Memory

Tig looked down at his bloodied and bruised fists as he sat with his back against the wall in the hallway of his quiet three bedroom home. She had left him, and this time it was for good. He couldn't help but think about the 'what ifs'. What if he had told her he loved her. What if he had spent more nights with her and less nights with the croweaters at the clubhouse. What if he hadn't been so God damned hard to love.

His hands shook as he thought about it all, the last few years, how patient she had been with him, how she waited for him to get his shit together and how he never fucking did. It was his fault. The reason she was driven away, and the walls caving in around him from the haymakers he'd sent through the drywall, and he was to blame for it all. Tig had never wanted a relationship, but he'd realized too late that he loved her. He needed her. And now she was nothing but a memory.

Send me Tig!

Asks about him, Tag me in posts about him, Message me stuff about him...

Videos! Photos! Text posts! Literally anything. I need some Tiggy in my life guys I'm having withdrawals!!

Obsessive - Part 32 - The Finale

The stalker is in Juice’s home and has attacked (Y/N). Can Juice intervene before its too late?

(This will be multi parts so check back for my next installment. As always, if you want to be notified of my updates just let me know and I will message you when I post new chapters)

A/N: Its been a wild ride, you guys. Thanks so much for supporting the story and giving me your feedback. I enjoyed hearing all the theories about what was going on, (from Jax and YN playing with a ouija board when they were little, to the intruder actually being ant-man), the commentary has been hilarious, and I loved every minute of it. I always said I wouldn’t write Juice unless the idea was good and this one was great, given to me by none other than @codenamekaraortiz. Yup, it was her little seed that she planted in my brain and let me grow it. I hope I did your idea justice love. And I’m sorry for tricking you guys with that fake finale, but I am a prankster deep down and it was really fun writing that ‘alternate ending’ lol. I’m a Tig girl, I can’t help myself! Thanks for sticking with me anyway, dolls, and I hope this finale is well worth the little trick I played on you earlier!!! -CJTM **Disclaimer: I do not suffer from OCD so I cannot begin to imagine what it is like. Any and everything that I am writing is what I’ve learned from people I know and the internet as well as asking advice from friends who know more about it than me. If anything is wrong or inaccurate of someone with OCD, please excuse my ignorance, as I said I am asking questions to help with the descriptions but I’m sure I will get something wrong eventually.

Juice Ortiz x Reader

(GIF isn’t mine) __________________

You woke up being jerked up from the couch by your hair, pain radiating through your head and neck as you struggled to find your feet and your voice. You heard Juice yell out, “Let her go!” and then you were stricken with fear. You knew without seeing him that John Howard was who had grabbed you. A thousand thoughts crossed through your mind in a matter of seconds. How did he find you here? What did he want with you now? Why was he so obsessed with getting to you? You yelped in pain as you were pulled backwards away from Juice. “J-JUICE!” You screamed a bloodcurdling scream, struggling against the perpetrator who had you by the hair, still trying to drag you away. Juice charged at the man, stopping short just as you felt something cold against your temple. A gun barrel.

“I will shoot your precious girlfriend in the head if you don’t BACK OFF Juan Carlos!” The man bellowed. “You took my gun?” he asked, his voice trembling. You looked up at Juice’s face, tears filling your eyes the same as they did his. All of a sudden you heard something behind you, and John must have as well as he let you go, spinning around to point his gun at Tig who appeared in the hall, boxers and kutte only, with his gun raised. As soon as you hit the ground you clawed your way to Juice who dropped to his knees to check on you. “Are you okay?” he panted, looking you over frantically. You couldn’t speak over your own breathing so you nodded, the floodgates opening as you began to sob. That moment was broken up when a gunshot rang throughout the house, John had fired his weapon.

