Pairing: Jax Teller x Female!Reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Summary: Jax looks for a way to forget what he can’t have. But wanting you has already ruined everything else.
Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only please, minors DNI!! canon-divergent, explicit sexual content, sexual fantasy, oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing, Jax thinking about you while he’s with someone else, slight jealousy, angst, emotional messiness. brief mention of drinking, forbidden attraction—this list is not exhaustive. individual triggers vary, you acknowledge responsibility for the media you choose to consume.
A/N: here's another part of the If He Could one-shot fantasy series. please do not come for me over Jax and this croweater 🫣 our boy is spiraling. ✨all feedback (comments, reblogs, likes) is very much appreciated & encouraged!!✨🩷
The heat had settled over Charming days ago, the kind that clung to skin and made everything feel heavier. By afternoon, Teller-Morrow felt baked through, the blacktop shimmering under the sun and throwing it back up from the pavement. Every drag of Jax’s cigarette tasted like asphalt.
He’d been in a mood long before you wandered into view.
Clay had been riding everyone’s ass about the latest round of bullshit with the Niners, and whatever patience Jax had started the day with was gone by noon. His shirt clung damp to his back, his temper close enough to the surface that every interruption scraped against what little control he had left.
All he wanted was five goddamn minutes. Five minutes where nobody needed a thing from him.
And then you showed up in that sundress of yours.
It was some light little summer thing, made for the heat, skimming your thighs as you stood beside the other girls with one hip tipped to the side. You were only half-listening to whatever they were talking about, a popsicle melting slowly in your hand beneath the afternoon glare.
The lot stayed busy, so no one noticed how often he kept looking at you.
Mechanics moved in and out of the garage. A prospect wrestled boxes across the pavement. Bobby shouted some smartass remark from the other side of the yard and got a burst of laughter for it, giving Jax enough cover to keep watching without anyone realizing you had his full attention.
You glanced over, because of course you fucking did.
The moment his eyes caught yours, the whole lot seemed to blur around him. A glossy line of syrup slid toward your fingers, your tongue catching it before it could make a mess, eyes still locked on him. The sight went straight to his cock—so sudden it made his stomach tighten and his jaw work.
Your attention dropped back to the cold treat, completely unaware that he was losing his goddamn mind over something so stupid.
Jax watched your lips wrap around it like it meant nothing, drawing it back in with a slow pull. There shouldn’t have been anything seductive about it.
You stayed half-turned toward the conversation, talking and laughing, barely sparing him another look.
By evening, Jax had been hard off and on for hours, unable to stop thinking about the curve of your mouth. He buried himself in club business, smoke, and whiskey, but you kept slipping through anyway.
All he wanted was to get you out of his head for one fucking minute. Find somebody. Get off. Think of anyone else.
He downed the last of his Jack and pushed away from the bar, where a girl was already waiting for a reason to follow. He gave her one, because she was there, and you were the thing he wasn’t allowed to want.
Behind a closed door with the low noise of the clubhouse bleeding through the walls, she was on her knees between his legs, reaching for him with the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly who had chosen her. She knew what it meant to be picked by Jax Teller.
Her hand closed around his cock, firm and practiced, stroking him from base to tip, her thumb smearing the bead of precum gathered at the head.
Jax braced himself against the counter behind him, shoulders tight, trying like hell to stay in the room.
He didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to picture anything.
But as soon as her mouth closed around him, it was over.
One blink, and it was you kneeling there, looking up at him with the same soft, half-distracted expression that had been driving him insane since earlier. You looked completely unaware of what you’d done to him, no idea how close he’d come to losing his shit over your mouth wrapped around a fucking popsicle.
Your lips stretched around him, slow and warm, taking him in without rushing, tongue following the underside of his cock while you stroked what you couldn’t fit until his fingers curled against the counter.
His hips pressed forward, chasing the heat of your mouth while you took him deeper, a soft rush of air brushing over his skin. The tight, wet pressure of you around him sent pleasure rolling low through his body, a rough sound leaving him as he tried not to lose himself in the thought of being buried in your mouth like this.
“Jesus...” The word scraped out of him.
She heard encouragement in it and gave him more, her grip tightening as her mouth started moving with an eagerness that fractured the fantasy.
It was wrong immediately.
Jax slid his fingers into her hair, ringed knuckles tangling there until she slowed down.
“Easy,” he muttered.
She lifted her head, lips slick and breath uneven, waiting for direction.
In that brief moment, he saw her clearly. She had none of the pull you had, the dangerous way every innocent thing turned obscene in his head. None of the unconscious sweetness that made everything you did feel intimate, even when it wasn’t meant for him.
His mouth twisted, more at himself than her, but he didn’t let himself sit with the disappointment for long. He guided her lower, chasing the fantasy again even as he hated how badly he needed it.
Behind closed eyes, your thumb moved over his sensitive head before your tongue followed, tasting him with an attention that felt almost cruel. You sank farther, taking every inch you could.
Your eyes started to water, lashes fluttering, but you didn’t stop, easing past the strain of it until he felt that full, choking pull around him, enough to make his whole body lock up.
“Fuck… baby…”
The affection slipped out before he could stop it, your name sitting dangerously close behind it, but he bit it back, teeth clenched.
You pulled away only to catch a breath, lips dragging over his length before your tongue flicked against the tip, taking him again.
Your palm slid up his stomach, over the lean line of him and the slight softness low on his belly, fingers pressing in as his body tightened beneath your touch, holding him in place like you wanted him right where he was.
It wasn’t just the way you swallowed his cock. It was the control in it, the thought of you learning every sound he made and using each one against him, dragging it out because you liked feeling him come apart under that kind of attention.
His hand fisted in the other girl’s hair, chest hitching as his hips jerked forward. He chased it, needing it to be you so badly he almost said it out loud.
“Yeah… just like—”
He caught himself with a jolt, a hard blink cutting through the fantasy.
Just like you.
The thought settled ugly in his chest. She was doing exactly what he wanted, but none of it belonged to her—not since he closed his eyes.
Not her. Not this.
Your name burned at the back of his throat, ready to give him away completely, but he forced it down hard enough to hurt.
The pressure built fast after that, coiling low in his stomach until his breath started catching in short, uneven pulls. His body went rigid, one helpless thrust taking him over as a broken “fuck” tore out of him, the release hitting messy and overwhelming, dragging through him in brutal waves—still nowhere near enough.
You kept him buried there through all of it, mouth sealed around him as he came hot against your tongue. The hum that followed felt filthy, like you liked the taste of him, and the little vibration ripped a final wrecked sound out of him.
For a few seconds, he let himself have it.
Your mouth. Your eyes. The feel of you holding him there.
The lie of having you.
But when he finally steadied, the fantasy went with it. She lifted her head, lips swollen and flushed, looking up at him like she expected praise.
The comedown was immediate.
She wasn’t you.
Just someone else kneeling at his feet while he stood there half-wrecked over a woman who hadn’t touched him at all.
The hallway opened into the main room, music and laughter washing over him as soon as he stepped out. Jax dragged his palm down his face, trying to pull himself back together, shoving you somewhere deep enough that nobody could see what you were doing to him. But when it fell away, his eyes went straight to you anyway.
You were watching him.
The girl came out behind him, close enough that no explanation was needed. Her hair was mussed, mascara smudged beneath her eye as she smoothed down the front of her dress, too late to make any of it look discreet.
Your expression barely changed, and somehow that was worse. You didn’t glare at him or look hurt, but your eyes moved to the croweater at his shoulder, taking in her appearance and the way she hovered like she suddenly mattered.
A pinch pulled between your brows, too small for anyone else to notice, but enough for Jax. Not jealousy. Nothing that simple. Nothing you had any right to even show.
Before it could turn into anything, you gave your attention back to the room, already pretending what you’d seen didn’t matter.
Like you remembered you weren’t his.
He stood there with his tongue pressed hard against the inside of his cheek, bitterness settling beneath his ribs. After all that, he’d gotten exactly what he’d gone looking for, but it hadn’t helped worth a damn.
Because he remembered too.
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If He Could...
Jax Teller Masterlist
I love the way Jax almost broke, almost slipped her name every time he got too close, everytime he it felt too real.
I love her response at the end. Subtle, nonchalant, but telling. The gut response, the reminder she has no right to feel one way or the other about it, and yet she does.
These two NEED a release but this build up is the best foreplay ever.
Hi lovely ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 For the Monster Lover Event, I would love Troll Jax 🤭. Hear me out! Instead of the heart defect, the family flaw is once a year, for one night under a specific moon. Every blood-teller turns into a troll, and the only way to cure it is through physical contact.
Love 😏 I've got some thoughts! This is gonna be an interesting one 🧡
ꨄ︎jax teller x reader | age!gap (but all legal ofc - however, y/n is referred to as “kid” a few times) | forbidden love | talk of past domestic violence but nothing too in depth | non-consensual sex enhancement pills taken NOT in a “date rape” kinda way, in a tig being fucking stupid kinda way | effects of said pill have been exaggerated for the purpose of the fic | possible offensive banter/language | explicit & sexual language | you know your triggers better than I do, read at your own discretion | 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 @venusesworld @king-teller @thiccemochic @etclouie @mermaidlover006 @leighla3 @menofletters-and-mayhem | let’s go crows 🖤
ꨄ︎I think I’ve messed up my updated tag list, so if you’ve asked & you’re not on here, please just remind me again and I’ll make sure you’re added
“I’m telling you man, this shits gonna work” Tig flashes a wicked grin towards juice who’s standing next to him looking down at the tiny pink pills in his hand, his enthusiasm not matching his friend.
“This feels…wrong” juices smile turns lopsided.
“I’ve seen you plug a bullet hole...in a guys ass..with your finger, but this is where you draw the line?” Tig barks a laugh, guiding his friends hand over the oversized pitcher and tipping each tablet in. “It ain’t…wrong. It’s all herbal man, from the earth. One love and all that yada yada yada”
“But that was differ-”
“No buts, Juicey boy” Tig says head shaking, “it’s an aphrodisiac, alright? If one of the girls already has the hots for one of us, she’ll just have em…a little hotter.” He shrugs, so unbothered “it ain’t gonna make her jump on the first cock she sees”
Trager gives the punch a lazy stir, the flash of silver peeking through the red liquid. “Just a few more turns and they should dissolve” he mutters, eyes zoning in on the drink as if he’s conducting some kinda science experiment instead of the cheap liquid sat before him.
Juice doesn’t say much at all, just stays hovering over his shoulder, chewing at the loose skin beside his thumbnail, Tig last not even five seconds before he realises “What is your problem?” He whines, not even bothering to make eye contact.
The apprehension is written across his face clear as day, “it just feels…I don’t think we should-”
Tig stops stirring with a heavy sigh, looking over at juice like he has no sense in the world. “Crow eaters love to drink right?” Juice doesn’t even manage to open his mouth to answer, “and crow eaters love to fuck…this is just… speeding up the process”
“Hey sweetie, you okay?” Gemma calls out halfway to her car when she notices me.
“Yeah” I answer, slamming my car door behind me, my voice sounding more tired than I had planned “is my dad here?” I ask, keys jingling softly in my hand as I make my way over to her.
Gemma pushes her dark lensed glasses up the bridge of her nose, squinting towards the clubhouse. “Pretty sure him and Bobby went out to run some errands. Shouldn’t be too long though” she tilts her head “Go on in sweetheart, Lylas in there setting up for the friday night shit show” she turns to leave then throws her head back towards me “That asshole still messin’ with you sweetheart?” Her expression shifts to that of a worried mother, I shake my head no, not wanting to start a whole debate about the situation, having to tell dad was hard enough. “cause if he is, you know where we are” she gives me a reassuring smile that makes me feel just a little better.
“Thanks Gem” I say, and she gives me a small wave before I turn and head towards the clubhouse, my havaianas slapping against the concrete with each step. The row of chrome catches my attention straight away, especially his. Even when he’s not close by, even when I don’t mean to think of him, I always fucking do, a silly little crush I’ve never learnt how to let go.
Jax Teller is my dad’s president and loyal brother, and unfortunately for me, that’s the only connection we’ll ever have, no matter how many far fetched scenarios I create in my mind, that's all he'll ever be, plus I doubt he’d ever look twice at me anyway, not in the way I’d want him too. “A samcro daughter” is how they all know me, and that alone solidifies everything. Not that it matters, my dad would lose his fucking shit if that line was crossed, president or not. It would just be another smiley added to his collection.
“Hey y/n, didn’t know you were stopping by tonight” Lylas smile is the first thing I see as I make my way over to the bar, she looks up from drying a glass, her expression softening a little as soon as she notices me.
I slide onto one of the rusted stools with a sigh, tossing my keys onto the bar, “neither did I” I admit, rubbing at my temples. “Dad said he needed to talk but Gem said he only just left”.
My eyes drift around the clubhouse, a few crow eaters scattered near the pool table, Rat and another prospect talking all hush hush in a corner and everyone else is…“Where is everyone?”
Lyla tilts her head towards the heavy double doors “I think something might be going down” she sighs, placing another clean glass back where it belongs.
“Isn’t it always” I roll my eyes, letting out a tired breath as I lean over the bar.
“Always” she laughs, placing a hand on her hip, “Don’t take this the wrong way y/n but…you look like you need a drink”
“That obvious huh?”
Lyla smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes like her usual smile. “Ope may have told me”
“Course he did” I gesture towards her with an open hand, reminding her of the drink she just offered. “Who knew outlaws were such gossips?”
“You’re Happys little girl, that business is their business” she slides the gin and tonic my way. “When your dad told the club what your ex did…” her voice lowers, leaning on her forearms” “…Jax didn’t hesitate to make it club business”
“Yeah…” I take a sip “…I figured”
“Every single one of them would kill for you y/n especially your dad”
I don’t really hear the rest of what Lyla says. I’m too busy picturing Jax’s face the night Dad had told them about the bruises he’d found, about me finally breaking down and admitting the truth after months of insisting I was fine. I wonder how his expression changed, did he do that beautiful jaw clench he usually does when he’s pissed, did he ask for more details? And part of me wants to know if it became club business because I’m Hap’s daughter, or if it’s because the club president has a soft spot for me. A girl can dream right?
“What’s in the bowl?” I raise my voice over the music, the clubhouse getting louder now that there’s more bodies crammed inside.
“Uh…honestly, I don’t actually know” he laughs under his breath, “Tig just said to keep it topped up for the ladies” I squint, leaning in and taking a closer look. Bright chunks of orange, strawberries and lime bobbing around in the red liquid. Rat leans in beside me, inspecting the ingredients himself, “um, fruit flavour maybe?”
I can’t help but laugh, “yeah, I gathered that much” I still can’t decide if Rat stumbles over his words cause maybe he likes me, or if it’s cause my dad would skin him alive for even looking at me too long.
One of the familiar girls parades over, reaching for the ladle. She fills her cup to the top before throwing back a mouthful without a second thought. “Hey, what’s in the punch?” Rat calls out to her.
She pauses, smacking her lips together dramatically as she tries to figure out the ingredients. “Vodka…or rum maybe…and fruit…and…more vodka” she flashes him a flirtatious grin before bouncing back off to her girls.
“I mean, it sounds good…” I glance around the clubhouse, still no sign of Dad “Will you make me one?” I ask, holding out a red cup towards Rat.
“Uh…” he scratches the back of his neck, eyes darting round for a way out. “…yeah, yeah sure” he takes the cup from me, avoiding eye contact.
“I hope you’re not getting Happy’s daughter intoxicated” Rat freezes, the stream of red still spilling from the ladle. I don’t even have to turn around, I already know who it is. “No…no I was just uh-”
His attention then turns to me, “You even old enough to drink yet?”
“I’m not a kid Jax” I scoff in his direction as the prospect hands me the now full cup with a hesitant smile just before giving Jax one of those manly nods and melting back into the crowd.
“Bobby just called your dads like 10 minutes out”
“Thank fuck for that” I take a sip, surprised at how good it actually tastes. “…I can finally get out of this shit hole.” I catch the raise of his eyebrow “…no offence”
“None taken” he chuckles, “Not really a place for a girl like you anyway” As soon as the words leave his mouth, I swear I see the exact moment he wishes he could take them back.
