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.
The engine of your car rumbled to a stop outside the Teller-Morrow garage, the familiar scent of motor oil and California dust hitting you like a memory you’d tried to outrun. Charming hadn’t changed much in the years you’ve been gone.
The same cracked sidewalks, the same row of Harleys lined up like obedient soldiers.
But you had changed.
College had been a failed engagement, a string of cities that never felt like home. You’d left a girl and come back a woman who still carried the ghost of the boy who used to drive you around on his bike behind the clubhouse.
Jax Teller leaned against the garage door, arms crossed, that same half-smirk on his face like time had barely touched him. Blond hair a little longer, stubble heavier, eyes still that dangerous blue. But there were new lines around them now.
“Well, shit,” he drawled, pushing off the wall. “Look what the wind blew back in.”
You stepped out of the car, heart hammering harder than it had any right to. “Missed you too, Teller.”
He pulled you into a hug without hesitation. For a second, it was fifteen years ago again—before SAMCRO swallowed him whole, before the weight of the patch pressed down on his shoulders. His arms were stronger, but the way he held you was the same: careful, like you were something fragile he refused to break.
Most people got the Jax who led with charm and steel. You still got the version who used to sneak you cigarettes behind the auto shop and talk about running away to the coast.
“Figured you’d forgotten the way home,” he said against your hair, voice low.
“Couldn’t. Some things just stick.” You whisper into him, taking in the feeling of him against you.
He pulled back, searching your face like he was memorizing changes. For a moment, his thumb brushed your cheek, too soft for the man who’d buried more friends than most people had birthdays. Then the mask slid back into place. “Come on. Let’s get you a beer. Clubhouse is quiet tonight.”
Hours later, you sat on the picnic table behind the clubhouse, boots kicked up on the bench, passing a bottle of Jack back and forth the way you had a hundred times as kids.
“You look good,” Jax said quietly, not looking at you. He picked at the label on the bottle. “Happy. Or… steadier, anyway.”
“I was. For a while.” You shrugged. “Didn’t last.”
He nodded like he understood more than you’d said. “Yeah. That happens here, too.”
Silence stretched, comfortable the way only old friends could manage. But it wasn’t quite the same silence; there was heat under it now. You’d both grown into the almost that used to hover between you. Stolen kisses at sixteen, promises whispered at seventeen, then his dad dying, and the club tightening its grip.
Right person. Wrong time. Over and over.
“I thought about you,” he admitted suddenly. “More than I should’ve. When shit got heavy… I’d wonder where you were. If you were safe. If some asshole was treating you right.”
Your throat tightened. “I thought about you, too.”
Jax turned then, really looked at you. The cocky president was gone. This was Jackson, the boy who used to fall asleep on your bedroom floor after nightmares about his father’s bike. The one who’d cried in your lap the week after John died and never let anyone else see it.
“I’m not the same guy you left,” he said, voice rough. “The club… it changes you. Blood on your hands. Decisions you can’t take back.”
You reached over and laced your fingers through his without thinking. His hand was warm, calloused, scarred. He didn’t pull away.
“I know who you are, Jackson. I knew you before the reaper. Before the weight. And I see you now, too.”
Something cracked in his expression. He tugged you closer until your foreheads touched, breath mingling with the faint taste of whiskey.
“We missed our window,” he whispered. “Didn’t we?”
You shook your head, slowly. “Or maybe we just weren’t ready. Maybe the universe waited until we both knew what we were losing.”
His hand slid to the back of your neck, thumb stroking the skin there like a promise. When he kissed you, it wasn’t the rushed, hungry kiss of teenagers stealing moments. It was slow. Certain. The kind of kiss that said, ‘I’ve carried you with me all this time.’
When you broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours again, eyes closed.
“Stay,” he said. Not a demand but a quiet plea.
You nodded, fingers curling into his kutte. “I’m not going anywhere this time. Not unless you come with me.”
Jax smiled—small and real— the one that still made your chest ache. He kissed you once more, softer, like sealing something neither of you had words for yet.
Summary: After a very boring and lackluster date, you swallow your pride and call Jax, your ex, and ask him to pick you up. Instead of being obnoxious and mean about it, he surprises you by not only coming through and helping you out, but also revealing a few things that have you questioning how you and he ended up where you were before tonight.
Word Count: 5.5k | I do not give consent to having my work republished or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own.
Warnings: slight angst, fluff, swearing, a rude date, protective jax, mentions of smut, mentions of injuries, jealousy, that may be all, see i can write more than just smut.
It had been quite a while since you tried out the dating scene, and while it hadn’t been all that great a few years ago when you were actively exploring it, you assumed it must’ve gotten at least slightly better as the years went by.
You were quite wrong.
It actually felt like it had gotten worse, if that was even possible, if the bland man sitting across from you right now was anything to go off of. You would normally feel bad for judging someone you didn’t really know, but this guy has been judging you since the minute you walked in the door, and his backhanded compliments told you that you were very much wasting your time.
‘Oh, you’re ordering a beer? Most chicks don’t,’ followed by a laugh that made your skin crawl.
‘What’s your perfume? It has kind of a cheap smell to it,’.
And your personal favorite,
‘You sounded prettier on the phone,’ which was quickly followed by, ‘You know how our voices can sound different over the phone? You just sound kind of different.’
And you started to lose interest extremely quickly after that, especially since those were said within minutes of each other, and he’d only been saying more things like that as the date went on.
It also didn’t help the fact that you kept comparing him to your ex. Your ex isn’t a good guy by any means, he’s actually pretty fucking vile and reckless and dangerous, but at least he didn’t hide behind a fake smile and a pretty face.
No, Jax’s smiles were genuine, and his pretty face was part of his personality.
Would you ever be able to go on a date and not compare him to Jax? You weren’t sure, though you were hopeful… but you feared the answer was absolutely not.
Because even though yours and his relationship had its ups and downs, like any relationship does, at least he kept shit real. He had no filter at all, and he never made you feel like you had to impress him like this guy is. Jax accepted you for who you are and all you are, and apparently that was rare since the last date you went on, you found yourself putting on a show as well.
You were sitting by the door of a local fast food place you’d been to countless times before or after work or whenever you weren’t in the mood to cook something healthy, much rather preferring to pig out and live on the couch for a few hours.
It was definitely not first date material, more like the type of place couples go to once they’ve established a real relationship and are no longer trying to impress or spend a fuckload of money on each other. But you weren’t surprised your date suggested this place. He looked like the cheap type, despite his critique of your ‘cheap perfume’, so you weren’t shocked in the slightest.
He was kind of right though, which annoyed you a lot. You had to go through your collection of perfumes and sprays in search of one that you hadn’t worn throughout the years you were with Jax so you didn’t compare this date to the ones you went on with him - that clearly didn’t work.
But you wore all the ones you have around Jax, or he bought them himself. So you bought some cheap knock off version of one from Sephora you found at the drug store, and you were also kind of annoyed that you’d actually gone out and bought something for this piece of shit.
At least you can say you put in more effort than Derek did. Or is it Darin? Or Darius?
“I’m sorry, what is your name again?” you shamelessly asked, pitching your voice a little higher to make it sound like you were genuinely curious. You honestly didn’t care about holding back and not being rude after sitting with this guy for the last hour and a half. “My memory is horrible. I’m so forgetful.”
He cleared his throat, his overly confident smile he was wearing before you asked that disappearing. “Um, it’s Darin,” he answered, sitting up a bit straighter.
“Right,” you nodded, “I’ll remember that, I promise.”
You were sitting right next to the door that leads out to the parking lot, and you didn’t bother repressing the shiver that went through your body as someone opened the door and left, your arms coming up to cross over your chest.
If Darin noticed your lack of coat, and the fact that his was draped over the back of his chair, he didn’t say anything about it as he stood up and shot you a smile. “Gotta run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” he said, and you nodded, letting out a huff as he walked past you and towards the hall where the bathrooms are.
