#charlie hunnam imagine

[charmingsoa]

✶ Where the Wild Things Are: Two ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■

⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃

Warning: Please read with caution. This story will include: drug use, physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. miscarriages, sexual content, alcohol use, homicide, cursing, etc. ★ If You would like to be tagged in future updates, simply leave your username in the comments.

Taglist: @oskea93, @keyweegirlie @ravennaortiz

As the California sun beat down on me, the wind whipping through my hair as I rode on the back of the motorcycle, I couldn't help but reflect on the narrow-minded beliefs my parents had instilled in me and my brothers. Growing up in a conservative household where conformity and judgment were the norm, I had always been taught to view anyone who rode motorcycles as nothing but trash – individuals destined for the depths of hell.

My parents, staunch believers in their own sect of holy rollers, held strong prejudices against those who lived differently or held alternative beliefs. They saw the world in black and white, with no room for shades of gray or understanding. But as I clung to the back of the driver, feeling the freedom of the open road beneath me, I realized how misguided their teachings had been.

The rider in front of me, a stranger whose name I learned was Tig, exuded a sense of liberation and rebellion that I had never experienced before. The rumble of the engine beneath us seemed to drown out the judgmental voices of my past, and for the first time, I felt truly alive.

When the group first pulled up in front of me, I didn’t know whether to take their offer or run for the distant hills. Growing up, the horror stories of gangs kidnapping young girls and doing the unthinkable were ingrained in my psyche as my mother preached of their dangers. She would spew words of hatred and fear whenever the topic arose, warning me to steer clear of any suspicious-looking individuals or groups that might pose a threat.

As I stood there, frozen in indecision, the leader of the group stepped forward with a smile that seemed almost too friendly for someone in his position. His eyes held a glint of mischief, but there was something else there too – a hint of vulnerability that I couldn’t quite place.

"Hey there, don’t be afraid," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "We’re just a group of travelers looking for some company on the road. We mean you no harm."

I hesitated, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Should I trust this stranger and accept his offer of companionship, or should I heed the warnings of my mother and make a run for it? The decision weighed heavily on my shoulders, the consequences of each choice playing out vividly in my mind.

In the end, curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself nodding hesitantly, agreeing to join the group on their journey. As I climbed onto the back of his bike and we set off down the road together, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was embarking on an adventure that would change my life forever.

As we finally started to slow down upon entering a small town called Charming, I couldn't help but notice the reactions of the locals as the bikes rumbled past. Pedestrians on the sidewalk stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening with surprise and disapproval as they watched the group pass by. Disapproving looks were etched on their faces, and I could almost feel the judgment radiating towards them.

The quaint shops and cafes that lined the main street seemed to quiet down as we rode through, the sound of the engines cutting through the peaceful ambiance of the town. I could see the whispers and sideways glances exchanged among the townspeople, their curiosity mixed with a hint of fear or disdain.

The men didn’t seem to mind the disapproving looks from the townspeople – smirks on some of their faces as they revved their engines a little more as they passed by. The sound of the engines roared through the quiet streets, echoing off the old brick buildings that lined the road.

As they pulled into a side entrance of a garage, I knew this was officially the end of the line for them. I watched as they parked side-by-side, each backing their bikes into their assigned spaces. The engines sputtered to a halt, the sound gradually fading into the background as the men dismounted and stretched their legs.

I quickly gathered my things, removing myself from the bike, my legs feeling equivalent to jelly as they gathered the strength to hold up my weight. The adrenaline that had fueled me through the ride was now dissipating, leaving behind a feeling of exhaustion and exhilaration.

I leaned against a nearby lamppost, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The men exchanged nods and grins as they gathered in a loose circle, their leather jackets creaking slightly as they moved.

One of them, a tall man with a patchwork of tattoos covering his arms, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered them around. The faint smell of smoke mingled with the lingering scent of gasoline, creating a heady mix that hung in the air.

As they lit up and took long drags, their faces relaxed into expressions of contentment. The tension that had hung over them during the ride seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose.

The door to the business slowly opened, an older woman stepped onto the concrete below. Her presence commanded attention, exuding a sense of authority and confidence that made it clear she was not to be underestimated. The leather pants she wore hugged her figure, accentuating her strong and graceful movements as she made her way towards the men.

Her blonde highlights caught the sunlight, creating a halo of shimmering gold around her head. Despite the warmth of the day, there was a coolness in her gaze that hinted at a steely resolve beneath the polished exterior. I observed from a respectful distance as Gemma interacted with the men, her gestures filled with warmth and affection that spoke of deep bonds and shared history. She moved among them with ease, exchanging hugs and kisses that spoke of a familial closeness that went beyond mere camaraderie.

A tall man approached her from behind, his presence exuding a sense of quiet strength and authority. He wrapped his strong arms around her small waist, drawing her close in a gesture that was both protective and intimate. The woman’s laughter rang out, a clear and joyful sound that seemed to light up the space around them.

Their lips met in a brief but tender kiss, a display of affection that was unapologetically open and genuine. There was a sense of ease and comfort between them, a connection that ran deep and unspoken, forged through years of shared experiences and challenges.

My eyes moved away from the couple as the door reopened, this time revealing a blonde man. He looked to be in his early 20s – shoulder length hair resting against his work shirt. I don’t know how I looked to those around, but it was almost like how a cartoon character’s draw drops to the floor – he was gorgeous. I watched as he stepped off the stoop, sauntering over to the circle of men, clapping them on the back as he welcomed their return.

I was so caught up in the enigmatic presence of the blonde man that I failed to notice another individual had quietly slipped into the corner with us – the older woman with a knowing smile playing on her lips. Her voice, smooth and seasoned, cut through the hazy atmosphere around us.

"You lost, kitten?" she inquired, her tone a curious blend of amusement and concern. Her eyes, framed by fine lines that whispered of wisdom and experience, held a glint of something indefinable, as though she saw more than just the surface of things.

Startled by her sudden appearance and the unexpected nickname, I turned to face her, momentarily at a loss for words. The air between us crackled with a kind of unspoken understanding, as if she could see right through the facade I presented to the world.

“Sorry-“ I stammered. “I – uh-“

A smile spread across her face as she placed her hand on my arm, her touch warm and comforting. "You must be the little one the guys picked up on their way home. Tig told me all about you when he called a little while ago."

Memories of when we stopped at the gas station hours before came flooding back – the smell of gasoline, the flickering lights, and the sound of chatter from the other customers. I remembered my eyes connecting with Tig’s as he spoke animatedly in the glass box, his voice carrying a sense of urgency and excitement.

"What’s your name, sweetheart?" the woman asked, her eyes kind and curious.

Tucking a loose red strand of hair behind my ear, I replied, "Catherine. Catherine Landry." My voice was low, almost a whisper, as if unsure of my own presence in this moment.

The woman's smile widened, a glint of recognition flashing in her eyes. "Catherine Landry," she repeated softly, as if savoring the sound of the name. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Catherine. I'm Gemma."

As I started to speak, the sound of gravel crunching beneath heavy steps caught my attention, drawing my gaze away from Gemma. I turned, my eyes following the path of the approaching figure with blonde hair that glinted in the bright sunshine.

He walked with purpose, his strides confident and measured, his presence commanding attention. The gravel shifted under his weight, creating a rhythmic pattern that seemed to echo the beating of my heart.

As he drew closer, I noticed the intensity in his gaze, the way his eyes seemed to search and assess, taking in every detail of the scene before him. There was a certain magnetism about him, a silent strength that seemed to radiate from his very being.

Gemma's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing her features as she greeted him with a nod. "Hey baby," she said, her voice warm and welcoming.

As the two embraced one another, I stood there, a silent observer to the intimate moment unfolding before me. The man's eyes remained fixed on me, a hint of curiosity and something else I couldn't quite decipher lingering in their depths.

Gemma's arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her embrace filled with a sense of familiarity and comfort. There was a closeness between them, a bond that seemed to transcend words and time.

I watched as they held each other, their connection palpable in the air around them. It was as if they shared a history, a story that only they knew, leaving me on the outside looking in, a stranger to their world.

As they finally pulled away, a silent understanding passing between them, the man turned his gaze back to me. There was a question in his eyes, a silent inquiry that hung in the air, waiting to be answered.

As Gemma turned her attention back to me, her warm smile lighting up her face, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within me. "Catherine," she began, her voice filled with a sense of familiarity and fondness, "This is my son, Jackson."

Jackson. The name echoed in my mind, stirring something deep within me. I looked up to meet his gaze, finding a pair of eyes that held a hint of curiosity and a touch of amusement.

Gemma's introduction caught me off guard, her words painting a picture of me as a lost soul in need of rescue. "She's the little thing that Tig and the guys picked up along the way," she explained, her tone lighthearted but tinged with a hint of motherly concern.

I couldn't help but inwardly roll my eyes at her explanation, feeling a twinge of annoyance at being likened to a stray puppy. It was true that I had found myself in an unexpected situation, but I was no damsel in distress in need of saving.

As I exchanged greetings with Jackson, a sense of curiosity sparked within me. There was something about him, a quiet strength and a depth in his eyes that hinted at hidden layers beneath the surface.

Jackson smirked and his eyes roamed up my body, a wave of self-consciousness washed over me, causing a slight flush to rise to my cheeks. His gaze held a hint of mischief and confidence, leaving me momentarily flustered in his presence.

"It's nice to meet you too," I replied, trying to maintain a composed demeanor despite the flutter of nerves within me. There was something magnetic about Jackson, an undeniable charm that drew me in even as I felt the weight of his scrutiny.

Gemma's proud voice interrupted the moment, drawing my attention back to her as she spoke of her son. "Jax is the leader of the group," she said with a hint of pride. "Along with my other son, Thomas." The revelation that there were two brothers leading the group took me by surprise. “Club comes from a strong line of Teller men," Gemma continued, her tone filled with reverence and hope for the future. "Hoping to continue that tradition in the future." She affectionately patted Jackson's chest, her gesture a symbol of both maternal pride and a legacy to uphold.

Jackson rolled his eyes at his mother's suggestion, a hint of amusement danced in his gaze.

"Trust me," he stated, his deep voice carrying a sense of authority that cut through the air, "She's really the one in charge."

The bond between Jackson and Gemma was palpable from the very beginning. It was clear to anyone who observed them that they shared a special connection, a closeness that went beyond words. Jackson was the one closest to his mother, their relationship built on a foundation of trust, understanding, and unwavering loyalty.

In contrast, Thomas seemed to be as far removed from Gemma as possible. There was a distance between them, an unspoken divide that hinted at unresolved issues and unspoken tensions. While Jackson and Gemma thrived in each other's company, Thomas seemed to seek solace elsewhere, distancing himself from the intricate web of relationships that defined their family dynamic.

Jax and Gemma's bond ran deep, a complex tapestry of emotions that intertwined their fates in ways that were both captivating and destructive. They fed off each other's energy, their connection fueled by a sense of mutual need and dependency that bordered on obsession.

Thick as thieves one moment, brutal enemies the next, their relationship was a rollercoaster of emotions that played out like a high-stakes drama. Time slipped away, leaving behind a trail of unresolved conflicts and simmering tensions that threatened to erupt at any moment.

The heat that Gemma placed between her two sons was a double-edged sword, igniting a fire that fueled their passions and their conflicts in equal measure. Theirs was a relationship fraught with complexity, where love and loyalty mingled with jealousy and resentment, creating a volatile mix that kept them locked in a perpetual dance of push and pull.

Thomas felt the weight of his mother Gemma's favoritism like a heavy chain, binding him to a perpetual cycle of disappointment and resentment. From a young age, he watched as Gemma showered his older brother Jackson with praise and attention, leaving him in the shadows of Jax's achievements. Despite his best efforts to earn her approval, Gemma's preference for Jackson was unwavering, creating a toxic atmosphere of rivalry and animosity between the Teller brothers.

"So, from what I heard, you’re hitching to San Francisco?” Gemma spoke as she looked at me with curiosity. “What’s so important down there that you had to leave home for?” She pushed past her son, taking hold of my arm as she started walking up towards the building.

“From the looks of you-“She did a once over. “Looks to me like you’re running away from something – midwestern lifestyle, perhaps?” Gemma's keen observation caught me off guard, her words cutting through my carefully crafted facade. I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way I hadn't anticipated.

I cleared my throat nervously, feeling the weight of my confession hanging in the air. "My parents are very conservative – conservative and very religious," Her eyes closing in understanding, Gemma listened intently as I opened about my inner conflict. "They're lovely people – " I began to backpedal, feeling a need to qualify my earlier statement. "But the life I want to live doesn't match with how they want me to live. I want to be able to be free and do what I please, but they're all about the image and how the Lord wants us to live our lives."

"You ran away?" Gemma's voice was filled with concern and empathy, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I nodded slowly, the memories of that night flooding. "Left in the middle of the night after my father beat me with a switch," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes cast down to the ground, unable to meet Gemma's gaze as the shame and hurt of that moment washed over me once again. "He called me awful names, and my mother just sat there and watched."

Gemma's back straightened, a steely resolve entering her expression as she processed my words. "Doesn't sound to me like they're lovely people," she stated firmly, her voice tinged with indignation.

I shrugged my shoulders, “That’s just how they are – been like that my whole life.” I knew I shouldn’t be making excuses for them, but they were my parents. “I’m the only daughter – I was supposed to be the epitome of a perfect daughter.”

“What could be so bad that your daddy beats you?”

I watched as she pulled out a cigarette, gesturing for me to take one as well. She quickly lit the end of the stick, the smoke invading my lungs with ease. “I started messing around with boys at an early age – sex, drugs, dancing. Sex was my go-to though. They didn’t want their only daughter being known as the town whore, which I guess I became. I was supposed to save myself until I was married – only letting my wedded husband lay between my legs.”

Gemma chuckled, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Sounds a lot like my folks," she remarked, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and humor.

"I just needed to get away, and after seeing all those people on the nightly news coming out here and living life their own way and being free and peaceful –" I paused, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. "I just need that in my life right now. A life where I can be free and do whatever I want to do. And if that means I have to do negative things to get to that place, then so be it."

As I spoke, I felt a mix of determination and uncertainty churning within me. The longing for freedom and self-expression had grown into a burning desire, fueled by the stories of those who had dared to defy conventions and carve out their own paths. The allure of a life unbound by limitations and expectations beckoned to me like a distant star, promising a sense of liberation and authenticity that had eluded me for so long.

“You know –“Gemma started. “The Frisco area isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Her tone matter of fact. “I know it looks all peace and love on the tv screen but it’s really just a bunch of homeless hippies that are looking for attention and free handouts.”

I let out an annoyed sigh.

"Listen, little girl," her voice took on a more serious tone, the lines on her face softening with a mix of concern and affection. "You've accomplished the biggest goal you set for yourself – you made it all the way to California." She paused, letting the significance of the moment sink in before continuing.

A wide smile slowly spread across her face, reflecting pride and admiration. "By what you just told me, that was the ultimate goal. Now, I know going a little further south for the whole peace and love movement was the next quest, but I think for your sake it would be better for you to stay here."

“I don’t know anyone here, though.” I was grasping for excuses.

Her face twisted in a mix of concern and determination. "You weren't gonna know anyone down there either." She tossed her cigarette down, the ember extinguishing under the pressure of her heeled shoe. "You've managed to meet a whole crew of men that will now look after you if you choose to stay. You've met me and Jax – you'll get to meet Thomas when he decides to come home. You're no longer around strangers, baby doll. We can be your family – a family that'll treat you right."

Her voice softened, the edges of her tough exterior melting away to reveal a deep sense of care and protection. "We've seen the world through different lenses, faced our own battles, and carved out our own paths in this chaotic dance of life. But amidst all the chaos, we found each other – kindred spirits bound by shared experiences and unspoken connections."

The older woman's eyes held a glimmer of hope, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance. "You have a home here, among friends who will stand by you through thick and thin, who will lift you up when you stumble and celebrate your victories as their own. Take a chance on us, darling. Let us be the family you never knew you needed, but always longed for deep in your heart."

I would end up staying in that small fucking town for the next 25 years – my whole world coming to revolve around the Teller family and the Sons of Anarchy.

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[hotdamnhunnam]

On Your Knees

A/N: So as I noted in this teaser thingy, I don’t really intend to be back on tumblr actively, BUT I just couldn’t resist writing for Kai!! This fic will be smutty, while also providing a bit of backstory that I feel he needs and deserves honestly. I fucking love this guy 💗

Pairing: Kai x F!Reader Warnings: smut (p in v, oral), swearing, dom!Kai, dirty talk (but it’s not until Part 2 that shit gets degrading and dark) Word Count: ~3.8k

“On your knees.”

It’s been forever and a day, since you last laid your eyes on Kai. Since then you’ve searched for him across the whole entire fucking sky. Whatever words you had expected him to say… you never would have dreamt of these.

On your knees.

The blood in your veins is on fire; it burns as the blue of his gaze starts to freeze. The blaze rises higher, so desperate to melt down this fortress of ice that you hadn’t believed you would find. Paid the rumors no mind—he’s a bounty hunter or a gun for hire, who would sell his soul to any well-paying buyer, or so everybody agrees—yet you’ve come here to seek out the true heart of gold that you know lies behind. But all gold can be sold and it seems that he’s taken his fees.

And now he’s set on taking whatever he damn well may please.

Your voice escapes your throat pathetically. “Kai, it’s me…”

Cocks his head. Lifts his brow. Silent laughter at what you just said. Obviously. But who you are doesn’t mean shit to him now. “Aye, I see.”

You might just choke. The heart that never once stopped beating for this godforsaken rogue just fucking broke.

He snickers down as if the beating of your heart is just a joke. The curl of those cruel lips holds even more force than his words. And that’s what brings you to your knees and makes you weak, so weak it hurts, as he comes close and rests his palm against your cheek, piercing your soul straight to the core with just one stroke.

Straight to the core. Summon what strength you have to speak, unsure whether the vows that you once made have any value anymore. “I’ve come back to you just as I swore…”

“Of course,” he utters as those ice-blue eyes seek out and strike the deepest truth in yours. “You’ve come to me just as you were before: still nothing but a worthless fucking whore.”

***************

--- Years Earlier ---

“Impressive.”

You smile over your shoulder as he comes up from behind to wrap his arms tightly around you, in a warm embrace that’s all at once affectionate and aggressive. Passionate and possessive. Just as his touch is every night when he pins you to bed and pounds you.

Kai is wildly impressed to see you standing tall at the helm of this ship where he’s found you. The ship is in shambles and beaten down, long since abandoned here out on the plains past the outskirts of town. Still the grandeur of spacefaring vessels like this never fails to astound you. The freedom that they represent gives you hope that someday you and Kai might escape from this planet that’s bound to the rule of a ruthless imperial crown.

Yet this starship is broken and dead. It feels good to stand here for a bit and pretend you can steer it—steer something for once in your life so that you can cling onto what little is left of your spirit, forge on towards the future instead of just having to fear it… but you know it’s best not to let false hope get to your head.

“You’d make a fetching pilot, love,” Kai purrs into your ear while he plants kisses on the soft skin of your neck. “So fucking hot I think you might stir up the engine of this wreck. Won’t be surprised if you just up and fly it off.”

The laughter on your lips melts into his, as you lean back to taste his kiss. “I wish I could. The two of us would fuck shit up in space so good.”

“Aye, that we would.”

For now Kai is more than content to fuck you up against the window of this spacecraft and you both know that’s exactly what’s in store. Know you were put upon this planet just to serve him as his filthy little whore. On any planet you would always be just that and nothing more.

Through the layers of both of your clothes you can feel the thick length of his shaft, pressed up against your lower half. Desperate hands reach into his pants to set him free and grasp at every perfect inch of him that you exist to worship and adore.

“Impressive,” you echo his words from before.

He chuckles in that playfully suggestive, sinful way that always hits you in the slick heat of your core. The man knows he’s massive. He wields his cock like a damn weapon of war.

But with you it’s a war fought for love and he makes it so pure.

It’s just unfathomable to you that this man is fucking yours.

You’ve only ever been to this small corner of the vast expanse of space, yet when you look upon his face, you have no doubt that he’s the most beautiful man in all the universe.

As ever in his presence you’re tempted to fall on your knees. It’s your favorite position: to kneel before him in submission. To swallow his cock till he fills your throat with his delicious release. Kai knows this but is ever the tease. He knows just what you’re wishing, but holds you up right where you are to prevent you from sinking so he can keep kissing your lips, one hand gripping your hips, while the other roams over the parts of your body that nobody else ever sees.

“K-Kai please…”

“What is it you want?” he sadistically taunts, and then animalistically grunts, as he feels the wetness of your cunt.

You can’t speak, at the touch of his fingers exploring the treasures they seek.

So he feeds you the words. “This big cock in that sweet little mouth of yours?”

“Yes—please, yes…!” you gasp, heightening his desire as well as your own as you handle his hardness with long strokes and squeezes, loving how it throbs in your tightening grasp.

Kai loves making you plead, getting off on the way that you moan for him over and over again. Till he’s ready to finally provide what you need. Ready now then he reckons. A wicked smirk crosses his mouth and it threatens to end you this second. “Indeed. Since you’re beggin’.”

At last then he lets you sink down to the floor, where you instantly bury your face in his crotch and start slobbering madly all over his cock because this is what you fucking live for.

He smells and tastes simply divine. Better than any man fucking should. Smash your nose in the fine golden hairs at the base of his dick and get drunk on his scent like it’s wine… swipe your tongue up the length in a sensuous line…God it’s good. The salt and sweetness and the musk with earthy undertones of wood. You know nothing of what gods exist in this world or the next, other than being certain that Kai is a living breathing god of sex.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer into him and holding you right fucking there. It’s heaven when he plows your throat. No other feeling could compare. You reach to clutch at the firm muscles of his ass and meet his blue gaze as you eagerly wait for him to unravel and explode. The twinkle in his eye reminds you that you’re his and that he never wants to share, just as he’s yours and no one else deserves the privilege to take his precious load.