“What’s that spose to mean?” I ask, flirting with the possibility his words have a hidden meaning under the surface. “I grew up here”.
His mouth opens, then closes just as fast. “I know that, I just…I just meant…” he stares at the floor like it’s gonna give him an explanation, “You know what I meant”
“Ummm, not really” I can’t help smiling, hiding it behind my cup, eyebrows raised enough so he knows I’m still waiting on the explanation.
He lets out a muffled laugh, shaking his head “I just meant…” the skin of his cheeks begin to turn the same shade of red as the punch, “…stop it” he warns with a crooked smile on his face. Just as I go to tease him further, he nods towards the doors and I follow his eyesight to see Dad and Bobby strolling in.
“Speak of the devil” I mutter, leaving Jax with a smile, and making my way over to Dad
I wander into the parking lot, I need a breather from the unexpected emotional conversation I just had with my dad, and the effects of drinking a third cup of punch. We ended up talking about everything I’d come here for, and then some. He even managed to convince me to stay a little longer said something along the lines of “you’re always at 100, bring it down a little, kid” I agreed, on one condition though. Told him I’d rather not walk in that clubhouse and find him face down in a crow eater, he laughed, which is something rare if you know my dad. “Wouldn’t do that y/n…not in front of you anyway” Asshole.
Looking up at the star scattered sky, I draw in the deepest breath I’ve been able to take in a long fucking time. The cool night air fills my lungs to its maximum capacity and for a split second, I swear they feel close enough to touch, close enough for me to pluck one out of the sky and wish upon it.
But as I breathe out, something feels…different. I’m suddenly aware of every single inch of my body, the air dances along my skin to the sound of my too loud heartbeat as little goosebumps pave the way for the movement. I hook my thumbs in the waist band of my jeans, adjusting them out of habit, but the way the denim shifts against my skin causes between my thighs to throb…what the fuck.
“You good?” Jax’s voice stops the air from dancing with me.
I turn to find him sauntering over, a cigarette balanced on his beautifully plump bottom lip. The smoke curling around him adds to the fucking masterpiece that he is. I still haven’t answered him, I’m too busy taking in every single detail of his face. The roughness of his beard, how he just looks so dangerous but so gentle at the same fucking time.
He pulls the cigarette from between his lips and holds it out to me, silently offering. I take it without thinking cause all I can think about is how this is probably the closest I’ll ever get to having his mouth on mine. Whole time he’s saying something, and I can see his lips moving but I’m too hooked on the way his lips move around each word, too hooked on wondering how those lips would feel if they were doing anything but talking.
“y/n?” His hand wraps gently around my arm, giving me a little shake. The gesture pulls me straight back to reality, a quiet sound leaves my mouth before I can even stop it.
“Did you just…” he lets go slowly, “did you just…”
“No” I answer, trying to cover up whatever the fuck just happened. My face, just like the rest of my body, feels like a fucking furnace.
“That sounded like a moan” he says, both entertained and concerned.
“No I just…I’m fine I just-” can’t stop imagining what it’d be like to get throat fucked by you. I don’t wait for him to say another word, I practically throw the smoke back in his hand before turning and making my way back into the clubhouse, leaving him with 100 questions, the answers I don’t even have myself.
I have no idea what the fuck that was, but Hap's kid just moaned when I touched her arm. I finish the rest of my smoke, that’s now sticky with her lipgloss and can’t stop myself from draggin’ my tongue over the taste of her. I catch myself as soon as I fuckin’ do it, silently cursin’ my dumb ass before paddin’ my airforces across the lot to the heavy doors. The second I step inside, my eyes find her. She’s in one corner, completely fuckin’ taken over by the music, dancin’ to herself, her hands driftin’ over her own body in a way I’ve never fuckin’ seen before. She’s not new to these parties, even got a little drunk and loose once or twice, but nothin’ like this, this is…somethin’ else.
My eyes immediately search for my sargeant at arms, thank fuck. He’s already passed out, smothered in the tits of one of his favourite crow eaters. My eyes dart back to y/n, still doin’ the same shit. I make my way over slowly, sittin’ on the edge of the table in front of her, tryna break whatever fuckin’ trance she’s in. “y/n…” I keep my voice so only she can hear “you gotta stop darlin’”
She doesn’t answer, she looks at me, like really looks at me, but says fuck all. Then, still without breakin’ eye contact, she slowly trails a finger from her tits, bringin’ it to her mouth and catchin’ her finger tip between her teeth, directly at me.
“What the fuck” I mutter under my breath, immediately pushin’ myself off the table and steppin’ in front of her, blockin’ the view just in case her father decides to come back to life.
“You’re looking at me like you like what you see” she whispers, I actually glance over my shoulder to make sure it’s me she’s talkin’ to. I mean, she’s not wrong but right now, this shit don’t sit right with me. She’s smilin’ and slowly closin’ the distance that’s left between us, her hands ghostin’ over the president patch on my kutte.
“I can tell…” she hums, “…you wanna taste it” my jaw clenches on instinct. Jesus fuckin’ Christ. What is happenin’ right now?
My eyes flick around the clubhouse, tryna make sense of what the fuck I’m actually lookin’ at. Crow eaters wrapped around each other, tongue kissin’, titty lickin’ like half the fuckin’ guys in this room don’t exist. Others are dancin’ by themselves doin’ the same shit that y/n’s just been doin’, everythin’ just seems…off.
Then I see them. Juice and Tig, standin’ in front of our mugshots, empty punch bowl on the table between them, nothin’ left but the ladle and a mixture of discarded fruit at the bottom. Juice looks like he’d rather be anywhere else…but Tig? That smug bastards got a grin from ear to fuckin’ ear which tells me he knows exactly what the fuck is goin’ on.
“Come with me” I say to y/n grabbin’ her by the arm and weavin’ us through the bodies.
“Ooooh boy” she mutters, clawin’ at her neck with her free hand.
I shoot Hap a quick side eye to make sure he’s still facedown and thankfully he is. As we pass, I lock eyes with the two dicks. “You two have some fuckin’ explainin’ to do”
We reach my dorm, and I shut the door gently behind us. “y/n listen to me…” I say, grabbin’ her shoulders and lookin’ her in the eyes. Probably the wrong fuckin’ move right now.
“I really wanna please you Jax” she whines, “please” she reaches for the back of my neck, but I catch her wrists, guidin’ her hands back down to her sides.
“No…no you don’t y/n listen to me…” she keeps pressin’ against me, turnin’ until her ass is flush against my trying-so-fuckin’-hard-not-to-be hard-cock. Fuck. It’s takin’ everythin’ in me not to react, not when she’s like this. “Somethin’s wrong but you gotta stay here and let me figure this shit out, okay?” I move her towards the mattress, easin’ her down onto the bed.
“Sit here, and don’t fuckin’ move” I warn her, hopin’ like fuckin’ hell shes in the same place when I get back. I go to leave the room, grabbin’ the key from the drawer and as I turn to shut the door behind me, I get one last glimpse of her, layin’ on her back, hands slippin’ beneath the waistband of her jeans. I lock the door before I see anythin’ else, and stand there in fuckin’ disbelief, my hands restin’ on the top of my head. It’s almost as if I’m being pranked.
“Talk” I say, stepping behind the two culprits “now”
Juice looks straight at Tig almost as if to beg him to speak up, which he obviously doesn’t. So it lands straight back on Juice, the words come out like vomit, I’ve never seen a man confess so quick. “Tig put pills in the punch” I stare at him in fucking shock, or rage, I don’t know which emotion is strongest.
“Uh… technically you put them in… they fell out of your palm”
“So you’re tellin’ me... you two fuckin’ idiots spiked the punch bowl?” I shake my head, “Tig I knew somethin’ was off with you…but this? you can't fuckin' do shit like that brother!”
“They’re herbal man…” Tig begins to mumble, “…how many times do I gotta explain” he whines in that monotone way of his. “Once they uh…take care of it, it’ll wear off”
Juice jumps in, like he’s tryna outrun the blame. “Tig said Venus uses them, they’re like…female sex enhancers or somethin’ makes chicks wild!”
“Female sex enhancers” I repeat the words, emphasis on the first one, noddin’ my head as I try to unpack this situation.
“Yeah” juice says, soundin’ like he’s tryin’ to convince himself.
Tig goes to speak but I raise a hand to stop him “I don't even know how to ask what I wanna, without soundin' like an asshole” I huff a laugh, “but what I do wanna know, is which one of you is gonna explain to Happy, that his kid daughter is currently in my dorm strung out on herbal sex enhancements beggin’ for attention?”
“Shit” they both say, their expressions switching up quick time.
“Yeah…shit” I echo, throwin’ my hands up in annoyance.
“We didn’t know she was gonna drink it man” juice blurts out, “we wouldn’t have-”
“I can’t find y/n” Happy appears out of nowhere, drunk and slurring “Her cars still out...side”
Silence. Absolute, fuckin’ silence.
“She’s uh..she’s around I saw her” Tig says, draggin’ his words out like he’s makin’ them up as he goes. Cause he is.
“Yeah she’s uh…” I clear my throat, givin’ myself a second to make up somethin’ believable “…she uh drank too much, told her to sleep it off in the dorm, didn’t think you’d want her drivin’ home like that, or any of these fuckers takin’ her” I give a threatenin' look to the bastards standin' beside me.
“Yeah…” for a second he doesn’t look convinced, but then he continues “…she’s had it rough these past weeks. My fault, I convinced her to stay and party…she’s probably just…drinkin’ it all away like her dad” he shrugs, finishing what’s left in his bottle. “Better to let her sleep it off” he begins walkin’ in the opposite direction. “Thanks brother”
“Count yourselves fuckin’ lucky” I just about snarl the words to the two idiots in front of me. “Herbal or not, don’t you ever put any form of fuckin’ pill, powder, or fuckin’ dust in a drink round here again” my eyes flick between the two “fuckin’ assholes”
“You know Jax…” Tig drawls nudgin’ Juice in the elbow and stoppin’ me in my tracks. “I’m startin’ to think maybe you’re enjoyin’ this attention from little miss Lowman”
Not gonna lie, his words land somewhere I didn’t expect em’ to and not cause he’s wrong, cause I mean technically he ain’t even though I’m not thinkin’ shit like that in this current situation but I’d be lyin’ if I said I ain’t never thought em’. y/n’s always been happys kid to me…to everyone in the club. But now she’s grown and at some point the I guess I did start seein’ her differently but Hap trusts me, he’d put his life in my fuckin’ hands whole time I’m thinkin’ bout’ puttin’ them hands all over his daughter. It’s fucking wrong.
Juice, clearly smart enough to value his life, keeps his mouth firmly shut as Tig continues. “I mean I know I ain’t the only one who’s looked twice at-”
My elbow catches him straight under the chin before he can even finish whatever the fuck he was about to say. His teeth crash together, a spray of blood and spit hittin’ the floor as he doubles over clutchin’ at his jaw.
“Please, feel free to tell Happy exactly why you’re pissin’ blood” I say coldly, shovin’ past him and purposely knockin’ into him with a shoulder. “Have some fuckin’ respect” a small scoff makes its way up my throat, the fuckin’ hypocrisy.
My skin feels hotter than satans throne, not that i’d actually know, I’ve never sat on it. The goosebumps that covered my skin earlier have now turned into tiny little prickles beneath my skin. I drag my hands over my arms, desperate to find some kind of relief, but it only makes it worse, like rubbing shards of glass straight into my flesh. What the fuck is happening to me?
Not even ten minutes ago I was completely lost in whatever had come over me, my hands moved by some invisible force to play with myself until the moment swallowed me whole and I came undone all over Jax’s bed, and just like that, the euphoric feeling just…stopped, replaced by whatever the hell this is.
Speaking of Jax, oh my god. Did I really say all of that out loud to him, or is this some kind of sick, very twisted, lucid dream? I really wanna please you. The words echo in my head on repeat, my stomach clenching in a cringe, “fuuuuck” I whisper to the empty dorm. My chest suddenly tightens as if the air refuses to go in any deeper no matter how hard I inhale.
Just as my thoughts begin to get a little too loud, I hear the slight sound of the lock turning, my eyes snapping straight to the door. Jax steps inside, closing it quietly behind him before tossing the key onto the side. There’s a look on his face, something like sympathy maybe? Or maybe disbelief I can’t even work it out right now.
“Hey” the word comes out short and sharp.
“Hi” I manage to make a sound, the panics still there though, and it’s so close to erupting.
“You okay?” He studies me as he walks over slowly, sitting cautiously beside me. The denim of his jeans brushes against mine and my skin automatically prickles with that clawing sensation.
“No…I…” I rub hard at the skin just above the lace of my black cami, trying to ease the tightness. “I…” I try again but the words just won’t come out. I can’t fucking breathe.
Jax understands without me even having to use the words. He moves swiftly from beside me to kneeling between my legs, those ocean eyes pinned on mine. “I need you to listen to me y/n, alright?”
I nod, barely.
He rubs a hand over his beard like he’s tryna work out how the fuck to word this. “Tig and Juice thought it’d be funny to add a little somethin’ to the punch”
A little something? Oh my god, have I been drugged? The question must make its way to my face because he answers straight away. “No” he shakes his head quickly, “Not drug drugs…well…” he chews on the inside of his cheek, like he’s tryna find the best explanation for this. “Nothin’ like that, I mean it’s still fuckin’ stupid but…” he lets out a defeated sigh. “The way you’ve been actin’…the stuff you’ve been sayin’…”
My heartbeat is so fucking loud I can just about hear him over it.
“…it’s because of what they put in the punch. Some herbal shit…an aphrodisiac or whatever the fuck Tig called it” his jaw clenches tight, so beautiful. “They thought it’d make everyone a little more…honest. Though I don’t think you were part of their plan” he lets out deep chuckle that immediately sets off the paranoia I inherited from my fathers side of the family.
“You’re…you’re laughing at me?” The words leave my mouth more like a question than an actual statement.
“No! No…y/n I’m not laughin’ at you” he tries his best to smile softly, reaching for my hand and letting his thumb absently brush back and forth over my skin. “I’m laughin’ at the situation…” he shakes his head dragging his free hand down his beard “…had to be you to put me in this position, huh?”
“What’s that suppose to mean?” The longer he keeps me talking, the easier it is to ignore the panic attack that could still possibly spill.
I follow the movement of his eyes as they drop to where his thumb is still moving over my hand. “All the shit you said tonight…the shit you did…” eyes are back on me now “…stuff like that doesn’t usually come from nowhere darlin’”
“So you think I meant it?” My index finger finds the edge of his ‘NS’ ring and I start tracing the letters, giving my hands something to do as my heart picks up the pace again, I stare down at the silver instead of him.
“I think…” he pauses, like he’s figuring out how to say shit without making this something more than it needs to be…or should be. “…I think the shit you drank tonight made it easier for you to say stuff you probably never intended to say out loud” he moves from below me to take up the space next to me again, the wood creaking under his weight.
“And if I did…mean it?” The remaining alcohol gives me the confidence to ask, but the second I say it I feel so fucking young sat beside him.
His thumb rolls slowly back and forth across his bottom lip like he’s weighing up exactly how far he can go with his answer and the longer he takes, the more I feel physically sick and suddenly don’t want to hear what he has to say, I cut in, taking away his chance to answer. “You you gonna tell my dad?
“Tell your dad?” Whatever composure he had left finally crumbles, his head rocking backwards with a laugh like thunder and it’s obvious now, he is definitely laughing at me. “Am I gonna tell your dad I was about two seconds away from watchin’ you…” I look closely at him as he fights to pull himself together, clearing his throat and sitting a little straighter. “…watchin’ you handlin’ yourself on the edge of my bed?” His lips pull upwards into a tight and disbelieving smile, shaking his head slowly “…you know your dad just as well as I do darlin’. Don’t think that conversation ends particularly well for any of us”
“Fuck my life” I sigh, burying my face in my clammy hands. My skin still feels all kinds of weird but at least I’m no longer on the verge of having a full blown episode. I fidget and shift against the mattress, knowing Jax has noticed I can’t stay still for more than five seconds.