You weren’t sure why you’ve stayed and put up with him for this long. Maybe you were just tired of being fucking lonely, but the more time you spent with Darin, the more you wanted to be alone.
Slumping back in your chair, you pursed your lips as you let your eyes wander around the room. Not a lot of people were here since it was so late, and you weren’t sure why Darin had suggested you and he grab dinner at ten at night, but that was the first red flag anyway.
Your gaze drifted down to the table, and you looked at your half-eaten burger and the few remaining fries in the box before looking at your phone that was placed face down next to it. Suddenly you were having a rather intense inner debate with yourself.
No. Fuck no, you’re not calling him. There’s no way you’re calling your ex and asking him to come rescue you from this terrible fucking first date. No way.
But the longer you waited, the more you weighed the pros and cons.
Pros; Jax had always made it known that if you were ever in trouble and needed someone, you call him and he’ll take care of it for you. You knew he meant it when he said it, and you’d like to think he still meant it now, even though you and he are broken up. So you were confident that he’d come get you if you asked. And you’d be far away from Darin and would probably never have to see him again.
Cons; you’d be asking your ex, who you had a very messy and very upsetting breakup with, to come help you, when the last time you saw him, you told him you never wanted to see him again.
Fuck it. Luckily, your ego wasn’t as big as it used to be, and you’d rather hear the smug teasing you were sure you’d get from Jax than stay here with this snoozefest any longer.
You picked up your phone and had another brief inner debate before clicking on the first contact on the list of numbers. It may seem pathetic to most that Jax is still listed as your emergency contact, but you’d quickly learned after being with him for so long that he was a pretty good guy to have during an emergency, even if he caused most of them himself.
Slumping back even more, you crossed one arm over your chest, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. What if he didn’t pick up? God, you hoped he picked up, because it would be really fucking embarrasing if he didn’t. He had no reason to pick up though, and you knew that, but still. You wanted to think he still cared even a little about you to pick up the phone when you call at eleven at night.
Before you could get too lost in the endless amounts of what if’s you knew your head could come up with, the call connected not long after the second ring, and you tried to not feel a little giddy about that as you sat up in your seat.
A few lingering seconds passed before you heard the voice you used to hear every single day and night, and one you hadn’t realized you’d missed hearing this much. A hesitant, “Hey,” made your face heat up, and you suddenly weren’t as cold as you were before.
“Hey,” you replied a little too quickly, and you cursed yourself for never having been able to act normal around this man. You looked over your shoulder, making sure Darin wasn’t on his way back yet, then you furrowed your brows. “Shit, sorry, did I wake you up? You sound half asleep.”
A short, breathless laugh was heard on his end as you turned back around, suddenly not caring if your date caught you on the phone with another guy. He’d been distracted by his phone for a good portion of the evening anyway, so at least he’d know how it felt. “Yeah, I think most people are asleep when it’s almost midnight,” Jax said, and you felt your face heat up again, any quick response lost to the back of your throat. Thankfully, he picked it up again with a quiet, “You alright, darlin’?”
You pressed your lips together, looking down at the table once more. “Course. Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked back, then cursed yourself internally since something was obviously wrong if you called him out of the blue like this.
“We haven’t talked in a while, you know,” he pointed out, but it wasn’t mocking or teasing. Just genuine. “Everythin’ okay?”
You blew out a breath. “No, not really,”
The sound of something creaking was heard on his end before he spoke up again, “What’s wrong?”
You winced at the slight raise in his voice, his normal tone coming out rather than the soft, raspy one from before. “Nothing, it’s just…” God, were you really about to ask him to come get you right now? You weren’t shy by any means, and you weren’t soft, but you didn’t know how to get away from this guy without acting like a total bitch, and you had a feeling that if you told Jax you needed him to come tell a guy off, he’d be more than willing to deliver that blow for you. “I’m… on a date right now, and the guy is really fucking boring and kind of an asshole. I was just wondering… hoping, that maybe you’d be willing to come get me? I don’t really feel like wasting more money tonight on a ride home.”
It was quiet for a few seconds, and you were preparing yourself for the rejection, but then Jax broke the silence. “You askin’ me to come rescue you, darlin’?” he clarified, and the name he called you again made your heart clench in your chest. He used to call you that all the time early on in your relationship, but then he became fond of calling you babe instead. Both made your head spin in the best way. “From a date?”
Now he was teasing you, but you also noted the way he sounded a bit tense now, in the way he sounded whenever he told one of the guys off for hitting on you or trying to flirt with you.
You were sure you were imagining that though, because why would he be jealous that you were with another guy after all this time? You didn’t want to think about all the girls he’s been with since you and he broke up, so you didn’t see a reason for him to get all pissy with you for going on a date with another guy.
“Yes,” you answered, then looked out the window next to you at the dark parking lot, nearly void of any cars at this point. “Please.” you added, though you didn’t raise your voice like you normally do when you beg for something.
“Why are you askin’ me? You gotta lot of friends you could ask instead,” he said, “Knowin’ you, you’ve probably gained ten since the last time we spoke.”
Your shoulders dropped, because it was clear now that he was trying to get you to admit something you weren’t going to, at least not over the phone. “Well, you’re the one who told me how dangerous Charming is during the day, let alone at night,” you said, “And I thought you might be up to tell this guy off for me since I’m too polite to do it myself.”
Jax laughed at that, “You ain’t that polite,” he muttered, then a few seconds of silence passed, and you were about to tell him to not worry about it when he spoke up again, his voice back to being raspy. “I’ll come get you, darlin’. Where are you?”
You sat up a bit, not really expecting him to actually agree after all that. “Oh, um…” you held your phone a little tighter as you looked out the window at the big, neon sign. “That burger place we went to after we got back from Oakland a few years ago.”
“Seriously?” Jax scoffed, and you heard some shuffling, “That’s a pretty fuckin’ sad first date.”
That had you letting out a laugh of your own, and even though you agreed with him, your mind went back to your first date with Jax - if you could even call it that. “More sad than our first date?” you asked, feeling oddly nostalgic that you and he had already fallen back into your usual light banter you used to toss back and forth everyday.
“What, a trip to St. Thomas isn’t more romantic than some cheap fast food place?” he asked, a hint of humor in his tone as you heard more shuffling on his end, then the sound of keys jingling before a door opened. “I thought it went pretty well.”
You rolled your eyes, remembering that night quite fondly. After weeks of endless and relentless flirting, you and Jax finally said fuck it and decided to go out on a date, except that was also the night he pissed off a member of another club in Charming, and ended up with a pretty nasty cut on his arm from a knife.
He still picked you up and was prepared to go out with his arm poorly wrapped up in the shitty bandages he had at his house, but when you saw the red starting to seep through the white, you told him to go to the hospital instead of wherever he planned on taking you.
You stayed with him the whole time, of course, and had to watch nurses and doctors alike flirt with him and send him the fuck me eyes, but Jax was either oblivious to it - doubt it - or he was simply ignoring them, his attention remaining on you for the entire night.
He took you back home after he got stitched up, thanked you for staying with him, then apologized for a shitty first date, but you ended up going on many more after that, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.
“I don’t know, at least I didn’t have to watch people eye fuck my date all night during this one,” you said, then looked over your shoulder again when you heard footsteps approaching from behind you.
“I had no control over that,” he said smugly, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “And I still got you anyway.”
Your heart clenched at that, because yes, he did get you. And after this, you were pretty sure he still very much has you. “I guess,” you mumbled, then lowered your voice even more. “He’s coming back, I have to go.”
“I’ll be there soon, darlin’,” Jax promised, and you quickly hung up before setting your phone down on the table, giving Darin a forced smile as he sat back down across from you.
He nodded down at your phone as he settled in the chair, a timid smile on his lips. “Was that important?” he asked, as if he just expected you to sit and do nothing while you waited for him to come back from the bathroom.