You take it down with your cheeks hollowed, throat contracting tight around him as he groans in utter bliss. Your love for him deepens with every drop you’ve swallowed, since the day when you first met and every day and night that’s followed. Didn’t think it would be possible to love him more than this. To be so cock-drunk and so lovestruck… fuck, it’s glorious.

Your worship of him always takes him somewhere far beyond the stars. So fucking far. He loves the whore you are, just as you love the whore he is. The kind of love that heals as deeply as it scars. You’re only whores for one another which is why the love you make is always pure no matter how dirty it is.

He worships you in turn, that filthy mouth on him a fire-breathing sin. Making you burn. Laying his claim to every last inch of your skin and every fiber of your being deep within. Your impulse is to be down on your knees for him but when the man insists on pleasuring your cunt—because for him your pleasure’s always at the forefront—well of course you just give in.

And then he fucks your cunt to pieces to make sure you won’t ever forget that his sex is the reason you’re living.

You can’t begin to wrap your mind around him being so damn perfect. But you sure as hell can wrap your pussy tight around the war weapon that’s pumping deep inside of you so powerfully erect. Both of you like it good and rough, and soon enough, this stranded spaceship’s not the only thing that’s wrecked.

The vessel tilts a little bit with his last thrust; this ship is huge but so is Kai, and he’s apparently so strong that he just rocked the goddamned deck. That shit is so insanely hot you might just die. Combust. Crumble to dust. As you both come down from the high, your pulse is racing and he traces its pace with his parted lips pressed to your neck.

The two of you remain entwined for hours, as you always do. Whispering sweet nothings that you wish could be true. Let’s just pretend this ship is ours. That the universe is ours. That we’ll fly away, and soar the skies someday, just me and you. But nothing is nothing regardless of how sweet it seems, and you can’t fly away from the fact that the universe bows to formidable powers. To forces that devastate dreams, through and through.

To the powers that be. Powers that crush all hopes of ever being free or being happy.

Kai reads your mind as your thoughts drift to that dark place. Knows that it’s time to tell you what he came to say, when he found you aboard this ship today, before he got distracted and ended up fucking your brains out past the farthest reaches of space. It’s not a message that he’s eager to convey. But it’s an order that you can’t really afford to disobey.

Still he wants you to stay, blue eyes begging you to as he softly caresses your face. Yet he knows on some level that dreams of resistance are silly to chase. That the price of just one slice of heaven is steep and there’ll be hell to pay.

He clears his throat and breathes in deep, wishing the price weren’t so damn steep. “Meant to tell you that he’s been… requesting your presence again.”

You had known to expect this. Chosen to neglect this. As if you could run to some empty abandoned starship to hide from the constant demands of that monster who thinks he’s a god among men.

But you can’t and to even attempt this… is useless and reckless. Though Kai referred to the imperial officer’s order as just a request, it was obviously a command. So you stand, smooth your skirt with a trembling hand—knowing Kai wishes he could hold on to you now and protect what is rightfully his—but your honor is yours to defend. No one else’s. All yours in the end.

He knows this too but wishes he didn’t. He hates this part. Watching you leave is the part when he cages his heart, locking it in a block of cement. “So you’ll just run off to him then?”

All too familiar with his defense mechanisms, you don’t halt your rhythm. The whole fiasco of this moment is always the same with him, despite the fact that he must know this isn’t something either one of you enjoys. So rather than rushing to blame him, or letting the swell of emotions inside you erupt into violence, you cast him a side glance, remind him in silence: it’s not as if I have a choice.

Evidently today the cement is much thicker than usual; the next words off his lips at your lack of response come off particularly cruel. “What, lost your dignity and your voice?”

God, he knows how to hit your inner slut, and make her want to die. To bleed her dry. His name escapes your throat in a defeated sigh. “Kai…”

He hates himself right now more than that monstrous fucking officer or anyone at all. Down to his core. Your knees just buckled and he rushes to catch you before you fall, but he’s so broken now himself that you both end up on the floor, down on your knees. The words he’d just uttered were driven by demons he’s struggling to bury—lately there have been a whole lot of these. Pulls you in close and releases his heart from its stone wall, as he dissolves into a mess of regrets and apologies. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Inevitably you end up making love, which is the only answer when words aren’t enough. Soft and slow. But it has to end quickly, because you have somewhere to be. Can’t hold on to the afterglow. Leave before tears overflow. Just a few words then you have to go.

You wish Kai could see things from your point of view. He gives you every reassurance that he gets it; his response earlier was impossibly harsh but he clearly regrets it. Still you can’t help but feel as if he’s disappointed in you. Despite how authoritative the Imperium is and the consequences that are sure to ensue if you stand up against it… he sees your obeying the officer’s orders as something you’re making the choice to do.

And that view baffles you because how could you possibly choose to do something that fucking destroys you?

The officer knows all your weaknesses. If you should ever defy him he’d go after Kai, to hit you where he knows it would hurt you the most and you can’t stand to think or to speak of this. You’d rather die. And your fear of that terrible punishment forces your hand; you must heed his command. Without having to spell this shit out you just wish Kai would understand why.

“I understand,” he says, but he can’t meet your pleading gaze. He’s not quite certain whether what he said is true, and surely you would see right through. Instead looks out the spacecraft window at the distant stars that deign to cast their rays upon this conquered stretch of land. It feels like pity and that shit infuriates him in a million fucking ways. “I understand, I do. It just kills me to think of someone else inside you—”

“Kai, I’ve told you time and time again to trust me that he hasn’t…”

“That’s not even what I meant.”

“It’s what you said.”

With worlds of pain behind his plaintive eyes he reaches out to cup your cheek then smooths his thumb across the creases in your forehead. “What I meant is that I just can’t shake this sense that he’s gotten inside your head. To men like that nothing is sacred. He’s attracted to your spirit ‘cause he knows that he can break it. Wants to wait for you to give your body to him though it’s well within his power to just take it. And whatever little honor you’ve got left down to the final fucking shred… he won’t stop till it’s fucking dead.”

His warning chills you to the bone, because you know it to be true. For better or worse you’ve got some defense mechanisms of your own. Just a few. Brush off his touch and clench your jaw and let a little bit of spite sharpen your tone. “So then what would you have me do? Not all of us can be as honorable as you.”

Now his jaw clenches too. So hard that he might be at risk of breaking it. “The choice is yours, of course,” he mutters, eyes flashing an icy shade of blue. “Just know you’re making it. Don’t hide behind the lie your hand was forced.”

At that you turn to leave him with a scoff, throwing a bitter glare that tells him to fuck off.

But just before you disembark, you catch a glimpse of some metallic thing that glimmers in the dark. The mess of clothes that Kai had flung off of his shoulders when he fucked you up against the window, some hours ago… he’d had a gun tucked in among them and the sight of it right now is fucking stark. You have no reason to be shocked about it though.

He wasn’t hiding it from you; the fact that he’s been packing unauthorized arms is something you already knew. That doesn’t mean it’s something you wanted to know. Seeing this fatal metal thing strikes you as such a blunt reminder of what he intends to do. And you know where it’s bound to go.

Where your gaze and your thoughts wander his always follow. “There’s a strategy session set up for tomorrow,” he states in reference to the folks in your town who believe independence is something that any respectable person would die to defend. Even if it means battling forces against which they can’t even try to contend. “May be able to make concrete plans now that we’ve finally got enough guns stashed in our secret cargo. I already know better than to ask whether you’d want to attend. Guess the answer will always be no.”

The two of you have talked about this countless times before. And every time it turns to fucking when you both can’t bear the talking anymore. It’s irresponsible and immature, but in the rosy throes of youth, it seems to you love is the only fucking truth, the only thing you know for sure. The only thing that’s clear and pure. Love keeps you whole so you don’t fall apart from fear of what your hopeless-looking future has in store.

But you’re not that young, and you can’t just fuck away these pressing issues for that long. He can’t just kiss you to prevent the words from falling off your tongue. He knows it too and so you sit and talk for once and hope shit doesn’t go too wrong.

You admire and love him for being so brave and so strong. Tell him so. But that small band of big-hearted rebels is not somewhere you feel you’ll ever belong. He has to let it go.

And you have to let go of your hope that he might change his mind. That he might decide doing what makes sense to simply survive matters more than misguided delusions of honor chasing after some kind of freedom he won’t ever find.

You tenderly caress his face and feel the warmth of his blood rush to meet your hand. It’s all that you can do to pray his precious blood won’t spill someday fighting a war over some worthless stretch of land. This lovely planet is your home but in your eyes it’s all worth nothing without Kai. “I know how fiercely you believe in your brothers, and in your friends. In the rebellion that all of you have planned. What terrifies me is this feeling that it’s fucking doomed to fail and if you die… I can’t fathom anything worse. Of course I know the choice to fight with them is yours, but for my part I’m not as brave as all the others. I can’t bring myself to stand behind this cause when I’m afraid it won’t be worth it in the end. Please understand.”

Kai leans into your touch and turns his face to kiss your palm, cracking a sad smile to fight the tears that otherwise would come. Unshed they shine like stars hiding behind his eyes so blue. “Aye, I do.”

It’s a lie. Lie as big as the sky. But he hides behind it till it might become true, or at least fucking tries to.

At that it’s time for you to go, fearing that you should have done so hours ago. The sheer pressure of fear shatters you; fact is deep down it shatters him too. He just copes with his hopes and fears in a more complicated way.

“I promise I will always come back to you.” These are the same words that you always say, when you leave—words you fiercely believe—to assure him that nothing could keep you away.

When you leave him with those words Kai usually lets you, eventually once he’s done venting all his pent up rage and dealing every card he has to play. But evidently not today. “You wouldn’t have to. If you’d just stay.”

The way his voice trembles with gentleness, with selflessness, as he abandons every one of his defenses… it fucking kills you when he gets this way. It doesn’t happen often, and it always makes your heart open and soften. “That’s true. Maybe I can keep him waiting just one day…”

His eyes go wide, unable to believe that this is something you would actually decide. It makes him love you even more and suddenly he’s shy and blushing as if he thinks he’s unworthy of the privilege of your touch. “Or just one hour or one minute for I ought to know I shouldn’t ask too much—”

You shut him up with your forefinger pressed against his luscious lip. Provocatively bite your own to make it known that you want him to spend all day fucking you up against this ship.

Last time he did it shook the whole entire deck; maybe this time the sex will be so fucking hot that it’ll set fire to this wreck. Wouldn’t put anything past Kai. It’d be a perfect way to die.

Slamming your back against the window of this wrecked dreadnought, he effortlessly reads your every thought—goddamn that thought just now was a particularly bold one—and from his wicked smirk it’s plain to see that he agrees it would be perfect and insanely fucking hot. “You might want to hold on.”

And you do, clinging closely to him like the sky clings to stars at the coming of dawn. In the bright glare of day they’ll no longer shine through. But that won’t mean they’re gone.

Here tonight, and even if they’re out of sight, come morning light… all the stars in his eyes shine for you. With those stars guiding you, you’ll hold on.

***************

… To be continued in Part 2!

The plan is for Part 2 to explore more of the earlier timeline and also carry forward the opening scene of course, which is when dark degrading dom!Kai will be out in full force 🔥

If you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist for this fic (below), just let me know! Much love to all of you 💖

Masterlist

Taglist for this fic (based on responses to the teaser) – @midnightbabylon @rayslittlekitten @pikapuff-316 @youflickedtooharddamnit @laurfilijames @okin-awa @lovebittenbyevans @jmamas92 @theliterarybeldam @dirtytomatoedwrites @ughdontbeboring @netflix-imagines

#charlie hunnam #rebel moon #kai #charlie hunnam fic #rebel moon fic #kai fic #charlie hunnam fanfiction #rebel moon fanfiction #kai fanfiction #charlie hunnam imagine #rebel moon imagine #kai imagine #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #kai x reader #kai x you

[make-me-imagine]

Exactly My Type

Plot: When going to dinner at Raymond's for what you think is a work dinner, takes a turn.

Prompt: 'First Kiss'

Pairing: Raymond Smith x Gn!Reader

Requested By: @will-grammer

Warnings: Just the kiss.

Words: 1.5k

-

As you walked up the path to Raymond's front door, you tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. No matter how many times you saw him or spoke to him, they were always there.

After ringing the doorbell, you wiped your hands down your top, hoping you didn't over-dress for this dinner. It was only to discuss work, you needed to remind yourself of that. It wasn't a date, just a casual work meal.

As the door swung open, Raymond revealed himself to be in his usual suited appearance, though with an added apron draped from his neck.

He smiled "Right on time."

"Like usual." You added on with a smile, knowing he always appreciated punctuality.

He held open the door or you you stepped inside. You began to take off your jacket, but hesitated when you suddenly felt Raymond grab it from behind. Looking back, your eyes locked and he smiled as he helped you remove it. You felt a shiver run up your spine as his fingers grazed your skin through the fabric.

"Thanks." You muttered softly.

After he hung it up, you followed him into the kitchen. Looking around, it was just a spotless and pristine as usual. But your eyes lingered on a new addition. A bouquet of flowers sitting on the table.

You felt your chest tighten as you wondered who he got them for. You knew quite a lot about Raymond, but he never mentioned personal relationships. You wouldn't be surprised if he had a partner, though you would be lying if you said you didn't feel disappointment at the idea.

Sitting at the bar as Raymond got some glasses, you didn't have to say anything as he immediately prepared your favorite drink. You smiled to yourself as you noticed this, your cheeks warming up a bit.

Looking over to the stove you spoke up "Need any help?"

He shook his head as he placed the drink in font of you "It's done, just need to plate it."

He motioned his head to the dining room table, where you normally ate. Making your way over, you began to sat down, surprised again by Raymond sudden appearance behind you as he pulled out your chair for you. You smiled in thanks as he walked back to the kitchen.

After you began eating, you started to talk about the reason you came, but you were surprised to learn that Raymond had already begun to resolve the problem.

And every problem you brought up, he seemed to have a resolution for as well. You started to wonder why you were here at all.

"Are Mickey and Rosalind aware of all of this?"

He nodded "Yes, but they don't need to worry right now. They went to The Maldives for Valentines Day."

You hummed "Sounds nice. How long are they staying?"

"A week. I hope to have everything resolved before they return."

"I don't doubt you will."

You saw his mouth twitch up at this, and you felt your chest burn a little warmer.

After cleaning up from dinner you and Raymond continued to sit and talk, new drinks in hand. You couldn't stop your eyes from occasionally looking over at the flowers. You hated how the curiosity burned in your chest.

Finally finding the courage, you spoke, though with reserve heavy in your voice. "Are you doing anything? For Valentines Day?"

Raymond looked at you in silence for a moment before adjusting his glasses "Should I be?"

You shrugged and took a sip of your drink "Well, if you finish this business for Mickey, you could give yourself some time off as well." You motioned your head towards the flowers "Looks like you've already started planning."

Raymond looked over at the flowers and you noticed how he repressed a smile "I have."

Your chest clenched at this. You were hoping he'd deny it.

"That's why I already prepared everything like I said."

"Are you going to tell me about them?" You asked, feigning a smile and curiosity, hoping Raymond couldn't see through it to the pain you were actually hiding.

He sat back in his chair for a moment, seemingly considering if he should. Adjusting his glasses again he cleared his throat.

"I've known them for quite a while now. They aren't what they seem like on the outside. People tend to think there is nothing more to them, but they're always wrong, there is always more."

You could sense pride in his voice as he talked about them and you'd be lying if you didn't feel a little jealous.

"Is that what won you over?" You asked with a slightly joking tone.

He smiled and shook his head "Not just that. It's also their bravery, kindness, skill, willingness to help anyone they can. Not to mention their sense of humor."

You smiled at him "Sounds like they got it all."

"They do. But they don't realize it themselves."

Clearing his throat he stood up and walked over to the table. You watched him closely as he approached the flowers before he grabbed them, bringing them over.

Oh great, was he going to talk about them some more? Are these their favorite flowers? Maybe you shouldn't have pushed.

Walking up to you, he set the flowers down in front of you before he put his hands in his pockets. You could see them more clearly now than before. It was a mix of white roses, dark pink dahlias and light pink peonies.

Reaching up you gently touched them. These were some of your favorite flowers.

"They're beautiful, they'll love them."

Raymond smiled softly in amusement as he gazed down a you. You met his eyes and suddenly felt like you were see through.

"What?"

"There for you, you toss-pot."

You felt as though a jolt of electricity went through you "What?"

"I was talking about you." He smiled a bit wider.

"Y- You were?"

Moving past you, he sat in the chair beside you facing you, his knees pressed up against your leg.

"I didn't invite you to talk work, I just wanted to have dinner with you. And I hoped, somewhere along the way I'd get a chance to give you these."

He could see your brain working in overdrive as you remained speechless, putting it all together.

He continued to smile softly at you before he reached over and placed his hand on top of yours, slowly linking his fingers around yours.

"I hope this stunned silence is not leading up to a rejection."

Finally taking hold of yourself you shook your head. "No, it's not, I'm just really surprised."

"Why?"

You shrugged your shoulders as you smiled a bit bashfully "I didn't think I was your type."

He grinned "You're exactly my type."

Your heart started pounding in your chest as he reached towards your legs with his other hand. You repressed a grin as he turned you so you were facing him, your legs now pressed against his.

As his eyes stared into yours, your ears burned hot. You had never seen him look at you like this. You saw his eyes flick to your lips for a split-second and your heart skipped a beat.

"Raymond?"

"Yes?" He asked softly.

"Thank you for the flowers." You replied with a softer voice.

"You're very welcome." Tilting his head slightly his smile turned into more of a smirk "Now about Valentines Day."

You quirked your brow.

"You are free I hope?"

You smiled and nodded "Yes, I'm free."

"Good, I wasn't looking forward to having competition."

You chuckled and shook your head "No competition. No one could compete anyways."

He smiled and you swore you saw a blush crawl across his cheeks for a moment.

"So, Valentines Day?" You added on.

"Yes. What we will be doing is a secret. I just want to make sure you have the day free."

"The whole day?" You asked with lightly surprise and he shrugged his head. You leaned forward and spoke with a light sarcastic tone "Are you going to try and seduce me Raymond?"

He smirked and leaned in as well "I thought I already had."

You grinned "Bold assumption."

His smile grew as well and you saw his eyes flick to your lips again before his gaze held yours. He moved his face in closer, so your noses were almost touching.

"I suppose I should try harder then."

Leaning in in sync, your lips met and your heart jolted. Raymond's hand quickly rose to cup your face before he cupped your head, deepening the kiss. You laid your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating heavily. After a second, his other hand come up as he gently place it on top of yours, squeezing lightly.

After a few more moments, you parted, somewhat breathless. Your eyes locked as you both had soft smiles. Bringing his hand back to cup your face, he gently brushed his thumb over your lips as his eyes lingered on them.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time." He said softly before he met your eyes again "And I'd very much like to do it again." He spoke as he slowly leaned in closer.

You smiled as you met him in another kiss, softer and slower this time, as he linked the fingers of his other hand through yours.

xx End xx

Kind of an abrupt ending, but I didn't know where to go with it where it would end naturally lol I hope you liked it!~

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Raymond Smith Taglist: @will-grammer, @venusthepirate

#Raymond Smith #The Gentlemen #Raymond Smith x Reader #Raymond Smith/Reader #Raymond Smith imagine #the gentlemen x reader #the gentlemen/reader #the gentlemen imagine #valentines day 2023 #raymond smith fic #raymond smith fluff #raymond smith x gn!reader #charlie hunnam imagine #fluff

[storiesforallfandoms]

the assistant ~ raymond smith;the gentlemen

word count: 2600

request?: no

description: in which mickey hires a new assistant to help out with his business, and his right hand man finds himself falling in love

pairing: raymond smith x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of violence

masterlist (one, two)

The first time Raymond ever met (Y/N) was at Mickey’s house. She appeared suddenly in the doorway to Mickey’s office while he was in a meeting with Ray. He was taken by surprise at the unfamiliar person, but more so he was taken back by the beauty of the unfamiliar person.

“You have a message from Rosalind,” she said to Mickey. She was looking right through Ray as if he wasn’t in the room.

“What is it?” Mickey asked.

“She said some bloke came into the shop to give her expensive parts, but in return he’s asking for a meeting with you.”

Mickey’s face darkened. Everyone knew that it didn’t matter what you did in terms of Mickey’s money or his business, but you did not, under any circumstances, fuck with his wife.

“Why wouldn’t he just approach me himself?” Mickey asked, his voice laced with venom.

“Whoever it was knows that approaching Rosalind will get your attention,” Ray commented.

“It’ll get a bullet between his fucking eyes,” Mickey muttered. “Did he leave a phone number?”

(Y/N) crossed the room, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Ray’s eyes followed her every movement. As she got closer, he could smell the sweet scent of her perfume. When she reached around him to put the slip of paper on Mickey’s desk, she turned to meet his eye. His breath was taken away by her sheer beauty.

When she smiled at him, it was like the whole world around him melted away.

Mickey noticed the look between them and smirked. “Ray, this is (Y/N). She’s mine and Rosalind’s new assistant. She’s going to be helping around with both of the businesses.”

Ray offered a hand to (Y/N). “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she said, shaking his hand. She returned her attention back to their boss to ask, “Should we follow up on this mystery caller?”

Mickey stared long and hard at the phone number left. Both Ray and (Y/N) could see the gears turning in his head. The number of outcomes if the meeting happened running through his head; the question as to whether or not it was the right decision to hold the meeting.