“Tig!” Juice screamed, standing up to see that Tig had taken cover behind the living room wall. You scurried behind Juice as John turned back to face you, “She belongs to ME!” He screamed, making to lunge at you when another gunshot rang out, this time from Tig’s gun, hitting John in the leg. Juice sprang forward, tackling John to the ground and knocking the gun out of his hand. You screamed as the two of them struggled, Juice landing a few punches, then John getting the upper hand and landing a couple more. Tig rushed to your side, “We gotta get you out of here,” he spoke hastily, grabbing your arm and pulling you to your feet before grabbing the gun that has skittered across the floor and tucking it in his kutte. “No!” you struggled, “I can’t leave him!” you blubbered through tears.

“Doll I have one job that’s to keep you safe now let’s GO!” he urged, pulling your hand to take you away from the brawl that was going down in Juice’s living room.

 Tig pulled you out the front door, grabbing his phone out of his kutte that he wore over his naked back, and hitting #2 on the speed dial which called Clay. Clay picked up on the first ring. “She’s fine.” “He’s here, brother.” “Yeah you need to get here, now!” Tig implored your father before ending the call. As he lowered the phone from his ear there was a crashing sound from inside and you turned to run back inside, your arm pulled backward by none other than Mr. Trager himself. “I have to go!” you pleaded with him, “He’ll kill Juice!”

“I can’t let you go in there, (Y/N), I’m sorry.” You collapsed into a sobbing mess as you continued to hear the yells and crashes from inside the room, followed by motorcycle engines coming up the block.

Juice was battered and bruised. He was bleeding from his mouth and his nose, his knuckles busted up and his hand was most likely broken as he traded blows with the intruder in his home. He didn’t care about himself, he didn’t even care about winning the fight, he just hoped he could distract your attacker long enough for help to arrive. He was only worried about keeping him away from you.

Both men were exhausted, throwing punch after punch, rolling on the floor, returning to their feet and standing toe to toe before going back to the ground again. Juice punched John several times in the gunshot wound to his leg, causing him to yell out in agony as he assaulted the wound. Juice could hear you yelling for him outside the house, Tig’s even louder voice accompanying yours. He was comforted momentarily by the thought that you were safe outside with Tig as he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, looking down to see blood pouring from his stomach. John had stabbed him.

The stinging was replaced with a white hot fire coming from the site of the bleeding as his vision blurred. He saw John grin, standing up and dusting himself off, “Time to go get my girl,” he taunted, panting, and headed towards the front door.

 You were crying into Tig’s shoulder as your father, Jax, and Chibs came running up. All of a sudden the front door opened and you blearily turned to see who was stepping out of the house. Tig, Clay, Jax, and Chibs stood, drawing their guns in the direction of the backlit body in the doorway. You didn’t have to see his face to know it wasn’t Juice. You wailed, stumbling to your feet to charge the man between you and your lover when he lurched forward, toppling down the front steps with Juice Ortiz standing behind him, panting breathlessly as John Howard thudded to a stop on the ground in front of you.

Juice dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach. As everything went black, your screams were the last thing he heard.

 “JUICE!” You cried, sprinting to his side and looking him over. He was bleeding profusely and you didn’t have to be a doctor to know he didn’t have long before he would bleed out. “Somebody do something!” you screamed, shaking him, trying to get him to remain conscious, “HELP!”

Tig, Clay, Jax and Chibs stood gaping at the scene, not sure of what to do.

“You have to DO SOMETHING,” you yelled at them through tears. 

All of a sudden, you saw the body of John Howard resurrected, standing up and turning towards you, “You BITCH!” he yelled, raising a fist before three gunshots rang out and he jolted, falling to the ground again, this time for good. As Jax, Clay and Tig each put their guns away, Clay pulled out his phone and called 911. You cradled Juice’s lifeless head in your lap as you sobbed over his body and Chibs rushed over to start attending to his wounds. 

 xXxXxXx

 “Good morning,” a sweet voice called as he stirred, waking from a long and very strange dream. Juice opened his eyes to see you, sitting by his bedside in a hospital room. The pain in his stomach was the next sensation he discovered, wincing as he moved to get a better look at you. “Hey…” he spoke feebly, his voice as beat up as his face, body, and hands.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, typing a text to Jax, letting him know Juice was awake, before putting your phone away and standing to walk over to his side.