And you thought he couldn’t get on your nerves even more than he already is. “Uh, yeah. Kinda,” you answered, hoping Jax would get here soon. He’s pretty fast on that bike of his, and if you were right in thinking he was a little jealous that you’re on a date with another guy, you had a feeling he was going to be even faster.
“Cool,” Darin nodded, and you were once again forced to listen to more backhanded compliments that sounded a lot more like complaints and pathetic attempts at getting you to sleep with him despite him pretty much insulting you all night.
‘I’m surprised you finished almost all the fries. The other dates I’ve been on, the chick barely ate anything,’
‘I didn’t mean to say you weren’t pretty earlier, by the way. I was just surprised to hear how you sound in person compared to over the phone,’
‘Do you live around here? I would like to continue getting to know you somewhere a little more… comfortable, if you’re up for it,’
You are, in fact, not up for it, but you didn’t get a chance to say that as the door swung open, and you felt your shoulders drop when you heard his voice. “Wow, you weren’t kiddin’,” Jax said as he sauntered over to you, his usual, effortless swag in everything he does never failing to stir something in you. He placed one hand on the back of your chair, and you already felt so much better now that he’s here, you couldn’t stop the way you leaned back towards him. “Hate to cut things short, but I believe this one and I have our own date to get to.”
Your face flushed at that, and you quickly looked down at the table as Darin sat up comically straight. “Um, what? Sorry, dude, but I think you have the wrong-”
“No, I don’t,” Jax said, wrapping one hand around your arm and guiding you up and out of the chair. As soon as he touched your bare skin, he quickly looked down at you with narrowed eyes. “Shit, you’re fuckin’ freezin’.”
You stand up all too willingly, looking up at him with a small, genuine smile you didn’t bother trying to hide as he shrugged out of his jacket and slid it around your shoulders. Jax’s own lips curved up in a small, rare smile right back at you as he zipped the jacket up halfway before Darin spoke up again, this time trying to sound more intimidating.
“Dude, do you mind?” he asked, and Jax looked over at him again, his smile now gone, and that annoyed you as you looked over at Darin as well. “We were kinda on a date here? And we were just about to head out and go back to her place, so-”
“I highly doubt that,” Jax laughed, draping one arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. He wasn’t the least bit intimidated by Darin’s pathetic attempt at coming off as the more powerful man out of the two, which was to be expected. In the years you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jax be genuinely intimidated by anything, let alone some cheap dude who still expected you to fuck him after this horrible date. “Let it go, man. She’s not fuckin’ interested. Cover the bill, yeah?”
He didn’t give Darin a chance to respond as he turned and guided you out the door and over to his bike, and you were kind of surprised you didn’t hear him pull up. You’d been trying to drown out everything around you after you got off the phone with him, and apparently it worked.
You stopped next to the bike, subtly cuddling into the warm fabric of his jacket as Jax let you go and reached for his helmet. “You got here really fast,” you observed, looking up at him as he moved towards you again.
“What, you thought I wouldn’t?” he asked, placing the helmet on your head and tightening the strap for you. “You needed me. I was just messin’ around on the phone, babe. I’ll always be here when you need me.”
Babe.
You weren’t sure if he meant to call you that, if it had just slipped out, but you froze as soon as he said it, and your body heated up at the same time.
He must’ve been able to tell, and you were grateful when he took it upon himself to place his hand on your lower back and guide you onto the bike. Once you were situated behind him, Jax waited until your arms were securely banded around his middle before he looked over his shoulder at you. “You wanna crash at mine? It’s closer,” he asked, raising his voice so you could hear him over the sound of his bike.
Spending the night at Jax’s house didn’t seem like the best idea, especially considering everything he’d made you feel already since he picked up his phone. But then again, having him drop you off at your own house and leave you alone sounded really fucking miserable.
“Yeah,” you said back, holding onto him a little tighter. “Sure.”
And that was how you found yourself standing in Jax’s entryway after one of the worst dates you’d ever been on in your life. His house looked pretty much the same since the last time you were in it, which was about six months ago. You still could hardly believe that it had been half a year since you and he broke up, and yet he was still able to make you feel all the things he used to without even trying or meaning to.
“Um, I don’t have anything to wear to bed,” you said, playing with the sleeves on his jacket as he shut and locked the door behind you, falling into his routine of kicking off his shoes and putting his keys on the table beside the door. When he looked at you, then let his eyes trail you up and down, you shook your head, “It’s fine. I can sleep in this.”
Jax huffed out a laugh and shook his own head. “Relax. It’s not like we’re strangers,” he said, starting to walk down the hall towards his bedroom, and his nod had you following after him. “You can wear somethin’ of mine, like you did before.”
Before, meaning when you would steal his shirts to sleep in and wear as you lounged around the house. You couldn’t be blamed, though. His shirts were big on you and unbelievably, and kind of annoyingly, comfortable.
When you got to his room, you abruptly stopped in the doorway while Jax walked over to his dresser and opened one of the drawers. Your eyes were glued to his bed, his very much made bed, and your mind went back to when he picked up the phone and sounded like he had just been sleeping.
But it was obvious he wasn’t sleeping here in his bed, and the thought that you’d woken him up after he just got done fucking a girl and falling asleep in her bed made you feel gross and unjustifiably mad.
You didn’t expect him to not find relief in other girls after the breakup; you knew he definitely did. But you never had to see the proof of it, unlike how you are right now.
A sick feeling crawled up your throat as Jax grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats from his drawer then turned to you, but when you didn’t take them from him, his brows furrowed. “What?” he asked, and you swallowed harshly.
“I can wear this,” you said, gesturing down towards your skirt and his jacket that was covering up your crop top. You hated thinking that he was having a great night before you called him and practically begged him to come pick you up, and you hated that you kind of wanted to know who he was with before he had to leave.
Jax narrowed his eyes, moving towards you as he held onto the offered clothing. “What?” he asked again, trying to get you to meet his eyes, but you just looked over at his bed - the bed you had a strong amount of fondness for since you spent countless nights in it with him.
Even though you had no right to, you still asked, “Were you with someone tonight? Before I called you?” you finally looked up at him, your body tensing up a bit at your own series of questions. “Like, were you sleeping with someone when I asked you to come get me?”
Jax’s eyes narrowed even more, and he briefly looked over his shoulder at his bed before looking back at you. A few seconds passed before he huffed out a laugh, “You were just on a date with some cheap asshole, and now you’re askin’ me if I was with someone else?” he asked back, and you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.
You knew you had no business or right to ask him that, and you were a hypocrite for doing so. He was right. Tonight wasn’t the first date you’d been on since the breakup, and it wasn’t your first attempt at trying to move on from him. Who were you to get upset that he might’ve been with someone else tonight too?
“I’m sorry,” you quickly say, looking down at the carpet. “That was fucking stupid of me to ask.”
Jax shook his head, holding out his clothes to you and waiting until you finally took them. “I had a long day, alright? I crashed on the couch as soon as I got home,” he said, and you felt a strange feeling of relief wash over you. “I wasn’t with anyone else, okay?”
You nodded at that, not trusting yourself to say any actual words as he moved past you and left the room, leaving you to get changed. After you slipped his shirt over your head and tied the sweats as tight as possible, only for them to still be loose on you, you wandered out of his room and down the hall, finding Jax sitting on the couch.
Now that you’re looking at it, the crease on the pillow from his head and the blanket that was half on the couch and half on the floor made it extremely obvious that he had been asleep there when you called, and you felt that embarrassment from before come back.
“Thank you for picking me up,” you said, wanting to move past it as quickly as you could. “You saved me. I owe you one.” You weren’t sure what you could give him or do for him in return, but you meant that nonetheless.
Jax didn’t say anything to that, he just gave you the same soft smile from before as he remained sitting on what you assumed you were going to be sleeping on. But then he kicked his feet up on the coffee table, seeming to not be in any hurry to move. “You can sleep in the bed. I’ll crash here again,”
That had you shaking your head quickly, a protest leaving your mouth just as fast. “No. You said you had a long day and you’re tired. You can sleep in your own bed, Jax,” you said, “I’ll take the couch.”