“If I may,” (Y/N) interjected. “If this mystery caller is bold enough to go to the shop to approach Rosalind once, what’s to stop him from doing it again? At least if you set up this meeting with him you can assure him that the next time he sets foot in that shop or he has any communication with Rosalind, he will regret it.”

Ray peered over at Mickey. An impressed look was on his face, a smile tugging at his lips. He extended the slip back to her.

“Call him and set up a meeting for tomorrow at noon.”

“The usual location?” (Y/N) asked. Mickey nodded. “Yes, sir.” She smiled at Raymond again. “See you around, Raymond.”

~~~~~~

The next time Ray saw (Y/N) was at the meeting the next day. She escorted Dry Eye, one of mobster Lord George’s men, into the meeting room. Ray tried not to stare, but it was a struggle. She was wearing a button up blouse tucked into a mini skirt, with knee high black heeled boots. She was showing off every curve and Ray was taking in every single inch of her.

“Mr. Pearson, Dry Eye has arrived,” she announced.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” Mickey dismissed her.

Ray expected her to leave the room and was pleasantly shocked when she opted to come sit next to him at a small table in the back of the room.

“Pour me a cup?” she asked, gesturing towards the boiling kettle and Ray’s own cup of tea.

He did as she asked, grabbing an empty cup, placing a tea bag into it then filling it with the boiling water. She added a splash of milk and two sugars, stirring until the dark liquid became a milky brown color. She raised the cup to her lips, blowing gently to cool it down. She peered up at Ray through her long eyelashes, and he was convinced she was trying to get his blood running to one particular region in his body.

“So,” he asked in a hushed voice as not to disturb Mickey’s meeting, “how did you come about becoming Michael’s assistant?”

“He had a couple posting around town. ‘Wanted: Someone with experience in organization and business. No questions to be asked until after hiring. NDA is required. Call here if interested’.”

Ray chuckled. “Well, that’s not forboding at all.”

“What can I say? I was interested.”

She smirked as she sipped her tea. Ray couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Besides, it sounded exciting. My life has been so standard thus far. I wanted some excitement.”

“Well.” Ray looked over his shoulder at the stare off between a furious looking Dry Eye and a stoic Mickey. “There’s no shortage of excitement here.”

Before (Y/N) could respond, Dry Eye and his accomplice stood, drawing their attention back to the meeting. (Y/N) stood as well, intending to walk the two men out, but they left on their own in a huff.

“That went well,” Mickey commented. “I have a feeling that won’t be the last we see of Dry Eye.”

“Interesting that you have two potential investors in your business,” Ray said. “You think there’s a connection there?”

“There’s always a connection Raymond.” Mickey finished his cup of tea and stood from his seat. “(Y/N), make Roger aware of Dry Eye’s intentions and tell him he has the right to use force if Dry Eye ever dares to enter Rosalind’s business again.”

“Yes sir,” (Y/N) responded. “Anything else you need today?”

“No, after that you’re free to have the evening off. Maybe you can keep Ray company so he’ll stop eye fucking you every time you walk into the room.”

Ray’s face was on fire as (Y/N) giggled and Mickey gave him a knowing smile. Their boss left the room first, striking a match to light his cigarette as he went. (Y/N) started to go behind him, but Ray reached out to stop her.

“Listen, um...” She was watching him, expectantly. Ray was never one to be at a loss for words, but her presence alone made him feel like a babbling idiot. “If you don’t have anything planned for your evening, I’d like to have you over to mine for dinner tonight.”

“What did you have in mind?”

I recently had a new barbie installed, and I have some premium grade Wagyu in my freezer. If you like steak, I mean.”

She considered it for a moment before deciding, “I’ll get your number from Ros. You can text me a time and location.”

Ray nodded, an excited smile trying to spread across his face. (Y/N) smiled at him and turned to leave the room, swinging her hips as she went along. Ray couldn’t help but watch her, his anticipation for that night growing.

~~~~~~

Ray was in the process of marinating the steaks and prepping the vegetables when the doorbell rang. He was quick to wash off his hands and nearly run to answer it. (Y/N) was stood waiting, having changed out of her professional attire from the day into a pair of black leggings and a knit jumper. She looked ready for a comfortable dinner in, which Ray was glad for as he himself hadn’t dressed up much for the occasion.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” she responded. “I can already smell dinner.”

“Don’t get too hungry yet. I haven’t put the steaks on the barbie yet. I was waiting for you to arrive first.”

(Y/N) stepped into his home. As she followed him to the kitchen, she took in the massive house. She knew Mickey paid well so she shouldn’t have been so shocked - especially considering the size of Mickey’s own home - but for some reason she wasn’t expecting Ray to live somewhere so big and lavish. It made her tiny apartment very inferior.

“Did you need help preparing anything?” she asked. “I’m not a stellar cook, but I know how to chop veggies.”

“No need for that at all. You’re a guest in my house, therefore you do nothing except sit there and look pretty.”

(Y/N) sat at the island, a small smile on her face. “Well, I am very good at that second part.”

“I can tell.” Ray poured them both a glass of red wine. “I hope you like red. I find it’s what pairs best with a nice steak dinner.”

“I’m not too particular with my wines,” she said. “Although I don’t believe I’ve had this kind before. Looks far too expensive for my usual tastes.”

Ray chuckled. “It’s a bottle Mickey got me when I first moved in as a housewarming gift. I’m normally one for scotch, but like I said, a nice steak dinner with a beautiful lady requires a bottle of red wine.”

(Y/N) took a sip from her glass to hide how flustered she felt. So far, this was gearing up to be one of the best dates she had ever been on: he brought her over to his house so he could cook for them, he had the perfect wine pairing for their dinner, and he was throwing out compliments left and right. It worked greatly in his favor that he was one of the most handsome men she had ever met. She might never want to leave.

Once the steaks had finished marinating, Ray took (Y/N) out to his backyard to show her his new barbie. It was brick laid, designed to look more like a table than a barbie, and the fire from inside of it also heated up underneath the table. When Ray lit it, (Y/N) could already feel the warmth radiating from it from where she sat.

Oh, I could really get used to this, she thought.

She watched Ray cook in silence. She knew not to interrupt the chef when he was working his magic, and in general she was just enjoying watching him work. He was so focused, making sure the steaks were cooked perfectly all the way through before serving them on a plate garnished with the vegetables he had made inside.

“Voila,” he said as he laid a plate in front of (Y/N). “Dinner is served.”

“God, this smells so good,” she said. “Might have to keep you as my own personal chef.”

“Don’t say that before you try it. I could be a garbage chef and I’m just impressing you with wine and my good looks.”

The cocky smile on his face told (Y/N) that Ray knew he was a very good cook.

He sat across from her at the table and they began to eat. The moment the Wagyu touched her tastebuds, (Y/N) felt like she was in heaven. It made sense to her now why this cut of steak cost so much money; it was probably the best cut of meat she had ever eaten in her life. She would gladly pay hundreds for this type of meal. Especially if Ray was the one cooking for her again.

“I think this is the best thing I have ever eaten in my life,” she said.

Ray was beaming with pride. “I passed the test, then?”

“With flying colors. I can’t let you get away. Men who can cook this well are one in a million these days.”

The two were dreading the small talk that usually came with a first date, but as silence fell upon them while they ate, they realized there was no escaping the inevitable. (Y/N) decided to be the one to break the silence by asking, “So, how long have you been working with Michael?”

“Since the beginning,” Ray responded. “I knew him in uni.”

“So you’re an Oxford man?”

“You’ve done your research.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “When you get hired to work for a technical drug dealer, you may as well know as much about the man as you can find out. Decide whether or not it’s going to be a dangerous business.”

“It’s not as dangerous as you’d think. Besides the threat of being arrested.”

She grimaced. That was the one thing she was worried about, but Mickey seemed to be professional enough that he hadn’t been caught thus far.

“Where did you go to uni?” Ray asked.

“I didn’t. I wasn’t smart enough to get accepted anywhere,” (Y/N) responded.

“I find that surprising.”

She smiled. “I appreciate that. I’ve cleaned up my act a lot now, but when I was in school I was very much a troublemaker. Didn’t have any time for school or learning, mainly because I didn’t understand a bloody thing they were trying to teach. I had no desires to go and do post secondary to get a degree that I may never find a job for. I’ve worked at McDonald’s with people who did five years for that silly piece of paper, and they’re not any better than I am.”

“Well, you are working as assistant to one of the most successful business men in London, so I think it’s safe to say they are definitely no better than you are.”

(Y/N) giggled. She wasn’t sure if it was the wine or Ray’s compliments, or both, but she was starting to feel flushed. She wondered if he could see how he was making her feel.

At some point, after their food was gone and the wine was running low, (Y/N) found herself on the same side of the table as Ray. She was definitely feeling good from the amount of wine she had drank, and being close to him felt just as intoxicating.

“I’ve had a really, really good night Ray,” she told him. “I haven’t had such a good time on a date in years.”

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself. Does that mean we could do this again sometime?”

(Y/N) looked up at him. She looked into his blue eyes before peering down at his lips for a quick moment. Sensing what was to come, Ray leaned in just as (Y/N) did and their lips collided. Sparks of electricity ran through (Y/N)’s body, and she was sure it wasn’t the alcohol making her feel that way.

She leaned into Ray’s kiss until she was nearly on his lap. At which point, Ray took hold of her thighs and brought her over to straddle his lap. His hands gently cupped her face while hers ran through his hair. He tested her boundaries by running his tongue along her lips. When she opened them, he plunged his tongue into her mouth.

When they finally managed to break away from one another they were both panting. (Y/N) rested her forehead against Ray’s, both of them with mirroring smiles on their faces.

“Would you like to stay the night?” Ray asked. “No funny business, but I do have a very large bed that feels quite empty when I’m alone.”

“I would love to, but keep that promise of no funny business in mind. I’m not the type to take my clothes off on the first date.”

Ray smiled and ran his fingers through her soft hair. “I’d never dream of crossing your boundaries, love.”

Oh my God, he has to stop being so perfect, (Y/N) thought as she got off Ray’s lap and followed him back into his house for the night.

#raymond smith #raymond smith imagine #raymond smith x reader #ray smith #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam x reader #the gentlemen #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[littlemelaninfics]

Ride

Jax Teller x Black!reader

"I'II be right there," Jax sighed as he hung up the phone and got off the couch. He grabbed his keys and headed for the restaurant on the other side of town.

He reached the parking lot and handed me the extra helmet. I used his shoulders to steady myself as I got on the back of the bike. I hung on and he peeled out of the lot and back to his house. On the way, my night replayed over and over again in my head. I hugged him tighter and put my face into his back while I let a few tears escape. I looked to my left and saw the cityscape below the mountain. We made a left instead of a right and cruised down the road. He pulled into his driveway and turned off the motorcycle.

"Why are we here?" I asked as I got off the back.

"It's closer and it's late to go all the way to your place. I can get you an Uber if you want." I shook my head. His voice was kind of monotone, like he had something to say. Jax didn't even wait for me before stalking to the front door to unlock it.

He walked in and headed straight for his bar. I closed and locked the door before meeting him in the other room.

"You're mad at me, aren't you."

He downed the rest of his drink before placing the glass back in the counter, "I'm not thrilled with you, no."

"How can you be like that right now? I'm the one who got stood up in the middle of nowhere.”

"And that's why. I told you that you didn't know that prick. To not shit where you eat and look where you are."

"Fuck you. Now you're just being mean. I just wanted a night with him. He's so sweet and I just don't know what happened."

"No. He was sweet when you met him 5 years ago. People change everyday."

"Yeah that's evident."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean I was expecting some kind of sympathy from you. You know, considering how fucking stupid I looked out there. But no. You have to tell me how right you are and how wrong I am. Basically driving it home that I am fucking stupid. So thanks a lot,” I turned to leave to the guest room when I heard him pouring another drink. I slammed the door and flopped onto the bed, tears streaming down my face once more.

I woke up the next morning with a blanket covering me and noise coming from the floor. I slowly sit up and look down to see Jax there shirtless with his own blanket and pillow, snoring softly. I reach for my phone but drop it against the nightstand, making a loud thud. Jax stirred and opened his eyes with a sigh,

"Morning."

"Hi. What are you doing?"

He sat up and slid his hands over his face and and back through his blonde bed head. He rested his arms on his legs and looked at me, "I didn't think you should wake up alone. Look, I'm sorry for making you feel stupid because you're not. I was pissed at that prick for getting you all excited and then not showing. I hate that I was right. You deserve someone who would travel the world to spend one hour with you. And I'm sorry he wasn't that. I really am.”

I looked down at him and crawled down to the floor. I wrapped my hands around his neck and started to cry a little bit,

"Hey, hey, hey. What's that for? I was trying to make you feel better," he said with concern in his voice. I unburied my face and kissed him on the cheek,

"They're happy tears. Thank you for being my best friend."

"I love you, kid."

"I love you too."

an: whoa! Cali writes fluff!?? Yes. Yes I do ;)

#jax teller #jax teller imagine #jax teller x black!oc #sons of anarchy #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam x black!reader

[calif0rnia-lovers]

kiss it better 03.

pairing: jax teller x black!reader | warning: not much in this chapter tbh

sum: you’re back in charming. perfect timing for a storm is brewing. jax teller has an unquenchable thirst for vengeance.

chapter 02.

The moment he comes to Jax knows he has overslept.

The sun was bright, slowly creeping toward the center of the sky. Its rays slipped through the thin curtains casting a glow across the bedroom.

Despite resting for ten hours, Jax’s body remains bogged by exhaustion. Ten hours paled to the amount of sleep needed for his body to replenish the remaining hours of his sleep deficit. His mind attempts to drift to the cellphone across the room. His slumber meant there were unanswered calls and messages waiting for his attention. Jax nuzzles his face back into the inviting warmth of his pillow.

The rise and fall of his pillow come in a steady rhythm, one that could easily lull him back to sleep.

His eyes open to find you asleep. Your bodies had remained close throughout the night. In the center of the bed, you had somehow managed not to be awoken by the sunlight filling the room.

Jax blinks, part of him thinking you would be gone once the action was over. The last few days had passed in an endless blur of moments. He wouldn’t be surprised if the image of you were an evil illusion summoned by his sleep-deprived senses.

Now he is awake, Jax wonders how the news of Opie’s passing reached you. When he was released, his first instinct was to call you. Not Gemma, but you.

He would have, but he knew the number he’d spent years committing to memory was disconnected. The pain he’d felt deep within his chest when he’d first dialed the number to no avail was one he’d never experienced. Its initial impact was sharp, coming as fast as it left. Soon, the sharp pain subsided, melting into an unnatural, soft dull pain that lingered for days. The ache was temporarily forgotten as Jax tackled the fires of his day. It returned to the front of his mind when he had a moment of downtime.

It took him nearly a month after your departure to learn the meaning of the pain resonating in his chest. It was the soft and slow tearing of his heart.

He’d spent months angry at you, the bitter hatred of your decision to sever all ties with him spilling into every aspect of his life. His temper nipped short, leading to Jax butting heads with everyone who stepped foot in his direction. As the exhaustion of being angry wore off, he started the chase of distraction.

Days packed full of tasks for him to complete. The list ran from the rising to the setting of the sun. The moment the list was complete, Jax was rewarded with a night of decadence. A dangerous cocktail of alcohol and heated moments with Lisa.

The vicious cycle was endless, but it kept Jax distracted from the dull pain in his chest.

When his eyes return to your face, Jax finds your gaze focused on him.

“Mornin',” he whispered softly.

“You look like shit,” you manage.

The soft smile your words sparks brings your touch to the warmth of his cheek.

“Trust me, I feel like it.”

You could echo the sentiment, but your voice is trapped in your throat. The soft smile on Jax's lips had faded slowly, his expression inscrutable. His eyes met yours before moving down to your lips.

His gaze pinned you in place, the air leaving your lungs as his touch grazed your cheek. It was a look you had encountered a handful of times in his presence. Each time, Jax had mustered enough willpower to suppress it. As his thumb dragged over your bottom lip, you realized he had no intention of pulling away.

Before he could persuade himself it was a terrible idea, Jax lowered his head and pressed his lips to yours.

They were gone as fast as they had come. The initial action is simple testing of the waters.

When they returned, the kiss was gentle and hard at once. Jax's beard was coarse as it scraped against your skin, his lips soft as they moved against yours.

Jax’s body relaxed, your arms snaking around the back of his neck, his weight shifting to press you into the mattress. Your fingers carded through his soft locks urging his tongue to part your lips. The kiss melted into a slow pace, Jax’s expert exploration of your mouth fogging your mind. You could only think of how to keep his lips on yours.

This was a slippery slope, but neither of you could pull away. Your kisses were different than any he’s previously shared. Jax’s most intimate moments panned out like every moment in his life. Rough, heated, and fast. They satisfied his need for a temporary high yet always left him wanting more.

Your kisses were heartfelt, your touch inviting as it drifted down his spine. The combination mysteriously seized control of his mind. It commanded his body to slow down. It allowed him to savor the softness of your lips, the warmth of your skin under his touch. The way your body responded to his, your hips dangerously arching up to meet his.

The ringing of his phone seemed to break Jax from your spell.

You both paused, panting and breathless, listening to the chime of his phone echo off the walls of the quiet house. Jax’s heart pounded against his ribs, yours beating in tandem.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Jax’s words trail off as his eyes pass over your parted lips.

What was the point of lying?

He had meant to kiss you. Hell he would have done more than that if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“It’s okay.”

You push yourself up, thankful for the distance it forces Jax to put between the two of you.

With fresh air in your lungs, the fog in your mind quickly recedes. An unsettling twinge of guilt tightens your stomach as Jax’s eyes meet yours.

A slippery slope.

A single kiss had tipped the scales. It would take a far more painful act to reset the balance.

You cannot stay here.

The reminder pushes you off the bed.

Thankfully, the ringer doesn’t relent. The moment it dies, the sound returns with a second call. Jax’s eyes track your movements, his silence prompting you to glance in his direction.

“You should get that. I’m going to shower.”

--

Not tonight.

Your foolish words echo through your mind as you stare down the Reaper grinning at you.

It looks like you’re a bit rusty, sweetheart. You foolishly allowed me to rest.

The slip of your tongue hadn’t registered until nearly an hour after you left Jax alone in his bed.

Not tonight.

The limitation on his retaliation was up. The sun was now high in the sky, blazing down on the crowded parking lot of the Teller-Morrow automotive repair shop.

The patched members of SAMCRO had filed outside with the anticipated arrival of their president. Too intoxicated the night before, Jax had allowed you to drive him home. Which resulted in you having to give him a ride back. Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. But, today, you wish Jax didn’t require your help.

He was across the parking lot, back to you as he spoke to a man you didn’t recognize. Despite the distance between the two of you, you could still feel the weight of his body against yours. The warmth of his mouth against yours, and how easily it coaxed you to cross a line you’d spent years avoiding.

“What’s troubling your mind, sweetheart?”

You find Bobby’s eyes on you. Rubbing a cloth against his glasses, he awaits your response. 

You nod in the direction of Jax, your gaze returning to the man he speaks to. Arms crossed over his chest, he rests against the black SUV behind him. 

“Who’s Jax talking to?”

“Nero,” Bobby explains. “He’s helping us out with something.”

“Something?” You echo, your brow arched in amusement as Bobby meets your gaze. The action pulls a chuckle from the older man. “Am I better off not knowing?”

“Depends,” he shrugs, eyes watching as your attention returns to Jax. “On how good you were at comforting Jax last night. Don't want to bring out your jealous side.”

Your eyes roll at the implication. 

“I got him to sleep,” you sigh. “Something none of you knuckleheads bothered to do.”

Bobby releases a chuckle, unconvinced. “The kid’s stubborn, same as you.”

“How were things with him before…”

Bobby remains silent as he struggles to find words, to sum up, the events that have occurred in your absence. 

“Jax has been preparing for the gavel since he was born,” his eyes take in the crowded lot. “But I don’t you can ever really prepare for it, legacy or not. He’s been trying to steer us in the right direction, but…”

With listening ears nearby, you watch Bobby’s brows rise in suggestion. You don’t need him to complete his statement. 

You noticed Clay’s absence the moment you arrived. Although you were glad he wasn’t around to add more to his stepson’s plate, you knew Clay’s absence still weighed heavy on Jax’s mind.

Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. 

With Clay out of sight, Jax wasn’t able to see what he was plotting. 

As if sensing your thoughts, Clay steps out of the clubhouse.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.” 

Your words come out low enough to only be heard by Bobby, but Clay’s gaze scans the crowded lot before settling on you.

He’s visibly aged since your last sighting of the former president. The tubes tucked into his nostrils snaked down his chest to the oxygen tank in his left hand. He looked meek and surely incapable of riding his bike out with the rest of the club. His expression remained unreadable as you lifted your hand offering him a wave.

“I don’t imagine he’s been supporting Jax in his new role?”

With a slight shake of his head, Bobby wraps his arm around your shoulder. Giving you a gentle squeeze, he offers you a warm smile as your head briefly rests against him.

“It’s good to have you back.”

Soon you’re left alone, nervous energy radiating through your body as Jax makes his way toward you. 

Despite the feeling, you cannot deny him a smile as Jax comes to a stop before you. The smile on his face is one you’d spent years missing. Paired with the bright blue eyes searching your expression, you almost forget about the circumstances surrounding your arrival the night before. 

Not tonight.

You blink, eyes dropping from his to your worn sneakers. 

“Thanks for last night,” he says, his fingers finding yours.

Your eyes focus on his split knuckles. Your thumb gingerly passes over the damaged skin. 

“And this morning.”

The second half of his statement comes as your eyes meet his. 

“I just want you to be okay.”

