Random SoA Thought: would they or would they not read your diary?
Jax would read it once and only once and feel badly for it. He was all up in his head with jealousy, past hurts haunting this new love, and his resolve broke. He read it while you were in the shower and Jax immediately felt like an ass because...you love him. The pages of your diary are full of trust and love and worry over him on late nights and long drives and he feels so bad that he read it at all. He'll put the diary back, promise himself that he'll never do that again, and spend the next few days being extra loving and attentive. Anytime that memory pops up again, Jax will be really sweet to you again and again.
(sidenote: Gemma absolutely reads your diary and doesn't feel bad for it at all but she DOES get her feelings hurt over some of the stuff you write about her...but that's her own fault for reading it anyway)
Opie would read it and only feels bad if he got caught and you confront him over it. After all, he's your man and you're his old lady, so there can't be any secrets between you two, right? At least that's what the jealous monster from within whispers to him whenever Opie gets tempted enough to read your diary. He likes reading what you write about him, the good and the bad of it (the good because it's an ego boost and the bad because it allows him to see something from your point of view and correct himself) and what you write about his kids, how much you love them all. So he wouldn't feel bad unless you were mad at him for it really.
Happy would not read it unless something had happened to you. Like, you were attacked and left unconscious (so you can't tell him who did it) or have gone missing and the only thing he hasn't done yet is check your diary for any possible clues. And in that case, he would confess that he'd done it as soon as he could and, although he's not totally sorry (because Hap felt it necessary), he'll still apologize...and maybe tease you a little bit for all of the sweet things you wrote about him, as long as you're not too mad about it.
Tig would eventually have a peek but only because he didn't think it was supposed to be private (literally doesn't realize that people still write in diaries, it seems so old fashioned to him). He'd always seen you scribbling away in your little book but it never occurred to him that it might be something private until he actually did open it up (because he needed to write something down and the diary was the first thing he noticed) and read something and thinks...huh, maybe I shouldn't be messing with this. And he never does it again, not without your permission.
Juice would only read it if he started dealing with a lot of negativity/jealousy and he feels AWFUL. Like, scum of the earth levels of bad, but the guilt it gives him cannot stop him from doing it from time to time. Much like Jax, he'll silently make up for it by being extra sweet but he won't be able to stop himself from reading it whenever jealousy comes a calling.
Chibs does not read it and does not feel tempted to. After all, what does he need to read it for? He knows you so well that he can accurately guess whatever you're writing about (seriously, it's uncanny and you make a game out of it) and the one thing he asks is that you don't write about club business at all. Later on, he'll discover that you outright wrote false alibis for him just in case and, when it actually got him out of trouble, he's pretty pleased.
Kozik is tempted to read it and likely would, something he feels a little bad about. He struggles with insecurity, distrust, and jealousy fairly often and tried to talk himself out of it. But eventually, Kozy will give into temptation and take a peak. He feels badly for doing it but the ego boost of seeing how much you love him is too strong to make him truly regret it.
Ratboy is tempted to read it and likely would not. He honestly would not consider it because, well, he knows you and trusts you pretty deeply at this point. So why would he worry enough to read it? He likes to be the sort of man you can trust and prides himself on never crossing certain lines.
Jax: cherry. He loves cherries, especially when you wear them just for him. Jax loves it enough to buy you cherry lipgloss and ask you to put it on for him, to the point that you always wear it on date nights or when you visit him at the club. That's a point of pride for Jax, tasting cherries on your lips and knowing that you wear 'em just for him.
Opie: blueberry. It's a little random, but he loves blueberry pie and he loves you but never realized he could combine two of his favorite things into one kiss. That was, until you wore it one day on a whim and Opie just went nuts for it. If you want to get him in a good mood (a really good mood), blueberry lipgloss is the way to go.
Happy: strawberry. Happy just likes strawberries but he thinks strawberries taste so much sweeter on you. Red lips with a strawberry sheen on top, maybe a little sparkly. It will leave a stain on the collar of his shirt or on him and the others try to tease him for it...but it doesn't work. Happy wears your kisses with pride (to the point that I think he would get a tattoo of your lipstick stain exactly...the question is, where exactly on his body? Might make a poll for this).
Chibs: mint. A not-so-typical choice but, then again, Chibs isn't a typical man, is he? You wore a new lip gloss one day and, when he came home and greeted you with a kiss, your lover was pleasantly surprised by the taste of it. A fun little surprise he gets when he kisses you and all the more reason to kiss you.
Kozik: spun sugar. What can he say, he's got a sweet tooth! He likes the taste, the glitter, the way it sticks to his skin afterwards and he can still taste you for a little while. The man is just crazy for you and your pretty lips.
