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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄.

Paid story for @yourwinchesterbros. Word Count: 2k Warnings: mentions of dead bodies, violence

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘.

The men had driven off before Jax reached you, yet you could still feel your heart pumping quickly. You knew this job came with risks, but you were the clean up crew, and didn’t get involved in the politics.

“Zo! Zo, you okay?” You were so zoned out that you didn’t hear him. It was like your mind was working overdrive. The thoughts and ‘what ifs’ going around and around in your head – chasing each other. Wondering if now you were … fucked.

Running over to your door, he opened it and checked your body, gently moving your head side to side; looking for signs of a wound.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, mentally crawling out of the whirlwind that was currently your mind.

It wasn’t until you looked into Jax’s eyes that your attention fully returned. You looked at his face, seeing the faded freckles, tanned skin and beard stubble. This was closest you had been to him. So close that you could smell the cigarette on his breath.

The smell brought you back to the other night, outside the crematorium when Jax was waiting for you. He’d told Happy to go home, that he could take it from here. The usual duty of making sure you got home safe always went to Happy, who didn’t mind the late nights. Well, technically the very early mornings.

You had locked the door, turned around and nearly jumped out of your skin. You weren’t expecting it, another person to be so close. Happy always stayed at least 2 arm lengths away from you at all times, even when you walked back to the car. There was no reason for it, you just guessed he was trying to be respectful - or seem like less of a threat.

Jax had only just put out his cigarette and he was already smirking. You knew exactly why.

“I finished in time because of my skills, not because of anything else, Teller.”

“Hey, I didn’t say a goddamn thing.” He shrugged his shoulders, only making your knees go weaker. But gods be damned if you’d let him know how much he effects you.

He was silent as he walked you to his car, the familiar crunch of boots on gravel filled your ears. Crickets chirping in time, and if you looked into the distance, you’d be able to see two wolves in the fields next to the woods.

As your finger lingered over the unlock button, Jax suddenly said, “Thank you.”

Your cheeks warmed.

“You don’t need to thank me, “ you said and pressed the button. Your car clicked and you reached for the handle, “I get paid, remember.”

Jax chuckled at your response, pulling on his helmet and clipping it underneath his chin.

“I want to say thank you anyway, this job ain’t easy.”

You knew he was referring to your job, but there was a something else in his voice that told you he meant more. That there was something deeper in his comment.

Guilt.

Anger.

Grief.

You were impressed by how well Jax was acting. Not just with you but with … well everyone. The death of his wife, it would ruin anyone. But it was like Jax had steel armour on at all times. That steel armour wasn’t just for his heart, but for every part of being a person. For his thoughts, his interactions, his opinions.

It was that armour that stopped you from getting deeper.

So, the jokes, the banter, the back and forth … it’s all he could muster up. And maybe that’s all your relationship would be with Jax; teasing and playful. A distraction.

- ✦ -

“Time for clean up?” Was all you said as you saw the other Sons.

“Ugh, yeah, you okay?” Happy replied, concern lacing every area of his tone. You and Happy had created this sibling-like friendship. The scary looking biker acted as your older brother, it sometimes meant him not saying much to you but always making sure you knew he was there. You guessed this was one of those times, except the way his President was acting was putting him on edge. It was putting all the Sons on edge.

It wasn’t until you heard the Scotsman that things started making sense.

“We were double-crossed, sorry you got swept up in that, sweetheart.”

And then they all moved as one cohesive movement. The Sons got on their bikes, strapped their helmets on, Happy walked over to the driver’s side of the van and hopped in.

It only took a minute to reach the warehouse that was used as the meet-up. But what you saw made you gasp.

You counted nine men, each laying in different positions. Blood soaked and lifeless. You had seen horrors, you had seen crime scenes, hell you had even listened to the most grizzly podcasts. Maybe it was because of before; your heart still pumping in your chest.

So, your shock turned to anger, not at the reasons why these men were dead but the blatant lie you had been told. As each member arrived, your anger grew and grew.

“A few men-“ you said, getting out of the car and slamming the door. “I was told, a few men.”

“Look sweetheart, if you can’t handle-“ Jax started to say, looking at you through his black sunglasses. A similar pair were pushed upwards on your head, keeping your hair out of your face.

“I can handle the dead fucking bodies. But I wasn’t told how fucking many there would be!” Your hands reflected your speech; animated, emphasising your words. “But I’m in this now. So, you’ll stop calling me sweetheart. My name is Zo. And you won’t leave out fucking details when I ask about them.”

The words came out as fierce as fire raging through a forest. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and listened. No one dared whistle, nor make any sort of movement (or comment).

Funnily enough it was Juice who spoke first, “she’s right. We’ve trusted her with everything so far.” The core Sons nodded in agreement while Jax rolled his eyes.