But Jax just scoffed, shaking his head, “I ain’t letting you sleep on the couch, babe,”
There was that name again, and you fought off another smile as you both fell back into the familiar way you used to argue about nothing at all. Like where you were going to sleep, when there was a very simple answer to that.
That was how you both ended up in his bed, him on his side and you on the side that used to be reserved for you. There was a slot of space between yours and his body, and even though you knew you shouldn’t, you found yourself wanting to close it.
Jax seemed to want that too, because when he looked over at you and met your gaze in the darkness of his room, a lazy smile formed on his lips, and his arm lifted just slightly. It was enough to have you say fuck it, and you moved closer to him until you were cuddled up against his side, and his arm was wrapped around your waist.
It felt just like before, when you and he would lie in bed together just like this before one of you would pass out and the other would follow, and usually moments like this would follow after sex, but would feel just as intimate. Maybe even more.
That’s exactly what this felt like. Intimate. Comfortable. Safe with a man who was anything but.
As you laid your head on his chest, Jax’s arm wrapped a little tighter around you, like he’d been missing this just as much as you had. The breakup was messy, explosive and irreversible, or so you thought, and even though you swore to both yourself and to him that you’d never see him again, here you are, in his arms like no time at all had passed.
And you wanted to see him after this. You wanted to keep seeing him, because fuck, you missed him. And you hated not being with him.
“So,” Jax spoke up after a while, clearly not in the mood to go to sleep despite his long day. It was fine, because you didn’t want to waste being with him like this by sleeping anyway. “You wanna tell me why you were wastin’ your time with that fuckin’ loser tonight?”
You let out a soft laugh, your hand coming up to rest next to your head. “I was trying to get over you,” you confessed, your fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt as his curled around your hip, almost possessively. Protectively. “Took me months to finally go out with another guy. The last three dates I’ve been on have been so fucking bad though. It does feel like I’m wasting my time.”
Jax hummed, and it vibrated your cheek. “Tryin’ to get over me, huh?” he teased softly, and a smile grew on your face. “Doesn’t seem to be workin’ out so well, babe.”
He squeezed your hip, and the fact that the reason you’d only dressed up and gone out tonight was to try and get over him, only to end up in his shirt, in his bed, and in his arms by the end of it not lost to either of you.
“No, I know,” you agreed, breathing in his familiar scent and letting your eyes flutter shut. “I suck at this. I pick the worst people to take a chance on. It’s just… I miss you, Jax. All the time. And I didn’t let myself admit that until now. Until tonight.”
You opened your eyes again and propped your chin on his chest, finding him already looking down at you. His expression was unreadable to most, but you’d always been able to read him like a book, and you knew what that look meant.
“You didn’t have to come get me tonight. You had no reason to,” you pointed out, placing your palm flat against his chest. “And yet you still did.”
Jax lifted his other hand and placed it over yours, the gesture so natural and simple, yet it had you aching for more of it. “Of course I came and got you. I already told you, I’ll always be here when you need me,” he said, then his lips flickered up into a lazy smirk. “Guess I miss you too. Real fuckin’ bad, babe.”
You melted into him at that, your head dropping to his shoulder as you moved impossibly closer to him. You breathed him in, let his scent fill your senses, and let his warmth seep into you.
It was scary, because you could already feel yourself getting used to this again, and you had no idea what tomorrow was going to bring. It was obvious you and he needed to talk, but it was also obvious neither of you wanted to do that right now, too afraid to ruin the moment and drive each other away again.
But then he spoke again, “I still love you, you know,” he said, his voice muffled against your hair when he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Always will.”
And suddenly it felt like that conversation didn’t really need to happen anymore, because it was obvious that, while the two of you had lost your way for a second there, there was no doubt of your love for each other. There was no doubt you still belonged to each other.
You laced your fingers with his, letting your eyes close once again now that you were a little more confident in what tomorrow will bring. “I know,” you said back, smiling against his skin. “I love you too.”
-
Happy birthday to the man himself. I actually like this quite a lot, and may even make a part 2 where these two officially get back together, if you know what I mean...
Pairing: Jax Teller x Opie's half-sister!Reader Word Count: 5.2k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]
Warnings/tags: angst, pining, soft!Jax, Ima being an ass
Summary: After that drunken phone call with Jax ten months after you moved to Miami and ignored him, you had no plans to return to Charming. Until you accidentally answer a call from Gemma one drunken night and she has you questioning your choices and catching a last minute flight across the country.
a/n: This is the fourth part in this one-shot series about my favorite tragic couple, so you might want to read the others to understand what's happening first. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!
Barely more than a month had passed since the night you’d drunkenly dialed Jax in a moment of weakness. His calls and texts had come back in full force since then, which was something you’d anticipated. But just like you’d initially told him that night when you'd been drunk on the balcony of your Miami apartment, nothing had changed between you two. Even though he'd told you he loved you, you'd returned to ignoring each time his name flashed across the screen of your phone.
It didn’t matter how much it killed you to not answer his calls and texts, because you hadn’t planned to come back to Charming. That one drunken mistake of a phone call last month hadn’t changed your mind about returning. Nothing but pain and fear clung to the Sons, and living in Charming would just invite all of that back into your life again.
But a few nights ago, you’d accidentally answered a call from Gemma. Her words had haunted you in the days that’d followed, running on repeat over and over in your mind.
Ever since your move to Miami, you’d started drinking more frequently than when you’d lived in Charming–even more after that call you’d had with Jax. Miami had just never felt right, it had never felt like home. You’d never really fully settled there. So you'd inevitably turned to alcohol, the one thing that you could always rely on to make you feel better since you no longer had Jax for that.
The other night, in one of your usual drunken stupors while your roommate was out, your phone rang and you’d answered it. Because through your blurry vision you hadn’t seen the image of Jax's face appear on your screen, and that had been enough reason for you to pick up the call. But you hadn’t expected his mother on the other end when you answered.
Closing the door of the taxi with a sharp clack that managed to drag you out of your thoughts, you turned around and shouldered the strap of the hastily-packed backpack you'd brought with you. Stepping up onto the curb, you stared past the open gate where the Sons’ clubhouse sat in the dimly lit parking lot, the usual muffled sounds of music and chatter from a party drifting towards you in the night. The building looked exactly the same, as if no time had passed even though it'd been almost a year since you'd last been here.
The taxi behind you pulled away from the curb and carried on down the darkened street, leaving you standing outside alone. Gemma’s words, which had been running through your head for the duration of your flight back from Miami, resurfaced once more as you stared at the clubhouse.
“You can’t outrun it, sweetheart. If you’re gonna lose ‘em, you’re gonna lose ‘em. Moving to Miami ain’t gonna stop it, you’re just wasting the time you could have had with them by disappearing. Their loss won’t hurt any less on the other side of the country. We both know that.”
A heavy sigh blew past your lips, your shoulders sagging in defeat as you began making your way reluctantly past the open gate and through the parking lot. As you made your way towards the entrance of the clubhouse, you looked up at the familiar neon blue Reaper sign sitting above the door. The skeletal smile on its face felt mocking, as if the Reaper knew that it held the lives of all the people you cared about in its hands and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.
You hadn’t wanted to admit that Gemma was right, but deep down you knew that she was. Running from Charming wasn’t going to make it hurt any less whenever you got the call that your dad, or your brother, or Jax had been killed or incarcerated. And you knew that you would only end up feeling guilty about having lost time with any of them because you’d been too much of a foolish coward to face that fact.
It didn't matter how far you ran, you’d always be tied to SAMCRO because of Opie and Piney. Even if you tried to get over Jax and run from your feelings for him, all that was left of your family was still at the mercy of the Reaper. The almost year you’d spent in Miami had taught you that before Gemma had so bluntly stated the truth over the phone, even if you'd tried your best pretending it wasn’t the truth for the last ten months.