Tig: tropical fruit. It's bright, it's pretty, and it tastes damn good when he kisses you. Tig likes to make a game out of guessing what lipgloss you're wearing, to the point that not only can he guess the flavor, he can guess the specific brand it is. It's almost uncanny! But tropical fruit is his very favorite. He even carries one with him, just to put it on your lips and get it all over him ahem anyway!
Juice: cinnamon. Juice loves cinnamon anything so, when he saw that cinnamon lip gloss in your makeup box, he just about begged you to wear it for him. It's a major weakness for him. When you walk in, lips all shiny and pretty, and he catches a little hint of cinnamon in the air, Juice just goes weak. All he can think is you, you, you and when he finally gets you alone to kiss you, he doesn't stop.
Ratboy: peaches 'n cream. It just fits you somehow in his mind...peaches are just so sweet and soft and sort of his favorite fruit. Just the sight of you rolling that pretty gloss over your lips or the soft scent of peaches and cream gets him acting all playful and flirty, kissing all over you until your lips hurt and your head is full of nothing but him.
A/N: and so the story of Chib’s daughter begins...but not when she meets him or even when she finds Charming, no, to know her story we have to know that of her parent’s story, at least how Daphne told it to her long, long ago.
If you want to know the rest, feel free to ask to be added to the taglist. Thank you for reading!
Pairings: Happy Lowman x Y/N (female); Ratboy Skogstrom x Y/N (female).
“Once upon a time...where were we?”
“Dream had just left the travelers and started on the road again.”
“Oh, that’s right, love! Well. Once upon a time, a dream walked down the Road Long and Desolate all alone. She walked as the sunset and rose and set again, darkness all around her.
Here, in the vast desert, only the wind walked beside her.
Here there were only the crows watched on with the darkest eye and the coyotes to sing their lonesome lullaby.
But Dream was not afraid as she walked through the darkness, no, for she knew that the coyotes and the crows were kind souls and the wind had been her constant companion through her journey. She could trust them. But she could not trust the silver carriage that came upon her out of the dark, not could she trust the riders within.
“Come,” the riders whispered with such sweet venom. “Come ride with us! It is a long ways away from the nearest village. We can give you shelter and food, stranger, if only you ride with us.”
“No, thank you,” Dream replied.
“It is a long, hard walk. The sun burns and the night shivers,” spoke the venom whisper once more, so sweet and so cruel.
“I quite like to walk. The sun only kisses and the night is kind and to walk is good for the soul.”
“We can share our food and our drink.”
“I have plenty,” Dream insisted.
But the riders insisted as well as Dream tried to slip away, friend crow singing a warning to her. Quick as a rattlesnake, a pale hand reached out from within the silver carriage and took hold of her, trying to pull Dream in with them, when suddenly…
A shot of hellfire rang out through the darkness!
There, as though he had appeared out of the shadows themselves, was the Knight.
Dressed in armor of black, he rode upon a steed of iron and fire, the fastest in all the land. When he rode, no one could outrace nor outrun him, His weapon was of hellfire, his face scarred from a terrible battle, and yet...his eyes were gentle, his voice sad and fierce all together, speaking in a tongue from a faraway land.
“Let her go.”
“This is not your business,” hissed the riders. But Dream could tell that they were frightened of the night, the hand that held her beginning to shake. “Go away!”
“I’ve made it my business,” said the Knight. “And I won’t tell you thrice. Let. Her. Go.”
Dream knew at once that, though he seemed terrible, especially to evil, that the Knight was kind and that she could trust him. But the riders knew that he was fierce and that he would kill them if they tested his fury, for they had long heard the legends and rumors of the Knight. So they let her go and rode on bitterly. It was only the Dream and the Knight now, standing together in the darkness.
“Are you all right, lass?” asked the Knight softly, his fury passing away.
“I am.”
“Why are you out here all alone on the Road Long and Desolate?”
And so Dream told him of her search for the lost and beautiful things, how she had found nearly all of them but still searched for the last one. The Knight knew not where to find it but he could take her, he offered, to his village. Perhaps it was there. Perhaps it was not. But she took him on his offer and took his hand in hers, riding on with him as dawn broke of the village of Charming.
Here, the Knight lived in his old castle.
There were only crows that spoke riddles and candles flickering in the darkness, the castle overlooking the village that he protected day and night,
Here, the Knight and the Dream fell in love.
Love!
It was the last lost thing that she’d been looking for, now found in this strange place. Now that her long journey was over and her treasure full, Dream began to dream again...she began to wonder if Charming was where she’d been meant to be all along, if perhaps she should stay there with her Knight and love him forever and ever…
And she almost did.
When the Knight begged her to stay and be his Lady, Dream said yes and almost stayed with him forever. But…”
“But what, Mama?”
“But a darkness came over the village. And from it came a snake, slithering amongst the crows. She crept into the castle one night and poisoned the Knight, turning his heart against Dream. And the love she thought she’d been looking for was gone, gone away. Without love, Dream had no reason to stay anymore.