He walked up the dried grassy plane, kicking dirt behind him with each step.

Jax’s voice was low, gravelly. His accent so prevalent as he spoke, “once you agree to this, there’s no turning back. You’re apart of this now.”

It took three heartbeats for you to respond. His gaze not leaving your own.

“I’m a part of this.”

- ✦ -

With the amount of Sons present, it didn’t take long to hoist the bodies into the van and drive off. Happy was silent, one hand on the wheel and the other flicking through radio stations. You lit up a cigarette, taking a drag every time Happy scoffed and turn over the channel.

“They talk so much shit,” he complained, settling on a station that had just finished playing a Johnny Cash song.

“Who? The Sons or the radio presenters?” You said while blowing the smoke from the corner of your mouth. The window was down – just a crack; it wasn’t allowed down anymore than that. Wouldn’t want to attract too much attention in traffic. Even if you did take the backroads.

“I meant these radio shitheads, but Tig could talk the ear off of a deaf guy.”

You scoffed but didn’t disagree.

There was a beat of heavy silence. Unsaid words lingering in the air – from both of you.

Funnily enough, it was Happy who cracked first.

“You mean it? You really want to be apart of the club? Because that’s what this means. Doing more jobs, being told intel.”

You took another drag, a big breathe in and let the smoke gather before blowing it out.

“I guess so.”

And then something switched in Happy that caught you off guard. He hardened. His tone going an octave deeper, harsher.

“There’s no guessing, Zo. You’re either in or you’re out. Skeeter has ties to the club but he doesn’t ask for information. He just lets things be. You can still do that, but something tells me you ain’t gonna.”

Y ou didn’t expect such a big brother speech from Happy. Yes, you had that type of relationship, but he was never harsh with you.

“Okay maybe I do want to get deeper into the club? Why is everyone trying to push me out? I don’t have family out here, I’ve been on my own for years. I work in a fucking crematorium for fucksake.”

You threw the cigarette out the window and wound it back up. The anger was still palpable and Happy was not helping.

You hadn’t opened up about your family in … years. Not to Skeeter, not to any of the Sons. You only said they lived out of state and that was the end of it. You had your dogs and that was enough for you. But lately you wanted more. You wanted someone … more.

- ✦ -

The drive back to the crematorium was silent. Even the radio was switched off after five minutes. Nothing good was being played anyway.

What you didn’t expect, was to see a particular Harley sitting in the parking lot. It’s rider leaning against it, taking slow draws out of his cigarette.

“Didn’t think Jax would be here,” Happy said, parking and pulling up the handbrake.

“Me either,” was all you said before jumping out of the passenger seat and taking out your keys. Practically ignoring the President of the club, you unlocked the garage doors and pulled them upwards.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, and pretended as though you didn’t care. Even though inside you were desperate to hear the conversation. In a manner of moments you heard your name being called and you moved out of the way to let the van back up into the garage.

“Yep, yep, a little further,” Happy was good enough to direct Jax so you left them and unlocked the doors to the incinerator. Looking around you saw everything in its place, Skeet must’ve been in already. He likes keeping everything ‘proper’, not that you don’t, but he takes it to a new level.

You wheeled out the stretchers, and watched as Happy opened the doors to the back of the van.

“I thought the President of the Sons of Anarchy would have more important things to do,” you said to Jax, pulling the body onto the stretcher.

A side of his mouth quirked upwards, “just getting back to my roots, you know. Can never forget where you started out.”

“At the bottom?” You replied, lumping another body onto the stretcher.

“Doesn’t feel like the bottom when it’s with you.” Like a leak, Jax had let the words slip from his mouth. ‘It was simple flirting, nothing more,’ you told yourself. Willing your cheeks not to go red. Maybe he’d think the blush was from the physicality of what you were doing.

“I’m gonna take these guys inside…” Happy trailed off, moving as quick as he could

(𝐿𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑦 𝑇𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝐼𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑎 𝑟𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤. 𝐴𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤-𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠)

Jax’s mind was a mess of filthy thoughts and desired actions. He wanted you so badly. Even watching you now, with your hair barely out of your face, sweat gleaming off your forehead. He thought of what it would be like to be the reason you were sweating. To be the reason you were so out of breath. His mind was so engrossed in … you, that he didn’t hear what you were saying. The only thing he was focused on was your body; the tinge of red on your cheeks; the tattoo on your arm.

“Jax!” The urgency in your voice brought him out of his trance.

“Yeah,” he looked into your hazel eyes and followed your line of sight. A car and four bikes were heading up the driveway. And you knew exactly where you had seen that car before.

Everything happened so quickly.

One moment it was fine and then everything went to shit.

“Happy!” Jax called out in his gruff voice, his phone was out in a second and he was calling Chibs.

“They must have followed us here,” you said in a slight whisper.