“Haven’t seen you since your old man told me all about the shit that went down” I think he asks to distract me from the now.
I close my eyes at the mention of the topic I tried so hard to hide from everyone, chewing my lip out of awkwardness, “I’m fine” it’s become a habit to lie about it.
“Yeah…that’s what you kept tellin’ your dad right?…” I look towards him just as his eyes drop to the skin on my upper arm, it’s so faint you’d have to really be looking to see it, so it surprises me that he finds one. “…this don’t seem very fine to me” his index finger grazes over one of the last bruises that’s fading away, his touch giving me even more chills, but this time it’s not cause of what was in the punch.
He shakes his head, tipping my chin up with his thumb so I have no choice but to meet his eyes. “Anythin’ ever happens like that again, with anybody…I don’t give a shit if you’re scared, embarrassed or just don’t wanna tell your old man…” he slips straight into his authoritative mode. “You tell me. Do you understand what I’m sayin’?”
“Yup” I pop the p and say it with so much breath I almost cringe, but not enough to stop be from letting my head fall against his shoulder.
His kutte smells just like dads, leather and ash and like home. I feel his hesitation before his arm slowly curls around my shoulder, tucking me into his side. Neither of us say anything for about two minutes, which feels like a fucking life time. At some point, he relaxes enough to let his chin rest against the top of my head, smushing my face against the leather across his chest. I hate how easy I could get used to this.
Eventually he clears his throat, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe he just had similar thoughts to what I did. Probably not though, right? His chin lifts away softly and the warmth of his arm disappears as he pushes himself up off the bed, pulling me with him. I get to my feet but I’m still all slouchy and awkward with embarrassment, Jax just gives a quiet laugh as if he’s trying to make this whole damn thing seem normal.
“Cmon’ Darlin…’” his fingers move to straighten the twisted cami strap against my shoulder, “…coulda been worse…” his mouth tilts at one corner, his eyes making my stomach twist into a tight ball of yarn. “…I coulda stayed and watched” the grin he tries to hide is fucking sinful and for the quickest moment, I almost laugh with him, almost let myself play into the delusion I’ve had forever, so close to forgetting who he actually is, forgetting he’s the same grown up who used to flick me in the back of the head, or in some cases straight on the forehead whenever I got too mouthy with Dad around the clubhouse. “Quit talkin’ to your old man like that” he’d grumble at me around a toothpick tucked between his teeth, not even giving me a second thought cause back then I was just the teenage brat hanging around after school.
“Don’t do that” I had doubt he’d hear me but he pulls back a little, eyebrows showing his confusion, “Don’t…” I suck in nearly all the available air in the room, deciding if I should carry on. Fuck it. “…don’t start something you know we can’t finish”
He nods in silence a few times, like he’s trying to gather all his thoughts before using his words. “You should get some sleep darlin’…” he takes a step back, forcing space between us. “… I’d offer to take you home but I already told your pops you were in here cause you drank too much and I didn’t trust any of those drunken bastards to drive you” his hands rest on his hips like he doesn’t know what to do with them “….so…take a shower, take the bed for the night and if you need to, there’s some spare clothes in the top drawer just there and just…forget about tonight, aight’?” He steps towards the door plastered in samcro memorabilia.
“Thank you” the words come out a mumble.
He stops, looking back at me over his shoulder, “For what?”
“For…” I start scratching at my arm, even though there’s no longer any itching sensations “…not being weird about it”
“About what?” He tilts his head in fake confusion, eyebrows touching in the middle like he genuinely has no idea what I’m talking about. It takes me a second but I realise what he’s doing, pretending tonight never happened to save me the embarrassment. “Get some sleep trouble” he leaves me with a sinful grin and a wink that has no fucking business coming from the man my dad calls brother.
A/N: you guys know I love me a lil forbidden trope. I wasn’t planning on doing a part two to this BUT after talking with my babe @ibeliveinunicornsandmagic and scrolling across @mrtynae on tik tok - I couldn’t get the fucking dads best friend trope out of my head and now I NEED to make a part two so I can get to some smutty smut x (shoutout to you btw, if you’re on here PLEASE make yourself known!!! or if anyone follows them tell them secretlysamcro LOVES! - my tik tok is not as inconspicuous as this tumblr lol ) I’m deffo gonna have to write some more about this naughty lil pair hehe, thank you for taking the time to read!!!! Loves u all Xx
𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : fem! Cop x jax teller! You pull him over late at night
.ᐟ.ᐟ 𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 .ᐟ.ᐟ : | ˗ˏˋ 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝! ´ˎ˗| fingering+fucking | car sex! | unprotected sexy time! ( don’t do that wrap it before you tap lovelies)
⋆˚꩜｡ 𝖢𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌 ⋆˚꩜｡ : Hey my lovelies! ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 I hope you enjoy this little one-shot. This is my first time writing smut 🙏 so I apologise if it’s shit. All feedback is heavily appreciated!
𝓨ou’re alone on the night shift, parked quietly under a stretch of highway about twenty minutes outside of Charming. You’ve always hated the night shift—it was cold, depressing, and extremely isolating. The radio was quiet; you’d given up on the generic songs that played over and over again. Your cold hands gripped the wheel tightly, like it was about to disappear.
That’s when you heard the familiar roar of a Harley and the slight crinkle of leather through the dark. A flash of perfect golden hair zoomed past.
You, like everyone in this town, sadly knew the bike—and by extension, you knew the man.
You grudgingly flipped on the lights anyway.
He slowed instantly, pulled over, and killed the engine before swinging his long legs over the bike. By the time you walked out, he was already leaning against the saddle, arms crossed tightly over his chest, flashing that princely Charming smirk.
Fuck, he was so gorgeous.
You approached quietly, one hand gripping your belt like a lifeline, trying to keep some composure and find an inch of professionalism. Your voice came out higher than you would have liked.
“License and registration… please.”
Jax’s blue eyes slowly dragged down your body in a deliberate sweep, a hint of appreciation in them as he took in the badge clipped to your vest and the way your uniform fit. A warm, knowing expression settled across his face.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He dug into his jeans pocket, eyes never leaving your face, and handed the documents over with that stupid smile still plastered on. His bigger, rough fingers brushed against yours—the bastard did it deliberately.
You glanced over the papers even though you already knew who he was. It was hard not to in Charming. Your heart was beating louder than it should. He was a criminal. Bad news. Very bad. But why did he have to be so attractive?
“You were doing fifteen over, Teller,” you said, still trying to hold onto a grain of professionalism.
“I was?” he remarked sarcastically, in a soft, almost amused tone. “Sorry, darlin’. I must’ve been distracted.”
You looked up. He was still watching you with that stupid pretty-boy biker smirk on his stupidly handsome face. He watched you the way he watched things that interested him—intently and patiently, like he’d already decided how this story ended.
“Distracted by what?” you asked, already regretting the words the second they left your lips.
Jax leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a smooth, rough tone that made your stomach and pussy tingle. “A gorgeous little cop with a shy mouth who uses her little badge as a shield. I’ve been wondering for a while, darlin’, what it would take to get that pretty uniform off and that shield down.”
A sudden heat crawled up your body like an infection, and the only cure was Jackson fucking Teller. You looked away first—classic mistake.
Of course he noticed. The Prince of Charming noticed everything in this kingdom.
“You always this quiet when you pull someone over, baby?” he murmured. “Or am I just lucky?”
You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. It was hard to ignore the bubbly, tingly feeling between your legs. “I’m writing you a warning. Next time, follow the speed limit, Mr. Teller.”
“Very generous of you, baby.” He stepped closer—so close you could smell the strong mix of leather, motor oil, and cigarette smoke on him, and something much darker. “Or maybe—here’s a thought—you don’t want me to leave yet?”
Your shitty radio crackled once. You didn’t reach for it.
Jax’s voice was pure velvet and honey as he spoke. “Back of your car’s private. No cameras out here. No random person for miles.” He paused, then continued. “Are you going to keep pretending you don’t want this, baby? That you don’t want me? Or are you gonna open the fucking door?”
You should have said no. You should have gone back into your little cruiser and driven far away from this man.
Instead, you unlocked the door.
He followed you in, that perfect smirk still on him like a tattoo. He shut the door hard enough that the sound echoed, and then his mouth was on yours—hungry, claiming, and extremely messy. His rough tongue slipped against yours. He’d been thinking about this exact moment for weeks.
The back seat of the car was extremely cramped. The leather of his cut nipped at your skin. None of it mattered.
He pulled back just long enough to properly look at you. His pupils were blown, voice rough and dominant.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
You shook your head. You wanted this. You wanted this very badly. You reached for his belt.
That was all the permission Jackson Teller needed.
He got your uniform open with practiced speed. Buttons, zippers, layers of fabric—none of it would stop him from claiming his prize. Cold air hit your skin like a wave. His hands were huge and rough and extremely careful… until they weren’t. He cupped your breasts through the thin undershirt, thumbs brushing and pinching your sensitive nipples until your breath stuttered. Then he pushed the useless fabric up so he could get his greedy mouth on you.
You arched at the touch. A soft, beautiful moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.
He noticed. Of course he did.
“There she is… good girl,” he muttered against your skin as he placed a soft kiss there. “I knew that show of an act wouldn’t last long.”
He worked you open with two of his thick fingers while his mouth stayed busy on your skin. He curled them just right until your thighs trembled and your hands gripped his golden strands. The wet, dirty, obscene sound filled the quiet car. You were already dripping for him, hips rocking against his hand, claiming every stroke.
When he finally freed himself, the weight of his cock was heavy in your hand. He was a good two handfuls—thick and already leaking. He watched you intently while you stroked him, breathing controlled, jaw locked tight.
“You want it like this?” he asked, looking you straight in the eyes as you continued your nervous strokes. “Right here, right now, in your own cruiser with the lights still fucking on?”
You nodded nervously. You were too far gone.
He hooked your legs around his waist instantly—it was obvious he wanted this as much as you did. He lined up and pushed in slowly. It was a deep stretch, but it was perfect. He was perfect. The air left your lungs as he pushed every inch in. He bottomed out with a rough, animal-like sound and stayed there for a couple of seconds, sweaty forehead pressed to yours, letting you get used to every inch.
Then he started to move.
Long, deep, sharp, steady thrusts that rocked the entire car. The suspension creaked. Your badge clinked against the floor. One of his strong hands stayed braced against the seat; the other held your hip so tightly it was hard enough to leave marks you’d feel tomorrow under your precious uniform.
“Shit—look at you,” he growled against you. “Shy little cop taking me so well and so deep. Been thinking about bending you over since the first time you pulled me over last year.”
You came first. It was sudden and sharp. You clenched around him, gripping so tight you didn’t want to let go, and let out a broken moan. He followed soon after, burying himself deep and spilling with a low, satisfied growl, hips stuttering through it.
For a long minute there was just silence.
Jax eventually pulled out carefully and slowly, then helped you get yourself back together with surprising gentleness—like he hadn’t just fucked the shit out of you in the back of your own police car.
He leaned in one last time, his hot mouth brushing against your ear.
“Next time you want to pull me over… leave the lights off, darlin’.”
Then he was gone—out the door and back on his bike as if nothing had happened. He shot you one more look from the seat.
Warning: Mentions of inappropriate teacher/student relationship, mild violence.
Note: This story does not run on chapters. It's a series of one shots under the umbrella of You Grew Up Way Too Fast. All other parts can be found on my Masterlist. You can read the others or just read this. Each part can be consumed as a standalone unless otherwise stated.
This story also exists in third person on another site. Link Here for those that prefer.
XXXXX
Scars are souvenirs you never lose
The past is never far
It had all gone to shit initially after Wendy’s overdose. Jax shipped her off to rehab, but the damage was done. The news spread like wildfire through the club and Gemma finally had a solid reason to despise her. Realizing Wendy would never be fit to stand beside Jax when he led this club one day.
The rest of the club was supportive, having experienced their own troubles with old ladies and ex-wives. They would always have another brother's back in a tight jam, but there was also an underlying sense of ‘told you so’ that Jax couldn't quite shake.
The kind that comes when you make a life choice everyone knew would eventually blow up in your face. Jax hated having his personal shit be food for fodder at the clubhouse and seeing the look from Clay that conveyed he wanted assurances Jax still has his priorities straight.
No one discovered you had been the one to find Wendy. It was unspoken that knowledge would have sent the proverbial shit hitting the fan. Jax's bond with you was damn near sacred, the family respected it, the club respected it, but you were still seen as just a kid in the eyes of the club.
If anyone discovered it was you who found Jax's wife like that, half dead on his kitchen floor, because Jax wasn't handling his business, he would have had some serious heat to answer for, especially with Piney and Ope.
It had been over six months since Wendy almost died, less than two weeks since she wrapped up rehab and came home. Everyone assumed life had gone back to status quo, but with a little deeper digging it would be easy to see life was anything but normal for Jax.
And you were up to a whole new level of trouble. The kind that could come crashing down upon you at any moment if someone didn't wise up and see the mess you had climbed in bed with before it buried you alive in its grip.
XXXXX
The weather is warm as spring begins to give way to early summer in the California heat. Gemma finds herself out in the lot of the clubhouse after looking everywhere else for Jax. She figured he'd be having a good time with his brothers after a long week, so when he had quietly slipped away, Gemma's mother heart knew something was wrong.
Her dark eyes scan the parking lot for his long shaggy blonde hair, the setting sun casting shadows across the asphalt and rainbow hues across the California skyline. She’s relieved to see that his bike is at least still here, but there is no sign of Jax anywhere.
Letting out another huffed breath, she was about to turn inside when an aqua blue Toyota Prius catches her eye as it pulls up along the front of the gates. Suddenly distracting all her attempts at a search for Jax.
Gemma stands silently watching, taking note as the car pulls along the front curb before stopping completely. The unexplained arrival holds her attention. She'd be on edge it was trouble, but the car is a Prius, and Gemma has a firm belief only pussy's drive a Prius.
Eyes narrowing to get a better look, her curiosity begins to peak as she watches you quickly jump out from the passenger side. All legs, in cut off jean shorts and a crochet halter top that stops well above your midriff.
Plenty of skin she feels confident you intentionally chose to show. Gemma's dark chestnut eyes quickly shoot to the driver before he can get away, noting his glasses and button-up shirt just before the car pulls away and drives off.
Gemma greets you on approach, heels clicking on the asphalt, swallowing you in her all-encompassing stare.
"Hey baby," she addresses you with a term of endearment she holds only for those that really matter.
A name she has called you since you were just a little girl. You know you’re like the daughter Gemma never had in many ways and she has been more like a mother to you than yours on more than one occasion.
"Who's your friend?" Gemma jumps right to it. Never one to beat around the bush unless she’s trying to play games. When she expects a straight answer, Gemma offers a straight question.
Your eyes briefly dart over to her. Your lips pursing together with contemplation over how to respond and the realization you’ve been caught.
Your eyes quickly drop, unable to hold her gaze against the weight of Gemma's stare. You had known there was a chance someone would see you, but your exit was quick and you hadn’t seen Gemma outside when he pulled up.
"That was my teacher, Mr. Matthews. I was working late on a project, and he offered to give me a ride home." You answer with a casual shrug of your shoulders as if it is no big deal, and no one should make it one. Hoping if you appear nonchalant enough it will somehow slide past Gemma's radar without further interrogation.
"Mmhmm," Gemma murmurs all-knowingly, not fooled for a moment.
Gazing upon you, young and too beautiful for your own good, Gemma can’t help but see herself in you in so many ways. A fearless young woman, unbound by some self-righteous moral code, never quite able to keep your nose out of trouble.
Gemma can see through this scene with a glance. Teachers don't give their students a ride home this late in the evening. Certainly not male ones to girls from 'the wrong side of the tracks'. Without needing any further proof, Gemma is certain you’re involved with this teacher.
"That's a bad idea, sweetheart." She warns in a way that demands to be taken seriously.
Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, because you know that response would never fly with Gemma, you decide to stare at your dirty sneakers as you kick at a piece of loose gravel instead.