Heartbroken, she left Charming in the dead of night, returning once more to the Road Long and Desolate, never to see the Knight again.
Without love and without a dream, she wandered and wandered and wandered, wondering what was to become of her now. Because what is life without a dream to chase? Without someone to love and be loved by? So she wandered and wandered and wandered until she couldn’t anymore, collapsing beneath the endless dark in the wilderness. There, beneath the darkest clouds, Dream fell asleep and she dreamed once more.
In her dream, she saw a little cottage hidden in the forest and the flowers.
She heard the coyotes singing lullabies and spied the watchful crows in the evergreen trees, watching over Dream as the wind led her to forever and ever…
She saw her daughter, who looked like a dream with sad, fierce eyes.
And she knew.
When Dream awoke so suddenly, she knew that the Knight who had broken her heart had still given her the love she had so desperately searched for: a baby.
Looking up at the night sky, the clouds slipped away and the stars made a map, leading Dream down the Road Long and Desolate for a final time. Somewhere far, far away, a lonely crow called out. Dream walked into the dark and the dawn and the dark, no longer alone.”
“Mama?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Will she ever see him again? Dream and the Knight, will they meet again?”
“I...I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But I believe in happily ever afters and dreams and love so...I think that maybe one far, far away day, they might meet.”
~
As Daphne watched her sleeping daughter, brushing the hair from Y/N’s small face, she began to regret the choices she had made. Not all of them. Not falling in love or having her baby, no, those things she could never regret. But running because she was hurt and hiding their child to hurt him in return, those things she did regret, deeply and shamefully.
It had been almost six years since she’d left Charming and for all those six years, her heart had been telling her to turn back.
To tell him the truth, to show him the perfect thing their love had made. Fear of hurt and rejection had kept her away for all this time. But now, as she looked at a child who had never known the father who would have loved her so much, she was not afraid.
Daphne knew it was time to tell the man she’d once loved and the daughter she would always love the truth.
Yet she would never get the chance.
The next evening, as Y/N played with her grandfather and as her once love watched the sky and as Daphne walked home, a drunk driver would strike her and leave her to die in the road dark and long and desolate. She bled out as the coyotes cried and the crows watched on, her daughter left without both mother and father. She’d only have what her mother had left behind to remember here...but that would be enough.
The journals she’d kept and the pictures she’d taken and the stories she’d whispered in the night would be enough to show Y/N the truth one far, far away day and that is where Y/N’s story begins many, many years later…
Once upon a time, you had a mother that told you stories and taught you magic tricks and always knew how to make you laugh when you couldn’t even muster a smile for anyone else. She’d tell you that you were the most important person in her heart and mean it with everything she had, that you were the love she’d gone looking for long ago, and you’d loved her too.
And you loved her still.
Even when she died when you were only a little thing, even as you grew up without her, even as grief became an easier burden to bear and you were left with only her book of bedtime stories that she’d scribbled just for you.
And for years, that’s all they were.
Stories, fairy tales a mother made up to amuse her little daughter and lull her to sleep on a stormy night. What else would they be? After all, how could a dream become a person and wander around, collecting treasure and meeting monsters and falling in love with cursed knights? It wasn’t until you turned sixteen and your grandparents gave you her diaries that you finally learned the truth of those stories. She’d been your age when she’d started keeping them, all written as letters to her future daughter (because she was so certain she was having a daughter one day), left to you in her will. It was only then that you found three things:
One was the list.
Every so often, when your mother experienced something, she would write “love, one day you have to…” and in time, you had enough to make a list. 132 things that your mother thought you should do and you were going to do them all, no matter how crazy or weird or wild it was, you’d do everything she’d wanted you to do.
The second was the truth.
All of the stories your mother had told you weren’t just fairy tales. They were the story of her life, or rather, a part of it. After graduating from college, your mother had hit the road on a coast-to-coast road trip for over a year, from her home state of Virginia all the way to California and meandering wherever her heart seemed to take her.
She was Dream, the Road Long and Desolate was the map she’d followed, and all of the things she’d told you were real things, just made up to sound prettier.
The third and final thing was your father:
Filip Telford.
You only knew a few things about him. No address, nothing to chase down, not really. Mostly she’d written about their love and you’d gathered details from that. You knew his name (apparently he had some nickname but she’d never called him that, not when she liked the sound of Filip on her lips so much), where he lived (a little town in California called Charming, just like the story), the fact that he liked motorcycles and whiskey and starlight. He would watch the stars with your mother and dance with her in the kitchen to love songs and bring her wildflowers.
He called her his dove.
He loved playing with her hair and kissing her neck.
Sometimes they would ride away on his bike in the middle of the night and lay beneath the stars and just be in love.