But none of that changed things between you and Jax. That was at least one tie to the club you had any amount of control over. Jax was your best friend–and certainly something more than that–but you could at least keep yourself from getting any closer than that to him. You could control yourself from losing even more of the heart that he wasn't aware he held in his hands so long as you never fully gave it to him.
You knew there was no hope of having a future with Jax outside of that friendship. You refused to ever entertain the thought, even if sometimes the visions of that future you desperately wanted occasionally slipped past your defenses, teasing you with a handful of ‘what ifs’ that you wished you could turn into reality. But Jax would never leave the club, and you refused to get pulled any deeper into it. So you just had to settle for loving him silently at a distance, giving him your friendship and sometimes your body but never anything more.
Pushing open the door of the clubhouse, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia as the scent of tobacco, alcohol, weed, and something musty filled your nose. There’d been countless nights that you’d partied here over the years with all of the guys, often staying up until the sun rose with Jax and your brother while you three drank yourselves into oblivion. There'd been so many times that you’d passed out in Jax’s room after a night of drinking, waking up in his bed to him first thing in the morning with his warm body curled around yours in a way that wasn't anything friendly.
But the wave of nostalgia died when Ima Tite appeared out of seemingly nowhere, blocking your way when you’d barely taken two steps inside of the clubhouse. She crossed her arms over her chest, the gesture pushing her tits even higher up in the low cut crop top she was wearing. A scowl spread onto her face as she stood there like she had some right to control who came in and out of a Sons’ party, her eyes scanning over you in open distaste.
You’d always hated Ima because she’d never shown you the slightest bit of respect ever since you'd met her. Even the croweaters that hung around the clubhouse knew that you were different from them, that you were someone who demanded a certain level of respect because of who you were related to within the club. But with Ima, it’d always been clear that she wanted Jax, and she hated that he was always so interested in you. Because of it, he’d never once taken the bait when she tried to sleep with him, no matter how many times she flashed him her tits.
Jax's contempt for Ima had only grown with all the rude, bitchy comments she’d thrown your way over the past couple of years once she’d appeared in the Sons’ lives. He had never looked her way twice because he couldn’t stand the way she’d treated you. He'd once told you that he'd rather fuck a jar of hot sauce before he'd touch her, and he’d proudly grinned at the way you’d accidentally spat out your beer when he’d said it.
But that was before you’d disappeared to Miami on him, ignoring him for nearly a year. Now here she stood as bold as ever blocking your path into the clubhouse. The thought that maybe he could have fucked her at some point over these past few months since you’d left made something sick settle in uncomfortably in your stomach. She was the last person you’d ever be alright learning that he’d slept with.
Eyes drifting past her shoulder as she tried to intimidate you, your gaze was drawn straight to the man himself. Jax was sitting in the back of the clubhouse on one of the worn couches with some little brunette that you didn’t recognize sitting perched in his lap. She had draped an arm casually over his shoulder and was whispering something in his ear while one of her hands smoothed itself down his chest. A lazy grin sat on Jax's face as he enjoyed her attention, entirely unaware of your presence.
You knew you had no right to get upset that he had some girl all over him considering it was you who kept telling Jax that you wouldn’t be serious with him, but that didn’t stop the sharp twist of your heart as you watched them interact. If you hadn’t come here tonight, or if your flight had gotten here just a bit later, you knew he’d be fucking that girl in his room. And hell, maybe he still would tonight. Your reappearance in his life didn't necessarily mean anything after how you'd treated him. For all you knew, you showing back up tonight might only encourage him to fuck her.
That thought made your stomach lurch as jealousy burned acidic and hot inside of you. But this was the price you paid for keeping Jax at a distance. He had needs that needed to be met, and you had been the one to leave him. It wasn't realistic to think that he hadn't touched anyone else in your absence.
“No,” Ima stated, her voice drawing your attention back to her. “You left Charming, sweetie. You don’t get to come walking back up in here like you’re still welcome. He’s good without you.”
Your eyes narrowed at the meaning behind her words and the cruel way she'd boldly spat them at you. While you’d mostly come straight here after your flight to find Opie, hoping that he would let you crash on his couch for the weekend during your impromptu visit, you’d be lying if you said you hadn't been hoping to run into Jax tonight. You’d missed him even though it’d been your choice to leave and ignore him. But the last thing you needed right now was a reminder about just how good Jax had been doing without you.
“Get out of my way, Ima,” you warned. “Tonight isn't the night for your shit.”
“He’s got plenty of other girls to keep him satisfied,” she shot back, still unmoving. “You’re not wanted here. Go.”
You rolled your eyes in irritation, struggling to keep your anger in check. You didn’t need to get into an outright physical altercation, though you knew she would certainly lose. And after many hours on a nighttime flight, then showing up here painfully sober while surrounded by all the alcohol, and seeing Jax with someone else, you currently didn't have much patience left to control yourself around Ima.
“Maybe I'm here to see my brother,” you snapped bitterly back at her. “So why don't you go stuff a cock in your mouth and shut yourself up? Because I'm not in the mood for your shit tonight.”
“You're nothing but a weak little bitch,” Ima taunted, raising her chin defiantly. “A coward. You can't handle this life, so why don't you run back to Miami and cry into a bottle? Charming is better off without you and so is Jax.”
Taking an abrupt step forward, you caught the flinch the second you got in her face. Ima had a big mouth that she couldn't stop running, but you knew damn well she wasn't capable of backing her words up. Not with you. You'd certainly learned a few things about throwing punches growing up with Opie and Jax, something even she knew despite her constant goading.
“You should shut your mouth and walk away,” you threatened, low and dangerous. “Keep running your mouth and Luann won't wanna feature you in a film for weeks with what I could do to your face.”
Ima's scowl faltered at your words, a flicker of fear passing behind her eyes. She’d overheard the many proud retellings from Jax and Ope about your drunken fights at the shithole bar downtown. She knew you didn’t make empty threats, and she also knew you could back them up with far more than some hair pulling.
“Alright,” a familiar, deep voice cut through the tension. “That's enough.”
You tensed immediately, your anger at Ima temporarily forgotten at the sound of his voice. Slowly you turned your head over your shoulder to find Jax standing just beside you both, cigarette smoke and the scent of whiskey drifting off of him and filling you with a mix of longing and regret. His piercing, disapproving stare had been fixed on Ima, but the second he felt your eyes on him, he glanced back at you. His blue eyes momentarily softened as they quickly darted over your features, taking you in, but then his hard glare returned to Ima and she visibly shrank beneath it.
“You done?” he snapped at her. “‘Cause this shit ain't cute, Ima.”
Her features twisted into something furious as her eyes narrowed to slits, but she knew better than to get into an argument with Jax. Reluctantly uncrossing her arms from over her chest, she took a few steps backwards until she was no longer blocking your path into the clubhouse, but the look on her face told you she wasn't done with you. She shot you a dirty side-eye and huffed in annoyance before she finally turned around and sauntered away.
Jax's hard glare remained on her retreating back until she’d completely sulked off into the party, disappearing past a few Sons. When Jax finally turned his attention back on you, your heart skipped at the familiar way his eyes met yours. There was an unquestionable tenderness in them that you hadn't seen in months, and you were nearly overcome with emotion at the sight of it.
Now that he was standing in front of you after ten painfully long months without having seen or really spoken to him, you realized just how much you'd genuinely missed him. Those months of ignoring him had felt so incredibly stupid now that you were looking at him. You could see that exact same thought reflected back at you on his own face, but he didn’t say anything. Tongue darting out to nervously wet your lips at his continued silence, you tried to get a hold of the emotions swelling within you. The last thing you wanted was to break down in front of Jax within seconds of seeing him.
“What're you doin’ here?” he finally asked. “I thought you were in Miami?”