"It's not like that." You lie easily, too easily. Having years of practice with both your parents.
Dismissing an inconvenient truth, that is something you are quite good at, even with yourself. Because the truth is, sometimes even you don’t understand why you do some of the things you do.
You’ve known all along this thing with Mr. Matthews is a bad idea, and you don’t keep it going because you’re falling for him. The whole thing is far less romantic and more mundane than that.
You like that he’s smart. He talks to you about ideas and places you’ve never heard of before, and he listens when you speak. He likes your ideas and tells you you’re smart, and you feel proud of yourself when he does.
He’s so different from everything you’ve ever known. Different from the tough life with the club and the leatherbacks that occupy it. Different than your unpredictable mom and her trashy friends.
The way he looks at you makes you feel special, makes you feel wanted, but he’s never summoned anything that touches your heart. You’re not going to marry the guy. So, you don’t see what the big deal is.
Watching you try to weasel your way out of this one. Try to deny what is clearly going on, forces Gemma to be more blunt. Gemma can understand having a little fun. Hell, she still enjoys some herself, but you’re seventeen and this could spell out trouble for the family and could lead trouble right to the club's doorstep. And if there is anything Gemma won’t stand for it is hurting her family or the club.
Reaching out, Gemma hooks a finely manicured nail under your chin before slowly lifting your face to meet her own.
"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, sweetheart. That shit ends before it makes trouble for the club. You know what your dad and Opie would do if they found out about this." She states firmly, unequivocally. Her eyes drilling into yours to further drive home the message.
Gemma loves you. She has watched over you better than your own mother, but she also has no problem putting you back in your place when you step out of line.
Seeing that look in Gemma's eyes, knowing only one answer will do, you force a smile to curl at the corners of your mouth, and step back from her hold.
"Fine," you easily agree while standing on the losing end of this battle.
Saying what you need to say to get Gemma off your back, while also buying yourself more time to mull this predicament over in your head. Because you also don’t like the idea of ending it just because Gemma said so. You don’t like being told not to do something. It typically makes you want it even more.
"What are you doing out here anyway? Shouldn't you be in there showing all those croweaters what a real woman looks like?" You tease, a mischievous glint sparking in your eyes as you try to distract her with flattery, because you’ve learned from the best how to turn the tables.
Gemma relents with a laugh as a slow forming smile relaxes her face. "I would be, but I'm lookin for Jax." She answers, the words barely have a chance to land and settle between you before you’re quick to respond.
"I'll find him, go enjoy the party." You offer, jumping at the chance to end this conversation before Gemma decides to probe further. Barely giving her a chance to concede with a nod before your sneakers take off moving.
XXXXX
Weathered and secondhand, your converse sneakers race up the metal latter spokes hooked on the side of the clubhouse. You peak over the top just as the sun sets on the horizon and the streetlights flash on.
You spot Jax instantly. Seated on the roof, shoulders hunched, bottle of Budweiser at his side, thick joint pinched between his fingers as he stares out at a horizon of city lights and fading pink hues.
"Thought I might find you up here." You call, greeting him with the kind of smile you reserve only for him as you reach the top of the ladder and swing your leg over the side, onto the roof. You take a moment to readjust your shorts that have ridden up high between your thighs once you find your footing.
Jax's sterling blue eyes shoot to you in a flash with the sound of your voice as he watches you carefully from where he sits, and instantly you can see something is weighing heavy on his mind even as he covers it with a welcoming smile.
"Hey," Jax lets out easy on a thick sexy drawl of recognition and a smirk that could make any girl melt.
Moving over to him at a leisurely pace, you readjust his beer to the edge of the roof and take a seat on the warm flat metal beside him. Your hand reaching out without a word of invitation to steal the joint pinched between his fingers. Bringing it to your own lips, you take a long deep hit. Letting the intoxicating smoke fill your lungs.
Holding it in until your lungs burn, you exhale in a slow smooth dance that moves past your lips. The distinct stench encircling in a plume of smoke.
"What are you doing up here?" You question casually, as you playfully nudge at his shoulder, your eyes rising up to the darkening sky, watching the stars start to glisten and twinkle as the endless black begins to take hold all around.
"Nothin', just needed to clear my head." His deep voice sounds extra gritty as it rings out into the growing darkness. Answering you but offering no further explanation, as grease stained fingers reach out to steal back his joint. The tension radiating off his body and lack of words saying more than anything he uttered.
Jax has been quiet for days. You know the signs. You know what it means. Jax is lost in his head. Taking on the world one mental load at a time. That knowledge feels heavy on your heart and you’ve always made it your job to try and pull him out of it whenever he gets stuck there.
Without warning you steal his ‘Sons’ hat off his head. Flipping the bill backwards before slipping it on and flashing him a smile. “How do I look?” You ask, trying to earn an amused smirk off his lips.
Jax looks you over, slow and steady as if he’s taking the sight of you in. A heaviness still lingers in his eyes, but a smile curls at the corner of his mouth just for you as he reaches out to tenderly caress your cheek with his thumb.
“No one wears it better.” He tells you and you believe him as you hold onto his gaze.
Savoring the way it feels when he touches you. Thick callused skin that moves gently against yours. Jax is soft with you in a way he isn’t with others. Tender. Like you’re special and deserve to be treated with care. And you eat up his attention like a lost puppy finally getting some affection.
The warmth of his touch seeps into your skin. And you swear you could stay there forever. Locked in his eyes. Locked in his touch. If only he didn’t let go. But he always does. He always lets go. Turning away, looking back out into nothing, returning to the thoughts that plague his mind.
"Heard Wendy's out of rehab. How’s that going?" You ease out, asking gently as you let your head come to rest against his shoulder, lingering in a closeness only you two share.
You lean your nose and cheek in against him. The distinctive smell of leather, booze, and smoke fill your nose and ease your senses with their familiarity. And for a moment the world is right.
Something in your heart tells you Jax's retreat from the party ties directly back to Wendy. Everything heavy seems to tie back to her these days, though you’ve rarely spoken of it to each other. But you know. Because you know him. You’ve spent years memorizing all the tiny little details of the man that makes you feel so safe and loved.
You can feel the strong muscles of his shoulder tense beneath your cheek with your question, before his voice ever finds life.
"It's going." He answers flatly, his voice returning to that low and rough quality you heard before you made him smile. He takes another long hit of his joint, the red embers burning back the paper as his lungs fill with smoke.
Having heard more than enough, positive he’ll spontaneously combust or stroke out if he gets any tenser, you take matters into your own hands. Scooting further back onto the metal flat top, you move behind Jax, his dark blue eyes following your movements with silent curiosity the whole way.
Slipping your leg around his back, you slide yourself behind Jax, bringing your knees up against his sides. Your hands reach for his leather kutte as you finally settle in.
Quick on the draw and uncertain about where you’re going with this, Jax grips your knees on either side of him and attempts to rise to his feet, create some distance between the two of you.
"Easy there, darlin," He cautions with a hint of uneasy laughter, unsure of what you’re trying to do or how it would look if anyone spotted you two.
Gripping him tightly between your knees and your hold on his kutte, you manage to keep Jax from pulling away completely. “Relax I’m not going to peg you.” You laugh as he tries to scurry away.
“What do you know about pegging?” Jax is quick to throw at you, his breath hitching as he twists around to look at you over his shoulder in surprise.
“What do you know about pegging, Teller?” You tease suggestively, flashing him a crooked smirk that could rival his own. Your brow arching sharply, eyes narrowing as you torture him in jest.
His face cracks into a smile at your cheeky comeback as Jax shakes his head in disbelief. An honest laugh finally escaping him as he turns back and stops fighting you.
"Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm not gonna mount you from behind." You laugh along with him as you grip his kutte and pull him back closer into the cradle of your thighs.
"You've got a chip the size of a mile on your shoulders, Jax. You can't just keep this shit all bottled up, let me help. My mom’s friends say I’m an excellent masseuse." You finally explain your intentions, your voice softening against the back of his ear as you lean in close.
Jax sits in silence for a moment, contemplating your offer, considering being stubborn and resistant. Sticking to the relief of his joint, but this is you he’s sitting with, he knows you aren’t the kind of girl who takes no for an answer. That’s why he affectionately refers to you as little pistol. And Jax knows better than most you would lean on him if it were reversed.
"Alright," Jax concedes on a heavy breath.
Relaxing against your hands as you carefully slip his kutte off his shoulders. Handing it to Jax where he places his beloved kutte across his lap, the calling card to his very identity. Jax instantly feels a shiver down his spine as your hands wrap around his shoulders and begin to knead at the knots wound tightly in his muscles.
Jax tries to focus on the relief it brings as his mind continues to wander back to how good your hands feel on him. Reminding himself, you’re Opie's beloved baby sister, Piney's little girl, and still just a teenager. You’re forbidden in the strictest sense and Jax knows that without it ever needing to be spelled out to him, everyone does. You’re basically the clubhouse baby.
Slow but firm, your hands work to release the tension weighing heavily on his shoulders, woven into the fibers of his defined muscles. Savoring the way he feels in your hands. The contours of his muscles. The way they flex and then relax under your touch. Your heart doesn’t race every time you touch Jax, but this feels closer, more intimate than the way you usually touch each other, in a way that’s hard to define.
In a way that’s trying to distract you from your true goal tonight. Because you understand the tension in his body isn’t actually the root of his problem. He needs to open up about what is going on in that troubled mind of his.
"What's going on with you and Wendy, Jax?" You try to ease into it, try to be subtle, because you know this is where most of his grief is stemming from. He’s never really said it, but to you it’s so clear. Jax isn’t happy and he hasn’t been for a while. You can see that, even if he doesn’t say it.
Jax holds his tongue for a long moment of contemplation. His mind mulling it over; What isn’t going on with him and Wendy, that is the bigger question...
He's married to a wife who almost overdosed and died in his arms. A woman who loves him deeply, but he isn’t sure if he's ever really loved her the same. And that leaves him feeling guilty as hell. Like it makes him a thief or a fraud. Jax is confident he loves her in some ways, how could he not, but the sad truth is, he married Wendy because he got tired of all the cheap meaningless nights, the endless disconnect.
He got tired of not having someone to belong to, of not having someone who belongs to him. He wants what Donna and Opie have. He wanted what he had with Tara, but since that wasn’t going to happen, he settled for Wendy. But that’s the kind of reality and sad truth Jax isn’t sure he can share with you, or anyone, besides maybe Ope.
Letting out a deep heavy sigh, Jax finally speaks. "It's not your problem, darlin." He protests, trying to protect you like he always has.
Protect you in a way that has become second nature to him by now. It doesn’t feel right to burden you with his shit. You’ve been exposed to enough already. He always wants to look out for you. That’s the deal. That’s how it goes. Not him spewing his guts out on a teenager who hasn’t learned yet how easily situations spiral when you fuck up as an adult.
You squeeze the tight muscles in Jax's shoulders extra firmly in response. "Not my problem? Jax, you're my family. If something is hurting you, that's my problem. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?" You correct him with firm conviction, with words that come from the heart.
Jax means everything to you. He’s your family, your safe place, your friend, your biggest crush. Next to Opie, he’s your home. You don’t feel safe being vulnerable with most people, but you don’t skip a beat before trusting him. You need Jax to know that goes both ways and you will always be there for him.
Jax takes a moment. He hears you, part of him still wants to protest, explain the relationship is different from his end. He can’t lay this shit on you, but he knows what you’ve said is also true. You want to be there for him, or else you wouldn't be up here, and damnit, he could use someone right now.
Letting out a hard ragged breath, Jax stares out into the night as he relaxes against the feel of your hands working their way into the muscles along the slope of his neck, and finally lets you in.
"I don't know… I guess I'm just so used to shit moving in the opposite direction I don't know what I'd do if something actually worked out... I don't know if I can make this thing work with Wendy." His voice is thick and gritty with the kind of weight that comes with brutal honesty and hard truths.
Jax doesn't know if Wendy is what he wants anymore, and it scares him to think she may never have been. That she may have always been mostly just a band aid over a wound Tara left that never quite healed right.
Working out one final knot rooted deep at the base of his neck, you give his shoulders a gentle pat and draw your legs back from his sides. Slowly scooting back to the seat beside him, where you can see his face before you finally speak.
"Do you still love her?" You dare to ask, your eyes holding no judgment as they hinge upon Jax. Hoping he can see only support if he turns to look your way.
Jax's eyes fall closed with the weight of your question, his face tensing, brows furrowing into a deep crease, before he runs a heavy hand over his face. As his fingers trace the line of his jaw, Jax stares out lost into the night that has settled in around you and finally answers your question.
"Yes… No… I don't know. I don't know anymore." It kills him to admit that. To say it out aloud and make it real.
He can only imagine what you must think of him as his eyes finally turn to meet yours. Nervous over what he will see waiting for him. The way you looked at him the day you caught him with that croweater still haunts him. To see himself fall so far in your eyes. There are very few people that Jax gives a damn what they think of him, but you are one of the few.
You hold Jax's gaze, the hold of your pupil suspended in the moment, not daring to look away, not daring to let him think you see him any different, because of his confession.
"That's what you need to figure out." You whisper softly, offering a direction without scrutiny or interjection. Because the truth is, you like Wendy, but you love Jax, and nothing matters more to you than his happiness. His wellbeing.
When Jax finds no disappointment or judgment in your eyes, he feels safe to press on. Surprised even by how easy it feels to open up to you. As if he has always come to you with his demons.
"It's not that easy. Wendy is barely a heartbeat sober. I don't want to set her off. You saw what happened last time I bailed." Jax is reluctant to do anything drastic, anything that could throw Wendy back into the hole she barely dug out of. And Jax is positive she couldn't handle it right now if he tries to break ties.
Seeing the burden in his eyes, the fear of the unknown, a fear of what could happen, your heart sinks with a sense of responsibility. Reaching out, you tenderly touch his scruffy cheek. The thick hairs pricking at your fingertips as you caress him gently, locked on his eyes.
"That is not just on you Jax, and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel it was. Wendy’s addiction is because of her issues. You didn’t make her become that. But Wendy deserves to be married to someone who loves her as much as you deserve to be married to someone you love. Sticking around out of duty just ends up shitting on everyone." Your eyes search the depths of his tortured baby blues as your voice gently reaches out to him.
You can't help but feel guilty that you may have put that idea in his head. A man who tries so hard to be honorable and bound to a sense of duty, he’d break his own back carrying the weight of everyone on it.
Staring deep into your eyes as your words find their way into his heart, Jax feels a small sense of peace wash over him.
"That's pretty good," He smirks, the light finally returning to his eyes as he gazes into your own. "Where'd you learn all this shit anyway?"
The sight of Jax's smile steals the breath right out of your lungs. A smile that has been able to ignite something deep inside you since before you even understood what it meant. A stirring deep in your belly, like butterflies taking flight.
A feeling so powerful, you swear you’d do anything he wanted. Anything. All he has to do is say it. But he never does and somewhere in your heart you already know he won’t. Even though sometimes in the quiet moments when he looks at you lately, you could swear a part of him wants to so badly.
But you also know he’s bound by who and what you are. Because you’ll always be Opie’s kid sister to him. Piney’s little girl. So you take the high road, sucking in a deep breath to calm the butterflies, you feel a smile spread on your face to match the warmth of his.
"Ope." You concede with a quick laugh. Opie is the wisest man you know. He always has a way of summing things up and making sense of chaos. You’re honored it appears some of that insight has rubbed off.
"Yeah, I can see that. He would say somethin' like that." Jax muses with a nod of recognition as his eyes drift out into the night before slowly finding their way back to you. Something different in his gaze this time. That unnamed thing you sense sometimes. That’s hard to define. That feels deep and palpable in your belly, sending the butterflies a flight.
It’s hard to breathe under the weight of it. Hard to think clearly. Until he finally looks away, clearing his throat loudly. When he looks back at you again, it’s the Jax you’ve always known as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into the crook of his arm, against the warmth of his body.
“We should probably head back in.” He states the obvious, and you can sense he would rather leave the shift between you both left unsaid.