But in the end, he’d cheated on her with a “crow eater” (which was such an odd insult and you wondered if that was why she’d called this other woman a snake in her story) and she’d left town that very night after walking in on them, never to see him again. Even when she’d changed her mind and decided to try to contact him, your mother hadn’t had the time to make things right. In her last diary and the last of the entries, she’d decided to find Filip and tell him about you.
It was written shortly before she died.
And you knew then that, if you really wanted to follow in your mother’s footsteps and do the things she’d wanted you to do, then you had to do this.
You had to find your father.
It was the last thing she’d wanted for you, to have a father. To know Filip and be loved by him as she had once been so long ago. And it was then that you started dreaming a dream...you’d go to school, get your degree, and graduate, the way your grandparents wanted you to do. A teaching degree was enough to please them in the end and you were happy to have it. But afterwards, you’d follow the road she’d once driven and finally find your father, the way your mother wanted you to do. For years and years, you’d waited and dreamed for this moment but now, the night before your birthday, it was finally time to go.
You’d packed up your old blue pickup, with a trunk of your things strapped in the back.
Beside you on the front seat was a backpack with the most important things in your life: a book of stories, a box of beautiful things, and a journal full of your mother’s memories, her scribbles and photographs within.
Stopping for a moment, you smiled at your favorite picture, the one of your mom and dad together in the California desert.
She was holding the camera and he was holding her, looking at one another in an almost kiss.
It had been their last night together...the last time they’d ridden out into the desert to look at the stars, the last time they’d kissed, the last picture she’d taken of him before she’d left. In a way, it was the last time he’d held you too, his hand on your mother’s belly, your father never knowing that you were within.
But maybe that was about to change.
Maybe it was the dreamer in you but you’d always thought that, if you’d ever found your father, that he’d be looking for you too. Maybe not outright, he didn’t even know you existed. But maybe in his heart, Filip Telford had always wanted a daughter and, when you walked through the door and told him who you were, he’d smile and love you the way your mother once had. And it was that dream that kept you driving down that long and desolate road for a week, stopping along the way to mark something off of your list here and there, the car trouble slowing you down.
But now you had made it.
Even though the car had given the ghost a mile back and you’d been forced to walk the rest of the way, you’d finally reached it:
Charming, California.
Standing by the small sign welcoming you to the town, a single, lonely crow looked at you with the darkest eye before bursting off into the midnight sky. Clouds masked the stars and the moon, casting darkness over everything as you walked alone into the silent streets of Charming. The photos your mother had taken suddenly came to life before your eyes, stopping to watch in wonder for a moment…
Time had touched this place very little.
Small changes had been made here and there, a bar turned into a diner, one shop closed and another opened, but everything had remained the same. Somewhere far away you could hear music and rowdy laughter and drunken bickering, the delighted squeals of women mixing with the cries of crows.
You knew that you should remain on task...find your hotel, call a mechanic to do something about your truck.
But the sight of Charming had your heart stirring, memories of your mother’s writings and pictures coming back to you. There was one thing, just one thing you wanted to do first. Just this one thing and then you’d try to be sensible.
But where to go…
The little diner towards the left, to try to get on the rooftop to see the stars?
Or the garden just to the right, where the flowers grew so sweetly?
as long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story // SOA Apocalypse AU
I don't know how the world ended (might make a poll for that) but I do know this:
The Sons of Anarchy survive the end of the world. Walls go up around Charming, keeping as much as the danger out as they can, two factions settling in the small-town-turned-fortress: The west belongs to the cops and the east belongs to the bikers, a tentative peace between the groups. For now.
Jax x Nurse. The apocalypse needs a healer after all and, with most of the hospital staff wiped out, you're one of the few left, running a small, makeshift hospital with a few others. You end up spending a lot of time with the Sons, since someone is always getting hurt, and well...Jax needs a gentle hand right now. He needs you to be the voice of reason, the kind word when he's hurting, and body beside him in bed, healing his hurt.
Happy x Teacher. It's lucky a lot of the kids survived and they're still going to need a teacher, a guiding hand for young minds. The Sons are pretty protective of the kids and guard the school, which is how you get all tangled up with Happy to began with. He's rough to your sweet and scary to your lovely but somehow, it works.
Tig x Musician. In a dark time, the world needs a little light and a little music. You make people laugh and dance and sing and, hell, that feels pretty damb good. Out of all your fans, Tig is the most devoted. Always there around the bonfire, always watching you, it isn't lobg until he's doing a hell of a lot more than watching.
Opie x Mother. Somehow, you and your child made it to Charming, though your husband died along the way, collecting a couple of orphans along the way. Loss brings you both together and leads to love amidst the apocalypse.
Chibs x Solider. A warrior through and through, you made it through the war zone better than most, coming to Charming to find your sister. Thankfully, she was okay. But Charming could always use more warriors and you're good with a gun and cool in the heat of the moment. Of course, it's your love and loyalty and pretty eyes that pulls Chibs in, not your skill with a gun...though that helps.