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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑮𝒚𝒗𝒆𝒓 & 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒚: 𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Paid story for @alohomorasomnium. Word Count: 2k Warnings: swears, implied dog abuse

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

Even with the morning’s debacle, you still thought the interview went well. So well in fact, that they offered you a job on the spot.

“We know it’s short notice-” said one of the interviewers. Her hair was in a messy pony tail and cat hair was covering her blue Vet shirt.

“-But we need some help around here. Charming doesn’t have a lot of aspiring vet technicians. Would you be able to start tomorrow? Full position.” finished the supervisor.

They were both lovely women, the latter in her fifties, with short highlighted blonde hair. She reminded you of your mother a bit.

The younger one seemed incredibly kind, but also a bit airy. Like she could float away to the land of the fairies at a seconds notice. They had introduced themselves as Georgie and Patricia (But “everyone calls me ‘Pat’ or ‘Patty.’).

You nodded in response, trying not to jump out of your chair.

“I would absolutely love that. Thank you for the opportunity.” You smiled warmly at them; a true smile, that reached your eyes.

Maybe someone was looking out for you up there … or … down there. Depending on ones’ beliefs.

“I’ll tell you now that our practice is connected to the town’s pound, “ her hands waved as she spoke, and her big hips swayed from one side to the other as she walked. “It’s so lucky we work together – it really helps as many animals as we can.”

Pat’s accent had a bit of a Southern twang to it, making her even more homely. Even the way she walked, with her hands in the air, waving around as she spoke; even if she wasn’t a mother, she sure would make the perfect Texan one.

“Oh, I’ve never heard of that before-“ your heels clicked and clacked as you both walked down the tiled hallway. The pound was always a sad place in your eyes, but when you entered the conjoining doors, it was anything but.

You couldn’t help but let out a small, “wow,” as you looked around the building. It may be old, but there were hints of love in every corner.

Posters were on the walls of who had found “their forever home,” and then on the other wall were all the eligible animals. To your displeasure, there were more posters of those who hadn’t been adopted.

A desk sat in the middle of the room, with a receptionist who was typing away, but stopped immediately as she saw the two of you.

“Hey Aunt Pat!” The girl had long blonde hair and looked to be about in her early twenties.

“This is my niece, Rebecca,” Pat said with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

“Her favourite niece,” the young woman chimed in. She was very beautiful, and you had an inkling that maybe Pat had a huge part in that young girls life. And not just workwise.

“Hi, I’m Kaelie,” you said, reflecting the same smile back at the girl.

“Nice to meet you. Not a lot of new people come to Charming, so it’s nice to have someone new.” Then the phone started ringing and in an instant, Rebecca answered it.

“She’s a good girl, going to college to study teaching,” Pat said as she led you through another set of doors. The pride in her voice was obvious.

– 🛠 –

“And this is Rex,” her voice was high and bubbly as she rubbed the pit bull’s belly. The old cream coloured dog’s tail was like a propeller.

“He’s gorgeous,” you complimented, crouching down to let him smell your hand.

He gladly did so and gave it a little lick in acceptance.

“We have about eleven dogs up for adoption, and five cats,” Pat went on. She got up and you followed her out of the stall.

The tour lasted another twenty minutes, where you met every animal, their name and background. A few weren’t ready for too much human interaction, and it was those animals that you were excited to work with.

“That’s about it!” Said Pat, she turned and put a hand on her hip.

“This is great, I can’t wait to start,” with open hands, Pat handed you a uniform and grinned.

“Honey, we can’t wait either!”

– 🛠 –

You followed Pat out into the main foyer, and Rebecca was in light conversation with a darkhaired man.

“The offer still stands sweetheart,” he was leaning against the bench, a leash in his hands that was connected to rottweiler that looked as if it hadn’t been fed properly in months.

“You’re a bit too old for me, Tig,” he laughed and shook his head.

“Alright, alright, fair enough-“

“Hey! You leavin’ my Becca alone, right Mr Trager?” Pat’s accent seemed to come out even more.

“’Course I am, you know my love is for you and you only Patty,” Tig walked over and gave Pat a kiss on both cheeks.

You furrowed your brows and watched in amazement. He had the same kutte as Opie.

“And who is this lovely lady?” Tig’s eyes flicked to you and your head turned to the side, you weren’t one for fake flattery.

“The new vet tech,” Patty answered in a loved-up voice. She was definitely one for fake flattery. Well… she probably didn’t catch on to the sham.

“Trainee, vet tech,” you corrected her. You didn’t want people to think you were something other than who you were.

“Ah, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Tig said with a wink.

Once again, you raised your eyebrows, but now turned to Pat for an answer.

“Oh – Tiggy here brings in strays that he’s found.”

It all clicked, and something shifted inside you; respect. Even if he was acting like a dickhead.