You swallow hard against the buzzing inside you, shaking loose the haunting image of that look in his eyes just a moment ago, you try to lighten the mood.
"Twenty bucks says I can drink you under the table." You propose with a playful nudge of your shoulder against his side. A wicked smile curling on your lips, taking him captive.
Jax lets out a deep chuckle of amusement as if you’re a goddamn riot. "You wish sweetheart, you wish." He teases.
XXXXX
Walking in through the open office door of the garage, Jax finds his mom sitting behind the main desk. Her dark eyes shoot up from the pile of paperwork in front of her with his arrival.
"Tig said you wanted to see me." Jax explains, waiting in the doorway as his weight leans lazily against the wooden frame.
Gemma nods as she pulls her glasses from the brim of her nose before motioning her son to come in. "Shut the door and take a seat." She instructs, getting down to business.
Curiosity narrows in Jax's eyes as he obeys. Closing the door behind him for privacy, he takes a seat in the old metal chair against the far wall. His mind races over a million club related reasons for this impromptu meeting, but what comes out of his mother's mouth next is the last thing that would have ever crossed his mind.
"The other night, at the club party, I caught Haley getting dropped off by her teacher. A Mr. Matthews." Gemma reveals in a collected fashion that makes her smooth under pressure as she toys with the temples of her glasses.
Jax's baby blues hold steady with a lack of recognition. Unclear of what exactly she is trying to get at.
"She's involved with him, Jax. Something is going on between them." Gemma bluntly rips off the band aid. Making sure there is no lingering confusion, and they are both on the same page.
Her explanation ignites something within him like a lit fuse. An intense fury begins to stir and build in Jax's eyes as he shifts in the chair, his shoulders squaring as his body sits a little taller in his seat. His mind swimming as he tries to gather his thoughts and feelings over what she has just said. The implications of it almost more than he can swallow.
"Are you sure?" Jax questions through a tightly clenched jaw, anger pushing to the forefront on his low gravel breath.
"I wouldn't be telling you this if I wasn't." Gemma insists, keeping the conversation on task as Jax struggles to keep his emotions in check.
"I'll handle it." Jax practically growls, rising from the chair with a look of heated vengeance brewing in his focused eyes as he moves for the door.
It wasn’t that long ago he figured out you were sleeping around and now this. He can see now you’re heading down a slippery slope, one he doesn’t understand fully and had hoped was only teenage rebellion, but Jax is damn sure he isn’t going to let you get exploited and he is going to make sure that asshole pays for laying a hand on you.
"Jackson," Gemma demands, halting him before he can march off halfcocked and emotion driven.
As Jax’s steps stall and his eyes turn to meet her own, Gemma continues. "I told you and not Piney or Opie, because this cannot blow back on the club." She states firmly, making herself abundantly clear.
They don’t need any more bodies on their hands, especially not the body of a small town teacher, but this guy needs to be taught a lesson. You don't mess with a daughter of Samcro. We take care of our own.
Gemma can’t stand the thought of his guy taking advantage of you. Not after everything she knows you’ve already been through growing up with that shit mother of yours, but the club does not need unnecessary heat brought down on them because of it either.
"This won't blow back on the club, you have my word." Jax promises, knowing his mom is right.
The club doesn’t need any outside shit raining down trouble on them or drawing more eyes from law enforcement, but Jax is also gonna love every moment of making sure this pervert never goes near you again.
XXXXX
Despite the initial urge to find this guy and make him eat his teeth, Jax knows he needs to be smart about this. So he waits patiently, methodically, before he ever makes his move. Stalking the back of the high school until he sees the last of the student body and most of the staff disperse. When he is finally confident he can move about undetected, Jax moves in for the kill.
A man beyond reasoning, blinded by a need for vengeance, Jax storms into your homeroom class. A fire burning in his belly and a need for retribution scorching through his veins. Closing the door behind himself so they won’t be disturbed, Jax finds your teacher at the front of the class. Seated at his desk, nose deep in classwork. Narrowing his steel blue eyes, Jax marks his target as he charges to the front of the classroom just as Mr. Matthews' eyes rise to see him coming.
"Can I help you?" The teacher cautiously asks as he rises from his seat. The fire already burning in Jax's eyes on approach, the fury in his step let Mr. Matthews know without a word this visit will be an unpleasant one.
Jax snarls with disgust as he gets a good look at this guy. Easily in his late twenties, maybe thirties - clean cut, parted hair, clean shaven, with black rimmed glasses and a crisp button down. Attractive enough to spark schoolgirl fantasies, like he had in you, and Jax feels confident that is by design.
Before Mr. Matthews ever has a chance to speak further, Jax grabs him firmly by his ironed button-up shirt, and slams him hard against wall behind him, pinning him in place.
"Stay the hell away from Haley Winston. That sick shit ends here." Jax seethes into your teacher’s face, the narrowing of his eyes holding like a silent threat for every word as Jax battles with the desire to slam a solid fist into his face on principle alone.
Fear easily fills Mr. Matthews' eyes as he is held pinned and unable to escape against the wall. "You misunderstand the situation entirely. I care about her. I only want to see her do well." His lips fumble quickly, stumbling. Apprehension thick in his alarm filled eyes as he tries to diffuse the situation.
Your teacher's denial only serves to infuriate Jax further. Glaring upon him from just inches away, holding him tightly in a death grip, Jax wants to slam this perverts head into the wall until he can’t go near you or any other girl ever again.
"Is that what you tell yourself while you’re sleeping with underage girls?" Jax seethes, slamming him further into the wall once more. Daring him to try and talk his way out of this.
Trying to keep his fear under wraps as shock dilates his pupil, Mr. Matthews swallows hard and shakes his head in dismay.
"I acknowledge that was a mistake. I should have never let that happen, but you need to understand, Haley pursued me. It was a mistake and I know I should never have crossed that line." His voice is drenched with pathetic remorse as his eyes beg Jax to hear him out. To understand, he cared for you, but this isn’t his fault. He couldn’t help himself.
"Don't put this on her. She's just a kid. You're the shithead who likes to sleep with your students." Jax warns, jaw clenching as his eyes convey the message it would be unwise to pursue that justification, that blaming you would be a mistake he would pay for greatly. And Jax is just itching for an excuse to break this guy's jaw. The only reason he hasn’t yet is he promised his mom this wouldn't blow back on the club.
Mr. Matthews' head shakes as he tries to justify his actions in another way. "That's not what happened. Haley is a smart girl. One of the smartest in my class, but she…" He stalls for a moment, swallowing hard against the giant lump in his throat, trying to choose his words carefully for fear of reprisal.
"She has some issues she needs to work through, especially where men are concerned." Mr. Matthews tries to explain what happened between him and you without taking culpability. Trying to paint his actions as if he hadn't planned it but couldn’t help himself. While understanding from the look in Jax's eyes, that one wrong word and he will pay dearly.
"Shut up!" Jax hollers in his face, having heard enough as he slams your teacher against the wall once more, wishing he could cause more damage.
Battling every instinct he has inside himself to protect you and hurt this man, as rage races through his body and threatens to break loose at any moment. Jax doesn’t want to hear these excuses. The insinuation you’re at fault is disgusting to him and Mr. Matthews lack of responsibility tells Jax everything he needs to know about what kind of man he is.
Jax’s grip curls deeper into the lapel of your teacher’s button down. His strength pinning him against the wall as his other hand snakes up to wrap around his throat.
"Listen here you sick fuck, you keep your distance from Haley until this semester is over. When she is done with your class you don't ever go near her again. Don't even so much as look her way. If you do, losing your job and getting chased out of this town will be the least of your problems. This is my only warning. Do you understand?" Jax's voice is low and deep with anger. His words slow and precise, his gaze unflinching. As his hand slowly tightens, threatening a man he would have no problem putting into the ground for you.
Mr. Matthews head nods profusely, the fear of God shooting from his eyes as a choking cough bursts from his lips when Jax releases his throat.
Charming is a small town, Mr. Matthews has heard the rumors about the life you are a part of, about your family, about the club, but it isn’t until this moment with Jax in his face that he realizes these are not the kind of people you get mixed up with.
Jax holds your teacher's gaze for a moment longer, a silent threat laced in his lethal glare, making it clear he meant every word he said, before Jax finally releases him completely.
Unable to resist an urge that has been gnawing at him since he walked in, Jax throws one swift punch straight into Mr. Matthew's stomach, sending the man dubbing over in agonizing pain, before Jax turns in his clean white sneakers and storms out of the classroom. Careful to make sure no one sees him depart.
Keeping his word, this won’t blow back on the club, but no one gets away with hurting you.
XXXXX
Final Thought:
I wanted the teacher to lack accountability and blame the reader. That was written by design and for a reason, but I want to be abundantly and unequivocally clear… Grooming, lack of accountability is what pedos do. Children/teenagers are not responsible for the actions of adults. There was only one adult in the situation. Period.
Summary: a beautiful new waitress in Charming shakes up SAMCRO, especially their president.
Note: the reader was born in a sort of John Wick style underworld of crime. I have a lot of ideas for Jax in this same universe, hopefully I can write more about Jax and reader. As always I try to keep the reader's physical description neutral.
Warning: none
Word count: 2.3k
Luxury and danger. That’s all she has ever known.
A life of luxury provided by her father and his world, and the danger that lingered around because of his line of work.
Luxury and danger are also the reason she left, she was young and idealistic and she wanted to prove herself. Prove that she could make it work, prove that she could be independent and that she could have a good life while working a regular, honest job.
But life has a funny way of showing us that sometimes, we are meant for a life of danger, and luxury.
“Is everything alright?” Her dad asked as he heard weird noises on the other end of the call.
“Yeah,” she groaned again, fighting with her car door trying to get it closed and locked.
All she heard was a sigh coming from her father as she finally slammed her car door shut. “Just promise me that you won’t end up living with the cockroaches in this stupid adventure of yours.”
“Papa,” she started walking towards the diner, “the day I see a cockroach anywhere close to where I sleep, is the day Vittorio will come pick me up in a sports car and drive me back to your beautiful mansion.”
He laughed at her, “okay baby. Hopefully the cockroaches come soon then, so you can stop with this stupid idea.”
Her father was one of the most well known people in the criminal underworld, he knew everyone, and somehow everyone owed some kind of favor to him, and in their world that made him important. That was the world she had grown up in, and it was the world she decided she wanted to separate from, and that was how she found herself in the middle of nowhere in California.
The back door to the diner creaked as she pushed it open, letting her coworkers know she just walked in. “I need to go to work, dad. Thanks for the support,” she said sarcastically.
“Good luck with the waitress thing,” he told her before hanging up.
As soon as she had punched in and had found a working pen she was on the floor, taking people’s orders and sweet talking them into leaving bigger tips.
She had been working at Charming’s diner for a couple of weeks now, which meant she started to get to know the regulars and getting to know them is how she knew something was off as soon as the bell on top on the door rang with new customers. Some of the chatter died down as the sound of heavy footsteps rang through the diner, and footsteps went straight to her section of the diner.
The booth closer to her was now filled, with three men all dressed in leather. An older man with greying hair and a goatee, a man with shaved head and tattoos on either side of a short mohawk, and a blonde man that sat to the side, a stark white patch adorned his leather vest, “PRESIDENT” spelled out on the patch.
“Hi guys, how are you today?” She asked them as she approached the table.
“We’re great darlin’, how about you?” The blonde one smiled at her.
“I’m good. What can I get for you guys?” She asked.
“We’ll take three beers and some fries, sweetheart,” the Scottish man ordered.
She wrote their order down, “alright, I’ll be right back.” As she turned around to ring in their order she could feel their eyes on her back.
All three men watched as the new waitress walked away, “didn’t know there was a new lass workin’ here,” Chibs was the first one to break the silence.
“If I knew I would be eating here all week,” Juice laughed, his eyes still on the waitress.
“Yeeah,” Jax agreed, his eyes still trained on her. Chibs noticed how Jax was looking at her. There was lust in his eyes, sure, that must have been the prettiest girl that had walked around Charming in a long time, but there was also a curious look in the president’s eyes.
“You alright there Jackie?” Chibs laughed and Jax finally turned from the waitress, who was now at another table, to his friends.
“Yeah, I was just-,” Jax started but not even him knew why he was so mesmerized by the waitress.
“It’s okay man,” Juice said, “she’s really hot,” he arched his brows and looked at her again.
“Yeah,” was all Jax said.
A few minutes passed by and the bikers were back to discussing their plans for the next run. Until the waitress walked to their table again.
“Here’s your fries,” she said as she put the plate on their table. Jax’s attention went to her hand as it lowered the plate on the table, a tattoo of a back snake wrapped around her wrist.
“Nice ink,” he gestured toward her wrist.
“Thanks, it’s a family thing,” she told him. “You guys want more beer?”
“We have family ink too,” Juice happily told her.
“Yeah, more beers please sweetheart,” the blonde told her.
“Nice,” she responded to Juice before walking away.
Chibs arched his brows and laughed at his brother, “Really Juicy boy?”
“What?” Juice shrugged his shoulders while still smiling, “nothin’ wrong with relating to a pretty girl.”
With a shrug of his shoulders Jax smirked, “he ain’t wrong,” he agreed with Juice, taking a sip of his beer.
The bikers' eyes followed her until she was behind the counter, counting money, putting orders in or doing wherever else waitresses do when they’re not talking to customers. Jax was really intrigued by this waitress, she really had to be one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen, what the fuck was someone like that doing in Charming?
One of the other waitresses approached her behind the counter. “Are they hitting on you?” Tracy asked.
“Not yet. But you know how men are,” she shrugged her shoulders while she typed her other table’s orders in, “but it’s nothing I can handle.”
“Be careful with them, they’re Sons,” Tracy warned her colleague.
She looked back at Tracy confused, “sons of who?”
“Sons of Anarchy,” Tracy rolled her eyes, “it’s a motorcycle gang from town,” she said as if it was obvious, “I can’t believe you don’t know about them.”
“Of course the town I chose to move to is a gang town,” she spoke, but more to herself than with Tracy, “just my luck,” she whispered.
The rest of her shift was normal, the bikers went as quickly as they came, and the diner filled up with customers as the day went on. Working was never something she had to do before coming to Charming, and even though she had known her life was not normal before, it was like her brain couldn’t comprehend how tiring a real 9 to 5 could be until she had started working at the diner. When the end of the day came she didn’t even feel tired anymore, all she felt was desire to go home, but her crappy car had other plans.
As she pulled on her door handle the it moved with a weird noise but the door stayed closed. She huffed, setting her stuff on the roof of the car, then she gave the door another tug. “This fucking door. First you won’t close now you won’t open,” she spoke angrily at her door. She tried again, this time with both hands on the handle, she gave another hard tug.
“Jesus darlin’,”she heard a familiar voice behind her, “you need some help with that?” Once she turned around she saw the blonde biker from earlier, but this time he had two kids with him, he was holding one of the kids in one arm while the other boy held his free hand.
“Back so soon,” she gave the door one last pull, and it finally gave in. “She’s just temperamental,” she pats the door, giving the biker her full attention now.
“The boys wanted milkshakes,” he explained as he lifted the little boy’s hand that he was holding. “And if you want help with the door, you can come by the garage tomorrow,” she gave him a confused look, “we have a repair shop on Radford ave, take the car there tomorrow,” he smiled at her. The waitress had been all around the world traveling and meeting people, but she had never met someone with a smile like this biker’s.
She smiled at him, “thanks, but no thanks. I may have spent more than I should this month, maybe I’ll splurge on the stupid door next month,” she tossed her stuff on the passenger seat.
“If it's just something that’s caught up on the door we won’t charge anything for it,” he told her as the little boy in his arm blabbered something incoherent.
“You should go get them their milkshakes,” she sat on her driver’s seat. “Can he even have milkshakes?” She looked at the younger of the boys.
“A sip won’t kill him,” he laughed, “I’m Jax, by the way,” he finally introduced himself, the charming smile never left his face.
“Nice to meet you Jax,” she waved at him and the boys before she drove off.
