unnoticed, and when you looked back up, something in his expression had changed.

“You should get inside,” he told you, his words quieter this time.

“Yeah,” you answered, though your feet didn’t seem interested in listening.

Jax moved in just enough to make your pulse stumble. His left hand found your upper arm, warm through the fabric, and the touch alone was enough to set every nerve in your body on fire before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

It should’ve felt innocent, but he didn’t rush it. His mouth lingered long enough for the touch of it to settle into your skin, the soft scrape of his beard brushing lightly against your cheek, and when he pulled back, the air between you felt even thinner than before.

“Goodnight.”

The words stuck slightly on the way out. “Goodnight, Jax.”

This time you made yourself walk to the door. You could still feel the ghost of his mouth on your skin and hear his voice in your head—none of which should have been enough to do this to you.

What you should’ve felt was guilt. You’d just spent the whole ride wrapped around another man, thinking things you had no business thinking, looking at Jax like maybe you wanted him to know. You should’ve hated yourself for that.

That realization slid through you, settling somewhere ugly and honest.

You didn’t feel guilty enough. Not for the way your body had come alive the second you climbed on behind him. Not for the thoughts you’d had with your arms around his waist and your mouth near his ear.

If anything, standing there with him under the dull porch light only made one thing clear: you wanted to know what might happen if you weren’t “Nicky’s Old Lady.”

And when you looked back once before going inside, Jax was still there, watching you like the night had left something unfinished between you.

[laur-kinsellaodonnell]

I've already told you how proud of you I am for busting this out so quickly after you just treated us to a delectable Ray fic, but bestie you are crushing it!

I owe you so much love on that one still and now this one, and can't wait to sit down and give my full attention to these fucking outstanding worlds you give us 💗