Ratboy x Farmer. If people are going to survive than they need to eat and food was scare until you came along. You and your family had been farming and homesteading for years, you can make a thousand things (candles, soap, animal traps, all kinds of stuff), skills that are suddenly very useful. But Ratboy loves your smile best. He loves your laugh, your kindness, the way you kiss him and whisper his name.
Kozik x Preacher's Daughter. The church made it through and so did your family, your father acting as a go-to between the cops and the bikers, a peace maker. Kozik veiws you as the lamb among lions and wolves, which only makes him love you more. You're a light in the dark and he needs that light right now. He needs you.
Juice x Wanderer. One of the many survivors that came from out of town, fleeing the larger cities for safety, Juice earns your small group's loyalty when he saves for from being assaulted from one of the cops. Which was a pretty good move because A, your survivor group has some useful members and B, you fell head over heels for him.
A/N: I’m back with Bloodlines! Ratboy is really growing on me, though Happy with always be my favorite. But he’s so sweet in this fic, so stupidly in love with Y/N.
I actually wrote out the entire list and marked off what I think Y/n has done, just for the fic.
You head towards the diner, approaching the alleyway and stopping in front of the old, half-rusted ladder to consider your chances.
It was, quite obviously, very old and ill-cared for. Gripping the lower leg, you gave the ladder a couple of tugs and found it to be sturdy enough, even as it creaked at the movement, wondering if it could still manage to hold your weight or if it would collapse and leave you stranded on the rooftop...or left broken to bits in the alleyway, the end of your adventure. But you’d always been the hopeful type and you wanted so much to get up to the roof, murmuring quietly to yourself.
“I bet I could make that.”
“Bet you can’t.”
Whirling around and smothering a scream, you were surprised to see a man you hadn’t even noticed before, too lost in your plans and hopes for a moment to even see him there in the dark.
But you saw him just fine now, leaning against the wall with a beer in hand and a wry grin. He was tall, very tall, and skinny with taunt muscles, big, dark eyes looking at you and dark hair that hung across his forehead in a messy-cute kind of way and a nicely scruffy face, his features very sharp yet very sweet.
He was cute. Really cute.
But you were trying not to think about that as you looked between the rooftop and the ground, thinking it over.
“You don’t think I’d make it?” you asked carefully.
“No, I think you’d break your neck or get stuck up there,” he replied simply. “There’s no way you’re making it up there with that ladder.”
Tossing the empty beer bottle in a nearby dumpster, he walked closer and grinned at you, offering a hand in greeting. It was warm and calloused, with a few scars littered across pale skin, the hand of a man who knew hard work.
“Ratboy.”
“Is that your actual name or…”
“It’s a nickname. What are you even trying to get up there for anyway?”
“Photography.” you explained, pulling your camera out of your bag. It was old but still in good enough condition and, hey, it worked just fine. Besides, you loved it. “I wanted to get a shot overlooking Charming.”
“Why not go inside and ask to use the stairs? They got a door leading up to the roof.”
“I wasn’t sure if they'd even let me up there.”
“Good point,” Ratboy replied, thinking it over. “But they’d let me. If you want the help, I mean”
And even though you’d just met the guy, you did want the help. There was something about him that told you the offer was genuine. He wasn’t making fun of you. He wasn’t trying to trick you or get something out of it. There was something honest in those dark eyes as he looked at you, unable to stop yourself from smiling softly.
“Thank you.”
He was right to.
Ratboy just walked in, told them that he was going up to the roof and you were with him, and that was that. No one said a damn thing, hell, most people looked away quickly, as though they didn’t want to be involved in whatever the two of you were up to. You almost laughed at the thought because all you were doing up there was taking pictures as Ratboy hung out by the door, smoking a cigarette. You could feel him looking at you and even caught him at it once or twice, but he always quickly looked away, as though he were more interested in the skyline.
“So, you from around here then?”
“No,” you said, taking another picture. “I’m from Virginia, actually.”
“What the hell are you doing all the way out here?”
“A road trip! Just graduated college so I thought I’d celebrate. Have myself a little adventure.”
“Still, Charming? It’s not like we’re some big tourist destination. You got family in town or something?”
“No, but...my mom came here. A long, long time ago. So I wanted to come here too and see everything she saw. My car may have not survived the drive but, hey, at least I made it.”
“That’s your truck then?”
“If you’re talking about the ancient blue truck out on the road, yeah, that’s mine. Speaking of, is there a mechanic in town?”
“Yeah, I work for ‘em. Teller-Morrow. We can take care of it, if you like. I’ll go and ride my bike out there in the morning, take a look to see if I can figure out the problem, and have it towed back to the shop.”