“I feel like I fought a crazed lunatic,” he smirked, resting his head back against his pillow as you took his hand.

“You saved my life, Juice,” you told him earnestly, “I can never repay you for it.” “Yeah, well,” he blushed a bit, “maybe a kiss is a good start,” he smiled and you leaned down to plant one on his lips, his hand finding the side of your face as he deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue into your mouth.

 A whistle broke the two of you apart and you looked at Juice to see his blush was strong now, your cheeks adopting their own shade of crimson as well. Jax, Tig, Chibs, Clay, Gemma and Bobby were filing into the room followed by Tara who was making her rounds, filling in for a colleague, and was there to check on him for the morning.

“Hey guys,” Juice grinned, trying to sit up and waving his casted hand at the horde standing before him. He was obviously happy to see his family, and you couldn’t blame him, you were happy to see them too.    “Juice,” your dad spoke sternly, causing you and he to furrow your brows at Clay’s complicated response. Clay walked to his bedside, frustration and disappointment in his eyes as he stood beside you and looked down at your boyfriend. Juice was visibly tormented, gulping loudly as Clay huffed heavily, “I can’t believe….” he trailed off, “that you would lay your life on the line to protect my baby girl,” Clay smiled. “I had doubts about you. I didn’t think your head was in the right place. I didn’t think you would put yourself between (Y/N) and danger but you proved me wrong. There’s no better man I’d rather have for my daughter than you, Juice.” Juice reached his hand out and Clay slapped it away, leaning down to hug the younger man as the rest of your family in the room ‘awwed’ and ‘whooped’.

Obsessive - Part 32 - Alternate ending

... (This will be multi parts so check back for my next installment. As always, if you want to be notified of my updates just let me know and I will message you when I post new chapters) **Disclaimer: I do not suffer from OCD so I cannot begin to imagine what it is like. Any and everything that I am writing is what I’ve learned from people I know and the internet as well as asking advice from friends who know more about it than me. If anything is wrong or inaccurate of someone with OCD, please excuse my ignorance, as I said I am asking questions to help with the descriptions but I’m sure I will get something wrong eventually.

Juice Ortiz x Reader

(GIF isn’t mine) __________________

NO!

You woke with a start, sweat pouring down your face, heart racing. It had seemed so real. “You okay, darlin?” the calming voice washed over you, removing all the fear in your body, “Guess we fell asleep on the couch again,” he chuckled. You turned to face him, his arms wrapped around you made you feel immediately better. That dream had been horrendous. “I just… I had a nightmare,” you sighed, suddenly noticing tears running down your cheeks. You guessed the nightmare had affected you even more than you knew. “What about?” he asked, wiping away one of the rogue teardrops from your cheek with his thumb. “I dreamt that I was--” “--Everything okay?” You were interrupted before you could begin to tell your story by your additional houseguest standing in the hallway, “I heard someone scream,” he finished. “It was me,” you answered, “I just had a bad dream. It’s okay….” you trailed off, “I’m sorry.” “No reason to be sorry, doll,” Tig assured you.

“I guess I’ll go back to bed, then,” Juice spoke, turning around and walking back to the guest room of Tig’s house. “What was the dream about?” Tig asked as you settled back against his chest and his hands traced patterns across your back. “Well,” you began, “For starters…” you trailed off for a moment, trying to figure out how to phrase what you had to say, “....I was with Juice.” Tig’s eyes widened and he scoffed, “Wow that IS scary,” he chuckled and you rolled your eyes at his joke. “What else, sweetheart?” he asked as his laughter died down. “Well… I had a stalker, who wanted to kill me, or something, I don’t know…. But he had me. He was trying to take me… That’s when I woke up.” “Nothing like that will ever happen on my watch,” Tig assured you, pressing his lips to yours, “ever.” You smiled against his kiss, “And no more dreaming about my brothers,” he poked your ribs in jest, “Alright?” “Yes Tiggy,” you grinned, holding him tightly and nuzzling into his neck. “C’mon,” he patted you on the butt, “Let’s go to bed, you know my back is bad, I shouldn’t be sleeping on this couch,” Tig told you as you began to sit up, taking your old man’s hand and leading him down the hall to your bedroom. Thank God it was all just a dream.