Shifting uncomfortably on your feet, you tried to swallow the lump steadily forming in the back of your throat. You fidgeted with the strap of the backpack slung over your shoulder, the only thing you'd brought with you after your rushed packing for this unplanned weekend visit to Charming. A visit you'd told absolutely no one about ahead of time.
“I came back for a couple days,” you answered. The edge you'd had in your voice while speaking to Ima had faded, replaced with an uncertainty. “It was a last minute thing.”
Jax’s brows drew together on his forehead, a little crease of confusion forming between them. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he held your stare, like he was struggling to process seeing you in person again after so many months apart. You felt the familiar weight of guilt settling in your stomach, because you'd been the one to run off without so much as a goodbye to him.
“How come you didn't call?” he asked, head slowly tilting to the side. “Ope didn't tell me you were comin’ out. Does he even know you're here, baby?”
“No,” you answered, trying to ignore the way hearing him still call you that made your stomach flip. “I booked a flight late this afternoon. I hadn't had a chance to tell anyone I was coming.” You shrugged a shoulder under his heavy stare, honesty pouring out of you like it often did around Jax. “Your mom called me the other night. When I'd been drinking. Said some things that got in my head. So I thought I’d visit.”
Glancing down at your feet, you felt shame creeping its way through you, mingling with your guilt. Somehow, one way or another, you always ended up crawling right back to Jax. It was embarrassing and you never understood why he’d never just told you to fuck off, but you certainly expected it this time.
Instead, Jax took a step forward and ducked his head until he was in your line of sight. “My mom called you?” he asked, suspicion in his eyes. “The fuck did she have to say?”
You held his stare for as long as you could manage before you abruptly broke eye contact, glancing around the familiar Sons’ party that continued on around you both. Empty beer bottles littered the various tables and the bar counter, some guy you didn't know was getting a lap dance over by the pool table, and that petite brunette who'd just been perched on Jax’s lap a few minutes ago was sitting on the couch coldly glaring at you.
He'd probably have fucked her tonight if you hadn’t just shown up. She knew that and so did you. But you didn't want to think about that, not tonight. Not unless you wanted to down a six pack by yourself before finding Opie in the hopes of having somewhere to crash for the weekend.
“That's not something I want to discuss in the middle of all of this,” you replied, focusing back on Jax. “I wanted to find Opie. Have you seen him?”
Jax's lips thinned at your dismissive attitude, the corner of his mouth dipping into a frown. He stared at you for far too long before he eventually looked over his shoulder. Your eyes followed his to where they’d landed on the hallway that led to the back rooms of the clubhouse.
“He's in the back,” Jax told you. “Don't think you wanna interrupt him, though.”
He didn't need to elaborate on what that meant because you already knew. Opie was drunk with one of the girls here and trying to forget about Donna. Pulling a face, you shifted on your feet, deflating a little in front of Jax as a frustrated sigh fell out of you.
“Was hoping to ask about crashing on his couch this weekend,” you muttered, staring forlornly at the hallway. “Guess I'll have to ask Piney now.”
“What? No,” Jax countered, roughly shaking his head. “You don't gotta ask either of them. You need somewhere to stay while you're here? Just crash with me for the weekend.”
Apprehension flickered across your features as you focused back on him. Stay with Jax for the entire weekend that you were here from Miami? In his house? In his bed? There was no question that you would both end up fucking if you accepted his offer, but that wasn’t the real issue. Staying with him for an entire weekend would make it difficult to keep him at arm's length like you always tried to do. It would feel too much like being his.
“Is that really the best idea?” you asked him skeptically.
A small smile spread over his lips as something warm seeped into his blue eyes. He reached out, lightly brushing his knuckles along your chin in an affectionate gesture you’d only ever seen him do with you. You already felt your resolve dangerously dissolving.
“It's just for the weekend, baby,” he said. “What's the worst that could happen, huh? You need somewhere to stay, and I got room. So stay with me.”
Always weak to Jax, you found yourself easily caving at his poor attempt to reassure you that everything would be fine. That nothing would go wrong. That spending the weekend with him at his place wasn’t going to make you want something more with him.
“Okay,” you agreed, shrugging the shoulder carrying your backpack. “I'll stay with you. I got nowhere else to go for the next two days anyway.”
With the smile growing across his face, Jax tipped his head towards the exit. He grabbed onto the strap of your backpack with one hand, sliding it off your shoulder without asking for permission before effortlessly slinging it over his own. You knew what was coming next before the words even left his mouth, because you knew Jax better than even Opie.
"Alright," Jax said, slinging an arm over your shoulder and turning you both around. He started walking through the crowd, guiding you both towards the exit. "That's settled then, but we aren't done talkin' about whatever the fuck my mom said to you. You don't wanna talk in here? Fine, we can talk outside. But you're tellin’ me what the hell she said before we go."
Leave it to Jax to be stubbornly curious, especially when it came to you. You followed him out of the clubhouse and back out into the balmy evening, the exhaustion from your long flight causing your feet to drag along the pavement as he led you towards one of the nearby picnic tables. Thankfully the party hadn’t spilled outside tonight, so it was just the two of you out here.
Removing your backpack from his shoulder, Jax hopped up onto the tabletop and rested his feet along the seat of it. He carefully set your bag down beside his white Nikes as his other hand patted the space beside him in invitation. Without hesitation, you hopped up onto the table beside him and leaned back, resting your weight along your hands and looking up at the dark sky.
You missed the view out here. The stars weren’t visible in downtown Miami at night, not like they were here in Charming. There was far too much light pollution, but out here you could see countless little lights twinkling up in the black sky. You’d spent many nights on the roof of the clubhouse with Jax and Opie drinking and smoking weed just staring at them.
"You gonna tell me what Gemma said now?" Jax asked, breaking the quiet of the night.
You stretched your legs out onto the bench in front of you, staring down at your shoes as you anxiously worried your lip between your teeth. Jax gently bumped his knee against yours, his way of silently convincing you to move closer to him. You knew each other well enough to not always need words, and apparently ten months apart hadn't changed that fact. Sitting a little more upright on the picnic table, Jax slipped an arm around your shoulders before he pulled you closer to him and tucked you against his side. You lowered your head to rest your cheek along his shoulder, eyes fixed across the darkened lot at Teller-Morrow and lingering on all of the closed garage doors as you wrapped your arms around his waist.
“She just pointed out the truth that I’d been trying to ignore,” you admitted quietly.
Still staring across the lot, you felt Jax shift beside you on top of the picnic table. He leaned over before his warm lips lightly pressed against your temple in a soft kiss. Your fingers curled around the edge of his kutte, your heart giving a heavy thump in your chest in response. How were you ever supposed to just let him go?
“And what truth was that, baby?” he whispered, lips brushing against your skin.
Gaze dropping down to your hands, you watched as your fingers absently fiddled with the bottom of his kutte, his warm breath grazing over the side of your face with how he was looking down at you. The leather was soft and worn between your fingers, dust from the road clinging to the black. The weight of it felt like it was hanging over the both of you just like it always did.
“That it doesn't matter if I move somewhere else,” you answered, barely speaking above a whisper. “Doesn't matter how hard I try to outrun this town or the club, I will always be tied to it. With my dad. With my brother.”
You paused, fingers still rubbing over the edge of his leather kutte. With your head on his shoulder, it lightly rose and fell with each of his breaths, the warmth of him enveloping you as you leaned into his side. Jax always made you feel safe in a way you’d never been able to put into words. Calm and at peace, as if his presence just soothed something inside of you.
“With you,” you finished softly.
Your throat felt tight at the truth in your words. You'd spent ten months trying so damn hard to prove that fact a lie, but in the end, you knew that it wasn't. You would mourn Ope and Piney when you eventually lost them, it didn't matter if you were in Charming, or Miami, or some small, nameless town anywhere else. And your heart was forever tied to Jax, a harsh reality ever since you were a teenager. No amount of miles that you put between you both would ever make the loss of him hurt any less.