It was a hot day in Charming and thankfully Teller-Morrow Automotive wasn’t that full, but the patio that the garage shared with the club house was crawling with people. The Sons of Anarchy were celebrating one of their brothers getting out of prison, and coincidently some members of another charter were in town, so everyone knew that this would be one of their biggest celebrations this year.
Juice was sitting on a picnic table while he watched the prospects carry boxes of alcohol and some food inside of the club house, he was their self appointed supervisor, which meant he watched and drank beer. His attention left the prospects when an unknown car pulled up into the repair shop, the blue sedan stopped closer to the garage office and the passenger door opened, to Juice’s surprise the pretty waitress from the diner hopped off the car. Short shorts and a loose shirt and suddenly she was prettier than ever. Just as Juice jumped off the table Jax walked out of the club and his eyes immediately found the waitress and a smirk found its way into his face.
“Holy shit,” Jax said as he walked by the picnic table, his eyes never left the girl, who was now inside of the garage talking to a mechanic.
“Have we ever been this lucky?” Juice asked Jax.
“Not luck brother,” he patted Juice on the back, both of them still looking at her, “I told her if she needed help with her car we could help her.” Jax’s playful tone told Juice exactly what he needed to know. “I got this,” Jax gave him a knowing look and started walking towards the garage.
In the garage, she had just finished explaining to the mechanic her door problem when both of them heard heavy steps behind them. The man behind them called the mechanic’s name which made both of them turn around and look for the caller.
There he stood, a lazy smile, hand in pocket and those eyes, the eyes that wouldn't leave her. “Hey Jax,” the mechanic greeted him.
“Hey Carl. My friend told you the problems she’s been having with the car?” The president asked and the mechanic nodded.
Carl knew Jax enough to know that the president wanted him out of the conversation as soon as possible, so he took the car keys from her, “I’ll take a look at your door,” with which he walked away from the two.
There was one thing that stayed the same, in her old world of money and meetings with important people, or in this new simpler world she had chosen: the lengths men would go to to impress a beautiful woman. And this was no different, but at least Jax was not bad to look at, and she wouldn't have to pretend to be interested. She really had been trying to live an honest life, one where she didn’t have to depend on anyone, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt to take the hot biker’s offer and get her car fixed.
“I was startin’ to think you wouldn’t come to get that fixed,” he pointed out.
“I was just taking my time, thinking your offer over,” she smiled at him.
“You know, you never told me your name,” Jax told her.
Her name was like honey to his ears just like her smile was something else, “thanks for taking a look at my car. The door was starting to really piss me off.”
Jax laughed at her honesty, “don’t worry darlin’, we’ll fix your door.” He moved closer to her, her name leaving his mouth sweetly, “y’know, we’re having a party at the club house later today,” he motioned to the club house, with his head, “if you wanna come, meet new people.”
She looked at the leather clad man walking around, clearly getting the place ready for later. “Celebrating someone getting out of prison?” Jax’s eyes widened at how accurate her guess was, but he nodded, there was no point in lying. She laughed at his reaction and started walking backwards towards the exit, “thanks, but I promised my dog I would hang out with her today. Maybe some other time,” she looked at the club house and the man walking around, some of which were looking at her and their president, “with less people,” she smiled again before turning around and walking out of the parking lot.
Jax was left standing alone inside of the repair shop, a surprised expression on his face while a strange feeling grew in his chest. Lust was now a small part of what he felt when he watched her walk away, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He wanted to know everything about the new waitress.
he loves to whisper filthy shit into your ear while you're in public, ghost his fingers over the edge of your underwear under tables, drive with his hand wayyyy to high on your thigh, his pinky finger stretching out just enough for you to feel but not enough to actually do anything, stares at your tits with that look. then he'll have the audacity to act all amused when you drag him to the nearest empty bathroom or through the door if you're home, the smug smirk remaining until you turn to him, cupping his cock through his jeans and squeeze. "you gonna do something, baby," you coo, "or are you all bark and no bite?" and oh, he bites.
Love‘s Gonna Bring You Home - Chapter 10 (Jax Teller x Winston!Reader)
Summary: Being Opie's little sister meant you grew up in the world of SAMCRO. Surrounded by motorcycles, kutte's and the steady presence of his best friend Jax Teller. The one you had a crush on since you were a teen. Now you're back in Charming and the old friendship slowly turned into something neither of you had expected.
Authors Note: first of all thank you guys for staying with me through my writers block! I‘m not gonna abandon these two and have a lot planned! So let’s give them a chapter of fluff before trouble comes back!
You woke up the next morning with a heavy arm wrapped around you. You stayed like that for a long time. Just reveling in the feeling. His warm breath against your skin.
Your thoughts jumped back to last night, the policestation, the confession, the kiss. And then the first time having sex with Jax.
His thumb pressed against your hip.
”You awake?“ he murmured after some time.
“Mm,” you hummed, not lifting your head. “Been awake.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, chest shifting under your cheek. “Yeah? How long?”
You shrugged
”Dunno.“ You cuddled deeper against his chest ”Just wanted some time like this.“
He hummed and you felt the sound against your cheek.
”You got it, babe. As long as you want.“
And your heart melted at seeing this soft side of him. Which admittedly you had seen before, when he came to your rescue in the city, when he gifted you the necklace which you still wore every day, and when he let you sleep in his bed for weeks after the internship. But knowing he was your boyfriend, your Jax now, made it feel even more special.
”You sleep good?“ he asked after another moment.
You grinned thinking back to the last night.
”Eventually.“
”Guess we wore each other out.“ he said grin noticeably in his voice.
You looked up at him, blue eyes meeting yours. His hair was a mess, his smile easy and there was something in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. Peace.
“You look happy,” you said quietly.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Can’t remember the last time I woke up feelin’ like this.”
His thumb brushed your cheek, tracing small circles, and you leaned into the touch.
For a few minutes, that was all there was,soft laughter, slow kisses, sheets rustling. No club, no secrets, no Opie. Just you and him.
You sighed, forehead against his. “We really did this, huh?”
He smiled. “Yeah. Guess there’s no takin’ it back now.”
“Would you want to?”
He looked at you for a long moment, the answer clear in his eyes before he even spoke. “Not a damn thing about last night.”
You grinned, tugging him closer again. “Good. ’Cause I was kinda hopin’ for a repeat.”
He laughed, flipping you onto your back with a grin “Darlin’, you don’t gotta ask me twice.”
You spent the whole weekend inside your apartment. Sharing kisses, cuddling, having sex in every room of your apartment. You were in your little blissful bubble. It was a little surreal to be able to share this with him after all this time. And to be honest no wet dream about him did the real thing justice. Sex with Jax was better than any author could ever have written up. After knowing him all these years it was like getting to see a whole other side of him, like learning a new language with him together. Finding out what the other liked, hearing Jax talk you through it, his hands touching you not innocently, being the reason to hear him groan. It had felt unreal. The deep eye contact, the way it felt like he was worshipping every inch of your body. You could confidently say it was the best sex you ever had.
That Monday morning you had to return back to work. The morning was spent in bed with coffee.
You kissed before leaving your apartment both wearing hoodies that belonged to Jax. You needed something that reminded you that it was real and also no one wouldn’t suspect anything since you wore his stuff before.
Pulling into the TM parking lot behind Jax.
He met you at your truck,
”Alright, business as usual.“ Jax said, voice low.
You huffed out a small laugh
”Yeah. We’re great at that.“
A corner of his mouth twitched. “We’ll manage.”
But his eyes lingered on you.
”We‘re still on for later?“ he asked making you nod.
”Yeah. Meet you at yours. If something comes up though-"
”Then you’ll still drive to mine. Wanna spend the night with you.“
You smiled up at him
”Yeah, okay.“
Inside, it was the same as always.
Tools clanking. Low voices.
“Look who decided to show,” Tig called from across the garage, smirking as he spotted you.
You rolled your eyes. “Miss me?”
“Always,” he shot back.
You felt Jax move somewhere behind you, not too close but close enough that you were aware of him.
Chibs gave you a nod. “Heard ye been busy pickin’ up strays from the station.”
You smirked. “Someone’s gotta keep you boys outta trouble.”
“Good luck with that,” he chuckled.
The day passed excruciatingly slow. Jax did find a way to be close to your a few times. He needed a file right as Gemma left the office, stealing a few moments with you where he let his finger trail down the inside of your wrist.
At lunch you sat together outside on the benches, knees touching and his arm stretched along the table behind your back.
The most exciting was every time he let his eyes trail down your body and giving you a wink once his eyes found yours again making you bite back a smile.
Jax and you got off at the same time since there was no club meeting that day. So as you both reached your vehicles you looked up at him giving him a small nod.
You barely made it through his door before jax had you pressed up against the wall, kicking the door shut with his foot as his lips pressed against yours in a desperate kiss.
”Hello to you too.“ you laughed against his lips once you parted.
”You know damn well how hard that was.“ he chuckled ”Pretending we’re friends.“ he pressed a kiss against the side of your mouth.
”That you’re not mine.“ followed by a kiss on your jaw, your eyes fluttering close.
”That I haven’t spend the last 48 hours fucking you.“ a open mouthed kiss was pressed against your neck making your breath hitch as your hands pulled him closer.
”Fighting off that semi anytime I saw you walk by in those tight fucking jeans.“ he let his teeth graze your skin as his hands wandered down grabbing a handful of your ass.
”Fuck, Jax.“ you breathed.
”What do you need, baby.“ he asked
”You." You answered.
Jax picked you up, connecting your lips again as he carried you through his house into the living room. You both knew you wouldn’t make it further than the couch right now.
He sat down, pulling you into his lap.
You grind your hips down making him groan again. Feeling his hard on through the jeans.
”Baby.“ he said, dragging his thumb over your lower lip ”You have no idea what you’re doing to me.“
”I think I do.“ you bit your lip ”Because you’re doing the same to me.“
He connected your lips again, soft at first then more heated, as his hands ran down your body. He found the hem of your shirt and pulled it off.
Clothes came off fast after that.
His fingers found your soft core running over you slowly.
”Jax.“ you moaned ”Don’t tease.“
”So wet for me.“ he said.
You lifted yourself a little up on your knees, his hands gripping your hips and lining himself up with you.
Lowering yourself down on him you felt the way he stretched you.
Your nails dragged over his shoulders making him let out a groan. You loved that you had this affect on him. His arms circled your hips pulling you close once he was completely inside you. Making you both pause a moment to catch your breath. You leaned forward catching his lips again and he started moving his hips. You threw your head back giving Jax access to press hot open mouthed kisses against your neck.
Lifting yourself up and slamming down onto his dick in a steady pace that made the blood in your eyes rush.
In a unsuspecting moment he pushed your body down suddenly making you gasp and moan
”Jax-"
He keeps the now faster pace up, slamming into you at the perfect speed, the perfect angle and you feel like your edges grow fuzzy.
”Fuck- Jax, I-” you stutter feeling your orgasm build.
”Same.“ Jax grits out ”Come on, cum for me, baby.“ he said.
You tightened your arms around his neck Setting a more intentional pace.
He let his teeth graze your neck before biting down just a little and you felt the wave wash over you. Letting out a loud moan as you came. Jax came soon after letting out a groan that made you want to go again immediately.
You where still settled in his lap, forehead resting against his shoulder as you both caught your breaths.
”Damn.“ Jax let out.
”Yeah,“ you chuckled ”Damn.“
Straightening back up to see his face.
A few blonde strands stuck to his forehead, your fingers coming up to comb through his long hair.
After a shower, and another round in the shower, you found yourself in his kitchen dressed in one of his flannels making dinner. Jax emerged from the shower as you were stirring the pot.
”You cooking?“ he asked as he stepped up behind you, wrapping his arms around you.
”Mhm“ you smiled.
”Not gonna lie, this is really hot.“
”Me cooking is hot to you?“ you laughed
”You’re hot no matter what you do.“ he said, voice earnest in a way you didn’t often hear ”But seeing my girl, in my house, wearing my stuff?" Butterflies errupted in your stomach of him calling you "my girl".
His thumbs drew circles on your waist.
”Makes me wanna drag you back to my bed.“
You let out a snort
”How are you not starving?“
”Oh I am.“ you could hear the grin in his voice ”Just not my main priority right now.“
You turned in his arms, leaning up to kiss him. After a few moments of getting lost in his kiss again you parted.
„Well, you’ll have to wait a little bit longer because dinner‘s ready.“
You ate on the small table in his kitchen and it felt incredibly domestic. Like coming home, like how you would like the rest of your life to be.
”I could get used to this.“ you said looking around his kitchen.
”You better.“ he said back ”Cause I don’t plan on stopping.“
Later when you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest and his fingers combing through your hair you couldn’t help the happy smile on your lips.
It was exhausting to put on the facade of just friends any time you left the house though. Especially at clubhouse parties. Especially when the crow eaters were around basically throwing themselves at Jax.
That’s why you had decided to show up in a dress you knew Jax loved on you.
His eyes found you instantly as you stepped into the room. His tongue running over his lips as he seized you up. He emptied the rest of his beer bottle before he got up and walking over to you.
”Damn.“ he said, hand finding your hip for a second.
”That a hello?“ you smiled
”That’s a hello, alright.“ he shook his head
”Wanna get a drink?“
You nodded following him to the bar. It wasn’t unusual that you and Jax would spend the majority of a evening together. You acted like that before you were a couple too. But now it felt like you had to try so hard not let the facade slip.
”Relax.“ Jax murmured as he handed you the beer.
”That obvious?“ you asked.
”Kind of.“ he shrugged ”It’s fine. They’ve been thinking there’s something going on for years. Would be weird if we gave them a reason to stop now.“
You nodded, he did have a point.
”Can I tell you how stunning you look though?“
You smiled.
About an hour later Jax found you for a second again. He made sure no one was close enough to hear before he leaned down and whispered ”Meet me in the dorm in 10.“
”Jax.“ you said knowing how easy it was to blow your cover.
”They’re all shitfaced, they won’t notice and..“ he connected your eyes ”I need you right now.“
You looked up in his blue eyes, the hunger evident in them, the same hunger that you felt for him right now.
”Okay. In ten.“ you nodded.
He gave your hip a squeeze before he walked off into the back hall.
You made it six minutes before the anticipation got the best of you and you sneaked away.
He had you bent over the drawer soon after while you were trying hard to keep your moans quiet so you wouldn’t blow your cover.
After another mind blowing orgasm you and Jax settled on the bed. You looked around the room, the room where you and Jax had spent most nights after you came back home.
”Crazy being back here after all.“ you said to Jax who hummed.
”Crazy?“ he asked
”Mhm. We basically lived in this room three months ago.“
His face turned softer hearing you say that.
”I never thanked you for, well everything.“ you said.
Jax’s brows furrowed ”You have nothing to thank me for.“
”Kinda do.“ you said before adding ”You spend every night here for me. Kept you from your own bed.“
A smile made its way onto his face
”You didn’t keep me from anythin‘ darlin‘.“ he shook his head.
”We weren’t even together then.“ you said
”Yeah.“ Jax shrugged
”So you could’ve just gone home.“
”Didn’t want to.“
You turned your head to him.
”Darlin, this has been coming on for a long time.“
I rewatched Sons of Anarchy for the first time since I was like 14/15 and back then I was just watching bikers do insane shit and thinking "this is so fucking cool,” and now I’m 24 and watching a bunch of deeply fucked-up people love each other as best as they know how, and sometimes the way they love each other is beautiful and sometimes it's catastrophically destructive, so here’s my thoughts and feelings and general musings (this will contain spoilers, and a lot of them):
my thoughts and feelings and general musings (this will contain spoilers, and a lot of them):
Season One and Two
First of all, every single time Happy Lowman, Chibs Telford, or Tig Trager appeared on my screen, I rewound the scene so I could see them again. Sometimes multiple times. I love those unhinged fucks. Every tiny glimpse of Happy was basically a religious experience for me, ngl. I love that psychopath so much.
I completely forgot about the 13-year-old who was raped in the third episode of season 1. The rage the Sons have over it, the pure fucking rage and disgust, and the way they just collectively decide that this is now their problem—fuck that guy, he's going to pay—is such a perfect introduction to the way this club operates. They don't need to know the girl. They don't need to have any personal connection to her. Someone hurt a kid, and that's enough.