It’s not a lie. You’ve never meant anything as much as the words you’ve just spoken. The problem is, you know placating Jax’s current state would only lead to a more difficult departure.

“It feels that way when you’re here.” The softly uttered admission is not meant for your ears.

Jax reaches into the chest pocket of his kutte. He retrieves a familiar scratched eight ball. The same keychain you’d passed to him the last time you said goodbye in the same spot years before. The key he’d forged for you still sits on the ring. 

His throat clears as your fingers brush his in retrieval of the key. “You can uh–stay with me as long as you’re here.”

You meet his gaze. His eyes are curious. His invitation is a shoddy attempt at asking the question his lips can’t utter.

How long will you stay?

“Thank you.”

You house the keychain in your front pocket, a silence falling over the two of you. 

You can feel her gaze before you spot her. It sears into your skin as your fingers remain interlaced with Jax’s.

Jax follows your gaze, a deep breath filling his lungs as he glimpses Gemma's narrowed eyes. The corner of his lips tugs into a smile as he shifts, blocking you from her sight. 

“Play nice,” he sighs. The twinkle of amusement in his eyes relaxes your tense grip on his fingers. “The last thing I need is to break up a fight between you two.”

“I’ll play nice if she does.” Your matter-of-a-fact tone morphs his smile into a grin.

He knew your words rang true. He never dreamt he’d witness a woman who could go toe to toe with his mother until he met you.

The warmth of his hands against your cheeks forces your gaze to meet his. You make a point of allowing your eyes to roll as you huff a “fine.”

“I’m only doing it because you asked,” you mumble.

You can feel your body relax as his soft chuckle fills your ears. Your eyes drift shut as his lips press against your forehead. A parting gift he’d given you for as long as you can remember. 

“I gotta go,” Jax mumbles. Despite the admission, you both remain where you stand. 

Your lips meet his halfway. The featherlight kiss drew his hands down your spine. Pulling you closer, he deepens the kiss as you relax against his chest. 

“Be safe, please.” 

Jax’s response to your request comes in a gentle squeeze of your waist. He slips his sunglasses over his eyes before starting toward his bike.

Your mind drives away with Jax as he disappears through the parking lot gates. The distraction allows Gemma to settle alongside you, her voice causing you to jump.

“Gotta admit, I’m surprised you lasted the night.” Your eyes remain on the gates, but Gemma can easily read the tightening of your stance. Her shade-covered eyes rake down your entire frame. “Thought you’d vanish before the sunrise. Isn’t that more your style?”

The breath you take comes out softer than you expect. The smile you’ve fixed on your face instantly forces your shoulders to relax.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed, Gem.”

Gemma lets out a dry laugh as you face her. Instead of matching your words with a snide remark, she nods over her shoulder.

“It's too hot to do this out here,” she sighs, her hand raising to fan her face. “Let’s go in.”

You follow Gemma across the lot towards her office.

The cramped room welcomes you with the forgiving breeze of AC. You sink into the seat opposite hers, eyes passing over the familiar walls. Not much has changed. Her desk is still cluttered, stacked high with files and receipts. The only additions you can easily find are the updated photos tacked against the wall.

A soft smile finds your lips as you observe a photo of Jax.

He sits on his Harley, his son seated in front of him wore his helmet. Older than your last encounter, Abel wears a smile that matches his father's.

“You must have really missed it here.”

Your brow arches, gaze leaving the photo to find Gemma relaxed in her chair. She takes a drag of her cigarette before pointing the lit tip toward you.

“You came running back the second you got a chance.”

“I never missed this place. It’s full of leeches that suck you dry.” Gemma scoffs as your eyes linger on her. “I did miss the weather. Winters in New York are too cold for my taste.”

Gemma’s brow lifts at the admission. “Thought you’d be used to it by now.”

“Why?”

“Jax mentioned that’s where you’re from.”

“Not originally. My mom and I moved there when I was four.”

“What about your dad?”

You shrug.

Breaching the topic of family history is never something you enjoy. Let alone with Gemma on the receiving end. Although you had lived in Charming for five years, Gemma can admit she barely knows much about you.

You had never taken a liking to her. Which was fine for her, Gemma never liked you. She watched you arrive, a stranger to the ways of her lifestyle, but you somehow easily fit in. The moment her son laid eyes on you, Jax was incapable of escaping you. The hold you had over her son, Gemma couldn’t comprehend.

Five years, and not once did you allow Jax to cross the line of friendship. That’s why he couldn't get rid of Lisa. As long as the line remained uncrossed, Lisa believed there was hope.

You knew why Gemma didn’t like you. She feared the influence you had over her son, even if you didn’t recognize the full extent of it.

Lisa thought the way to Jax’s heart was sex. She was naive to believe her tactics would work. No matter how powerful, time and time again, men have fallen victim to the lure of a woman’s touch. Men, much more powerful than Jax Teller, had lost their families and fortunes to a woman able to get them in bed. That’s why Gemma permitted Lisa to stay around. Lisa was incapable of seeing the bigger picture, and that’s how Gemma wanted things to stay.

A woman blinded by the power and money she believed Jax possessed would never think to persuade him to desert it.

A woman who could see through the allure and convince Jax to do the same, was dangerous. That is why her comment comes out with a laugh.

“Lemme guess, your daddy’s locked up somewhere. Serving life for some crime he didn’t commit?”

“Might as well be,” you watch her smile dim as you ignore the bait. “He hasn’t laid eyes on me since I was born.”

A silence falls over the office as Gemma’s eyes study you. If you’re irritated by her previous statement, you show no sign.

“Well, you’re doing pretty good without him from what I hear.”

“And what have you heard?”

“You got a good-paying job waiting for you back in New York.” Tapping her cigarette against the rim of the ashtray, she meets your gaze. “How much time they give you to come here?”

You smile at her question.

Classic Gemma.

Skillfully distracting her prey before hooking them with unsuspecting bait. Only, you’ve been in the ring with her before.

“I took a week off.”

Leaning forward, she crushes her cigarette against the bottom of the ashtray.

“Well, since you’re gonna be here a while I got something for you–”

“I don’t need any favors, Gemma.”

Like many things in Charming, favors from Gemma Teller-Morrow came with strings attached.

“It’s not a favor, sweetheart.” Gemma’s eyes roll. “And it’s not from me.”

You watch her stand. She picks a key up from the board hanging behind her desk. Turning to face you she weighs it in her palm, her eyes taking in your current state of confusion.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she steps around the desk walking to the door. “We can finally get this hunk of trash out of the garage. It’s taking up space for potential customers.”

The “hunk of trash” Gemma referred to sits at the center of the garage. The red 1965 Ford Mustang is a sight for sore eyes. It was the last thing tying you to the father you couldn’t remember. Left with your mother, the car was the only thing she had bothered to keep that came from the man who disappeared faster than the ink could dry on your birth certificate.

“If it were up to me, I would have had it crushed at the junkyard when you left,” Gemma says, eyes tracking your movements as you step into the garage for a closer look. “But ya know Jax. He made sure the prospect kept it in pristine condition in case you ever came back.”

“It’s a good thing he doesn’t take after you.”

“You’re right,” Gemma’s nose scrunches at the comment. “Jackson has always taken after his father. Right down to the bleeding heart. That’s what got him killed.”

You jump, managing to catch the keys poorly cast in your direction.

“Phil.” Gemma waves the prospect over. “Follow her, so she can return her rental. Finally, give us a reason to get her car outta here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

"For someone who called me here, you sure delivered an icy welcome." Your comment stops Gemma in her tracks.

Her dark eyes narrow as she takes in your expectant expression. Your words may have stopped short, but the unspoken question is loud and clear.

Why the hell did you call me here?

"See you when you get back."

The prospect watches your eyes follow Gemma out of the garage. He offers you a warm smile as your eyes drift to him.

“So you’re the mystery owner,” he says, hand running over the hood. “Jax’s been gatekeeping this one.”

Your brow arches prompting him to elaborate.

“Everyone who sees this car asks to buy it,” he chuckles. “Just last week, some suit came through and offered Jax 60k, cash if he was willing to part ways with it. Gem was pissed when he said no.”

A smile spread across your lips at the thought of Jax resisting Gemma throwing a fit.

“I’m Phil.” He offers you his hand.

You drop the key in Phil’s hand before starting toward the garage’s entrance.

“Y/N. You can follow me.”

__

It's not up for discussion, Jackson.

150 kilos. Three weeks.

Damon Pope's voices echoes through his mind as Jax parks before the clubhouse.

His latest meeting with the kingpin was proving to be problematic.

150 kilos. Three weeks.

Jax had difficulty moving fifty kilos to meet Pope's last deadline. He cannot fathom how the kingpin expected him to move more than double that in the same length of time. Let alone convince the club to assist in the matter.

Jax wasn't naive--his table was divided. A divided table can lead to a king's downfall. Clay was a living testament.

Since the meeting, Jax had connected with the Mayan president. Alvarez hadn't bothered to ask if Jax was okay.

"Sorry about your friend, hermano," he'd sighed as he'd answered Jax's call.

The conversation delegated a meet-up for the two MCs. Alvarez knew better than most that the responsibilities of a king did not stop for a loss.

Even if Jax could secure help from the Mayans, it was still too much product.

Fuck.

"So, the rumors are true." The smile on Eli's face stretched into a grin as he watched Jax's pace stall. Damn. He loved catching the SAMCRO leader off guard. "Your girlfriend's back in town."

Jax lifts an unlit cigarette to his lips, eyes taking in the Lieutenant casually resting against the hood of your Mustang. He pauses to light it.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Right." Eli slowly drug out the word, his eyes taking in Jax's current state.

Since their last meeting, Jax had earned himself new bruises.

Jax allows the smoke to leave his lungs before raising his question.

"Is there a reason you're here?" It's a genuine question. What little patience Jax had was threatening to run thin as he took in Eli's smile.

A dry laugh escapes Eli's mouth, the sound tightening Jax's jaw.

Shrugging off the car, he invades the President's space, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"I keep trying to figure out how the fuck you manage to squirm outta every cage I manage to put you in," Eli's growled. "That murder charge was airtight."

"Clearly," Jax huffs. "It wasn't."

Dropping it to the ground, Jax ground the cigarette with his shoe.

"Look, man. If you came to ask how I got out, I can cut this enlightening conversation short. I don't know any more than you do." Jax allowed Eli's fiery eyes to search his.

All the Lieutenant found was two pools of cool blue. The tone of Jax's voice would have convinced most. Eli, however, knew Jax was a master of gatekeeping secrets.

"Now, I gotta go," lighting patting the man's chest, Jax ignored the gritting of Eli's teeth. "I'm sure you're aware, we both have jobs to do. Last time I checked, my taxes aren't paying for you to sit on your ass in my shop's lot."

Eli reacts quicker than Jax. His grip caught Jax's arm, bruisingly pressing into his skin, keeping him in place.

He felt Jax's body change in a matter of half a second. The calm, relaxed posture tensed as Eli's grip tightened. Jax's rigid stance paled in comparison to the frigid icy blue gaze that passed over Eli's face before lowering to his grip.

"There's the man I've been hearing about," Eli chuckled, his smile stretching as Jax's jaw locked into place. He tightened his grip, the slight flinch of Jax's left eye the only sign the pain had registered. "Thought you'd let Pope scare it outta ya."

"I suggest you move your hand," Jax's voice came out low and level, the threat pooling in his eyes loosening Eli's grip.

Eli's touch falls away, the pounding of the blood rushing in Jax's ears prompting Jax to take a step forward. His fight instinct had flipped on as quick as a switch. Jax catches sight of the panic that briefly flashes in the Lieutenant's eyes, Eli's right hand instinctively moving to the holster on his hip.

The pain registering against his right palm pulls Jax's gaze from Eli's holster. Relaxing his clenched fist, Jax forces a harsh breath from his lungs.

"Unless you plan on leaving your condolences, I suggest you get the fuck out of here, Eli," Jax growled.

He didn't wait for a response. Neither man can comprehend what force pulled Jax back. It guided him across the lot towards the clubhouse, prompting Jax to back down from a fight they both knew his rage would easily allow him to win.

"I'll admit I took you for a lot of things, Teller, but not the type of man that would blatantly disrespect Opie by playing nice with the man responsible for his death?"

Eli's words echoed across the empty lot.

They halt Jax's movements, forcing him to stop just shy of the door. A long second passes, Jax's fists clenching.

Eli waits, ready to receive Jax's backlash. He just needed verbal confirmation. A verbal confirmation of the relationship between the Oakland kingpin and SAMCRO.

But Eli's request was denied as Jax yanked the door open before disappearing inside.

--

You pass Phil another beer, watching as he slides it into the fridge. Phil is behind the bar restocking it in preparation for the meeting Jax had called.

Although most members of SAMCRO had filed through the door an hour ago, you had yet to see Jax. To pass the time, you had busied yourself with helping Phil complete small tasks around the clubhouse.

The prospect seemed to be thankful for your company. He quickly found what Jax liked about you. You were easy to talk to.

Your eyes pass over the crowded room. "So…any idea what this meeting is about?"

Phil's eyes briefly meet yours before returning to the beer you offer him. His voice lowers, prompting you to lean across the bar to hear.

"All I know is…there’s a big shipment the guys gotta vote on today."

"That explains why Jax is tense."

"Everyone is," Phil admits. "Pope is offering the club a lot of money if Jax can pull it off."

Your muscles tense. A cold shiver runs down your spine.

"Pope?"

"Damon Pope, some big hitter from Oakland—"

Phil tenses. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see Jax stalking through the door.

The laughter and conversations quickly die down as the President's return registers.

You watch as Lisa instantly perks up, her posture straightening as Jax's eyes drift to her. Seated at the opposite end of the bar, she has spent the last hour shooting daggers at you. The beer in her hand was nearly empty. She had tried to pass the time by flirting with Frankie Diamonds.

It didn't take more than a single look over for you to register how tight Jax was wound.

His eyes follow Lisa's gaze to you. His brow arches as his eyes meet yours.

“Your guard dogs are extra feisty today,” you note as he stops beside you.

"Can’t do much about that, darling," he sighs, reaching over the bar for a beer. “Not trying to get bit today.”

He glances over at you, surprised by your lack of comment. He takes a sip of his beer before settling on the stool next to yours. He doesn’t object as you take the bottle to do the same.

“Jax–”

“I’m good.” His response is automatic. He’s repeated it a handful of times today. Each time he said it, he believed it would move him one step closer to it becoming true.

“That’s…good,” your brow furrows, eyes watching as he slowly turns the ring on his left hand. “But that’s not what I was going to ask.”

Jax’s eyes lift to find yours focused on the bottle in your hand.

“Since when are you working with Damon Pope?”

To no surprise, your question is met with silence.

In all your years as friends, you had never desired to learn the details of the club’s business. Jax was thankful for your desire. It made it easier for him to filter out the bullshit in your presence.

Jax's brow raises as he accepts the bottle from you. “How’d you hear about that?”

It is your turn to be shocked by the presented question.

You hadn’t expected him to respond, let alone not attempt to deny your words. Instead, of deflecting the question, Jax had taken it head on. The look of confusion on his face causes you to swallow.

“Does it really matter?” You ask, suddenly wary his question may be an act of avoidance.

Jax’s jaw tightens his eyes slowly passing over the room. He releases his breath as his gaze lands on Phil. The prospect trying his best to avoid Jax’s gaze as he ferociously scrubbed a clean table with a rag.

“It does matter,” Jax’s gaze remains on Phil. “The club’s not advertising that information yet. We still got shit to work out—“

His eyes glance in your direction, his words stopping short. He knows he’s already said enough by confirming your suspicion.

“I know it’s not—“

“Your place to speak on?”

Jax watches you recoil at his harshly spoken words. The sight was one he’d hoped to never see from you again.

"Shit. I didn’t mean that.”

He sighs, hand running down his face. His eyes gripped shut. He tried his best to force down the anger still bubbling from his encounter with Eli. Lifting the bottle to his lips, how downed the chilled liquid to the last drop.

His tired eyes lifts to meet your gaze. When he speaks this time, his voice is softer.

“It’s just…I’ve been hearing everyone’s opinion on this all morning.”

“It’s a bad idea to work with him, Jackson.”

The conviction in your voice gives Jax pause. His brow furrows.

“What do you know about him?”

--

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#let me know what you think? #jax teller x black!reader #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #soa imagine #charlie hunnam imagine

[itspdameronthings]

Rooms And Sleeping Positions

Summary: Here is my theory from the ask i put in @rhoorl's box. About the Tf boys rooms,and sleeping positions. maybe just maybe there are others think @rhoorl, me and others thought the same way. Without further adue...

Person can tell alot about someone by The way a bedroom looks. From furniture to the decor. To the colors. So.. let's explore the bedrooms of Delta Force.

Ironhead Miller: 

Nothing special to say about the room. It's simple. Well organized. Few pics of family ,Santi,and Frankie. Neutral painted walls. Green colored sheets,and duvet. Even his favorite childhood blanket from home. Feels safe when he has a breakdown from his nightmares. Few pillows litter his bed. Next to a window is his favorite chair. Oh how much he loves it. Sits in there while he reads his endless books that he collected through the years. Although there is something missing. Someone to help him get through his mental ,and emotional state. Someone to love him. To keep him safe. On a gloomy, rainy day. He is reading a childhood book to ease his mind. Window opened slightly. Wind blowing the cutrians. Getting lost in the book, he didn't know a certain pair of soft hands on his shoulder," Thought you might need some company. I know how this weather makes you feel. " Putting the book. Pulls his guardian angel to his lap. Kiss her temple," Glade you are here my Cherry. Everytime your here. Brightens up my room. Also my very soul. " Cherry does her very best to tend to his needs. By staying over a lot. Before long. Some of her personal stuff appears in his drawers. For an event Will has another episode. 

Few rooms down is Benny's. His style reminds him of his love of sports from his youth. One wall hangs his first pair of gloves given by the love of his life. Next wall hangs a wall hanging of the farmhouse him and Will grew up in. On the nightstand is a picture of him and his baby. His soulmate. Oh how he missed her. Lays in his large bed with black sheets and red comforter. He rairly used since he never gets cold. He uses a light blanket. On another wall he has a mounted TV . Where he watches movies ,and sports. He too loves to read. Has a bookcase filled with books . Nothing military mind you. Not in his space where he wants to forget about that shit. On one nightstand lies a journal. Filled with thoughts from what he has been thinking about to his baby girl. Memories of their time together. 

Since he retired from fighting. He put his  soul in other passion . Singing. On this night  Benny sits on his windowsill strumming on his guitar.Singing softly. Till angelic voice joined him. Trying not to tear up. His love is here. Everything is good in his world. 

Santiago Garcia

Among the boys on the force Santiago Garcia's space is unlike the others. Blackout curtains on all of the windows. 800 count hotel sheets on his bed. Loads of pillows. Especially a body pillow he cuddles when he sleeps. As for personal touches? Not much. Few of his family members ( whom he doesn't talk about much.) Frankie knows why since they grew up together. Other pictures are some places he visited. That didn't cause him to have any bad memories. On his nightstand is a digital picture frame that stores private pictures of him and his special someone. He looks at it so he can rest. Waiting for her return. 

Frankie Morales

If anyone enters Frankie's room can tell he is a pilot. From the pictures to colors.just simple. Like he is now. Unlike he was before. One thing he has in common with Santi is the curtains. He needs to have his room dark so he can sleep. Manuals fills his bookcase. Also some books based on movies he has seen. He too has a pic of a special someone. His daughter who he gets to see from time to time. Bed is so simple the others tease him about it. He doesn't care it's comfortable. 

Sleep positions: 

All of them have weird sleeping positions. Had to do with their Army days. Now? Lets just say it can annoy them to no end. To something strange. 

William Miller: 

He is a side sleeper. Does he stay in one place? Nope! He tosses and turns on nights he has a nightmare. That's why he lays there. Looking up at the ceiling. Thinking about what bothered him. Reason why  he can't sleep through the night. 

Benny Miller: 

Oh the baby of the group. Can find him in different positions. From sleeping on his back to being sprawled out like a starfish. Usually happens after a hard workout. Off chance he has a nightmare? He is on his side clutching a pillow. Pretending it's someone there. 

Santiago Garcia: 

Oh he is all over the place. Different positions throughout the night. Starts out on his side. Then on his stomach.then sprawled out clutching his pillow. One thing though. He hates to sleep on his back.Why? Had to do that after his knee surgery ( yes he had to get one) . Being comfortable is so important to him. Says he needs to catch up on lost sleep. On a rainy day he would sleep the day away. 

Frankie Morales 

Side sleeper without a freaking doubt. Hardly moves . Unless he is having a bad dream where he is either in the middle of the bed, or leaning on the edge. Once he almost fell out of bed when he tried to reach for his phone. When he is in a deep sleep? Nothing can wake him unless someone yells in his ear.

#triple frontier #benny and will miller #benny miller #santi garcia #garett hedlund #charlie hunnam #charlie hunman #charlie hunnam imagine #oscar isaac #pedro pascal #francisco catfish morales

[watchtowerindistress]

... like i’m falling for you? (2/2) - arthur pendragon - guinevere!reader

A/N: Not sure if I liked how I ended this, but anyway...

Summary: Imagine meeting Arthur for the first time who is claiming you already as the love of his life aka his future wife.

Arthur Pendragon - the most infuriating man in all of Camelot who knew of his effect on women. As if you didn't already knew how his abdominal muscles looked. The destined King tended to take his shirt off in your presence any chance he could get after all.

Pairing: Arthur Pendragon x fem!reader (Lady Guinevere, no body description)

Warning: flirting, romantic!arthur, the sexualisation of Arthur’s upper body?, mentioned death, hinted suicide, language

Words: 3.6k

Read on AO3 | Get tagged

Today was a wonderful day, you thought. The birds were singing, only a mild breeze went through the air. Nothing in the world could dampen your mood; you surmised while inhaling a deep breath.