Obsessive - Part 31

If the stalker wasn’t at his apartment.... Where was he? (This will be multi parts so check back for my next installment. As always, if you want to be notified of my updates just let me know and I will message you when I post new chapters) **Disclaimer: I do not suffer from OCD so I cannot begin to imagine what it is like. Any and everything that I am writing is what I’ve learned from people I know and the internet as well as asking advice from friends who know more about it than me. If anything is wrong or inaccurate of someone with OCD, please excuse my ignorance, as I said I am asking questions to help with the descriptions but I’m sure I will get something wrong eventually.

Juice Ortiz x Reader

(GIF isn’t mine) __________________

You were talking to Opie about his kids when the rest of the guys rounded the corner of your apartment building. As they walked up to you, you could see in your father’s face an expression of worry. 

Your jaw set, you had expected them to be relieved, accomplished, not shaken up. Juice climbed into the truck and looked at you as the rest of the guys took off down the road to their bikes. “Hall Closet had a false back. He got in and out behind the camera, without the front door. The only reason he used the door when he attacked you is because he didn’t want to give up his secret, I guess. But it looks like maybe he fled because all his things are gone from his apartment.”    He let out an exasperated sigh. Neither of you truly believed he was gone for good. Even though you were astounded to hear this information, you could see Juice was unsettled by what was discovered. He needed reassurance. You reached over, placing a hand on his knee, “Hey,” you spoke, “It’s over. He is gone.” You smiled at him optimistically and he took a deep breath, forcing a smile back at you as the chorus of bikes firing up down the road broke your focus and he started the truck.

“What do you think we oughta do brother?” Tig asked Clay as you all walked up to the clubhouse. “I don’t know Tig. I can’t think straight. I need to time to mull this over tonight and we can figure everything out in the mor--” Clay’s sentence was cut short as the door to the clubhouse was swung open to reveal the chaos inside.

“Mary mother of….” Chibs gasped as he pulled out his gun, Tig, Happy, and Jax doing the same and taking off in separate directions to look for the culprit. As you finally made it through the door with Juice, you could see someone had completely trashed the main bar room. The mug shot wall was now just a few broken frames hanging awry, the rest of the photographs shattered on the floor. None of the bar stools were intact, the liquor bottles behind the bar were all smashed, the jukebox had a hole in the glass, and the doors to the chapel were off their hinges. “He did this…” Juice whispered, aghast. You turned and buried your head in his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and clamped your eyes shut as he instinctively held you back, stroking your hair and looking around at the horror in front of him. Your dad, finally coming to grips with everything, began barking orders, “Bobby, check the garage, make sure the bastard isn’t out there tearing more shit up.” Bobby nodded and pulled his gun, turning to walk across the lot with Opie in tow backing him up. “Tig!” Clay bellowed, “Get in here!” Tig appeared from the kitchen behind the bar, “Yeah boss?” “Take (Y/N) to my house. Do not take your eyes off of her, not even for a second. It’s not safe here for (Y/N) anymore,” your father ordered and your head shot up from Juice’s chest, eyes wide. The last place you wanted to be was at your mommy and daddy’s house, and somehow you knew deep down that Clay and Gemma’s wasn’t safe for you.

Tig began to round the bar as you cleared your throat, catching Clay’s attention who turned to look at you, “Baby I know you don’t want to go but I have to keep you safe,” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Whatsa matter, doll?” Tig asked as he walked up, “You ashamed of being seen with your old pal, Tigger?”

You half-smiled before eyeing your dad, glancing over your shoulder to Juice and back to Clay, who, despite his visible anger over the vandalism in his clubhouse, smiled half-heartedly, shaking his head. “Alright,” he started, “This guy seems to have been a step ahead of us this whole time. Cleaning out his apartment before we showed up, coming here when he knew we’d be gone. He probably expects me to send you to my house,” he sighed, “So I’ll let you go with Juice,” he paused, “BUT only if you take Tig with you.” “Deal,” you said, with Clay opening his arms to hug you. As you stepped into his embrace, he placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Thanks, Clay,” Juice said as he took your hand to lead you out of the clubhouse. He knew how big of a deal it was to be trusted by Clay to protect you and keep you safe. Even if he did have Tig tagging along. Clay patted Juice on the back, “Not a scratch, brother,” Clay said, meeting Juice’s eyes. Juice nodded back before leading you out, with Tig close behind.