Piney (about Tig): what the hell is wrong with him?
Bobby: the list is too long my friend
I forgot that after Tig kills Donna, he literally smashes his own head into a mirror hard enough to make himself bleed. The guilt he (rightfully) has is just eating him alive. Tig is such a deeply fucked-up character because underneath all the insanity, there is so much genuine emotion and guilt in him.
“It’s baseball time” as a way of saying they're going to beat the shit out of someone. My god. They are so fucking unhinged. I love it.
"I'd rather you tossed next to me than on the couch." Is this the one and only time I actually like clay? (yes)
I really like how they handled Gemma's reaction after her rape because, obviously, she wouldn't tell anyone. That's not who she is. That's not how she survives. Gemma has spent her entire life surviving by controlling the narrative, so of course she would try to control this too. But at the same time, she can't hide how deeply it affected her.
The physical pain at first, obviously, but then the lack of sleep. Not wanting to be touched. The flinching. The way she's trying to maintain the lie that it was a car accident while it's clearly eating her alive. People notice that she's off. Nobody can quite put their finger on why, but this woman who normally dominates every room she walks into suddenly seems distracted and disconnected.
She's still loud. She's still sharp-tongued. She's still perfectly capable of verbally tearing someone apart. But it feels forced, like she's putting on Gemma Teller every morning instead of simply being her.
And I think that's what the show got so right. They never suddenly turned her into a completely different person. She doesn't become openly vulnerable overnight or immediately start confiding in everyone around her, because that's not Gemma. If anything, the trauma makes her double down on the coping mechanisms she's relied on her entire life. She buries it. She lies. She tries to carry it by herself.
And the tragedy is that those survival instincts are exactly what isolate her. She can convince everyone else that she's okay, but she can't convince her own body. The sleeplessness, the flinching, the hypervigilance, the aversion to being touched—they become the truth that keeps slipping through the cracks no matter how tightly she tries to hold everything together.
Bobby: Yeah and what's the plan? Roll up on him in broad daylight, cut off his head?
Happy: Okay.
Because Happy apparently does not recognise sarcasm as a concept… I just KNOW he was already mentally organising the logistics.
Jax saying he belongs to Bobby while they're in jail and them offering up Juice, calling him the “short, pretty one. Stupid haircut.” What goes on in this show, man. 😭 Poor fucking Juice. The fact that everyone just casually accepts that description kills me.
Jax being literally willing to die rather than remove his kutte for Alvarez. Holy shit.
"I'm not the one murdering women!" GET HIM JACKIE GET HIM
Chibs is wrapped in bandages after almost being blown up, and he's still comforting Jax and telling him that Luann's death isn't his fault. God. That is his son. Fuck Clay and John. That is Chibs' boy.
Zobelle being a disgusting, racist, rapist piece of shit aside, he annoyed the absolute fuck out of me. There was just something about him that was so incredibly grating.
Hale pissed me off because how are you going to be all righteous about wanting to be a good cop and keep crime out of Charming, and then actually contemplate teaming up with fucking white supremacists who you know raped a woman (Gemma) in your town? Like, make that shit make sense. I dare you.
“You are really gonna stand there and lay the guilt of a dead wife on me?” Oh Jackie GET HIM
I cannot believe the ‘prison clause’ is a real fucking thing like my brain actually can’t comprehend that. It genuinely sounds like something someone invented as a joke. "Yeah, if you're going to prison, you're legally allowed to request another member's girlfriend." WHAT.
For most of season 2 all I could focus on was the fact that I desperately wanted to wash Jax’s hair and brush out the back because that shit was MESSYYYYYY from his kutte.
I think if Gemma called me “baby” I’d actually die, like, just perish on the spot.
“I’m going Nomad” oh shit Jax
The masculinity in Sons of Anarchy is fascinating because it's simultaneously incredibly rigid and incredibly emotional. These men will say something like, “Men don't cry,” and then five minutes later three of them are hugging each other, one is crying, someone is kissing someone's forehead, and another guy is threatening to murder someone on their behalf.
They're extremely physically affectionate with each other while also having this bizarre cultural rule that they have to pretend none of it makes them vulnerable. I love how touchy they all are with each other—the hugs, the arms over each other's shoulders, the little kisses to the cheek, even just a pat on the back. They clearly love each other deeply, but there's this constant insistence that none of that is supposed to mean anything.
Chibs better be the one to kill Jimmy O, and it better be bloody and disgusting and brutal. Tommy Flanagan, the actor you are.
Clay letting Tig take shrooms before the vote on Jax going Nomad and saying he'll proxy for him. Evil motherfucker.
Juice actually tearing up when he's told that Jax is asking to go Nomad was painfulllll. Because Juice's entire thing is wanting desperately to belong. He needs the club. He needs to know he's wanted. Jax wanting to go Nomad feels like losing family to him.
When Chibs is telling Stahl the conditions of his involvement with her—the shaky voice, the deep breaths, the absolute war happening on his face and behind his eyes. Tommy Flanagan, the actor you are.
Tig sobbing and apologising while absolutely fucking obliterated on mushrooms … like.. Tig, buddy, this is perhaps the least emotionally appropriate environment in which to have your breakthrough. But also.. my heart hurts.
The heartbreak on Clay's face when Gemma says, “They raped me,” was so fucking well done. It felt like taking a baseball bat to the ribs because for approximately 0.7 seconds I remembered that this man genuinely loves her, and for like half a second I forgot that I hate him with every fibre of my being.
And Jax comforting both of them was such a beautiful little character moment too. His mother has just told him something horrific happened to her. Clay has just found out his wife was raped. And Jax's instinct isn't to think about the politics of it or what it means for the club. It's basically just: I'm going to hold both of you together right now.
Katey Sagal. Charlie Hunnam. Ron Perlman. Wow.
“I’d do the same for you.”
“You already did.”
Let's not be so casual about the murder of a federal agent, yeah? Even if the bastard did deserve it
“If Gemma had gotten raped on John’s watch, he’d have written a whole different book.”
“We kill 'em all,” followed immediately by kissing his baby son on the cheek. DIABOLICAL.
“Men need to own their pussy. His has been violated.” DISGUSTING. What the fuck. Jesus christ.
Gemma is so fascinating to me because how the fuck did you get to this point? What happened to you? How did you become someone who genuinely believes these things?
“The outlaw had mercy. You remember that the next time you try to twist the truth to kill one of us.” Oh Opie.
“Clay is Clay because of us. We made him.”
“Then how do we unmake him?”
Good fucking question.
Chibs crying on Gemma’s shoulder oh my god
s2e11 is just hit after hit after hit of what the fuck. Goddamn. What a roller-coaster.
The way Zobelle kissed his daughter after Weston threatened them was just... bleugh. There's something particularly fucking horrible about watching someone like Zobelle turn around and be borderline inappropriately affectionate with his daughter after everything we've seen him do.
Stahl slapping Chibs for saying, “Jimmy who?” like the little shit he is. Part of me understands why she did it, and the other part of me is furious because that's my baby, ya know?
And then he gets all up in her space and tells her, “You hit like a girl,” because they've completely outsmarted her. Oh, Chibs. I adore you.
Tara hitting the administrator who's been making her life hell. Love to see it.
Once again, I keep getting distracted by Happy every time he's on screen.
Chibs, babe. You've just been blown up and suffered a head injury, then been slapped by Stahl. You should not be participating in this fight against the white supremacists. Please. For the love of god.
TIG BITING THAT GUY’S NOSE/EAR OFF OH MY GOD … TIG. Why. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. (in a mildly disappointed in a beloved family member kinda way)
Sorry, but the club just lounging around outside the police station, literally sitting on top of the police cars, was comedic gold. They really just do not give a shit.
Juice walks like it’s heavy. Jax does too.
“Too late. War’s already started.”
“The hate you got in your heart for colour? Multiply it by 10, point it at yourself, Zobelle, and hang my name on it. I hope you rip each other to shreds.” Oh, Unser. I adore you.
Happy doesn’t even need dialogue for me to be engaged. He'll just be standing six feet behind someone, looking like he has personally declared war on the concept of joy, and suddenly it's:
rewind
"Oh there he is."
rewind
"Look at him."
rewind
"My beautiful psychopath."
Tig is one of those characters where every new piece of information makes you go:
Oh.
OH.
There's more.
Because somehow every time you think you've reached the absolute bottom of the Tig Trager psychological basement, someone opens another fucking trapdoor.
Happy telling Jax he's proud of him for killing one of the men who raped Gemma, and being so completely dead serious about it. Am I touched or horrified? Somehow both. Because coming from Happy, that's basically a heartfelt speech.
Piney opening the back of the truck with a fucking “YEEHAW” before shooting at Alvarez and Zobelle in the car with Happy. There are just so many little moments like that in this show that take it to another level. It's not even necessarily anything important to the plot; it's just these tiny character moments and bits of personality that make everything feel so much more alive.
I love that they're all wearing these heavy, combat-esque boots and then there's Chibs in Converse. Of course there is.
Chibs keeps walking around with his arms out and it is becoming increasingly distracting. Sir, please. I am very weak.
Half-Sack dying for Abel and Tara. You deserved better, but what a way to go. What a way to prove his loyalty.
And poor Chibs, too, because he sponsored Half-Sack as a prospect, so there was clearly a real sense of love and loyalty there. He brought him into the club, vouched for him, helped give him a place, and then barely gets any time to process losing him before everything else comes crashing down. There's something heartbreaking about that.
I understand that Cameron is devastated because his son has just been killed, and I understand that he believes Gemma was responsible, but dude... you kidnapped the fucking son of the Prince of a motorcycle club. Did you not think that maybe, just maybe, there might be consequences for that? Like, that is an absolutely terrible survival plan. You really thought, “I'm going to take this man's child and then simply leave”? Be serious.
Thank you, Clay, for leaving everything behind and putting the revenge against Zobelle on hold for Jax. Finally. Finally something good from you. For approximately five minutes, I can almost remember that you are a person.
Okay. The way Jax completely crumbles while screaming, “He took my son,” followed by that scream. I... I need several minutes. Maybe a year.
That wasn't even Jax being angry. That was pure, primal fucking devastation. The way Charlie Hunnam plays him completely falling apart in that moment is brutal. He is absolutely fucking terrified and heartbroken.
Charlie Hunnam, all the flowers. Every single one.
𓆩♡𓆪 -How are we thinking about a Jax in the real world fanfic? Like he gets transported into our world into some girl’s room who’s a Sons of Anarchy super-fan. Let me know, lovelies.
a total eclipse of the heart ㅤꨄ︎ | the most spontaneous lil piece inspired by tonight’s solar eclipse | jax teller x reader
“you know darlin’, you ain’t ‘sposed to look directly at it…” Jax glances up towards the sky before looking back at me, the corners of his mouth already twitching. “…I heard it can make you blind or some shit”
“Good. Then I won’t have to look at that annoying smirk of yours anymore” I laugh, knocking my shoulder gently into his side.
“Annoying huh?” His brows lift, that same fucking smirk I’m talking about spreads wider across his face. “You weren’t sayin’ that last night”
I can’t help but roll my eyes, the bastard knows exactly what he’s doing, that smirk is half the reason I ever let him hit it in the first place, and he sure as hell knows it. “Shut up loser” I press my lips together in a pathetic attempt to hide my own smile, but there’s no discreet way to hide the warmth that creeps beneath my skin whenever he’s around.
For a short moment, neither of us say anything. The whole of charming is stretched out beneath us in a weird haze that probably has to do with the eclipse. The first time Jax brought me up to this lookout spot, I literally almost died. I know what this place means to him, somewhere he goes when he needs to clear his head or get away from the shit with the club so for him to share this space with me, it felt close to meaning something.
“You know…I’ve been thinkin’…” the tone in his voice shifts, “…about us.”
My stomach automatically does a back flip at the same time he turns towards me and I can’t bring myself to look at him, I keep my eyes strained on the town below. If I look, I might see what he wants to say on his face before he actually says the words, and that thought terrifies me. My heads rolling through a hundred thoughts now, is that why he’s brought me back up here, somewhere pretty to be dumped, if you can call it that I mean technically we aren’t actually together but you know what I mean.
“All this back and forth, sleepin’ together, then dissapearin’ on each other…” I feel his posture changing beside me “…I just-” The light over town suddenly dims, as the moon takes its place in front of the sun causing us both to squint and shield our eyes as the rays spill out like a halo.
“It’s beautiful” I whisper, tilting my head upwards carefully, making sure not to look directly at it.
“You’re beautiful” he says as if he’s correcting me, I turn to find his eyes already on mine, not giving a shit about the celestial event above us.
“Jax…” my heart begins to stammer and my breathing quickens to a crazy pace.
“I’m serious. I’m not doin’ this half hearted anymore” he reaches out, pulling me closer by the elbows, his tongue darts between those plump lips before he carries on “no more showin’ up just when we wanna fuck. I’m done pretendin’ it don’t mean anythin’ anymore, I want you y/n, all of you. Not that the sex isn’t good, cause fuck me it is but I wanna be there for everythin’ else too”
I get lost in the way he confesses to me, forgetting I actually have to respond, I bite down on my bottom lip only managing to nod slowly as that warmth from earlier continues to spread. His hands move upwards, the rings on his fingers leaving a cool trail against my skin as they slide over my shoulders and up the sides of my neck, he cups my face holding me in place, his thumbs resting gently beneath my ears before he guides me closer and smothers my lips with his.
I can’t help but smile against his mouth, and I can feel him doing the same in return, before too long there’s little hums of laughter in the gaps of our kiss until he finally pulls back, our foreheads resting against one another.
“Took you long enough” I tease, nudging my nose against his. He laughs in response, squeezing me into a hug, “You’re still a loser” I laugh softly, savouring the taste of him on my lips.
“Maybe…” he grumbles, switching positions so we’re back on track with the eclipse, he tucks me into his side and squeezes gently “But I’m your loser”
CW: jax lowk being creepy and like possessive, getting tattooed (idk if thats a warning lol)
all my work is fictional, purely entertainment related and belongs to me.
Thinking about getting jax’s crow. He initially brings up the idea while you’re both relaxed on your soft bed, night breeze flowing beyond your open window and its complimentary lace curtains. He only brings it up now but really, he’s been thinking about it since the day he met you.
How the black ink that marks you as Jax’s would look etched on you. Maybe you’ll get it on the hip, dangerously bordering your lower half. Maybe on the back of your neck, hidden by your beautiful hair. Or even on your sternum, right in the middle of your chest.
All places where only he gets access too.
“you ever think ‘bout getting a tattoo?” He asks softly as he drags his finger in circles on your thigh. “maybe, but what would I even get?” you ponder at his question, shifting in your laid position to get a better look at him. “don’t know..” he does know actually, he just wants it to be your idea.
“how ‘bout a crow? you always call Gemmas tattoo cool.” You hum indicating you’ll think about it and for now, he can deal with it. He wants nothing more than to have you permanently binded to him, a mark of your love for him. It’s kind of insecure when he thinks about it, but he can’t help it.
He hates the thought that there’s a possibility where you won’t be his, that there’s a chance you’ll leave and just like that, Jax will be forgotten.
No proof of him being in your life. No proof of the nights and mornings you spend together, no proof of you wearing his shirts, or of kisses on his tattooed skin.
Getting his crow was evidence of all that.
Jax doesn’t push it, he figures he’ll subconsciously throw it in another conversation until you agree. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about it 24/7.
On a random wednesday afternoon, Tig is the one who first points it out, nodding towards your figure. On one hand Jax wants to beat him black and blue for even looking at you like that. But on the other hand he can’t tear his gaze away from the sight.
You were helping Gemma sort through boxes of paperwork, looking for something she needed. When you reached for one on the very top shelf, the long sleeve you wore lifted up, revealing the end of a crows feathers imprinted on the side of your upper torso. His crow, right there on your ribs.