A fond smile still lingered on your lips when the air filled with joyful laughter. With the twist of your head, you discovered a band of children rushing towards you and being all adorable with their tripping feet.

Your eyes widened in surprise when their running feet came to a stop in front of you. “Well, hello there.”

With their hands hidden behind their backs, the children adorably glanced up at you with expectation in their bright eyes. A young girl among the group swayed coyly on her feet before smiling mysteriously. “We have a present for you, Lady Guin.”

You pressed your lips together before they could shift into a crooked smirk, knowing how hard it was for them to pronounce your name properly. You placed your hands on your hips in a playful manner. “I didn’t know it was my namesake day.”

The young girl scurried on her tiptoes towards you. Waiting for you to bow down until her mouth was inches from your ear. Her hand covered the shell of your ear, like she intended to reveal a secret only meant for your ears to hear. “It’s a surprise.”

You were now utterly curious by the mystery presented to you. You certainly didn’t imagine your day to go like this when you woke up in the morning, yet here you were. “By whom?”

The children giggled in anticipation.

A young boy nudged the girl with his elbow who chewed on her lip. She lowered her head before offering a flower crown made of daisies in the palms of her hand.

You raised your eyebrows and provided your hands out of reflex. “Oh my. Is that for me?” It was probably the mere presence of those children that made you feel touched by the gesture, not to mention the higher and unfamiliar pitch in your voice.

The children nodded their heads in agreement. If you weren’t affected already, the action of the boys certainly did it. When they revealed bouquets of flowers behind their backs as a present.

You felt almost speechless and in awe of their actions.

What was the meaning of this?

“They’re so beautiful.” You bent down slightly, waiting for the girl to adorn your head with the flower crown. “How do I look?”

The bright-eyed young girl gushed, “So beautiful.”

“So, tell me truth, what’s the occasion?” You held the flowers to your chest and tried to discern which youngling was the most inclined to divulge the truth. Your gaze met the lass, knowing there was a hidden reverence behind those glistening eyes.

“It’s a secret, we’re not supposed to tell,” the lass whispered.

The secrecy behind it all only enhanced the suspicion you felt. A certain someone wouldn’t be above luring in children to do his bidding.

That sounded way more nefarious in your head.

You shrugged your shoulders. “All right. But if I guessed it on my own, you wouldn’t have broken your promise, right?”

She swayed coyly. “Perhaps.”

“Let me guess: it’s someone tall, blond and with the most hideous face you’ve ever seen?”

The boys chuckled, clearly appreciating your jesting.

Indignation remained in the girl’s voice when she replied, “He’s not ugly.”

Your suspicions were fully confirmed now. Although the romantic idea of Arthur acquiring the help of young children to bestow you with flowers certainly didn’t seem that far-fetched.

“Uh ... why am I not surprised, Arthur?” you muttered under your breath.

“Did you have a wonderful day, my love?”

You heard Arthur in the distance as he tried to catch up with you while you wandered along the shoreline. You didn’t know what to make of his out of breath words and his content disposition. No matter what you did - how mean or how much you resisted the future king - Arthur almost appeared mesmerized by you. 

His voice still took you by surprise as he came from behind you to walk alongside you. Arthur placed his hands behind his back in a nonchalant manner.

“As if you don’t already know.”

Arthur pouted his lips. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“Oh, someone’s playing coy?” Turning around, you walked backwards while staring at Arthur with a smirk on your lips. “That’s not like you, Pendragon.”

Arthur chuckled, with his gaze briefly meeting the ground, almost shyly in a way.

It really wasn’t like him. The rare moment of vulnerability took you aback. Arthur always flaunted his arrogance and confidence in the faces of his fellows. Months ago, when all of this started you wouldn’t have thought that Arthur was even the right fit for king, but now things had changed, you saw him grow and transform into the person he was meant to be.

Arthur stroked the back of his neck and whispered with a raspy voice, “Did you like them?”

You deliberately turned your body until your back was facing Arthur again. “Oh, the children were very nice. Adorable, really.”

An innate part of you could sense Arthur rolling his eyes behind you at your evasive techniques. “You’re hilarious.”

“Thank you,” you teased, “Still, no one told me you were secretly a romantic.”

Arthur smirked and shook his head. “Only for the people that matter.”

You pressed your hand to your chest teasingly, as if you tried to wilfully stop your heart from jumping out of your chest. “Aww, what a gentleman. How have you not killed women with your charm already? You are truly a menace for society.”

“Well, would you believe me if I told you the others pale in comparison to you?”

After a pregnant pause, you groaned in frustration while rolling your eyes. “That was so gaudy.”

Arthur huffed loudly. “I know. I regretted it as soon as I said it.”

This was truly one of the most beautiful landmarks of what this country had to offer, you thought in bliss, when you bathed in the lake. Close by, the splashing sounds of the waterfall calmed your mind at your back.

Your eyes followed your hand as it slid in circles under the water. You collected the fresh water in your palms. A sigh left your lips when you cleaned your face.

Your body tensed at hearing footsteps in the distance. Swimming backwards to shroud your body behind the stream, you waited with bated breath for the incoming person.

A frustrated exhale left you as soon as you saw who intruded on your alone-time.

Walking with an idle swagger along the shore that only he was capable of, Arthur pulled his arm behind his back. The moment when he pulled up his chemise, his dumbfounded eyes caught your clothes neatly folded on the ground.

Your voice yanked Arthur out of his thoughts, “This lake is already occupied.”

Arthur’s eyes lit up when they met your concealed face above the water level.

You sighed when Arthur let go of his chemise and his hands dropped to his waist again until you could no longer see his abdominal muscles on bare display.

Disappointment filled you once you no longer could appreciate his body which soon turned into exasperation as soon as that realization hit you.

Arthur’s slow smirk did unimaginable things to your body. “Well, hello, Lady Guinevere. What a nice coincidence to find you here.” He glanced at you from under his eyelashes. “Mind if I join you, love?”

You swam forward, but still aimed to keep your breasts submerged. Inwardly thanking the Lady of the Lake for letting the water have a dark mixture of green and blue, you became fully aware that you portrayed an uncanny resemblance to a Syren. “Go find your own lake.”

Arthur’s mocking glare made your stomach swoop deliciously. “You’re not the boss of me. Besides, this is one of the few that has a waterfall. Perhaps I like the view.”

You narrowed your eyes, not knowing if Arthur meant the waterfall or you since he gazed unwaveringly at you while saying it.

“I was here first.”

Arthur placed his hands on his hips. “And I intend to become the next King of England, so I could just command you to play nice with me.”

You exhaled heavily. “That didn’t work when your father commanded me to and it’s not going to work now. You would force a fair maiden such as myself to indulge your whim?”

Arthur muttered under his breath, “You’re neither a damsel nor fair.”

With a strained voice, you retorted, “I’m going to kill you if your gaze wanders where it shouldn’t.”

A bright smile flashed on Arthur’s lips. “Lovely. What bliss to frolic with you nakedly in the water,” he mused and continued pulling up his light chemise.

You inhaled deeply while your gaze felt drawn to his bare rippling stomach.

Arthur’s movements paused. Looking up into his ocean eyes, a small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth once he caught you in the act.

Arthur lifted a finger and twirled it in a casual manner. “Turn around, love. I’m a shy fella.”

You shook your head but acquiesced to his request before you muttered under your breath. “You haven’t been shy a day in your life.”

“What was that, my Lady?” Arthur called out from behind you.

“I said, whatever your Lordship commands.”

Arthur chuckled. You heard splashing sounds before the ripples of water reached your body. “Rest assured, your maidenhood remains intact for now.”

You turned your head with a crooked smirk on your lips. The naked chest of Arthur caught your eye as he swam towards you with relaxed strokes. The muscles on his arms and shoulders straining were a menace of a distraction.

Arthur licked his lips, noticing your reaction. “Am I making you nervous, my Lady?” he whispered.

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“What do you take me for?” Arthur tilted his head. “Ruffling your feathers? Yes. Making you uncomfortable? No.”

You stroked backwards, trying to regain some control by gaining some distance. “How about you stay on your side of the lake, and I’ll stay on mine, your Highness?”

“What’s with the decorum? Besides, if I’m not wrong, all this land is my own, so I shall decide to spend it here if I please.”

“Shall I remind you that it’s not yours yet?”

Teasingly swimming closer, Arthur whispered mockingly, “Blasphemy.”

“You consider yourself a God now?”

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. “If the shoe fits. I don’t know if you noticed, but I consider my physique rather godlike, at least.”

You rolled your eyes. Sometimes Arthur needed to be taken down a peg. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Arthur reached for his chest, with a groaning sound. “Why do you keep insisting on hurting my feelings, my love?”

“Someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

“Yes, because imagine what would happen if you do let your guard down for once.”

Arthur’s statement got a bit too close for comfort. You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t pretend that you know me. The last time we met we were children.”

Arthur stretched out his arms in the water. “Well, then, don’t presume that you know me, love. Why do you hate me so?” He brushed the water from his face and beard. “Quite the feat, I must admit. To carry so much revulsion for just one person.”

“I wouldn’t call it revulsion. More like annoyance.”

“All right. Why can’t you stand me? It’s really starting to bother me, you know?”

“And we wouldn’t want that, would we? I reckon there have been a few people who you’ve wronged over the years.”

You circled each other in the water, trying to outdo the other like the two of you were always known to do.

Arthur smirked. “Now what makes you say that?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Just a hunch.”

“I’m not the same as I used to be as a lad.”

“Be that as it may, it’s hard to differentiate with the precedent you set. In the end, it’s more telling how you behaved as a young boy and how you turned out to be.”

Arthur tilted his head, exhaling. “You really can’t forget the thing I did with your hair, can’t you?”

You frowned. “I’m not talking about that.” You tried to swim away.

Arthur let out a guffawing sound. You heard the splashing water behind you.

“Oh, come on. It’s been years. I’m sorry, okay? I was horrible as a child. How can I acquit myself?”

Finally hiding behind the curtain of the waterfall, you faced Arthur again, once you were barely visible. “Why? How far are you willing to go?”

“Do you want me to get down on my knees, or something? To beg?” Arthur followed you and slid through the waterfall.

Your eyes lit up at the imaginary picture Arthur painted in your mind. “Oh, a begging Arthur... Now that could be interesting.”

Sexual tension thickened in the air the longer his dark gaze lingered on you. “Anyone ever tell you; you have the disposition of a sadist?”

“Posh words for someone who decisively hates everything aristocratic.”

Arthur scoffed in indignation. “I read. Besides, I don’t hate you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You’d call me upper class?”

“You wouldn’t? I mean, despite everything, you enjoyed the advantages of being a noble woman.”

With a glowering face, you replied tersely, “You mean before or after your uncle decided to kill my father?” It was too hard to look at him, you realized when you shook your head. With a heavy breath, you continued, “He was a great man, you know?”

Arthur lowered his head until his hair fell on his forehead. “I remember him,” he whispered under his breath.

“Oh, you do? That’s surprising.” There was no malicious intent behind your words. Merely the truth of your time at Camelot felt like ages ago. And the memory of your father was waning piece by piece.

“What happened to him?”

“Not a whole lot to tell, really. I fled Camelot at the behest of my parents, told me it was no longer safe. They instructed Bedivere to keep me safe as we fled through the gates. Promised me they would soon follow as soon as they could. A few days later, I hear of my father’s death. A hunting accident. And before I knew it, one of Bedivere’s spies … brought me the dagger of my father. That’s all I have left of our legacy.”

“What happened to your mother?”

You gazed into the depths of the lake. “Her mind couldn’t take it. It’s like this idea of this great love. Makes it unbearable for you to live in a world where it’s gone,” your voice became a whisper, like you were uttering a secret.

“Made it unbearable for her when she … took a bath and didn’t surface again.” You looked up at Arthur again, with a deep breath leaving you.

“You know, it’s strange, how two lives can be so different, yet share so many similarities?” you stated once you realized how much Arthur’s and your pasts interwove.

“I’m sorry.”

You blinked at hearing Arthur's sincere apology. “Don’t be. Life is tough. I learned that the hard way. If those things hadn’t happened to me, I never would have known. Do you sometimes imagine what it could’ve been like if you had become the heir you were meant to be? To prosper into something great?”

“I would have turned into the arrogant prick you have always seen me as.”

You chuckled thickly. “Would have been interesting though. Court would have been fun.”

“Careful, love. You almost sound nostalgic, yearning even.” Arthur crossed the distance.

It felt like you two were in your own little world, with the sound of the waterfall drowning out the outside world.

“And we can’t have that, can we?" You brushed your hair away before swallowing thickly.

Arthur’s body was glinting from the play of lights from the water, making him look as tempting as a Syren.

“What are you so afraid of? Is Bedivere having your hide the moment you step out of line and lose propriety?” he whispered in fascination.

“Put my hide out of your mouth,” you teased darkly.

Arthur’s eyes glinted at the threat in your voice. “Why don’t you make me?”

You hummed, wading through the water. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You stopped in front of Arthur before glancing up at him.

A bashful smirk tugged at his lips. “You know me so well.”

Tilting your head back, you hummed an alluring sound. “And what would you suggest I do?”

Arthur’s eyes brightened with enthrallment. He pursed his lips. “I could think of something.” Arthur rubbed his mouth, giving off what he was truly feeling.

You chuckled at his enticing ways while rolling your eyes. “Why am I not surprised, Pendragon?”

“Let me put it this way, I wouldn’t be opposed to you showing your appreciation this way.”

“Appreciation, huh?”

“I think I would die a very happy man indeed,” Arthur whispered quietly.

“I bet you would.” Pressing your lips together, you brushed your fingertips in exploration along his smooth pectoral muscles and neck.

Arthur’s body tensed at the intimate touch that turned into a shiver.

Stroking his bearded jaw, you watched Arthur close his eyes in bliss and start to breathe heavily. You leaned forward and supported your hands on his shoulders, letting your breath ghost over Arthur’s lips. Once you looked up again, his eyes remained closed. You bit your lip while scooping water and letting the cold liquid slosh over his head and face.

Arthur exhaled a gasping breath. He wiped the droplets from his face. “You cheeky little-”

You chuckled and covered your face to shield your teasing, feeling curious about the next word. “Little – what? Wanker? Bastard?”

Arthur bowed his head with a smirk. “Vixen. That’s cruel, you know? Hurting a poor chap’s feelings like that.”

“Oh, really? Do lead me into the direction of this poor chap.” You smiled at the reminder of a familiar conversation.

In return, Arthur beamed in adoration. He tilted his head and let a few strands of his hair dangle over his forehead. “Do you enjoy toying with me so?”

You pursed your lips in thought, shrugging.  “What can I say? It has become one of my favourite pastimes.”

“Still, I believe a part of you secretly enjoys when you receive all of my devotion.” With an intense gaze, Arthur stared at you without uttering a sound. His stare slightly flustered you. Only Arthur was able to render you speechless – only at times – with a mere look.

You saw it coming, maybe because of your instincts or because of the look in Arthur’s eyes. You could just tell.

His gaze alternated between your eyes and your lips. His gaze alone made your heart beat thunderously in your chest. Your skin grew hotter with every passing second.

It felt like eternity before Arthur leaned forward with a soft smile.

A part of you considered what it would feel like to be kissed by Arthur Pendragon of all people and to kiss him in return. When the Lady of the Lake and the prophecy of Merlin have been on your mind for so many years, you couldn’t help imagining how it would feel like. You imagined it would be passionate, sensual, maybe even fun. Yet, nothing could have prepared you for the reality. How soft Arthur’s lips were. How his hand would frame your jaw. The warmth of his body as it shrouded you from everything around you, keeping you safe and warm.

You absolutely hated how clichéd you sounded. How you had turned into one of those damsels you promised yourself never to turn into.

Your body went still at the intimate touch before you opened your mouth with a gasp.

Arthur groaned at your exhaling sounds. His lips chased after yours, needing to be closer. As soon as you gave your unspoken consent, his tongue explored the inside of your mouth.

You stroked the nape of Arthur’s neck, needing to feel him. Despite you being naked Arthur remained respectful.

He could’ve yielded to his baser impulses and unashamedly clung his naked chest to yours, but instead chose to merely lean forward with his lips and hands covering your skin. With merely a whisper apart. Calling Arthur a gentleman in your head sounded almost ludicrous yet the concept strangely fitted him.

Arthur’s wet tongue danced with yours, with a curious passion that made your stomach clench. A wistful moan left your lips. Tightening his grip, Arthur breathed in deeply.

You gingerly stroked Arthur's beard, feeling the hair brushing against your neck, tickling you.

Shivers wrecked your body before you giggled.

Arthur nestled his face into your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, humming to himself. “You taste good.”

“And your beard tickles.”

Arthur chuckled. “And for a second I wondered about the cause of your jest. My ego can only take so much bruising from you.” His warm breath tingled against your skin, as he pressed lazy kisses on your throat, nuzzling your pulse point.

Your arm lingered on his shoulder before quietly muttering, “I think we need to get out of the water.”

Arthur dropped his forehead in the crook of your neck, exhaling puffs of air against your throat. “And here we just started getting to know each other.”

You observed your fingers on Arthur’s shoulder. “My skin is getting wizened.”

He lifted his head and sent you an appraising gaze. “All right. But no more avoiding me. I’ll save you a seat during dinner.” With a smouldering gaze, he winked.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“No, my love, just a promise.”

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @lelapine @nefri-black @affabletimelady @normatural​ 

#steph writes #watchtowerindistress #king arthur: legend of the sword #king arthur imagines #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine #arthur x guinevere

[tash880i]

I'm always wet for him and him only. 🧎🏻‍♀️

#charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam imagine #henri charriere #jackson teller #jax teller #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller imagine #jax teller smut #jax teller x reader

[carni-val]

The Light At the End of the Hallway [Jax Teller]

pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader [from Pomegranate Seeds]

summary: When the events of that fateful night caught up to the two of them, Jax did what he was always taught to do.

warnings: Slight angst, spoilers for Pomegranate Seeds

author's notes: Hey y'all, so I've been thinking about writing this for some time now but after seeing this photo prompt from @writer-wednesday, I was inspired to write it. I guess you can consider this an AU of some sorts? But this does follow my Pomegranate Seeds fic, so if you haven't read that, I suggest doing so before reading this! I hope you all enjoy it and thank you so much for reading.

Charlie Hunnam Masterlist | Jax Teller Masterlist | Pomegranate Seeds Masterlist

A whirring buzz sounded, breaking Jax from his thoughts. He put the book he was reading flat down against his chest and craned his neck to look over at the correctional officer staring at him through the bars of the jail cell he now inhabited.

As the cell door slid to the side, Jax sat up in bed, guard raised high in the face of authority.

“You got a visitor,” the CO informed him, moving to the side of the opening to allow him to walk through.

Jax huffed out a sigh, his head bowing as he debated declining the offer. The idea sent a deep pain coursing through his chest. His heart could never deny her.

Jax nodded once as he stood up and made his way out of the cell. In the hallway, his eyes caught sight of the caged light hanging just outside his cell. It beamed brightly today; the previous bulb dying out yesterday and this one was dying to escape the confines it now found itself in. It made the worn out bars that made up the door to his own cage look all the more grimy. The slim slice of cushion was a poor excuse for a mattress, but at least the pillow was firm. At least it was him instead of her.

“Let’s go,” the CO prompted once Jax’s hands were cuffed in front of him.

He kept his face stoic, showing no sign of emotion because they were all so jumbled together inside him that he didn’t know which one to feel first: pain that would inevitably force itself into the light sooner or later; tranquility at the thought of seeing her face; or frustration that she just didn’t listen.

Jax only nodded to a few familiar faces he’d befriended whilst here; some who were friends on the outside, and others who provided protection, goods, and services. They made things a little more bearable in here.

He walked through the bleak hallways with the CO following closely beside him. He was used to having people by his side; whether it was the Sons or her, but the jingling of keys on this guy’s hip and the look of disdain permanently etched into his features made Jax’s lip curl in annoyance.

There was a window on the door leading into the visitor’s room. Just one last barrier to walk through until he was in her vicinity again. The door opened and Jax stepped in, eyes locked on her the entire time. Every time he spotted her in a crowded room, he became more and more convinced that the skill was innate. He blocked out all the other men wearing orange pants and white t-shirts; they were all preoccupied with their own loved ones anyways; with returning to the humanity that had been stripped from them the moment they walked into their cells.

She was smack dab in the middle of the room, keeping her eyes down at her folded hands as she waited impatiently, her leg bouncing underneath the table. He’d only gotten a few steps closer until her eyes latched onto his like a magnet.

He tried to keep his face as stoic and natural as he could, to show her that she didn’t need to come and see him every chance she got, but his heart stopped beating for a moment as he took in the weight of her stare; it blanketed over him the way she sometimes would when they would lie in bed together.

When she stood up and pulled him into a tight hug after his cuffs were undone, the smell of her perfume made him dizzy and he found himself clutching onto the very thing that made him feel something anymore.

He missed this: feeling something. But feeling something in here was dangerous and seeing her out in the open like this instead of in private made his stomach clench uncomfortably. He didn’t want all of these eyes on her.

They sat across from one another at the table and it had only been a week but he swore she was even prettier than before.

He felt her cool wedding band against his hand and he felt his lip curling again at the rules that prohibited him from wearing his matching one. Something he’d dreamed of showing off all his life taken away from him in the blink of an eye. But still, he was glad it was him.

“I told you, you can’t show up like this,” Jax tried to keep his tone firm but with her gaze watching his every move, taking it all in and storing it in her mind the way he was doing with her, melted his steely resolve into a puddle of silver.