“Sure do, too many bastards in this town who don’t look after their dogs,” you could hear the rising passion in his voice.

“Too many bastards everywhere,” you echoed, and he looked at you differently then. Maybe he just found some respect for you too.

“Okay, lets get this guy some food,” Pat said and sauntered away.

From far away you could hear her open a cabinet and pour kibble into a bowl. The phone rang again, and Rebecca answered, her customer voice sounding the exact same as before.

Crouching down, you lifted your hand and let the skinny dog sniff it. His brown eyes flickered toward you and your hand, but tentatively he stepped forward. You were still, knowing that any loud or sudden movements could throw him off.

Sniff, lick, sniff, lick, he kept doing it over until you were able to give him a gentle scratch behind the ear.

The whole while, Tig was staring down at you, impressed.

“You’re really good with him,” Trager said, behind down to be eye level with you.

“I just – understand animals,” you said while shrugging lightly. It wasn’t everyday that you got a compliment from a biker.

“It’s good you’re here, I think this place needs all the help it can get.” Tig whispered the last part, and luckily Rebecca was still on the phone.

But you weren’t alone for long when Pat came back with two bowls.

“Now here we go,” she sat them down lightly and all three of you moved backwards.

Within seconds he started devouring it, barely chewing the kibble, or even taking a breath. The sound of his chewing was quite humorous, and you couldn’t help but smile.

This is what you wanted to do. Help those who are unable to help themselves.

– 🛠 –

With a bag containing your uniform and a few forms to fill out, you waited outside for Opie. Not believing your day, you soon heard the rumble of a bike and looked up. The sun was glaring in your eyes but not enough to render you completely blind.

It was quite obviously not Opie, but Tig, who sat on his bike a few parks down.

“Hey! You got a ride?” He yelled over the rumble of the bike.

You were about to yell back when you walked over to him. Immediately he cut the engine.

“I do, I only met him this morning though. His name is Opie-“

“-Opie? You gotta be kiddin’ me, he’s one of the Sons.”

“Pardon?” You said, squinting your eyes.

“Oh – we ride together, we’re in a Club.” He turned then, to show you the back of his leather vest. Almost like an excited kid showing you his brand-new toy, he pointed to the words.

“Ah, I thought it looked familiar,” you replied, leaning on one leg and putting a hand out to block out the sun.

“Where do you need to go, maybe I can give Opie a call, save him a ride,” Tig took out a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket and slid them on.

“I need to go to…” You needed a moment to remember the mechanics name, “Ooh Teller Morrow mechanics!” You said, clapping your hands once and leaning to the side.

“No shit, that’s where I work. Small world,” he said with a laugh.

“I think that’s said a lot in this town,” you said smiling.

There were no warning signs, no funny feelings in your stomach to indicate danger. Everything seemed … normal. Like you were talking to a genuinely good, albeit flirty, man.

But he could see the hesitation on his face and something in him understood. He’d want his daughters to act the same way. Getting on some stranger’s bike isn’t the best decision.

“I can call Ope and you can talk to him if that eases anything?”

You declined, already making your decision. A man who brings stray dogs to the pound for help has a green tick in your book.

“Just don’t go too fast, ‘kay?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He handed you the helmet and held out a hand to help you onto the seat.

– 🛠 –

The ride wasn’t terrible, even enjoyable at times but there were a few close calls with red lights. Ultimately you didn’t feel as safe with Tig as you did with Opie, who had somehow made you feel safe as soon as he accelerated.

Tig slowed while turning into the compound and you let loose the breath you had been subconsciously holding onto. He parked next to a row of other bikes, turned off the engine and helped you off the bike. In all honesty, your thighs were killing you. Skirts were not made for motorbike riding.

You slide your bag over your shoulder and followed Tig. He was talking but nothing was registering, your mind was too busy comprehending the big Teller Morrow sign as well as keeping an eye out for … a certain someone.

Within moments a young guy, around your age, come out of the mechanics area. His pale blonde hair gleamed in the sunshine and Tig introduced him as “Jax Teller.”

He wiped his hand on a dirty rag, slung it over his shoulder and held out a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly. What was with this Club and flirting?

“Pleasures all mine,” you said with a courteous smile, taking his hand, you couldn’t help but look at the rings on his fingers.

As if you were shaking a bag of food to attract your cat, Opie seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“I see you’ve made it to Teller Morrow mechanics,” he said – mentally cursing himself for such a lame comment. And if you had been looking at the other two guys, you would see the smirks on their faces. But all you were focused on what the giant of a man.

“I have indeed,” you replied, mentally worrying about how to stand, where to put your hands, if you were standing up straight.

Like you had saved him from feeling like a fool, he gave you a warm smile and ignored the silent taunts from the other Sons.

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