“Your bike?”
Instantly you were thinking of the list, specifically number seventeen: Ride a motorcycle.
“Like, bicycle or motorcycle?” you asked.
“Motorcycle,” Ratboy grinned, happily rambling about his bike for a little bit.
He wasn’t like the one idiot you’d gone to high school with, the rich kid that bragged about his shiny new motorcycle but didn’t actually care about it, crashing at least three (as well as two cars, it was a miracle that he hadn’t killed anybody), his daddy buying him a new one every time. No, Ratboy was a bike guy. A real one. He cared about his machine, clearly, and was happy to talk about it. And you were happy to listen, sitting on the ledge of the roof together now.
“So you like a little adventure too, I take it?”
“Sure, sure,” he replied, grinning again. “Why? You lookin’ for a ride?”
“Yes...but no. But yes.”
“Do you or don’t you?”
You looked at him for a moment, wondering if Ratboy was the type of person who would get it.
Since making the list, you’d come to realize that there were two types of reactions to it: the people who got it (Kiwi and Alice, your life-long best friends, and Claudia, your college roommate and a newer best friend, they were always up to help with the list) and the people who didn’t get it and thought it was ridiculous/weird/crazy (your grandparents a little bit, some idiot you’d dated for two seconds, and many of the people in your too small, too gossipy hometown).
But he would get it, wouldn’t he?
Ratboy had a touch of ridiculous/weird/crazy to him, just as your mother had and just as you did too.
“My mom died when I was little,” you started, stopping him before he offered a condolence you’d already heard a million times before. “Trust me, I’m going somewhere with this. She died but she had all these diaries she wrote to her future daughter and in them, she’d do something and write all about it and then tell me that I’d have to do it someday. So I’m doing it. I put it all in a list and I’ve been checking them all ever since.”
“And riding a motorcycle is one of them?”
“Number seventeen, to be exact.”
“I can do that for you. Give you a ride, if you wanted me to.”
“I do. Even though it totally freaks me out it’s...not the craziest thing on the list.”
“I think I need to take a look at that list,” he grinned.
You were starting to really like Ratboy’s grin. It was a little sweet and a little wicked, a touch of trouble to him. God, he was something, wasn’t he?
“I’ll show it to you sometime.”
“Tomorrow,” he offered. “I’ll give you a ride and take a look at that truck of yours and you show me the list.”
“Deal.”
Walking back down together, he knew the way to the motel you were staying at for the foreseeable future and walked with you. It was a nice night. The air was cool and sweet, a slight breeze wandering through and bringing with it the scent of distant wildflowers and cheap beer and cactus that hovered softly. You were starting to see why your mother had liked it here so much. Charming was...well, charming. In a roughly sweet sort of way. Ratboy walked close to you, close enough to smell his cologne and feel the heat from his body as you stood in front of your hotel room door, lingering for a moment.
“Thank you,” you said softly. “For everything, I’m not used to people being so cool about my crazy.”
“Hey, I’m cool,” Ratboy replied, laughing a little. “I’m so cool! And when I see a crazy girl trying to climb up to a roof after her truck breaks down in the middle of nowhere, I help her out. So I’ll meet you tomorrow, around nine?”
Turning away, you watched him walk down the street as you opened the hotel room door, his voice echoing a little as he walked away.
“George,” he says over his shoulder, glancing back at you.
“What?”
“My real name is George Skogstrom. But everyone calls me Ratboy.”
Someday, you were gonna ask him why exactly he’d gotten that sort of name. But for now, you just smiled at him, repeating the names silently in your mind.
“I’m Y/N.”
Heading inside, you laid in bed and thought about him. Ratboy. George Skogstrom. You liked both his names and his grin and his hard, pretty eyes surrounded by those surprisingly long lashes. Texting with Kiwi and Claudia, you didn’t tell them about Rat. Not yet. You wanted to keep him to yourself for a little while longer, just telling them about your truck breaking down (ugh!) and finally making it to Charming (yay!) and how you still didn’t know the first step in the “potentially finding your father plan” but you had a handle on the other stuff at least.
And you had the list.
Digging around in your backpack, you pulled out the green journal you’d kept yourself, the first few pages scribbled with the list that had ruled your life for years, and turned to the next goal:
17: RIDE A MOTORCYCLE.
And you thought of Ratboy until you fell asleep, dreaming of crows and butterflies and the endless desert sky over a long and desolate road…
~
You’d been up for hours before nine finally rolled around, getting everything in order. The job you’d lined up for your stay in Charming was ready to go, your motel room was paid for a couple months in advance, and you were pretty sure that a black top, jean shorts with the cute butterfly back pockets over ripped stockings, and black boots was a good look for your plans.
Not that you were trying to dress up or anything.
But Ratboy certainly seemed to approve, noticing his dark eyes giving you a good, long glance when he thought you weren’t looking.
“You ready to go?”
“Totally terrified but totally ready.”
“You’ll be fine,” Ratboy promised. “I’ll go slow.”
But slow for him was still wild for you, arms around his waist as you rode together through Charming, his body hot beneath your hands. You rather liked the touch of Ratboy beneath your hands, finding the terrifying motorcycle ride a little less terrifying when clutching him. It was over sooner than expected, finding the old blue truck sitting just as you’d left it:
Covered in dust, the hood propped up, and totally helpless, Rat helped you off the bike and grinned a little when you stumbled, catching you with rough hands.
“So, you like it now?”
“No,” you replied, still unsteady. “and yes?”
He laughed and you rather liked the sound of it, grinning as you finally steadied yourself. The truck, as rat declared after poking around under the hood, was certainly salvageable. Old but sturdy, just in need of a couple of parts.
“They’re older parts,” Rat explained, cleaning the grease from his hands. “and harder to find, but I’ll find ‘em.”
“What happens now?”
“I’ll have your truck towed back to the shop and take it from there. Think I can get some parts from Nevada, I got a guy. Bobby can tow it to the shop for you and I’ll get to work. It could take a good while to get her up and running though.”
“How much do you think this will set me back? I’ve got money and I’ve got a job lined up since I’m staying a while but I think I’d like to have an idea of it”
“Can’t really give that to you until I’ve taken a better look but...you might be in Charming longer than you expected. And it might be expensive.”
There wasn’t anything else to be done for the truck for now.
So you sat together in the shade of the cab, showing Ratboy the list you’d written forever ago in black pen.
“Did your mom tell you to come here?”
“She didn’t. But she loved Charming so much that she almost stayed. The whole trip was about doing my list but also seeing all the places she saw too and Charming was the last place before she went home and had me. I grew up with her stories about the trip, all dressed up to be a fairytale for a little kid. Honestly, reading the actual version of it all in her diaries was a little jarring. But it’s what started the list...”
“I could help you with it, if you want. The list, I mean. I could give you a tattoo, take you camping under the stars, you could...flash me? What the fuck?”
You laughed wildly and he did too, half-baffled and half-amused.
“She was pretty young when she wrote a lot of this. And pretty wild. My mom was...amazing.”
“Sounds like it.”
So lost in thought about your mom, you hadn’t noticed the way Ratboy was looking at you, not until you looked away from the desert sky and back to him, catching the softness in his dark eyes.
“Guess you're gonna be sticking around town longer than you thought, huh?”
“I guess so.”
But you were both smiling softly, heart thundering in your chest as you began to wonder if this was what your mother had seen when she’d come here all of those years ago and met your father for the first time.
~
“What’s up with you, Ratty?”
Ratboy looked up from his phone, Happy’s voice pulling him out of his own head. And his phone. He and Y/N had been texting all night long, hanging out by a half-open window and drinking a beer and he grinned to himself and thought up (hopefully) charming things to say.
Was he charming?
He wasn’t sure, dating didn’t come easy to him.
But whatever he was doing, Y/N sure seemed to like it. They were almost always together these days, becoming closer with each passing beat of time, and when they weren’t together, he was texting her.
Or talking to her on the phone.
Or looking at pictures of her.
Or thinking about her.
And clearly, the club had noticed his absent mind and stolen smiles, Happy finally bringing it up tonight and the others stifled laughter.
“Whatta mean, Hap?”
“You been running around lately, smiling like an idiot. So what’s on your mind?”
He could have walked away. Or made something up. But he wanted to talk about Y/N, to be able to brag about the beautiful woman he’d met. He hadn’t gotten a chance to bring her up at all, beyond talking to Bobby about her truck.
“Y/N.”
At once the club was filled with howling laughter, somebody clapping his back real hard, a couple others teasing him.
“Which one is she?” Tig asked, motioning to the girls hanging around the club.
“No, no, she’s not from around here, you know? Y/N’s real good, real pretty. You’d like her.”
“You like her then?”
“I like her a lot,” Ratboy grinned, taking another sip of his beer.
“Hell, I should have known it was a girl,” Happy laughed. “What else would it be?”
“Y/N...hey, doesn’t she work at the little diner? The one Jackie runs?”
The Sons of Anarchy were more than familiar with Angel’s, the little diner named for Jack Walter’s late wife. They’d run it together for years and years and he’d kept it going after she’d passed, an old fashioned stop that was open 24 hours, staffed by sweet-yet-sassy waitresses, and served the best damned apple pie in the world. They went there often enough, club members and crow eaters alike passing through the door. And they’d certainly noticed the new face wearing the familiar forest green dress and neat white apron, smiling sweetly but brushing off their flirtation.
Because of Ratboy.
They all came to the same quiet conclusion that they didn’t have a chance with her because she was too loyal to Ratboy.