“I know,” her voice was shaky. She was still trying to deal with all of this, despite the two months that seemed to fly by; two months that barely made a dent into his prison sentence. “I just had to see you.”

Her hands were shaking and he clutched them tighter in his. She’d been having a hard time with all of this — so was he, but he was just better at hiding it.

He hoped she didn’t see the new scars on his knuckles that were forming. He’d gotten into his fair share of fights here; some that were provoked by outside forces, but all of them an outlet for the molotov cocktail of emotions that had been brewing inside of him.

“That’s why you tell me on the phone and I set up a private meeting for us.”

She let out a shaky sigh, her head bowing as she tried to compose herself again. He could feel tears prickling the back of his eyes but he swallowed back the lump in his throat and clutched her hands tighter. This is why they needed a private room.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His heart pinched in guilt and he let his lips latch onto her delicate hands, relishing in the metal of her rings against his warm flesh. He pulled away before he could give the officers something else to bark at him about.

Jax ducked his head, eyes meeting in the short distance. “I’m happy to see you,” he promised as he let her hands go. “I just don’t want all of these guys seeing you and knowing who you are. I don’t want the club getting caught up in any of this again.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and straightened up in her seat, feigning bravery. “You’re right,” she agreed, knowing first hand just how hard he worked to follow through on his father’s wishes for the club.

The Sons had just gotten themselves clean of all the mud Clay dragged them through and he wasn’t gonna let all of that hard work go to waste.

Jax longed to reach out and caress her cheek; to feel the warm, supple skin beneath his tired hands. To run his thumb under her puffy, red eyes and soothe the weight there, to take it on and shoulder it.

He listened intently to everything she had to tell him about the outside, though there wasn’t much new information. They spoke on the phone as much as they possibly could, Jax even getting a hold of a cell phone he kept strategically hidden in his cell where he’d text her late at night, reminding her of his love for her. Cryptically reminding her that he didn’t regret how any of this played out.

She had a tendency to overthink in the middle of the night and he wanted to soothe her the best way he could. It served as a comfort to him too; a distraction from the screaming matches that took place in the middle of the night for whatever reason, his cellmate’s chainsaw-like snore, and the lack of her warmth next to him in bed.

She was falling apart at the seams, but she’d pick herself up again. She had the club to help her with anything she needed and Abel to take care of. He’d be the same if the roles were reversed, maybe more so than her, but he’d been here before. She never had.

A few years after that night at The Charming Florist, the woman that Hale had arrested was released from prison with a clear bill of physical and mental health, and she didn’t waste any time filing a police report on her missing boyfriend. When the cops started sniffing around about that night, they tried to reassure themselves that Hale had nothing — it happened so many years ago — but as the investigation went on, they had to come up with a plan. There was no question in Jax’s mind about what he had to do. It was what JT taught him to do for his Old Lady and what Elijah expected of him; a silent promise he’d made to his deceased father-in-law.

He didn’t regret it.

They were just starting to forget about everything, and Jax had even gotten a laugh or two out of her, but the CO’s bellowing voice announcing that their time was up shot the mood straight into the dirt again.

Heavy hearts weighed in their chests as they stood up and embraced one another again. She clutched onto the white t-shirt he was wearing and his arms latched around her like a vice.

“Next time, call first,” he said lowly to her.

She nodded and he felt her tears staining his neck. He brought his hand to the back of her head, clutching it as he whispered promises to her that everything would be okay. Lowen was working on all of it right now; his sentence could still be reduced, they just had to figure out how. The story Jax spun to the cops was a good one and made him solely responsible for the murder that took place. He just hoped it wasn’t too good and afforded him some kind of leeway into a shorter sentence.

Hale had a hand to play in it, no doubt, but he wasn’t buying it entirely. Jax could see it in the way he looked at him during the interrogation. It was a hard sell, but he knew Hale loved her almost unconditionally, so when Jax played into that, Hale eventually turned the other cheek.

Jax pressed a kiss to her lips, savouring the feeling of her kissing him back and her hands resting on his waist while his fingers entangled in her hair. He missed her delicate touch; often finding his mind fleeting back to their most recent conjugal visit and relishing in the way her fingertips danced over his torso and how soft her hair felt against his arm as it was curled under her to hold her close to him. How the end of her nose bumped against his as they lay facing one another; the distance between them nearly non-existent so all they could see was each other and it almost felt like they were back home again; like what happened at the shop stayed between them, like Jax didn’t take the fall for her, like they were together at home and happy, just like they’d always dreamed of being.

At the bark of an officer, Jax let his lips pull away from hers, keeping her close enough to finally tell her what he needed to say — what she needed to hear — clearly and earnestly, “I don’t regret it.”

He released her before the COs could come pry him off of her. He didn’t want them anywhere near her, so he held out his hands willingly, paying attention to the cool metal against his hot skin to try and steel himself from the sound of her gasps as she cried even harder. He swallowed the lump in his throat but his eyes watered nonetheless.

Jax bowed his head and followed the CO’s lead back to his cell.

The light perched outside of his cell was still as bright as ever and Jax found himself focusing in on it again. Its rays of light extended beyond its cage, beaming out optimistically, and the bulb itself seemed like it would break the shackles around it any second now.

Relief flooded his wrists once the handcuffs were off.

Once he was back in his cell, Jax kept his eyes on the light, the bars of his cell door obscuring his view momentarily before the CO walked away.

A smile began to tug on Jax’s pink lips before he made his way to his bed and lay down, picking up his book and settling into place on his mattress. He took one last glimpse at the light before finding his place amongst the words on the page again, smiling, because he knew Lowen would help him find a way; because he would be okay for as long as he needed to be in here; because it was him instead of her; and because he kept his Old Lady safe and out of trouble.

#jax teller #jax teller imagine #Charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #writer wednesday

[charmingsoa]

✶ Where the Wild Things Are: Prequel ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■

⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃

Warning: Please read with caution. This story will include: drug use, physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. miscarriages, sexual content, alcohol use, homicide, cursing, etc. ★ If You would like to be tagged in future updates, simply leave your username in the comments.

When I look back on my life – I often wonder if I made the right choices when I was younger. I obviously got to my place in life because of what happened all those years ago in California. Hell, there were times when I didn’t even think I would make it out alive. Growing up, my parents were very strict – almost authoritarian. My father had fought for his country in WWII and my mother was your typical housewife. The picture-perfect look was what they strived for – putting my brothers and I in whatever activities they could. There were structured rules that were drilled into our heads from day one.

No elbows on the table Respect your parents and your elders Girls and woman are to bow down to menfolk and do what they’re told. Women are forbidden to wear pants or short skirts. Girls can attend secondary school but will not be allowed to attend college. Marriage, motherhood, and the act of obeying your husband is the most important role in a woman’s life.

I distinctly remember my father telling me that if I wanted to dress like a whore, I can plant myself on the side of the highway and start making a living for myself. I spent most of my childhood bowing down to everything my father said. He instilled that fear in me as a young girl – always being on the back end of his belt or switch if I was “bad” enough. I was the only daughter – I needed to be picture perfect and like a doll. My mother would stand idly by as he inflicted his abuse on me – only doing so because he loved and cared about me.

Total bullshit if you ask me.

I guess you can say with all the structure and ruling that fell at the hand of my father – you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that I rebelled. Starting at the early age of 13, I snuck out of the house to meet the boys from the wrong sides of the tracks. We would listen to the devil’s music as my father called it – getting high as kites.  My flower-patterned dress would be hiked up above my waist – my legs wrapped tightly around the guy’s hips – as they pounded into me. My mother always preached that a girl should stay pure until the night of their wedding -giving the gift of virginity to their awaiting husband.

 I lost that gift behind the First Methodist Church to a kid three grades ahead of me. It was meaningless and hurt like hell, but after that I couldn’t get enough.

By the time I hit 16, I had fucked half the senior class. I gained a reputation as the 10th grade slut – willing to do anything and anyone. Now, was this true – partially. I didn’t care if you were the ugliest guy in class – if you had a dick then I was ready and willing. I was never one to seek the guys out first. They would come to me and a couple minutes later they would be making me cum. There were rumors that I was a child prostitute – my parents were less than thrilled to hear that be brought up during a meeting with the principal.

At that point, I was pulled out of the school and sent to an all-girls catholic school about 45 minutes from home. My father made sure to drive me every day and would stay on the premises until school was over. Even if I wanted to ditch class and run away, Roy Landry was watching like a fucking hawk. I managed to mellow out a little once I graduated high school – I guess being locked up like Rapunzel will do that to people. I wasn’t allowed to go to prom – parties thrown by the other girls - I was isolated in my room. While my brothers were living their lives, I was stuck watching Walter Cronkite on the CBS Evening News with Brenda and Roy ever night.

I’m sure you’re trying to figure out where I’m going with all this information – I swear it’s important given the truth you’re about to hear.

A girl who hitchhiked all the way to California- fell in love with two brothers who despised each other – watching as they both fell into the pits of hell by creating the most dangerous motorcycle gang in Northern Cali – my story has to start somewhere, right?

#jax teller imagine #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler #benny the bikeriders #the bikeriders imagine #the bikeriders #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #1960s #Spotify

[hotdamnhunnam]

On Your Knees (fic teaser)

UPDATE: This fic is now posted!

A/N: Hello my dears! It’s been a minute since I’ve posted on here. I still intend to be inactive for the most part, BUT of course Kai has stolen and broken my heart, and this “on your knees” gif struck at my inner slut 💘 So here we are! This is a teaser for a fic that will have lots of smut, while also giving Kai some backstory that I feel he deserves and I wanted to share what I’ve got so far!

“On your knees.”

It’s been forever and a day, since you last laid your eyes on Kai. Since then you’ve searched for him across the whole entire fucking sky. Whatever words you had expected him to say… you never would have dreamt of these.

On your knees.

The blood in your veins is on fire; it burns as the blue of his gaze starts to freeze. The blaze rises higher, so desperate to melt down this fortress of ice that you hadn’t believed you would find. Paid the rumors no mind—he’s a bounty hunter or a gun for hire, who would sell his soul to any well-paying buyer, or so everybody agrees—yet you’ve come here to seek out the true heart of gold that you know lies behind. But all gold can be sold and it seems that he’s taken his fees.

And now he’s set on taking whatever he damn well may please.

Your voice escapes your throat pathetically. “Kai, it’s me…”

Cocks his head. Lifts his brow. Silent laughter at what you just said. Obviously. But who you are doesn’t mean shit to him now. “Aye, I see.”

You might just choke. The heart that never once stopped beating for this godforsaken rogue just fucking broke.

He snickers down as if the beating of your heart is just a joke. The curl of those cruel lips holds even more force than his words. And that’s what brings you to your knees and makes you weak, so weak it hurts, as he comes close and rests his palm against your cheek, piercing your soul straight to the core with just one stroke.

Straight to the core. Summon what strength you have to speak, unsure whether the vows that you once made have any value anymore. “I’ve come back to you just as I swore…”

“Of course,” he utters as those ice-blue eyes seek out and strike the deepest truth in yours. “You’ve come to me just as you were before: still nothing but a worthless fucking whore.”

--- End teaser ---

If you’d like to be tagged in this fic if and when I post it, just let me know! I don’t plan to tag my full taglist since that list was from aeons ago 🙃

As always much love to all of my fellow Hunnam hoes! 💕

#charlie hunnam #rebel moon #kai #charlie hunnam fic #rebel moon fic #kai fic #charlie hunnam fanfiction #rebel moon fanfiction #kai fanfiction #charlie hunnam imagine #rebel moon imagine #kai imagine #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #kai x reader #kai x you

[miagomez-1509]

#celebrities #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam x you #charlie hunnam fic #charlie hunnam characters #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #jax teller #jax teller imagine #jax teller x you #raleigh

[midnight-serendipity]

Better than the Fantasy: Chapter Three

 Pairing: Jax Teller x Female OC (AU - Older Man, Younger Woman, College Girl, Secret Identity)

Rating M: (Sexual Content, Violence, Swearing, Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Marital Issues)

Synopsis: Freshly exonerated and newly-minted president, Jax feels out of touch with everything around him, and somewhere amid the hullaballoos, he lands himself in an online site, enticed with the company of a masked stranger, who unknowingly had closer ties to the club than both of them could have ever guessed.

Word count: 7.7k

Chapter 3: Lace and String

Observant blue eyes rounded the table, taking in the set of somber faces surrounding it. Gone was the jubilant air that swirled around the clubhouse three nights ago. In its stead was a heavier, despondent mood. The club president didn’t need a mirror; he knew he reflected his brothers’ expressions. He sighed, just before his blues passed a not-so-new addition to the table. There, sandwiched between Happy and Juice, and looking a helluva lot like he’s just brought home the gold was Kip. Yeah, Jax heard he got patched while some of them were in Stockton.

That’s some good news for a change. 

He didn’t know how many church meetings the kid had already been to. Judging by the all-too-pleased smile that certainly looked out of place, Jax guessed not much. Stifling a laugh, he moved on with his scrutiny.

Despite the Antarctic treatment from his girlfriend, Jax slept like a baby Friday night. Thanks to Gemma’s pep talk. Feeling like they were all in need of a much-deserved rest, the prez decided to push church further. Not that he reaped any wins from his own good deed. With Tara very much hung-up on her ice throne the whole weekend, Jax decided to shift his sights back to the club. With each new day, the gears of his brain drove themselves to exhaustion as he struggled to weave the threads of his thoughts into something bigger – clearer. And as each day ended, it took with it a little of the bravado he earned Friday night. So much that when he woke up this morning, that air of confidence swirling within his veins was flatter than a popped balloon.

Fuckin’ hell. What do I bring to the table?

And that was when his hopes started spiraling downhill. Down to the cold tiles of his bathroom. Because what kind of president held his very first church with no agenda?

Jax Fuckin’ Teller it seemed.

Although it wasn’t because he didn’t know what he wanted for the club – that was actually the easiest, simplest part. Going back two years ago, it was still clear as day how he had first brought in talks about the club getting out of guns. Not everyone was swayed with the notion. But their then-VP was confident that eventually, he could get the whole table to his side.

That, however, was before the whole of Charming PD swarmed into their clubhouse like bees to honey and had the half of them cuffed. Now, still reeling with the aftermath, Jax was clueless as a newborn bub. Not only did his plans crash and burn to the ground faster than a Boeing gone defunct, but all avenues in his pocket were already as outdated as Unser.

Then, there was the Cartel and he knew a simple sorry ese wasn’t going to cut it with them.

But even if he didn’t know where to begin this time around and even if his ideas kept going in circles, he owed it to everyone in this room to try. Again, his eyes surveyed the room, this time meeting each of his brothers’ gazes. One by one they tipped their chins in silence. In trust. In blind faith.

And that was the fuel to his fire.

He let out an exhale and straightened in his chair, placing his palms on the table. “First thing I wanna say is congratulations to our brother Half-Sack for gettin’ the patch.”

The entire room erupted in cheers. Tig, Chibs, Kozik, Happy and Juice drummed their right hands on the table, while Bobby just reached over and clapped Kip on the back.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t here, you sorry sack o’shit. I woulda voted no.”

Opie’s shoulders shook as he chuckled, while Jax shook his head in amusement at Tig’s declaration. Ever the sport, Kip just waved him off with his hand.

“A’ight, calm down you animals.” Jax called out. “Now each of us here are all aware of what happened the past two years. We’ve all taken hits, all because of the man who used to sit in this chair.”

And just like that the momentary uplift was sucked out of the room. Inevitably, Jax’s gaze was drawn straight forward. He watched as a dark look shadowed Piney’s face and gave him a nod. Everyone knew he and Gemma swallowed the most bitter pill than the rest of them.

“But I want to thank you all, especially – Opie, Chibs, Happy, Piney and Kozik, for lookin’ after the club.” Another round of cheers echoed. “Before some of us went to Stockton, I told the club we should move outta guns. I still feel the same way and after everything that’s happened, I know this is the best time for SAMCRO to finally act on it. The money is great. But givin’ it a closer look, we barely earn anythin’ and with the cartel loomin’, the threat to us is greater than ever. I want us out of guns and if it was up to me SAMCRO woulda been out of it way before.” He paused, meeting each and every single pair of orbs. He caught Bobby’s smirk of smug approval, Piney’s tip of head and the proud tilt of Opie’s mouth.

“But I am not and will never be Clay. Even if I feel this is what’s best for the club, I will never take your right to vote. If you ask me right now how I’m planning to do that, I’m gonna be honest with ya – I don’t have a fucking clue yet. But just because nuthin’s set in stone yet doesn’t mean it’s not gonna happen. Because I really believe we can move past that. But only…only if you all want that as well.” Jax paused just to let all of that sink in. Seeing some gestures that he was sure were sloping towards the affirmative, he took a little breath then went on.

“We can vote on that later on. Now for the cartel,” Jax shifted, right elbow on the arm of his chair and tipped his chin to the left before resting it on his thumb and forefinger. “Bring us up to speed, VP.”

After taking a drag from his stick, Opie motioned for the lone ashtray from his father who was nearest to it and snuffed the light out. “With half of SAMCRO in Stockton, we were forced to honor the cartel’s demands and hauled their cargo. We always made sure we were in twos. Safer that way. None of us liked it, but –”

“Best way to keep the blood out of Charming.”

Opie nodded an agreement to Bobby.

“With only four of us to mule, they okay’d to just half of what Clay had agreed to.”

“How gracious of ‘em,” Tig muttered sarcastically, drawing grins and chuckles of the same nature from ‘round the table.

“But none us ‘ere privy to that agreement.” Chibs aired what was floating on everyone’s mind.

“Oh, they know that brother, they just don’t give a shit.” Opie huffed.

“Because that’s the point, son. None of us are supposed to know.” Piney pointed out.

“Yeah, we know, Pop.” Opie shifted, turning his attention to the head of the table. “Torres ‘n Parada came by last week, knew you were gettin’ out.

Lighting up his own cigarette, Jax stiffened and his brows furrowed. This was news to him. He puffed, letting the smoke billow out of his mouth. “TM?”

It was Happy who answered. “Cara Cara.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Spooked Lyla and the girls.” Opie shook his head. Displeasure was evident on his face as he recalled witnessing a smug Parada with an arm around his uncomfortable old lady.

“What they say?”

“They wanna talk to you, go back to the original arrangements.”

“They know this is just a temporary thing for us.” Bobby retorted with a slanted brow.

“That’s why they want to speak with the prez, convince him of a more permanent setting.” Opie answered.

“’S not gonna happen.” Jax spoke with finality and an air of authority that could only come from the holder of the gavel. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by the oldest member of the club. Piney smirked in approval.

Jax rubbed his free hand down his face and took a long pull from his stick. His eyes landed at the middle of their table. They remained silent, giving him a needed moment to gather his thoughts. Then with another breath, he focused on his best friend.

“They finally say who helped Clay mule? The load they want, ain’t no way Clay was movin’ alone.”

“Nah.”

“Our guess is Cacuzza. He’s always wanted to venture on narcotics,” Chibs piped in.

“He answered any of our calls?” At the shake of heads, Jax felt a crippling hit. But he shook the tendrils of disappointment that started to weave in his chest. He needed to unravel the truth first before drawing up conclusions. “How ‘bout the Mayans? Heard anythin’ ‘bout them?”

“They’re in Lodi mostly. They’re wantin’ to branch out.”

Jax released a breath of smoke. “Still? So they haven’t yet?”

Opie smirked. “Darby bailed.”

“Alvarez is damn pissed.” Kozik chuckled, contagious to most of them.

Brows deeply furrowed, Jax shifted in his chair, surprised by this turn of events. Around two months ago, word through the grapevine was Darby had partnered with the Mayans. It stirred things up and caused quite the unrest, particularly with the Chinese and the Niners.

In his mind, this latest move didn’t make sense. Even before his latest imprisonment, he recalled how keen Darby was to associate himself with someone or someones who had quite the pull and weight on the streets. Particularly any that could match SAMCRO in either brains or brawn. The way Darby saw it, this was the guaranteed opening for his inky tentacles to coil inside Charming. This reasoning was what led Jax to anticipate the Mayans with no mistake.

So why the hell would Darby turn? Unless…

“Lemme guess, the supplier Darby was supposed to hook ‘em up with was a flake.”

“Aye.”

Jax tilted his head to his SAA. In the dimly lit room, Jax’s eyes glinted and even if he tried, he couldn’t refrain from smirking. A silver lining, if anything. “Good thing we know of a reliable pipeline.”

Chibs stiffened beside him. “Jackie, d’you think that’s a good idea? Mayans have beef with us –”

“Alvarez and Clay had beef. Not the Sons and the Mayans. I think it’s time we reach out to Alvarez, let him know there’s a new regime now.”

“D’you think they’ll meet with us?” Juice asked.

Jax breathed another drag from his stick. “We could always ask Nero to set up the meet.”

“And if he doesn’t agree?”

By the smirk on Tig’s lips, Jax could tell he already knew the answer to his own question. “Then we rope in Gemma.”

“Good luck sayin’ no to the artillery.” Another round of chuckles filled the room at Opie’s statement.

“We could get a feel on where the Mayans land on all these first, then we make the call to the Kings.” Collective nods were directed his way.

“Now before we get to the vote. I need you all to understand, if we do decide to move away from guns, we’re sayin’ goodbye to the club’s bread n’ butter for the past decades and our finances will probably hurt from that. I need you to take that in before we vote. But first, speakin’ of finances, heard our resident weirdo wants to share sumthin’ with the club.” Jax tipped his chin to Kip. Kip stood up and stepped out without question, he was after all, the first one Chucky approached.

Tig rubbed a hand down his face. “Maybe he’s goin’ to tell us he’s part leprechaun.”