You stepped off of Juice’s bike. He had taken a couple detours, backtracking a few times to make sure you weren’t followed. It extended the 10 minute drive home into 25 minutes, but you didn’t mind. If it meant you’d get to be with Juice, somewhere you felt safe and where your compulsions didn’t drive you nuts, you’d gladly drive for hours. You, Juice and Tig walked up the driveway to Juice’s front door, Juice unlocked the door and you stepped inside, followed by Tig with your overnight bag, and Juice stepped in last, closing and locking the door.

His house was immaculate. Everything was extremely clean, organized, the kind of home that didn’t make your skin crawl. “Am I on the couch?” Tig asked Juice, you could tell he had been here before by how comfortably he tossed your bag on the couch and then plopped down on the big armchair in the living room. “No,” Juice hesitated, looking from you, back to Tig, “No you can take the spare room.” Tig raised his eyebrows, “Alright then,” he smiled, “I’m gonna take a shower, leave you guys to it,” he stood and grabbed your bag, looking at Juice for guidance. “You can put it in my room,” Juice answered. Another grin reached across Tig’s face, “Okay,” he spoke as he turned to walk down the hall.

“You gonna give me a tour?” you smiled, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it. He sighed at your touch, turning to face you and taking your free hand in his. “It’s been a long day, (Y/N). How about we just watch TV for a little bit?” You didn’t care what you did, to be honest, as long as you were close to your man. “Alright then,” you smiled as you sat down on the couch and he sat beside you, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. You snuggled into his side as he flipped through the channels.

Juice woke with a pain in his neck. Stretching, he realized that you and he must’ve fallen asleep on the couch. 

He made a move to stand when he heard it, a whisper. 

He felt his hip for his gun but it wasn’t there. Slowly, he turned towards the sound he heard to see you, asleep, your head resting on the opposite couch arm. Above you, silhouetted only by the light coming from the muted television, was another body. 

He knew instantly who it was. 

It wasn’t Tig. 

It was him. 

John Howard. 

In the low light, Juice could see that the face turned towards him. He tried to find his resolve, to speak firmly and without fear, yet his voice was still wavering when he asked, “Why are you here? W-What do you want?”

“Her,” he responded, reaching down and grabbing you, still asleep, by your scalp and yanking you up from the couch with a jerk.  

Obsessive - Part 30

Time to go scumbag hunting :) (This will be multi parts so check back for my next installment. As always, if you want to be notified of my updates just let me know and I will message you when I post new chapters) **Disclaimer: I do not suffer from OCD so I cannot begin to imagine what it is like. Any and everything that I am writing is what I’ve learned from people I know and the internet as well as asking advice from friends who know more about it than me. If anything is wrong or inaccurate of someone with OCD, please excuse my ignorance, as I said I am asking questions to help with the descriptions but I’m sure I will get something wrong eventually.

Juice Ortiz x Reader

(GIF isn’t mine) __________________

You walked out of the chapel to see guns strewn across the bar and Opie and Happy in bulletproof vests. Juice squeezed your shoulder from behind you and you turned around to face him, “You should stay here, just in case. I don’t want you to get hurt.” “It’s a little too late for that, Juice,” you responded, pointing to the scar above your eyebrow from your accidental encounter with the man they were getting ready to go after. Juice sighed in response and nodded, placing a soft kiss on your lips and pulling you into a hug before stepping past you to arm up with the rest of his brothers. 

As Juice walked away, Clay approached you. “I hope you understand why we kept this from you baby,” he looked like he was ready to weather a storm, but you knew he had only kept the info from you because it was tough to listen to and even tougher being the one to tell it.