“She's right,” you continued quietly. “Only thing running does is cost me the time I could've had with everyone before I inevitably lose you all.”
Jax's arm around your shoulders tightened in response, pulling you further into his side and the heat of his body. His lips pressed against your temple again, this time lingering against your skin. Your eyes slowly closed as your fingers stilled along the leather of his kutte, gripping the cool material between them.
"You're not gonna lose me, baby,” he stated earnestly. “I'm right here. I am right fuckin' here with you.”
“Yeah,” you agreed, nodding your head once against his shoulder. “But for how long, Jax? How long can you promise that?”
A deep, frustrated exhale met your question, his hot breath fanning down the side of your neck. How many times had he promised you everything would be fine? That everyone would be alright and that nothing would ever go wrong? That you would never lose him or your family?
But you both knew better. The other week Opie had told you that ATF had returned to Charming, that they were sticking their noses back into the Sons’ business. Whether it was prison or a grave, something would inevitably take them all from you sooner or later.
“Can we just go?” you asked, almost pleading. You didn’t want to have this same discussion with him again. You were tired of having it. “I'm exhausted and it's late. If we stay here any longer, I'm going to want a drink.”
And you already knew his thoughts on that.
Lifting your head from his shoulder, you raised your brows questioningly back at him. The plea was written plain on your face. Please don't make me talk about this again. Please don't try to convince me that my fears are unfounded. Please don’t make me promises we both know you’ll never be able to keep.
“Yeah,” Jax conceded solemnly. “Yeah, we can go. Guessin’ you’re tired from your flight.”
He gave you one final reassuring squeeze before he unwrapped his arm from around your shoulders, and then he leaned forward and grabbed the handle of your backpack from beside his feet. He hopped off the picnic table and turned around, extending his free hand out towards you to help you down. Smiling gratefully back at him for not pushing the subject, you placed your hand in his and let him help pull you off the picnic table and back onto your feet.
Accepting your backpack from Jax’s other outstretched hand, you took it from him and slipped both of your arms through the straps. He started making his way towards his bike, and you followed after him, readjusting your backpack as one of his hands dug into the front pocket of his jeans in search of his keys. Teeth clamping anxiously down on your lip, you studied the serious expression of his profile, desperately hoping that you hadn't just started your weekend in Charming off with this heavy tension hanging between you both.
“I haven't been on a bike since the last time I was on yours,” you said, hoping to lighten the mood. “You remember that day? I begged you to take me out to the beach, then Clay was pissed afterwards ‘cause you hadn't answered your phone all afternoon.”
Stopping beside his bike, Jax retrieved his helmet from where it was hanging off of his handlebars. He turned towards you, a crooked grin on his face as he offered it to you.
“‘Course I remember,” he replied. “And I still say the trip was fuckin’ worth it, baby.”
You placed the helmet on your head and buckled it beneath your chin, watching as Jax swung his leg over his bike and mounted it with that easy manner of his. The tension between you both began to ease, and you smiled as you stepped over towards him, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. Climbing onto the bike and settling in the space behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist before comfortably resting your chin along his shoulder like you’d done so many times before.
Jax started the engine and the motorcycle abruptly roared to life beneath you. The sound made your heart race at the prospect of being back with him once again, even if it was just for a few days. A feeling that was already becoming dangerous.
“You want to have another beach day this weekend?” you asked him, speaking loud enough to be heard over the engine. “Or are you too busy?”
He turned his head over his shoulder and grinned down at you, and without your permission, your stomach fluttered excitedly at the sight. You were definitely crossing into troubling territory with him and you'd only just returned. A weekend staying at his house wasn’t going to end well for either of you.
“I'll make time,” he promised. “Clay can bitch ‘bout it, I don’t give a shit.”
You smiled wide as he started backing the bike away from where it was parked in the line with all of the other Sons’ bikes. After he rolled the bike slowly through the lot, he finally took off down the street towards his house with your arms hugging him even tighter around the waist.
Your chin rested along his shoulder as downtown Charming quietly flew past you both, the cool evening breeze brushing over your cheeks. It was impossible to deny how much you missed this–sitting wrapped around Jax on the back of his Harley. Despite everything, even you knew you belonged there.
Summary: After eight years, Jax’s high school sweetheart returns to Charming due to a family emergency. Since you and he didn’t keep in contact after you moved to New York, Jax is eager to know everything there is to know about you since you left, and you’re curious about what he’s been up to as well. A lot can happen in eight years, as you and he learn, but some things never change. What happens when you and he reconnect with no expectations weighing you down, but feelings that had never went away rush back to the surface? And what happens when you find out something you aren’t sure you could ever move past, when all Jax wants to do is move forward?
Genre: fluff, smut, angst | Warnings: season 5 jax x reader, abel and thomas don’t exist in this, wendy and jax never got married, tara and jax never dated - swearing, indications of smut, descriptions of smut, mentions of illness, descriptions of illness, alcohol consumption, mentions of getting arrested, sexual themes, toxic friendship, insecurities, body insecurities, implications of bad past experiences with guys/during sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, swearing, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), (m receiving).
Word Count: 43k
Intro
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Playlist for the series: Almost - Lewis Capaldi, Nightingale - Demi Lovato, The Only Reason - 5 Seconds of Summer, Wish You The Best - Lewis Capaldi, Just Give Me A Reason - P!nk & Nate Ruess, I’m Scared I’ll Never Sleep Again - 5 Seconds of Summer, she’s all i wanna be - Tate McRae, The Cut That Always Bleeds - Conan Gray.
Pairing: Jax Teller x f!Reader
Word Count: 1800
Summary: After a brutal day, Jax finds comfort in you.
Warnings: 18+ only please, established relationship, canon-typical violence, injury description, fluff + hurt/comfort, emotional healing, Soft!Jax
A/N: just a little hurt/comfort moment because I firmly believe Jax deserves to be taken care of 🥺 divider credit to the amazing @saradika-graphics ✨all feedback (reblogs, comments, likes) is much appreciated and encouraged!!✨ enjoy babes! 🩷
The garage is starting to settle down for the night, though the weight of the Sons’ day still lingers in the air. Most of the shop lights are off now, leaving long stretches of shadow between the work bays. The fluorescent strip over the back workbench hums low, casting a dull yellow glow over scattered tools and the chrome edge of a half-finished bike. Outside, most of the guys head out toward the lot, engines rumbling to life before fading into the night.
Jax and Chibs are there, posted up near the back of the garage. Jax sits on the edge of the workbench with his elbows resting on his knees, shoulders slightly rounded forward, the tension still sitting in him. Chibs leans against the tool chest beside him with his arms crossed, one boot hooked casually against the base of the cabinet. Their voices stay low, the way they always do when things nearly go to shit.
“Whole deal could’ve gone sideways,” Chibs remarks, rubbing a hand through his beard as he thinks back over the day. “You did what needed doin’, Jackie.”
Jax drags a hand down his face, his fingers pressing briefly against the bridge of his nose before sliding over his mouth as he exhales slowly.
His knuckles are scraped raw, the skin across them split and swollen where they connected with bone earlier. A faint bruise is beginning to bloom along the edge of his cheekbone, and there’s a narrow cut over his eyebrow where someone’s ring must have caught him in the middle of the fight.
Jax stares at the concrete floor, his jaw flexing as his thoughts drag him back through the mess of the afternoon. After a moment, his eyes drop to his shoes, where small dark flecks of blood mark the bright white leather of his Air Forces. The sight pulls a grimace from him, another reminder that this is the cost of the life he chose.
He rubs his thumb across one of his knuckles absentmindedly, the skin there tender where it split earlier.
“Still a goddamn mess,” Jax mutters.
Chibs studies him. He knows that look; the one that comes when Jax is already thinking about how to clean up the shit the club just stirred up before it spreads any further. Chibs opens his mouth to say something, but his attention shifts suddenly past Jax, catching movement near the bay door. His expression changes as he spots you slipping into the garage.