Opie brought it to his ear – Chucky wanted to speak to the Club about finances, when he was asked about it however, he said he wanted to wait for the prez and the rest of the club. Jax admittedly had a slew of names reserved for Chucky. But Jax did admire him for his respect for him and the club. The door swung open again, as Kip swept in, followed by Chucky, each of them hauling massive duffle bags.

Jax killed his smoke and looked around. He was met with equally stunned faces. 

Opie stood up, towering over everyone. “What the hell – ”

Zip.

“There are still two bags in my dorm. But each has fifty grand in them, so that’s two hundred in all.”

They were all on their feet even before Chucky finished his explanation. All of them staring at the open bag, with wide disbelieving eyes. Because just as he said, the bag was overflowing with stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

“Jesus, all real,” Bobby passed the wad of cash he fished and inspected. Jax took it with no hesitation and examined it the way Bobby had, Chibs and Tig both curiously looking over his shoulders.

“Yes, it is,” Jax confirmed, awed, passing it to Ope.

“I think you’re wrong, Tig. Chucky’s not part leprechaun. He is THE leprechaun you sonuvabitch! C’mere!” Kozik exclaimed, pulling Chucky into a one-armed hug.

“Hey! Don’t maul him yet. We’re gonna need some answers first.” Jax called out. Kozik immediately let go of Chucky.

“A’ight,” palms on the table, Jax leaned in and eyed Chucky, looking every bit the investigator. “As pleased as I am with cash suddenly sproutin’ in the clubhouse, I need to know where this,” he tilted his head, “came from. And no, I am not buyin’ the leprechaun shit.”

Chucky very visibly gulped and Jax hoped it’s only because of him and the three Reaper kuttes standing closest to their president while they all stared him down, and not because of something else.

“Well, you remember the night Clay left?”

Unintentionally, Jax’s nostrils flared. Of course, he remembered. That was the night leading to the day of their arrest. The night Clay almost, almost got Gemma killed with his bare hands.

“Of course,” Jax replied with venom in his voice. He didn’t mean to. But he understood perfectly why Chucky recoiled a bit at that.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Juice suddenly materialized beside Chucky and drew an arm around him. “We won’t beat you up unless we have to,” Juice grinned.

“That’s…reassuring.”

“What about that night Chucky?” Opie stepped in. He knew he needed to take the reins. Leaving it to Jax might send Chucky straight to a coronary before they could get anything sensible out of him.

“I was in Gemma’s office, finishing an errand for her. I just shut the lights off when I saw her SUV coming back. I assumed it was her, but when I saw Clay got out, I hid. Something didn’t feel right. He went to the garage, came back out with two bags and went inside again for the other two. He just finished loading everything when Gemma arrived.”

Jax straightened up, arms crossed and teeth clenched. He knew what part was coming. He’s heard it many times. Didn’t make it any easier.

They were all supposed to be out for a gun delivery. Clay, claiming his hands made it difficult to ride, said he couldn’t make the four-hour travel. No alarm bells were triggered as he stayed back, they knew his hands had been acting up as of late and Jax easily stepped in as acting president. The cortisone was barely doing anything anymore – at least that was what he said. Unknown to them, he set out for a meet of his own. Borrowed Gemma’s SUV, on the ruse of dropping by Unser’s office.

It took them a couple of days after that to get the truth ironed out. But Gemma was ahead of them. Although her theory was off some points, still she figured out something was amiss before anyone else did. Turned out, he had been borrowing her vehicles quite some time already and her assumption was a mistress. She placed a tracker in all her wheels, and that night, Gemma thought was the perfect timing to confront him, with the sons out and Piney helping Lyla watch over the kids – no blood will be shed.

“They were busy fighting and the trunk was still open, so I took a peek in the bags. With all of you away, I knew it wasn’t club business. And when I found out it was real money, I moved fast, grabbed them and emptied them in the garage.”

“And Clay didn’t notice that the load was much lighter?” Piney asked, unconvinced.

“He didn’t check it again. And…it actually might have been a little heavier. I replaced it with some tools and bike parts –”

“The missing supplies!” Kip exclaimed.

Jax pictured it. He remembered Sack going on about some supplies TM ordered a week prior to that, that had suddenly vanished into thin air. But with Gemma unconscious in the hospital bed and Clay suspiciously MIA – that had been the least of his worries, even more so when David Hale dropped by with his minions, a warrant on hand.

“And Clay never saw you?” Opie pushed, still quite unsold on the idea.

“Well, he was,” his eyes darted to Jax quickly then back to Opie, “busy.”

Jax snarled, making Chucky flinch. “You mean to tell me, that not only did you have this cash lyin’ ‘round for two years, but you also let Clay pound my mom’s face as distraction?”

“Look, Jax, what was I supposed to do? I can’t throw a punch like you guys. If I interfered, I would have been worse off than Gemma. I just thought I could retaliate in a more effective way. Y’know absolute advantage.”

Put like that, Jax did see from his perspective. While not stock thin as Rat, Clay would have definitely snapped him like a toothpick. Besides, what best way to hurt Clay the most than to take what he worked hard for, right under his very nose. He just wished he witnessed Clay’s face when the rug under his feet was pulled.

“Does make sense,” Bobby echoed Jax’s thoughts, then added, “but why are you only telling us now?”

“I did want to tell the club the next day. But – ” Chucky tipped his head side-to-side, reminding Jax of an upside-down pendulum.

“Yeah we get it – ” Jax replied

Chucky nodded, “Then when you guys got framed, I guessed that was cartel money. So, I hid it and decided to show it at a safer time.

“Where yeh hide it?”

“Ah, I may have asked Unser to hold on to it. Said it was a Club favor.”

Again, Jax’s eyebrows jumped. There were whistles – Juice, Opie and Chibs, while Tig slowly shook his head in time with his hands clapping. Chucky smiled and gave out a breath of relief. He knew he was off the hook.

“Chucky, you are turnin’ me on right now.”

This time, it was Chucky’s eyebrows that went through the roof. “I don’t accept that.” He said with a shake of his head.

“Oi, don’t scare ‘im off.”

“What?” Tig asked Chibs with his palms open. “It’s not like I’m not gonna use some lube and I’mma make sure he gets off too.”

Chucky cringed “I still don’t accept that”.

Tig opened his mouth but Jax cut him off easily, with a finger pointed his way. “Knock it off Tiggy. Go rub one out and stop traumatizin’ people.”

“As for you,” Jax went to Chucky and laid his hands on his shoulders. He tipped his chin, “Go tell my mom we’re givin’ you a raise.”

When her eyes crossed while going over one line of the purchase order she was currently reviewing, Gemma knew it was time to call it a day. She dropped the document on her desk, pursing her lips. Despite TM being open all days of the week, Gemma still found truth to Monday being the shittiest.

Gemma removed her glasses and massaged her eyes with the heel of her palms. Fuckin’ piece of shit lighting.

Well, totally her fault for putting it off. Definitely need to have it replaced. She stood up and stretched. Her back echoed with a series of cracks. And this shit of a chair too.

“Dammit is everythin’ here a piece of crap?” Gemma turned around, taking each item in inventory. It had been a while since she put in more than her usual work hours, and definitely more than a while since she observed every little thing in this room. Her musings were disrupted by a loud, unmistakable roar of a Harley Davidson speeding towards the garage. Curious, she turned and opened the door of the office.

The biker still had his back to her while he parked and killed the engine. But he didn’t need to turn around in order for Gemma to know who it was. The blonde streaks peeking underneath the helmet was more than enough of an indicator. Propping her hip against the doorframe, Gemma glanced at her watch.

7:09 PM

Luann was seriously late. But that wasn’t important. No. Right now, what’s essential for her was to figure out what her son was doing back at TM. Jax and the rest of SAMCRO parted ways for the day just around four o’clock this afternoon and with all of them still occupied with their personal shit, she knew his return wasn’t club related. Plus – Gemma’s eyes narrowed into slits – that backpack, that wasn’t there when he left, triggered the alarms in her head. When he finally unfastened his helmet and turned around, spotting her for the first time since his arrival, Jax very visibly groaned, strengthening her theory further. 

Well, glad to see you too shithead.

She tipped her head to the office and turned on her heel.

Jax had to do a double take of the lot. But no, he wasn’t going mental – Gemma’s SUV was indeed nowhere to be found. So why the hell was his mother still here?

Once again, Jax could only groan. After his row with Tara, he didn’t have enough energy to deal with the Russian Roulette incarnate. But he’ll be damned much more if he didn’t follow her. Stepping foot into the small confinement, Jax felt he was heading to his execution as he was met with Gemma leaning onto the table, her arms crossed, and face seemingly carved in stone.

“Where’s your truck?”

“I had Rat and Kip take it home. Luann’s gonna pick me up for dinner.” She tipped her chin, “my assistant manager came in here, sayin’ we’re givin’ him a raise.”

“Yeah,” Jax answered, “fifteen percent seems fair. We can cut five each from TM, Diosa and Cara Cara. Whaddaya think?”

“He’s employed by TM only. He just likes to loiter.” Gemma pointed out.

“So? C’mon, Ma, work your magic. I’m sure it’s just like launderin’,” Jax asked, irritated.

Gemma sighed. Before he pitched the idea to the table, she was the first one he told that he wanted the club out of guns. It made sense. But with this kind of thinking, Gemma wondered how fast these dickheads would make a legit business go belly-up. It seemed she needed to sit them all down for a talk of some sort.

Businesses tend to do that shit.

Jax nodded dropping his pack on the ratty couch. He felt his mom’s eyes on him as he sat down. He propped his elbows on his knees, hands clasping together as he looked up and met Gemma’s stare. She raised an eyebrow.

“Are you gonna tell me, or are you gonna make me ask?”

Jax rubbed his hands over his face then sighed, resuming his previous position. This was the part of the conversation he knew he won’t be able to tiptoe his way around. “Just need to put some distance between me and Tara.”

Gemma huffed, raising both her hands in disbelief, before landing on her hips. She straightened, stepping away from the table, she strutted towards him and left only a few inches in between, forcing Jax to lean back and raise his head.

“Look, Ma, s’not a big deal.”

And maybe those were the wrong words to say as Gemma’s eyes sharpened, and if there was truth to the phrase if looks could kill, they’ll be holding his funeral tomorrow.

“Not a big deal my ass, Jackson!” Gemma exclaimed, completely rebutting his attempts at defusing. “Before you went inside, I watched this happen almost every day. That was two years ago. Are you tellin’ me that’s how it’s gonna be again? –”

“ – ”

“ – ‘Coz if you think that’s in any way normal, I’m tellin’ you it’s not, and it ain’t acceptable either. You haven’t even been back for a week!” Gemma finished in one breath, ignoring his mouth that slid open during her tirade.

“You done? Can I say somethin’?” Jax demanded more than asked, not bothering to mask his annoyance.

It was times like this that had him wondering if his mom was truly one and the same person, because he was having one helluva difficult time believing this tyrant was also the same person who comforted him in the rooftop just a few nights ago. It made him remember a way, way younger version of him asking if his mom’s ability to do a three-sixty in a drop of a hat was normal. The ear-pinch that followed convinced him to never ask that again – at least when she was in hearing range.

“Look, Ma, I know it’s not normal, alright? Why d’you think I choose to stay in my dorm?”

Gemma’s arms crossed, frosty gaze still focused on him. “You tell me, sweetheart. ‘Coz last I checked, I paid half of that house as a gift to you and not to Tara!”

“So what am I s’pposed to do?” Jax asked, arms wide open. “‘Coz I don’t think havin’ her sleep in the clubhouse is the right thing to do here.”

“Then have her check in at a hotel – Jesus Christ, why is this our problem?” Gemma threw her hands up looking way beyond exasperated.

“Because she’s still my girlfriend!” Jax bellowed.

Gemma stilled for a moment and raised an eyebrow. All of a sudden a smile that looked nothing short of triumphant slowly spread on her face, hands on her hips once more “Well, I don’t care sweetheart. In my book you pay for it, it’s yours. S’your right to stay in there and not hers.”

Jax sighed, running a hand through his hair. Gemma was only saying these because she never approved of Tara. If it was any other given day, she and Luann will be preaching how they should be treating their women with more respect. But whatever. The beginning of a throbbing in his temples was a telltale sign of an unforgiving headache if this dragged any longer. He had to switch gears.

He stood up, reaching for Gemma’s shoulders. “Look, Ma, I know you’re only lookin’ out for me, and I really appreciate it. But it’s not helpin’, so why don’t you just let me handle my shit with Tara, a’ight?”

The icy chill that resurfaced on her orbs made it known to him that he should have worded it out much carefully and differently. Shit.

“ – ”

“Knock knock, doll you ready to – Oh, hey Jax,” Luann’s smile dimmed as her eyes slid between the mother-son duo. “Is everythin’ alright? Sorry, am I –”

“Everything’s fine, sweetheart,” Gemma answered, smoothly stepping out of Jax’s hold, taking the time to put a smile on her face as she flipped her bangs with the tips of her fingers.

Jax could only follow her lead, mourning the lost chance of redeeming himself. He’ll try to find it later, preferably with no bystander. No undeserving soul needed to be within Gemma’s sights when on a warpath. He finally turned to Luann, taking her in.

She was wearing fitted jeans and tucked into it was a white – or maybe silver – button down made from a shimmery, silky material. The top few buttons undone. She had a blazer on top of it, and finished the look with a pair of ankle boots. He heard about it from his mom. Apparently, the porn director had been making a fuss about her wardrobe recently, saying she needed to upgrade – whatever the hell that meant – it now that Cara Cara was said to be rising up the ranks in the industry.

But if this was upgrading, Jax had to admit it was doing her wonders.

“Hey, Lu,” Jax motioned to the newcomer with his left hand. Luann took the invitation with gusto, fitting into his side easily as he wrapped an arm around her.

“You look great,” Gemma said.

“Thanks,” Luann smiled.

“Amelia?”

Instantly Luann’s face brightened as she nodded. Jax frowned in curiosity, juggling his memory for an Amelia.

“Who’s Amelia?” he asked in surrender when he didn’t find any.

“Oh, she’s my niece. She’s good with clothes.” She explained with delight.

Jax removed his hold on Luann, crossing both arms on his chest instead as he took a step back, content to be a fly on the wall as the two women talked. With the way her eyes lit up as she proudly talked more about her niece helping with – again – the upgrading of her closet to an interested Gemma, Jax guessed this Amelia was something special to Luann.

“She’s got great taste,” Gemma hummed.

“That she does. Otto’s loving the recent changes with my outfits as well.”

“Oh right, you had your conjugal –”

Jax snorted, and maybe he should have held it in. Because in his opinion once a month was still too few a chance to get laid. Well, not that he was getting much action aside from his own hand lately. But…

Best to leave that detail unannounced.

“What?” Luann asked puzzled.

Jax shook his head. “That’s why you look fresh. You got fertilized.”

Luann’s eyes rounded. “Oh, you are such a prick,” she threw a punch out. But Jax was already anticipating it, moving on reflex he just easily sidestepped and moved out of harm’s way.

“Tell me about it. He seems to be havin’ a field day.” Gemma sassed.

“Oh, c’mon Ma –”

“Hey, Gemma –”

Jesus, was this let’s interrupt Jax day? 

They all looked to the direction of the voice, finding Chucky peeking from the door leading to the garage.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, I know we’re closed but it’s important,” he said, looking every bit as apologetic as he sounded. “Phone. Wilkins. Subaru.”

“Of course, he calls right now after I waited the whole day,” Gemma fell into step and moved to the side.

“Oh, you can transfer it here Jax and I will just –”

“Nah, it’s okay. You two just keep chattin’ I’ll take it here”

Luann turned around after Gemma disappeared. “What’s that about?”

“Nuthin’”

Luann looked at him pointedly. “Really?”

“Just you know, Gemma bein’ Gemma.”

“Hmm. How’re things at home?”

He should’ve known it was pointless to try to keep Luann at arm’s length. At certain times, the woman was just as bad as his mother when prying. Although a milder version. Thankfully.

“Tense.”

“I guess that’s what you were arguing about?”

“Yeah”

She drew an arm around him and rubbed his back. The same way his mother would. “What’s wrong sweetie?”

He shrugged. “I guess we’re just not seein’ eye to eye lately.”

Luann nodded in understanding. “Y’know, your mother doesn’t like being ignored.”

Jax snorted. “Tell me sumthin’ I don’t know.”

Luann just smiled again and shook her head. “Well, you better get ahead of that ‘coz I’m afraid that’s gonna bite you in the ass sooner than later. But what I’m sayin’ is, maybe your mom has been makin’ a point ‘bout you and Tara, but you haven’t been listening to her. I mean when was the last time you referred to Tara as your old lady?”

Jax stiffened, surprise evident on his features.

It was one of the things that often knocked on his conscience, and honestly still quite a mystery when in particular it happened. But every time he tried, the image of Lyla and Tara tending to a wounded Tig would flit in his mind. Tara with the eyes and hands of a surgeon, was methodical and precise in her approach. He remembered watching from the sides as she worked, impressed. After all if it weren’t for her skill and knowledge, they would’ve certainly needed to rush Tig to the ER. Lyla was her second pair of hands, working under her lead and supervision. She didn’t have the same expertise under her belt, but she certainly made up in instinct, and each of her movement didn’t escape Jax’s eyes – each smile, each word and each pass of her fingers coated with abundant care, grace and empathy.

He looked to Opie then, correctly predicting the proud look he had while observing his wife. Well shit, who wouldn’t be? Then his gaze drifted to his own girl. Maybe if Tara could learn to at least respect the life, she’ll be good enough to be an old lady too.

Immediately, the guilt was like a viper that slithered up his spine – swift and unrelenting.

The life they led was hard, and Jax was only on the cusp of sixteen when he discovered that while the Reaper kuttes took the frontline, much of the heavy lifting were quietly – and often unnoticed – supported by their women. Their unsung heroes. With that thought in mind, he knew it was unfair and unreasonable to ask Tara to fall in love with the kutte on the snap of a finger. But even so, that wasn’t the last time the comparisons between her and Lyla reared its ugly head. Yet he made sure he never shared it with anyone. Not even Opie and especially not Gemma – Oh shit.

Because she’s still my girlfriend.

Talk about a major slip up. To his mother most of all. Jax cringed, “You heard that?”

Luann’s brows pinched, drawing back a little. “Heard what?”

“A while ago, ain’t that what this is about?” Jax asked, now looking equally as lost as Luann.

Luann’s brows jumped to her forehead. “Oh – Christ, no. I didn’t hear anythin’ you and your mom were discussin’ a while ago. Believe me. But t’was easy to tell you two were buttin’ heads again. I guessed it’s ‘bout Tara so I just put my two cents in.” She said with a shrug.

If the open mouth was enough indication, Jax was clearly floored. So Luann took that as her cue to keep quiet, unknown to her the gesture was deeply appreciated. Because right that very moment, Jax felt as stupefied as he looked.

That his and Tara’s relationship status was an open book, was an understatement – and their readers were the whole of SAMCRO and everyone closely affiliated to it. If anyone asked, they could give a rundown of his relationship better than Jax ever could. Because what he was once so sure of, now felt like a thousand-piece puzzle, with some pieces missing. Yet in spite of this – all the noises, the questions and the doubts – he made sure to never share those and just keep them deep within his kutte.

So how, how was it that something he guarded so closely, escape him so casually, and without his knowledge?

“Oh hun,” Luann cooed, resuming the comforting rub she had on his back as she spotted the troubled look shadowing his face, “don’t beat yourself up over it. S’just my opinion and I certainly can’t speak for Tara, but maybe she’s –”

“PMSing.”

Before they knew it, Gemma was in front of them again, focused once more on the papers strewn on the top of her desk and completely oblivious to the disapproving scowl on Luann’s face and Jax’s head tilted to the side, frowning in curiosity. He’s pretty sure he’s heard that term somewhere before.

“What’s PMSing?”

Gemma’s hand froze before looking up. It was brief, but Luann saw it. And maybe Jax didn’t recognize it or maybe he wasn’t as much of an afficionado in decoding all things Gemma as she was. The comment was just offhanded – maybe even meant as a joke – but in just the flash of a second, she was confident a golden egg hatched in Gemma’s mind.

“It’s a condition common to women, comes out when we’re stressed and even hurtin’ over somethin’. You should talk to her ‘bout it. It’ll help.”

To his credit, Jax looked skeptical. But Luann could tell he knew he was in a catch 22. Because who in the club could ever classify as a decent source of PMS information?

“Right,” Jax gave a nod.

“Anyway, we’re ‘bout to head out. You want me to get you anythin’?” Gemma asked, picking up her purse and walked over to him and Luann.

“Nah. You two drive safe, alright?” Jax said, reaching out to give a kiss to his mom’s and Luann’s cheeks.

The two women walked to Luann’s car and just as the blonde, biker president was out of earshot, Luann rounded on Gemma.

“PMS really?”

“What?”

“You know what type of conversation usually occurs when you ask a raging girlfriend that. Besides I thought you agreed not to interfere in their relationship anymore.”

Gemma tsked, heading for the passenger side “’M not interferin’. I think it would do him some good actually. It’s time he learned somethin’ ‘bout the female body aside from fucking it.”

Luann shook her head, sighing as she trailed behind her shit stirring friend. Maybe there was a point to be made in that. But…

Oh well, can’t say I didn’t warn Jax.

When was the last time you referred to Tara as your old lady?

Jesus Christ! Jax sat up, running a hand down his face. 

Upon arriving at his dorm, he removed his kutte and laid down right away. But how the hell was he supposed to sleep when his mind refused to cooperate?

It didn’t help that his gut churned every single time Luann’s question resurfaced. Jax needed to sleep, otherwise he’d be a fucking zombie. He needed something to calm him down. Something mindless. A distraction.