Jax feels as if the universe has rewarded him, maybe it’s one he doesn’t deserve but he’ll never take it for granted.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 🥳 Can i have a pink present + white bow for jackson teller please 🙏
unwrapped masterlist | main masterlist | navigation
title; eyes on me
pairing; jax teller x fem!reader
prompt; pink present (fluff) + white bow (jealousy)
You feel the bass from the clubhouse speakers vibrating up through the soles of your boots before you even push open the door. Charming’s summer heat clings to your skin, but inside the clubhouse the air is thick with cigarette smoke, leather, and the low rumble of laughter.
Jax is already at the bar, one elbow propped on the scratched wood, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand. His cut hangs open over a black tee, the president’s patch catching the light every time he shifts. He doesn’t turn when you walk in, but you see the way his shoulders ease the second your boots hit the floorboards.
“Took you long enough,” he says, voice rough and warm. He finally looks over, blue eyes dragging slowly from your boots up to your face. That familiar half-smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Missed you.”
You slide onto the stool beside him, close enough that your thigh presses against his. His hand finds your knee under the bar like it belongs there, thumb stroking once, lazy and possessive. You order a beer, and a prospect nods from behind the taps and slides it over without a word.
Everything feels easy for a while. Jax tells you about the run that went smoother than expected, about how Abel is already trying to climb the porch railing like he’s got somewhere important to be. You laugh, soft, and lean into his side. His arm settles around your waist, heavy and solid, and for a few minutes the clubhouse noise fades into background static.
Then the front door swings open again, and she walks in.
You don’t know her name. Blonde, tight jeans, a smile that lands on Jax like she’s practiced it. She drifts over to the group of prospects near the pool table, but her eyes keep sliding back to the bar. To him. Jax doesn’t notice at first—he’s still talking to you, fingers absently tracing circles on your hip—but you notice.
The way she laughs a little too loud when someone cracks a joke, the way she keeps angling her body so she’s in his line of sight.
Something hot and tight coils low in your stomach.
Jax’s hand stills as he glances down at you, then follows your gaze. The blonde catches him looking and gives a little wave, bold as anything. His jaw tightens for half a second before he turns fully back to you, deliberately putting his back to her. “Hey.” His voice drops. “Eyes on me.”
You try for a cool shrug like you weren't mentally planning her demise. “Was just looking.”
“Bullshit.” He stands, crowding you against the bar without ever raising his voice. One hand braces beside your hip, the other tips your chin up so you have to meet those storm-blue eyes. “You think I give a shit about anyone else in this place when you’re sitting right here?”
The jealousy still burns, but it’s starting to twist into something softer under the weight of his attention. You open your mouth to answer, and he kisses you instead—slow, thorough, the kind of kiss that says mine without needing the word. His free hand slides into your hair, tilting your head just the way he likes, and the rest of the clubhouse might as well have disappeared.
When he pulls back, you’re both breathing a little harder. Jax rests his forehead against yours, voice low enough that only you can hear it.
“I spent half the afternoon thinking about getting back here so I could do that. So I could get my hands on you. You really think some girl I don’t even know is gonna change that?”
You shake your head, the last of the tension melting out of your shoulders. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, gentle in a way that still surprises you sometimes.
“Good.” He presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth, softer this time. “Because I’m taking you home after this drink, and I’m not sharing you with anyone. Not even the idea of anyone.”
You finish the beer faster than usual, and Jax stays pressed against your side the whole time, arm locked around you like he’s making a point to the entire room. When you finally slide off the stool, he follows, fingers laced with yours, and the blonde’s eyes track you both all the way to the door as she scoffs.
Outside, the night air is cooler as Jax walks you to his bike, then turns and cages you against the seat with both arms, kissing you again until you’re smiling against his mouth.
“Still jealous?” he murmurs.
You tip your head back to look at him, the streetlights catching the silver in his hair. “A little.”
He grins, that rare, real one that softens his whole face. “Good. Means you’re still mine.”
He swings a leg over the bike and waits for you to climb on behind him. Your arms slide around his waist, cheek resting between his shoulder blades. The engine rumbles to life beneath you, and as Charming’s streets blur past, you feel the last of the jealousy dissolve into something warm and steady.
Summary: Jax and Matt’s reactions to you asking them if you could order something in front of the waiter while out to dinner.
Word Count: 2.8k | I do not give consent to having my work republished or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own.
Warnings: fluff, implications of smut, swearing, innocently pranking your man in public and watching him squirm (well... at least watching Matt squirm), this is just a fun couple of blurbs that I really enjoyed writing, inspired by those tiktok videos of wives pranking their husband’s ;).
It was rare that you and Jax ever went out as a family of four to dinner or lunch or breakfast, or to really anywhere.
It was even more rare for just you and Jax to go out as a couple.
He was so busy with the club and the partnerships he’d been working on, and he’d been trying to keep up with it all while also navigating his family life and ensuring they weren’t feeling neglected.
When Jax finally had a free afternoon and night away from it all, he took full advantage of it. He spent the afternoon with his boys before suggesting that you and he go out for a date night, and of course you instantly agreed to it.
You were so excited, and it made Jax feel like a bad husband because, again, it was rare for you and he to go out together, and a wife should be getting spoiled a lot more than the amount that you are.
But Jax was planning on taking a step back once things calmed down with the club, and once he got the business part of it all sorted out, he’d have more free time to spare, and he planned to put it all towards his family.
After getting his sons’ bags ready, Jax guided his family out to your car. He only used it when he had to drop the boys off somewhere, or on the rare occasion that the four of you were going somewhere together.
He dropped Abel and Thomas off at Gemma’s for the night since she’d offered to take them off yours and his hands when he told her his plans of a date night with you. She missed her boys, and Jax missed having one on one time with his wife, so it worked out quite well.
Jax took you to one of the nicer restaurants in Charming, a sizable wad of cash tucked away in his jeans and yours for the taking. It’d been so long since he’d last taken you out on a date, he genuinely couldn’t remember just how much time had passed since he last spent a pretty penny on you, and that once again had him feeling like a bad husband.
He sat across from you at the table that was tucked in the corner of the restaurant, far away from the family of six Jax had seen when you and he came in. The family seemed nice, but they were loud, and Jax wanted to sit somewhere a lot more lowkey that would allow him to flirt with you for the majority of dinner, then he’d take you back home and finally lay you out on the bed and take his time with you. All he’d had time for lately were quick fucks either in the shower after you’d come home from work, or in bed after the boys were asleep.
You deserved better than that, especially since you and he used to be quite hot and heavy when he was still the VP of the club and he had more time. Hopefully tonight he can show you just how sexy he still thinks you are, and will always think you are. There is no doubt that Jax will always think his wife is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
He was looking over the menu as he drank some of his beer, debating on whether or not he wanted to order something that would leave him feeling full to the point of immobility and risk not being as agile with you later, or something that would fill him without making him feel like he couldn’t do much else after except sleep it off.
You were sipping on the red vodka drink you often order at various different restaurants and bars when the waitress who’d taken your drink orders a few minutes ago came back with her notepad and a practiced smile. “Have you two decided on what you’d like?” she asked, her gaze sweeping between you and Jax.
Jax looked over at you as well, and he sat back in the chair as he gestured for you to order first while he shamelessly checked you out. You were wearing a low cut shirt, one of the few articles of clothing you have tucked away in the dresser that are saved for the nights you and Jax go out by yourselves and not with the boys.
It was black and tight and looked incredibly hot paired with the light washed jeans he couldn’t wait to rip off you later at home. A smirk formed on his lips as he draped his arm around the back of the chair next to his.
You played with the two rings on your finger, sparing a glance at the waitress before you leaned over the table a bit and lowered your voice. “Do I have to order a salad?” you asked, and your question wasn’t directed toward the waitress, it was directed toward Jax.
It instantly had his smirk falter a bit, and his brows furrowed. “What?”
You glanced up at the waitress again, but Jax kept his eyes on you, watching as you spun your rings around your finger a few times. “I don’t really feel like a salad tonight. Can I order something else? I’m kinda hungry,” you said, and the smirk had completely vanished from his face.
Jax narrowed his eyes at you, forgetting to abide by your one rule you’d set for him whenever you go out, which is to keep his dirty mouth just a little cleaner and to try and be on his best behavior. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”
Your eyes widened and you quickly gave the waitress an embarrassed, apologetic smile before looking back at Jax. “I’m asking if I can order something a little more filling? Maybe like the chicken parm or the pasta so I can order a salad for the side option. That way I don’t just have to eat a salad,”
The waitress stood to the side of the table with an awkward look on her face, her pen paused from where it was pressed against the blank sheet of paper in the notepad. He could feel the judging eyes she was looking at him with, and he felt himself getting worked up as he realized what she was probably thinking, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Jax shot you a confused look as he sat up in the chair. “When have you ever just ordered a fuckin’ salad?” he asked, shaking his head. “And why are you askin’ me like you need permission? You can order whatever you want to.”
Your lips curled upwards at that, and when you covered your mouth with your hand, it finally clicked for Jax as to what you were doing.
“Seriously?” he muttered, huffing out a laugh as he slumped back in the chair, the tension in his shoulders quickly dissolving. He looked up at the waitress as he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “I get it now,” he said, gesturing to you with a nod of his head. “She’s tryin’ to make it sound like she doesn’t eat at home. Trust me, that one eats.”
The waitress let out a laugh at the same time you let out a gasp, your eyes widening. “Jax!”
But Jax just gave you a look. “Don’t try that shit with me, babe, you started this,” he said, then glanced up at the poor waitress who finally clued into the little stunt you’d just pulled. “She’s tryin’ to make it seem like she isn’t cared for, but she knows damn well she’s taken care of.”
The waitress laughed, shaking her head. “You got yourself a joker, I see,” she said, and you pressed your lips together as she once again asked for yours and his orders.
After she left to go give the kitchen the order, Jax leaned over the table, his hand sliding along it until it wrapped around your wrist. He watched you squirm a bit in your seat, and the corner of his mouth pulled back into a smug smirk. “You think you’re funny, huh?” he asked, dropping his voice in volume as you looked at him with wide eyes, but he could tell you were already starting to feel a little turned on.
“It was just a little joke I saw going around online,” you mumbled, shifting a bit as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.
“That right?” Jax said, his voice much deeper than it was before. He tugged you closer by your wrist and leaned more towards you until his lips brushed along your ear. “We’ll see how much you laugh when I get you back home and show you just how funny I think your ‘little joke’ was.”
He definitely ordered something that wouldn’t limit his movement later, because he fully planned to get you back for this as soon as you and he got home.
In celebration of Foggy and Matt winning a case that had been weighing down on them for weeks now, Karen had suggested going out for an early dinner as a way to unwind and relax after such a grueling past few weeks.
The restaurant was something a little less formal, but it was a good choice since it was the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday, and most people were still at work, so it wasn’t super busy or loud.
Matt was sitting in the corner of the booth with Foggy next to him in what would be considered the aisle seat, and you were sitting across from him while Karen sat across from Foggy. Usually Matt prefers to sit in the seat that’s the easiest to get out of, like where Foggy and Karen are sitting, but you like being closest to the wall and not sitting in the aisle seat, and you also have a thing where you like having him sit across from you, so Matt just had to suck it up.
Matt hadn’t seen you since last night when you so… generously wished him luck on the court hearing this morning, then gave him something to think about to boost his confidence, which helped tremendously. But now that thought was lingering heavily in his mind, and he’d rather be sitting next to you than across from you so he could at least touch you ‘accidentally’ when reaching for something on the table.
You were coming over again tonight though, so he wasn’t too frustrated about the lack of touch he was currently having with you.
There was a small smile on his lips that hadn’t faltered much since winning the case as Matt held up the menu and listened to Foggy as he listed off some choices that he might like.
Under the table your foot kept brushing against his, your subtle way of checking in on him and your silent way of asking if he’s doing okay with the noise level, and each time he’d gently knock your foot with his in return.
The noise sometimes bothered him, but focusing on the sound of your steady heartbeat always helped more than you’d probably ever understand.
The waitress walked up to the table once more after giving you all a moment to look over the menu once she’d gotten you your drinks, and Matt wasn’t paying much attention to Karen as she gave her order first, then Foggy did, and then you did.
Of course, your voice is the one he paid most attention to. “Am I allowed to get fries?” you asked, and for some reason the air shifted around the table and a tension formed, but the smile remained on Matt’s face as he felt Foggy shift to his left.
When nothing was said after that, Matt’s brows furrowed, and he heard the way your heart started to beat a little quicker. “Sweetheart,” he said, lowering his voice as he leaned a little over the table towards you. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m asking if I’m allowed to get fries,” you said, and Matt’s brows furrowed even more as he paused.
Matt’s head tilted just slightly to the left where he knew the waitress was standing, keeping his voice friendly. “I’m sure you’re able to as long as they haven’t run out-”
“Dude,” Foggy interrupted, making Matt’s head turn in his direction as he stayed a little hunched over the table. “Why is she asking you for permission to order fries?”
That had Matt stilling completely, his lips parting in surprise. “I- what?”
“Matt,” Karen said under her breath, and he was so confused that he didn’t even register the small laugh that left your lips as his head turned in Karen’s direction now. “Do you normally control what she orders or… what is this?”
Matt’s brows lifted on his head, and he felt a heat rush to his face as a sound of shock tore from his mouth. “What? I don’t,” he insisted, but he could feel the tension in the air growing more and more now.
“Matty,” you got his attention again, and his head instantly turned towards you. “Is that okay? If I get fries with my burger?”
Another choked sound tumbled from his mouth as a confused look formed on his face. “What do you- of course you can. You don’t need my permission to order something, sweetheart,”
“Are you sure?” you asked, pitching your voice a little higher in the way you do when you’re nervous to ask something, and it had alarm bells going off in his head.
When had he ever made you feel like you needed his permission to do anything, let alone to order food while out to dinner? “Yes! Of course, I’m sure,” he insisted, reaching for your hand to make sure that this was real and not some dream he was having.
“Okay, thank you,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “I’m just really hungry.”
“That’s okay! Order whatever you want, baby,” Matt said, lacing his fingers with yours. “You don’t need to ask me if you can do something, you know that.”
A laugh bubbled out of your lips, and Matt’s confusion only grew when he heard the surprised laugh that Foggy let out as well. “Oh, shit,” he laughed, leaning back in the booth next to Matt. “I thought you were being serious.”
Matt didn’t know what he was talking about, but Karen spoke up before he could say anything. “Jesus, Matt, I was about to take your girl and run,” she said, and the tension was already leaving the air and making Matt relax a bit. “I was like, there’s no way you’re actually like that.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, but then it clicked for him. You had a habit of browsing TikTok before bed, and he briefly remembers one compilation of videos that had you cracking up. It was of wives asking their husbands if they could order food while out at restaurants. “I… oh.”
“I’m sorry!” you quickly said, bringing your joined hands up to your mouth and pressing a series of fast kisses to his knuckles. “I couldn’t help myself. I feel so bad now,” you said against his hand. “I’m sorry, I promise he’s the nicest guy ever. I was just messing with him. He’s amazing.”
You must’ve been talking to the waitress now as Matt heard an unfamiliar laugh. “It’s okay. You’re not the first person who has done that. I actually had someone do it earlier this week, so you’re good. Your guy’s reaction was really sweet,”
Matt’s face flushed at that, and he finally settled back into the booth properly while keeping his hand locked with yours. “I think I was more confused,”
“You were sweet and confused, and I’m sorry,” you said, pressing another kiss to the back of his hand. “And I love you.”
After you and Matt gave the waitress your orders, you must’ve felt guilty about your little prank since you requested Foggy take your seat so you could sit next to Matt. You and he switched places, with you taking Matt’s seat and him taking Foggy’s, and Matt’s arm naturally fell over your shoulder as you pressed your side against his.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, having you so close now helping him relax completely and tune out everything else. “I’m sorry, Matty. I didn’t mean for it to go that far,”
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he said, “I was just worried that I’d made you feel like I was controlling or that you had to have my permission to do things.”
“No, never,” you promised, “You’re the best boyfriend. I love you.”
You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and Matt let out a small laugh, turning his head and pressing a proper kiss to your mouth. “I love you too,”