And they liked that at once.
So no one was surprised when, a few days later, a few of the boys were dragging Ratboy out of the club together, laughing and carrying on loudly, except for Ratty, of course, who didn’t have a damn clue about what was going on.
~
“Hey, hey, what’s-”
“We check out Ratty’s girl!” Jax laughed. “And pie. We want pie too.”
And they were checking you out, just a little bit. You certainly noticed the bikers sneaking a few appreciative looks, though you didn’t seem to care at all. It was only Ratboy you were looking at, smiling so sweetly when you caught his eyes, the boys softly howling, punching his arm.
“You were right,” Jax grinned. “She’s really pretty.”
“And you got it real bad,” Tig quipped, earning a roaring laugh from the lot of them.
Even Chibs seemed to like you.
Or at least Ratboy thought that was what the older man was thinking. Chibs couldn’t seem to look away from you, an almost shocked expression painted across his face as he watched you move through the diner. For a moment, Rat thought that he looked...younger. Younger and softer and almost hurt. But the expression faded away the moment Ratboy spoke up.
“Chibs? You alright?”
“Fine,” he coughed, taking a drink from his flask. “Just fine.”
Ratboy forgot about it as quickly as the others did. The bikers stayed until closing time, everybody clearing out, a little drunk and a little rowdy. Except for Rat. He stayed in the booth, sipping on a beer and helping you close up for the night.
“So...what do you think?”
“Of your friends?”
“Yeah, I mean, do you like ‘em?”
“I do,” you laughed, looking up at him as you wiped down the counter. “They’re rough but sweet, in their own sort of way. What do they think of me?”
“That you’re really pretty.”
Walking you home, an arm slung over your shoulder, Ratboy found himself working up the courage to bring up something that had been on his mind for a while. Maybe it was the fact that the boys approved of you. Maybe it was the beer. Or maybe it was the way your head was leaning against his shoulder, the sweet scent of your perfume filling the late night.
“We should do something for your list,” Rat finally said. “And go on a date. If you wanted to.”
He hadn’t actually taken you out on a date, had he?
It had mostly been hanging out and making out, which was awesome and he could do that forever, but...he wanted something more. And he was hoping that you did too, dark eyes glancing down at you quickly, clearing his throat.
“A date?”
“Yeah, I mean...if that’s something you’d like.”
“We could go to a nightclub, right?” you asked. “It’s on the list and it’s a date sort of thing.”
“Gotta warn you, I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Oh, I don’t care about that. I just wanna wear a little black dress and make out with you and you’re pretty good at that sort of thing.”
Ratboy tried to pretend that he wasn’t blushing as hard as he thought he was, bringing you to your motel room. The two of you talked a little longer, stealing a sip of his beer and giving him a kiss in exchange.
“Tomorrow night, then?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow night.”
Half-way down the street, Ratboy was lost in thoughts of little black dresses and the best clubs to bring a girl to when a soft voice cut through his fantasies like a switchblade.
“Hey, George?”
“Woman,” Ratboy scolded and laughed all together, “nobody calls me-”
But he shut up, choking on his words when he caught sight of you leaning out the window. Neat little apron cast aside, your green buttoned-up dress had been unbuttoned, perfect tits out for anyone (but luckily, only him) to see.
Number 30 on your list:
Flash somebody.
“Sweet dreams, honey,” you called out, closing the window.
You’d left him love struck, shaking so bad he had to lean against the nearest building and smiling so hard it hurt, grinning like a damned idiot. Fuck, fuck, holy fuck...Tig was right, wasn’t he? Rat had it bad for you and he was too happy to care about anything else, stumbling home with that stupid, happy, I’m-in-love sort of look painted across his face. Falling into bed, he pulled out that cheap phone and looked again at the picture of you, asking himself silent…
Actually, he calls you by a thousand names. Honey, baby, dear, darling, bunny, babe, all of it at random times, he's a pet names sort of fells.
But sweetheart is what he calls you most of all.
It's classic and it's sweet, just like you. And it's the name Ratboy always uses in the most loving, intimate moments of the relationship. The times when he needs you the most and is loving you so hard that it hurts. But it's a kind of pain that he like, sweet and heavy and his, all his.
"Sweetheart?"
It's been a long fucking day.
He's tired, he's broken, he's bleeding, and all Rat wants is you. He knows you're waiting for him. You always wait for him when he's away "on business" and he's not wrong. Candlelight draws him into the bedroom, your shadow flickering on the wall.
"Oh, Rat, what happened?"
"Nothing," he mutters, his voice low and deep. "It's nothing, sweetheart. Just stay...stay with me."
And you do. You stay with him, shadows dancing as Rat pulls you into his embrace and never lets you go throughout the night. He's a simple guy and he doesn't need much to be happy...just his sweetheart.