He got up and walked out of his dorm, stalking towards their lone IT person. He was still perched on the barstool, just as he was when Jax saw him earlier.

“Hey, Juice.”

Juice looked away from the screen “Hey Jax, what’s up?”

Jax tipped his chin towards the laptop “You done soon?”

“Nah, Nero asked me to change some stuff on his site. Need sumthin’?”

“Can’t sleep thought I’d check Netflix.”

“Grab the one Chucky’s usin’. He’s still in the garage. Laptop’s in the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” Jax nodded.

“Everythin’ alright, bro?”

Jax was just about to turn around when Juice spoke. “Yeah, everything’s good.”

None of his brothers were stupid, and Juice was definitely no exception. Jax could see the doubt in his face. That he remained silent was appreciated by the club president. Juice just nodded so Jax went on to the kitchen, grabbed the laptop sitting idly on top of the table and went back to his dorm, keen to start with – hopefully – the peaceful part of his night. It didn’t take him long to fire up the beast as it was just in sleep, landing him straight to a paused video.

Curious, Jax hit play. Wonder what this weirdo’s into?

“Oh, Chucky!” A girl moaned.

Jax’s eyebrows jumped to his forehead. What the hell?

She was on a bed, only in her bra, the sheets giving a thin layer of privacy as it covered her from navel to toes. But no rocket science needed, her hand moving beneath the blanket was very straightforward.

“Jax!”

Jax turned to his door, a panting Chucky obviously in a hurry to reach him.

Jax stood up, running a hand down his face. “You let anyone see your girlfriend like this?” He scowled. Jax knew he didn’t have much leg to stand on here. It wasn’t like he was gunning for boyfriend of the year award but having your girl as a free-for-all was just a different kind of low.

“Oh, Sophie’s not my girl. I’m just a fan – subscriber.”

Having paced away from the direction of his bed, Jax paused mid-step and turned. “What?”

Chucky, collecting the laptop, halted and grinned “OnlyFans. C’mon I’ll show you.”

He seriously had no idea how he got strong-armed into this. All he wanted was a movie. And at one point, everything coming out of Chucky’s mouth was pure gibberish as he schooled him into this OnlyFans thing. His ears only perked up when Chucky started listing down the costs.

“I really think you should try it. C’mon what do you have to lose?”

His brows went to his hairline. “What do I have to lose? Whaddaya think, jackass? My money.”

Immediately Chucky recoiled like a puppy kicked in the gut. Jax’s guilt from earlier resurfaced tenfold, because really? Was this how he was gonna treat the man who went out on a limb for the club?

He sighed and waved a hand. “’M sorry Chucky, it’s just been a long ass day. And I think you’re right, I do need to try this.”

Chucky’s smile returned, megawatt. Jax hoped he wasn’t going to regret this.

“Alright, so first we need to set you up with an account. What username do you want?” Chucky tipped his head. “You can get creative, people often tend to be discreet.”

Well, I wonder why. He could only guess how it would go if Tara found out about this. Tara. Is this alright? Joining this site?

No matter the circumstances, they were still together, and Jax may admittedly have a colorful background, but cheater was one thing he didn’t want to add to that list. He rubbed a hand down his face.

“And if you’re worried about Tara, you can just stay away from the sex workers.”

Jax’s head swiveled to his left, a slow grin spreading on his face. The insightful bastard. “Yeah? So what kind d’you suggest I subscribe to?”

Chucky shrugged. “Influencers, bakers, whatever.”

In other words, things that Jax gave zero fucks about. Yeah, if this was ever unearthed, he could use those as excuses until he was blue in the face. Thing is, he wouldn’t fool even himself into believing it.

Jax almost groaned at the expectant look on Chucky’s face.

“How ‘bout you what’s your username?” He asked, stirring himself away from thoughts of his own grave. He could just give it three days then get outta there.

“Chucky,” Chucky answered.

Again, his eyebrows jumped. There was no telling if Chucky was kidding. Idiot only ever has one expression. “That’s you bein’ discreet?”

“Well, how many Chucky’s you know?”

“Fair enough. But ain’t no way I’m usin’ my own name.”

“Fair enough,” Chucky parroted, drawing an amused chuckle from the SAMCRO president. “How about Mr. Mayhem?”

Jax’s smile slid off his face. “You do know what Mr. Mayhem stands for right?”

Chucky winced. “Sorry, I thought it’d be cool. How about Reaper?”

“Basically, the same thing.”

“Right, how about – I got it!” Chucky’s fingers swept all over the keys, confident he’d thought of something Jax would like. To Chucky’s credit, as he showed the screen to a curious Jax, the blonde biker just gave a nod, impressed.

“Heh, I like it.”

It seemed fairly easy a while ago. Now left to his own devices, Jax was lost navigating this labyrinth of a site. Each damn button looked the same. And what was up with that long ass terms and conditions?

Do people really read that shit?

Jax was just about to give up when a video slid on the top of his screen. Sumthin’ like new videos? New suggestions? Both? Jax tried to recall what Chucky called them. But whatever, his attention was now drawn to the thumbprint.

It was a woman, wearing a sexy piece of lingerie. She was suspended, mid-air, hanging only by a pole, and Jax had absolutely no clue how she got there or how she managed to stay there. It looked like she was sitting, gripping the metal rod only by her thighs.

Strong thighs, he couldn’t help but notice. Her back was to the camera, with one hand idly on her hip, while the other was on the back of her blonde head, hair thrown over her left shoulder. Her head was angled slightly to the side, eyes peeking over her right shoulder, and with a smile for an invitation. She had a mask on, all lace and string. If somebody asked him right at that moment how she looked, he’d say – like a secret you want to unravel.

Unable to tear his eyes off, he clicked it. The video zoomed to the four corners of his screen and Jax’s heart hammered in anticipation. The video was dimly lit, but not of poor quality. The outline of her lithe body was still very visible. This time, as she waited for her cue, she was stood at the floor, then the chords of a familiar song, the inspiration behind her moniker were struck. Not the original, but still a tasteful choice.

She started to move and when her pace and the tempo picked up, it was like she wasn’t even dancing. It looked like she was flowing. And flying and floating – from one movement to the other, as smooth as a breeze, drifting from the floor and all over the pole in the sexiest pair of strappy heels he’s ever seen – that he wondered if there was someone behind holding her by the strings.

The way she moved – hypnotic. Magnetic. Alluring.

So when the prompt for a subscription came up, halting the current video, it was a no-brainer.

“The demarcation between different levels within the fashion market is becoming ever complicated and –”

Buzz.

Drawing a small line on the sentence, Amelia paused and welcomed the much-needed break from her reading. She adjusted her glasses and tapped her phone to life.

Meet your new fan…

Her eyebrows lifted along with the corners of her mouth.

MrPresident. Heh, that’s cute.

A/N: And I’ve been hit with another delay. But here’s chapter three with Amelia and Jax finally (unknowingly) meeting. 

I did as much research as I could for OnlyFans. But I’m not a creator nor a subscriber for the site. I tried to make it as authentic as possible, but if anyone reading this who has been on the site find anything inaccurate, I apologize and I hope it won’t be too much of a bother. 

To anyone who’s read and liked, thank you. Please leave a comment and/or reblog. 

If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know or click here.

Thank you to @lovebarefootblonde for beta-reading for me and for being an awesome friend! 😘 To anyone new to Tumblr and are looking for Jax Teller AUs, go check out her works! 

Taglist: @fullwattpadmusictree

#jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x oc #jax teller imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy au #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine #better than the fantasy #jax and amelia

[calif0rnia-lovers]

kiss it better 02.

read part 01 first

pairing: jax teller x black!reader | words: 2.1k

warning: none for this chapter..just mention of Opie's death...rip Ope.

sum: years have passed. you find yourself back in charming. but the man you've left behind now carries a thirst for vengeance you're not certain you can save him from.

A shot of whiskey. The pounding resonated beneath Jax's bruised skin. His left eye sporting a freshly pounded bruise. His knuckles split open. Lip busted.

Deja vu.

Nearly three years have passed, but the scenery is the same. The clubhouse has not changed. The loud music, exchange of alcohol, laughter over games of pool and cards, crow eaters looking for a body to take home. 

The only difference is that Jax Teller is seated on the sofa with a bottle of whiskey. It's pressed against his swelling eye, a feeble attempt to cool off his heated skin. Lisa sits alongside him, her fingers toying with his hair. Any other night, she would have him undressed by now. But tonight, she can hardly get Jax to speak, let alone look at her.

It's been two days since Jax's return from County. Two days since Opie's wake. Although a party in their fallen friend's honor is in full swing, Jax is seated. He knows people are watching, waiting for his next move. Waiting to see if he's going to cry, scream…do something other than act as though business was on as usual. 

He'd somehow survived a meeting with Galen and the IRA and met with the mayor in a single day. The meeting with Galen was more eventful than the easy ploy to convince the mayor to assist in Jax's latest plan. Galen couldn't entertain, let alone trust, the young president. He found Jax short-tempered, cocky, and undeserving of the patch on his chest. The swollen knuckles on Jax's left hand are evidence of his short temper.

"Wanna go home?" The warmth of Lisa's lips caresses Jax's ear, her palm drifting down his chest. Shifting closer to him, she nuzzles her nose against the warmth of his pulse. She's surprised to find it beating calm and steady beneath his heated skin. "Take your mind off everything?"

"I'm good tonight," Jax mumbles, shifting forward and out of her touch.

Despite the cold dismissal, Lisa remained seated alongside him. Jax's jaw flexes as her palms drag along the shoulders of his kutte. The weight of her chest presses against him as her lips press a soft, lingering kiss against his cheek.

"You haven't seen me since you got back," she hummed. "You need a proper welcome home."

Jax is incapable of responding. The little energy he has left is directed towards holding off retrieving his gun and heading across town. Biding time, suppressing the urge to act had proven more exhausting than he'd initially thought.

The heel of his palm pressed against his eye. The action seems to double the pain, but he doesn't stop. Apart from the pain, the voice in his head is jumbled. Amplified. Getting louder with each passing second.

Sergeant Mackey…home invasions…Charming Heights…Abel…Opie… Gemma's shit…fucking Clay…Opie…Pope…Opie. 

Each issue at hand seemed to demand immediate attention. And time. Time Jax couldn't possibly have. He hadn't slept since he left County and has barely been able to scratch the surface of the shit he was set to handle. 

His grip tightens around the bottle in his hand as a vibration sets loose against his chest. 

"Shit…" 

It's the fifth call in the last half hour. Jax lets it ring. Straight to voicemail. 

Unscrewing the cap, Jax downs a hearty swallow of whiskey. He can't help but wince as the liquid burns his throat. He's in the process of going for a second swig when he spots you. The bottle stops short of his lips, his eyes blinking. 

His first thought was an illusion. A trick brought on by the mixture of lack of sleep and whiskey. The last time he saw you, there were tears in your eyes. 

As he blinks, Jax finds his vision has begun to blur. But, despite the blurred vision, you're still there. Caught in Bobby's tight embrace, unaware that Jax has noticed your arrival. 

"How is he?" Your question comes out muffled against Bobby's shoulder.

"Don't think it's hit him yet," Bobby admits as he lets you go. He runs a hand over his tired eyes. "You know the kid. Keeps shit inside. Been trying to handle club shit from the moment he got out."

Jax was arrested…Pope…a debt to be paid…Opie…laid to rest.

The phone call was a blur. Hell, the last 48 hours were a blur.

Gemma had called in a panic. Her initial call was rejected and sent to voicemail. You aren't sure how she got your number. It had changed the moment you landed in New York years prior. The plan with her and Charming was simple—out of sight, out of mind. But the thing about Gemma is…she can't be ignored. It took three more calls before you answered. 

"Jax's been arrested—"

"Since when is that new?"

Instead of meeting your comment with her typical sass, Gemma shared the news.

Jax, Tig, and Chibs arrested for murder. Opie was dragged into the transport van. Damon Pope's unwavering demand, and Jax's inability to find another solution to end the war festering between the Sons and the kingpin. Opie's sacrifice to prevent his best friend from being the member of the MC to die on the floor of Stockton prison. Jax hadn't shared the details with his mother. In fact, he hadn't spoken a single word about the events of the short time spent in the walls of the prison. But the look that passed over Chibs' face as the Scot had arrived back at the clubhouse, Opie's death was bloody.

You have no recollection of hastily packing a carry-on. No memory of buying a plane ticket or even flying from JFK. 

You just remember the sickening feeling, the pit in your stomach. The fear that not being able to get to Charming fast enough would lead to Jax doing something he couldn't take back. 

It's a feeling that dissipates the second your eyes meet his. By the time you spot him, Jax is halfway to you.

"Hey—"

The initial weight of his body threatens to knock you off balance. Jax's arms wrap around you, the firmness of his grip pinning you against his chest. His arms tighten around you, his face burrowing against the warmth of your skin. The tears he's spent the past few days suppressing are unlocked. They silently fall, his shoulders trembling enough to advert the eyes of his fellow Sons. 

As your fingers gently pass through his hair, Jax's body relaxes. Each touch encourages his breathing to slow. It's an unfamiliar feeling, the weight on his shoulders seeming to lift for the first time in years.

You swallow, a feeble attempt to push the lump rising in your throat back down.

You can't cry. Not in front of him.

It was the one rule you'd repeated to yourself the entire plane ride. Tears for Opie had to be spilled out of Jax's sight. No matter how much you loved Opie, you knew it paled in comparison to the love he received from Jax.

You allow your grip to loosen around him, but Jax remains. Your eyes grip shut as the pads of your fingers pass over the familiar stitching on his back.

The smiling reaper silently challenged you to voice the request on your mind. Possibly because he knew you to be the only one brave enough to ask the President to follow suit with the impossible task. Or, maybe because he knew without Opie, Jax's moral compass has cast too far from true north. And although Jax could never deny you in the past, the man shaped by your time apart was different than who you left behind that night.

You find yourself cowering beneath the Reaper's silent challenge. After years apart, you can't have your first words to Jax unleash his festering anger.

Your words come out barely above a whisper. "You're going to be okay, Jax."

You're not sure where the confidence in your voice comes from. You've known him long enough to know Jax is resilient. He has carried more than any ordinary man. But you both know he might not be able to carry this—not alone.

Maybe that’s why, despite her hatred for you, Gemma called you when she saw the unfamiliar icy, cold look in her son's eyes. She knew that if she selfishly tried to tackle the issue alone her son would be too far gone.

Be okay.

If he disagrees with your belief in him, Jax doesn't protest. He remains silent. 

"What happened to your face?" 

It's a question he's heard from you a hundred times, yet Jax has never found a perfect answer. His eyes drop. Asked a few years prior, he would have a rehearsed response prepared. One that watered down the details. Tonight, it stops just shy of his lips. Lying to you is always the hardest. Paired with his exhaustion, he doesn’t have the energy.

He watches your brow furrow as you take in his recently earned black eye. A deep breath fills his lungs, the look of concern in your eyes forcing Jax to release it.

"Pointless shit," he sighs, wincing as your thumb brushes over his swollen knuckles.

"You need to ice this."

"It's fine," he dismisses your concern, slipping his hand out of yours. Jax's grip tightens around your waist, a silent plea to remain close as you step towards the bar. 

Your touch instinctively lifts his chin. The warmth of your palms against his cheeks pulls his eyes shut. Finally, he allows you to assess the damage of his most recent fight. 

Another useless fight fueled by his misplaced anger.

The first kiss is featherlight, settling on the bruise beneath Jax's eye. Each that follows seems to possess magical healing powers. Passing over his wounds, both seen and unseen. The pain throbbing beneath his skin seeping away with each touch of your lips. 

Your lips stop shy of his, the action forcing Jax's eyes open. 

The bright blue you'd come to love was dimmed. His youthful playfulness was replaced by tiredness. As his forehead rests against yours, your palms slide down Jax's chest. 

The patch you had helped sew on a few years prior was now faded. Almost as worn of the leather it was stitched too. As your fingers trace the stitched letters, you can't help but doubt your previous statement.

President.

It comes with an unbearable burden and the task of making tough decisions. Decisions often result in scars not visible to the human eye. And just as many visible ones. 

Seeing Jax’s skin bruised and scared is second nature. But your mind can’t stop from wondering how bad it got in your absence.

Your teeth dig into the flesh of your lip, your fingers tracing the letters on his chest. Slowly building the confidence to present your request. One you knew that Jax would have to deny. Not only because he was President, and his men would look to him to lead, but because his best friend was just ripped from him.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid." You don't need to open your eyes to know Jax's eyes have rolled. The sharp intake of breath is enough of an indication. "I'm serious, Jax. Retaliation is out of the question—"

"Y/N—"

"Jackson, I'm serious." Meeting his gaze, you keep your voice low. An argument is the last thing either of you have energy for. "Not tonight, when you can't think straight. Promise me you won't do anything."

Jax remains silent. His shoulders fall with the breath he releases. His hand passes over his face drawing your attention to bags set deep beneath his tired eyes.

"Not tonight," Jax echoes. The kiss he leaves against your forehead is the seal of his promise. 

The vibration of his phone pulls Jax back to reality. 

The sixth call of the night, whoever was on the other end was relentless.

He reaches into his kutte, his brow furrowing as he reads the caller id.

"I gotta take this," he sighs, his palm dragging down his face. 

He catches sight of the look in your eyes. A weak smile finds his lips.

"Relax, y/n." Jax chuckles, the sound almost enough to convince you he's back to normal. "It's just Nero."

"Nero?"

"He's a friend," Jax replies, phone already against his ear. 

Despite the reassurance, your eyes remain on Jax as he moves to step away. His fingers find yours for a brief moment, his mind already drifting toward the next task.

"Where you staying tonight?"

You blink. The thought hadn't crossed your mind. "Uh--Figured I'd just get a room—"

Jax's brow furrows. Ignoring the rattling of Nero's voice in his ear, Jax covers the receiver of the phone. 

"It's getting late. You can stay with me tonight."

Jax doesn't wait for a debate on the matter. A gentle squeeze of your hand, and he's gone. 

Your eyes follow the Reaper on his back, your teeth digging in your lip as he disappears through the chapel doors.

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#this is late af but it's up #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam x you #jax teller imagine #jax teller x black!reader #jax teller x reader #soa fic #soa imagine

[oskea93]

🀰 Don’t Let Me Be Lonely 🀰

■ Jax Teller x OC AU ■

✶ Warnings: Story will contain cursing, mentions of death, depression, sexual content, physical and verbal assault ✶

Taglist >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I watched as the rain pelted onto the windshield – rain drops racing to the edge in a linear fashion. The already humid day finally giving up strength as the daily afternoon storm rolled through the area.

The weather mimicked the day – a day that I longed for but also dreaded at the same time. It had been almost five years since I last saw him. Receiving phone calls here and there whenever they decided to grant him that luxury. I honestly never thought this day would come. After the accident, he was transported to jail and sentenced in a matter of weeks. I would often think that maybe death would have been better for him. He was basically a sitting duck in the cell, just waiting for those he wronged to make their rights, having the honor to say they killed the Prince of Charming. He was never one to back down from a fight but inside those walls held a different kind of breed. Everyone wanted a piece of him – the inmates, the guards, etc. He would show up to the court room battered and bruised, barely able to walk at times. The violence got so bad that he had to be moved from the facility in order to survive. This happened three times – the final one sitting to my right.

I was the only one he had left. The club and its members that he once called family were gone- forbidden to speak to him ever again in order to keep themselves safe. Gemma’s lies had finally caught up with her – Jax pulling the trigger that rainy night before the wreck. Poor Wayne would still be here if his love for Gemma didn’t get in the way. The bullets in the chamber finally reuniting them in eternity. I didn’t even know what he had done until the police showed up, demanding to know where he was. He had left early that morning – a note and the deed to the garage sitting on the countertop. I didn’t realize it at the time but that was his way of saying goodbye. He already knew in his mind what he was going to do but God had another plan. It wasn’t time for Jackson Teller to go. That wreck would’ve killed anyone else but the man that wanted to die most of all was spared by the grace of God.

The buzzing of the gate caught my attention as he was escorted to the car by an officer. He was out. How he even managed to be released is still a mystery – murder and then a police chase is not something that carries a short sentence. He was still the same Jax though. His face clean shaven, older. His body leaner than I last saw. His blonde hair hitting his shoulders as he moved.  The cockiness that once enveloped him was still present as he walked. It had been five years since we last saw each other – the judge granting him a private visit. How he swung that I will never know but he made it count. A slight smirk present on his face as he grew closer to the car. I stared straight ahead as he entered the car, afraid that my walls would break as soon as I looked over at him.

The ride was silent as I drove out of the prison gates, a sigh leaving his lips once we were on the highway. He was finally free. Free from the prison walls – but not free from the future that he would have to lay out for himself. Jax had never known a life outside of Samcro. He always had his club to back him and a protect him from the life that he created but also destroyed. He was never alone. People feared the MC – giving the members a platform to do whatever the hell they wanted. Jax no longer had that platform. He no longer had law enforcement in his back pocket – his life needing to be on the straight and narrow. Any little thing would grant him another trip back to prison at this point and I think that scared him most of all. Jax Teller was now a nobody – a criminal that now had to figure out how to live a normal life.

“Been too long, Carolina.” He spoke.

I stayed silent, not knowing how to respond. We were separated – the divorce papers collecting dust in my dresser. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, giving him a glimmer of hope that we could reconcile. Just because he was living with me until he gets settled didn’t mean that my feelings for him were stronger than before. I was the only person he had left and I wasn’t going to let him crash and burn like Gemma had done years ago.

#Charlie Hunnam #charliehunnam #Jax Teller #jax x oc #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction