Book Club // Happy Lowman x Schoolteacher! Reader.
The Sons of Anarchy had themselves a little book club.
And Happy Lowman was as surprised as anyone else by the very thought. Bikers having a book club, it was almost impossible to even think about. A fight club, yeah. Drinking and shooting and fucking, they did those things any time. But reading? Really? It wasn't as though any of them were big readers but Y/N, of course, was.
Happy’s old lady, as you obviously were, the fire opal ring on your finger being the proof, loved books almost as much as you loved him. Your house had more books than anything else, at any given moment there were at least three of them in your bag (something nonfiction, something romantic, and a wild card of your choice), and the local library was one of your favorite places on earth. And, maybe because of that, Happy had started reading a little more too.
Well, it was mostly you reading to him.
But he liked it.
He liked laying in bed with you on lazy Sunday mornings or the middle of a stormy night, your voice gentle in the air as you spun a story for him. He liked how the rumble of thunder always brought you a little bit closer to him, how your hair danced a little in the wind as the birds sang outside, how pretty you looked in amber sunshine and lighting flashes and his arms.
But, of course, he couldn't be saying all that to the club.
So when they found out (because one of those bastards came to see him and, through the open window, heard you reading to him, promptly telling the others, the gossipy little bitches) and started picking and laughing at him for it, Happy didn't say anything but an annoyed grumble, getting that "I could kill you with nothing but a wooden spoon and my pure rage" look in his eyes. But they were used to that look anyway and kept on laughing.
"Of all the things a man does with his old lady in the bedroom, story time didn't cross my mind, Hap." Jax said with a grin.
"Yeah, I don't know if it's my kinda thing but, hey, whatever gets you going!"
"Well how do you know?" A soft voice piped up from the door.
They hadn't expected to see you here but there you were, home early from the library with an arm full of books. Happy got up to help you with them at once as you thanked him with a kiss, his quick glare telling the others not to laugh at him for it.
"Know what, lass?"
"That you don't like the book," you replied. "Have you read Riders of the Purple Sage?"
"Oh, that's not what we-"
A quick kick from Chibs silenced Tig and another glare from Happy kept him quiet too, Jax trying not to laugh as he took another swallow of beer.
"We haven't," Chibs said.
"Then how could you know if you don't like it? I think you would anyway. You always reminded me a little of Lassiter, Chibs."
"Lassiter?"
"The outlaw in the book! A gunman that rides a blind horse and protects Jane from all the danger around her."
All you had to say was "outlaw" to get them interested and, somehow, to Happy's utter shock, you convinced them to let you read a bit of the story. Just to see if they liked it or not, you insisted, the club kindly playing along.
And even more shocking: they loved it.
They wanted to know the rest of it, leading to the creation of the Anarchy Book Club.
Every Wednesday afternoon, just after the elementary school let out, you'd go on down to the club. And there, in a quiet backroom, you would read to a bunch of bikers. The room at one point had been filled with nothing but junk and dust, the others cleaning it up to make it comfortable and you decorating how you liked. Now it was sunny and sweet, windows open to let in the cool air as light slipped through the lace curtains you'd hung. Mismatched furniture was scattered here and there, your favorite mug (white with a little rose on it) had a place in the cabinets, a makeshift bookcase full of novels you'd brought, and in the middle of the room was a circular table.
Every week you'd sit at this table, eat and drink the snacks you'd all brought, and you would read aloud to the Sons of Anarchy.
They liked westerns the most, stories of outlaws and gunmen, and murder mysteries (they even nailed an old chalkboard to the wall to make a betting pool on the killer) and horror stories on a stormy afternoon.
It was nice.
What was not so nice was the cops storming the club right in the middle of book club one fine spring day, some idiot kicking down the door as wood splintered in every direction. They boys got up, swearing and shouting as they drew arms, Chibs leaning over you to protect you from the shards of woods flying through the air.
No one knew who they were looking for nor what they were expecting.
But it certainly wasn't...this.
A bunch of bikers sitting around a table in a cozy little room.
A table full of, not money or guns or whatever else, but beer and tea and little snacks. There was even a cinnamon coffee cake you’d baked for them.
And a local teacher with a book in her lap, staring up at them as the Sons of Anarchy glared.
"What the hell is this?"
"This is a book club," Chibs replied, slightly annoyed.
"What?"
"I don't," he looked around the room and gestured, now fully annoyed. "I don't know how more clearly I can fuckin' say it. This. Is. Book. Club.
But that didn't stop them from dragging you all out and tearing the place apart.
Whatever they'd come looking for, they never found it, book club left in disarray and as you were left with bruises on your arm and face, from that idiot cop grabbing and throwing you against the wall. He was lucky Happy hadn't been there to see it...but he wasn't lucky enough, your fiancee coming in during the aftermath to see his club a mess and his old lady messed up, fury flashing through his eyes like hellfire.
"Who?"
"Officer Reynolds," Juice whispers. "Big guy. Blonde, mean son of a bitch."
"We've met,” Happy replied bitterly, recalling the past encounters.
"Probably why he was so rough on her. Knew she's yours."
No, Officer Reynolds won't be lucky for much longer, your lover was already planning his revenge. But for now, Happy softens when you smile up at him, helping you collect the books scattered across the ground.
"Look at this, they tossed my books everywhere and stepped all over them!"
"Bastards, that's all they are, baby."
A rough hand caresses your cheek, bringing your gaze up to his. You smiled at him and Happy felt his heart start to thunder, the way it always did for you and only you.
"Are you okay?"
"I am," you promised. "A little shaken, I think, but I'm okay."
The boys will finish cleaning it up and, next Wednesday, you would come back to a new book club. Torn up furniture would be replaced, another bookshelf put up, all your novels, thought a little beat up, put back on the shelf.
But for now, Happy just took you home.
Lady and Opie were waiting in their usual spot on the couch, the pups cuddled up together as you came through the door. Happy tool them on a walk as you showered, dogs on his heels as he came into the kitchen. There you were, wearing one of his shirts as you made dinner, smiling up at him.
It was a quiet night.
You made dinner and cleaned up together, Happy slipping into those gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips.
"You're really okay?" Happy asked again, kissing your neck lazily.
"I am," you promised. "They don't scare me."
"Most people would be freaked the fuck out about a cop tossing them 'round like a rag doll."
"True, but I've got you. And I knew you'd come before anything happened. Even if you didn't, the boys were there and they'd do what you couldn't."
"Yeah, they would," Happy grinned, thinking of his brothers.
The book club seemed so strange to him at first but, truthfully, he was happy it happened. His brothers are loyal to you, enjoying with a quiet affection, and especially Chibs. They'd kill for you as easily as he would and the knowledge that you were even safer in this dark world was everything to him.
Cuddling a little closer in bed, your head rested on his heart, listening to the thunderstorm in his chest.
"I love you, Happy."
"Love you, baby," he mumbled against your lips. "I love you so much..."