The tired weight of a full work shift rests in your shoulders as you step into the shop, your bag hanging loosely at your side. When your eyes land on Jax, your pace slows instinctively, reading the room the way you’ve learned to do around the club.
Chibs notices the shift in Jax before Jax even realizes it himself. Something in the younger man’s posture changes, subtle but familiar; the tension coiled through him easing just a fraction whenever you're nearby.
He lets out a huff of amusement beneath his breath as the pieces fall together in front of him. Chibs pushes himself off the tool chest with an easy stretch of his shoulders, rolling the stiffness from his back after leaning there for too long.
“Aye,” Chibs agrees. “Looks like my shift’s over.”
Jax glances up at him, brow furrowing slightly. “What?”
Instead of answering, Chibs tips his head toward the bay door, Jax turning just enough to glance over his shoulder. The moment he spots you standing there in the dim light of the garage, his expression changes. For a second he just looks at you, the noise in his head quieting. The bruises, the blood on his knuckles, the mess they’d spent hours untangling; none of it feels quite as loud with you standing there. It never does.
Chibs reaches out as he passes, clapping a solid hand against Jax’s shoulder.
“Your lass just clocked in, brother,” he adds, one brow lifting slightly.
You’re already walking toward them, your bag sliding down your shoulder as you approach. The fatigue shows in the way you move, but there’s a hint of a smile on your lips when you reach the two of them.
“Evening, boys.”
Chibs’ mouth breaks into a warm grin.
“Lookie who it is,” he chuckles, glancing back at Jax. “Just in time to get our boys head right, aye?”
He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the gesture is brief but affectionate. There’s gratitude in it too, even if he’d never say it outright; Chibs has long since realized how much steadier Jax is with you.
When he straightens again, his eyes flick between the two of you with the knowing look of someone who’s watched this exact exchange play out more times than he can count.
“Right then,” he says, jerking a thumb toward the clubhouse. “I’ll leave you to it. Time I got bloody drunk.”
Jax lets out a low laugh at his brother, shaking his head slightly as Chibs turns and heads toward the clubhouse. You roll your eyes playfully, a smirk tugging at your mouth while you watch him go, his boots echoing across the shop floor before fading into the distance, leaving you alone in the low hum of the garage. The single overhead light casting a warm circle around the workbench.
Jax watches as you set your bag down beside the bench and make your way toward him. All the tension is still there, sitting heavy in his chest, but it doesn’t feel as sharp anymore. Seeing you always calms something restless under his ribs.
Your eyes discover the damage as you step closer, and your brow furrows almost instantly at the sight of it—the bruise along his cheekbone, the cut above his brow, all of it.
Seeing him like this always twists something in you, and you frown. You know the life he lives—you knew it long before you ever let yourself belong to him—but knowing doesn’t make it any easier when the evidence of it is written across his face.
Especially when that face is his.
Jax has always been unfairly beautiful in a way he sometimes seems completely unaware of. The sharp cut of his jaw, the lazy tilt of his mouth, the easy confidence that usually settles in his blue eyes. The sight of him marked by bruises and dried blood always makes your chest tighten with a mix of tenderness and frustration, an ache that just wishes the world would give him a break.
You hate seeing him hurt.
“Long day?” you murmur.
Jax exhales through his nose, the ghost of a tired laugh slipping out with the breath.
“Somethin’ like that.”
You look him over, your eyes already taking stock of his injuries as your fingers hover near his brow, tilting your head slightly while you assess the cut before touching him. The split above his eyebrow isn’t deep, but it’ll need cleaning later. The bruise along his cheekbone is already beginning to darken beneath the skin.
Your hand rises slowly, fingers brushing the rough warmth of his stubble before your palm settles against the side of his jaw. His skin is heated beneath your caress, and you feel the rough scrape of his beard grazing your fingertips.
Jax leans into you, eyes fluttering shut under your hand. He feels it immediately; the way his shoulders drop, the way the tightness in his features loosens under your touch. The safety of your palm against his cheek feels grounding in a way that still surprises him—that you’re enough to calm his racing thoughts, a reminder he’s not carrying the whole damn world by himself.
Your thumb moves along the ridge of his cheekbone, careful where the swelling has started to rise. You test the bruise with the lightest pressure, tracing the edge of it with slow, deliberate strokes.
Jax winces slightly. “You gonna start charging the club for patching us up all the time?” he asks, a corner of his mouth lifting.
You breathe out a small laugh. “Club couldn’t afford me.” Your thumb returns beneath his eye. “Besides… someone has to keep you in one piece.”
Your fingers slide down from his cheek, curling gently beneath his chin as you tilt his head upward until he’s looking directly at you.
Up close, the love in your expression hits him harder than he expects. After the chaos and violence, after the constant pressure of holding the club together, the unspoken concern in your eyes feels almost disarming.
Your thumb sweeps back across his cheek, grazing the corner of his mouth before settling along the side of his face as he exhales slowly.
Before you can pull away, Jax’s hand lifts and catches your wrist. His fingers close around it, warm and steady, holding you there, reluctant to lose the feel of you against his skin. You pause where you stand, caught in the kind of moment the garage only seems to offer when it’s just the two of you.
Jax turns your wrist slowly in his grip until your palm faces him. His eyes stay on yours the entire time, calmer now than they were minutes ago. He lifts your hand, pressing a kiss into the center of your palm, the brush of his lips tender against your skin before he lowers it again.
But he doesn’t let go. Your hand remains folded in his while his thumb grazes along the inside of your arm. With each passing second between you, the anxiety fades a little further from his mind.
A smile rests on your lips as you look down at him, gently sliding your fingers through his blond strands, lingering there for a moment before your hand settles against his cheek, careful where it’s tender as you move lightly down the line of his features.
“What was that for?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.
He glances up at you from beneath his lashes, the corner of his mouth curving upward in that familiar, uneven way.
“Just felt like it.”
Jax doesn’t tell you that seeing you walk through the door took the edge off everything that had nearly worn him thin, or that your hands on him have a way of easing the rage and worry in his chest when nothing else quite manages.
He doesn’t need to.
The quiet certainty of how much you love him shows in your expression as your finger drifts lightly down the bridge of his nose, coming to rest against his lips. Without hesitation, Jax presses a slow kiss to the tip of it.
A simple moment of peace in a life that rarely gives him one.
This was absolutely perfect, Stace. Ugh, you set the scene beautifully, and the way you described Jax feeling so beat down from his day made it so I could literally see him sitting there. This was wonderful and Jax definitely deserves more quiet moments of comfort 🥹💕
Also this line hit so hard:
The sight of him marked by bruises and dried blood always makes your chest tighten with a mix of tenderness and frustration, an ache that just wishes the world would give him a break.
Literally how I feel whenever I watch the show. Every episode I always know what's going to happen, but goddamn, I still hope that for once Jax would have a good day!! 😫
this was so sweet, thank you!! I’m so glad it pulled you in, that’s always the goal.
and I love that that line stuck with you because I think we’re all just collectively begging for that man to have one day of peace (though those boys bring it on themselves 99% of the time 🙄)
thank you for always being so kind and thoughtful with your feedback, it really means a lot to me!! 🥰
Just teasing this a little more since y'all seemed to want me to indulge in this self-indulgent idea (and I needed a break from angst). I've written the first part and I'm starting on the second and final part now, but I've been very absorbed in Outlander this past month and I couldn't resist Jax becoming jealous of a Reader who rejects him for a book.
Better Than Him
Pairing: Jax Teller x librarian!Reader
Warnings/tags: 18+; shy Reader, jealous Jax, sexual tension, public sex in a library
Besides the brief sightings of him around Charming, you hadn't seen much of Jax ever since he dropped out of high school–not that he ever noticed you then. But when Sons' business brings him into Charming Public Library on a slow morning, Jax catches you reading smut while you're working. Now he doesn't just notice you, he seems almost jealous of your infatuation with a fictional Scottish Highlander.