“It’s okay,” you smiled at him, “You were protecting me.” He gave you a half-hearted smile as he pulled you into a hug and kissed the top of your head, “I know you want to go with us, but I don’t want you going into the apartment. I’ll keep someone back to watch after you while we go up, okay?” You nodded as he passed you by and Tig hugged you as well, “I’m glad you finally know the truth, doll,” he spoke quietly, “We all love you like you’re Clay and Gemma’s kid anyway, but I’m happy you know what they did for you.” “What you all did for me, Tiggy,” you spoke through a grin as you stepped back from his hug and he smiled back to you, looking down and blushing a little bit, “Yeah, well, you know…” he trailed off and Jax patted him on the back as he moved to stand beside Tig in front of you. “You ready to go scumbag hunting, sis?” Jax asked, a grin on his face that you could tell was just a cover-up for the disgust and hurt he was feeling on your behalf. “As ready as I’ll ever be!” you chirped back and Jax grinned again, wrapping an arm around you and steering you over to the rest of SAMCRO who were just about ready to ride out.

 You pulled up to your apartment, riding in the tow truck with Juice while the rest of the guys parked their bikes down the block. Juice had both hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. As he spaced out, you watched him, anxiety was written all over him, from his tense shoulders to his tightly clenched jaw, you knew he was stressed about what was coming.

“Hey…” you whispered, snapping him out of his daze, “...it’s gonna be fine.” You placed your hand on his forearm and looked into his dark brown eyes, “He can’t hurt me anymore. We know who he is now and we will find him,” you smiled reassuringly, “YOU will find him.” Juice scoffed and smiled, shaking his head, “Yeah…. Yeah I know,” he took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, “Stay here.” He opened the door to the truck and hopped out, leaving you alone except for Opie who was standing right outside your window. You nodded to him, and he nodded back as you took a deep breath and watched the rest of the Sons walk around the corner and out of sight. 

 Juice couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking into a trap. He and his brothers were heavily armed, but he had a sick feeling of impending doom as if something bad was about to happen. As they approached your door, the prospect guarding your door stood, confused, but relieved to see familiar faces. “What’s going on?” he asked, noticing the serious demeanor of the gang walking towards him, “Did something happen to (Y/N)?” His question was unanswered as Clay spoke up, “Hap, which neighbor is it?” he asked as Happy pointed past the door “That one,” he rasped, “208.” Clay turned to the prospect then, “Has the neighbor in 208 come or gone since you’ve been here?” he asked but was met with a negative shake of the prospect’s head.    “I say we just bust in there, boss, try to catch the fucker off guard,” Tig suggested and a couple of the guys nodded in agreement. “Or,” Jax interjected, “Maybe we don’t act like gangsters and we go in quietly. Draw less attention to ourselves.” Everyone shrugged and nodded, looking to Juice. Juice sighed, stepping forward to pick the lock, but upon reaching the door, he noticed it wasn’t locked at all. He looked to Clay, twisting the knob and pushing the door open as everyone except Bobby, who was posted outside as a lookout, filed in with their guns drawn.

 The unit was laid out exactly like yours, only the mirror image of it. Your kitchen was on the right, this kitchen was on the left, the dining area in your unit was on the left, his on the right, and so on. The only other difference was this apartment was empty. Too empty. Empty like it was meant to be found this way.

“Let’s have a look around see if we can find anything,” Clay whispered and the rest of the men spread out throughout the apartment, leaving Juice standing there next to his President. “I don’t like this Clay. Guy just ups and takes off for no reason? What sense does that make? He had no reason to believe that we were on to him…” “Maybe something that happened when you came back over here spooked him,” Clay suggested and Juice nodded uncomfortably, “Yeah, maybe…” he replied nervously as he walked through the living room and into the bedroom where Chibs was looking around. He paused momentarily before entering into the bathroom where Jax was digging through cabinets. He was just about to lend a hand when Happy’s voice rang throughout the apartment. “Oh Fuck. Clay!” Happy yelled, pulling all of the guys inside the apartment from their respective locations and towards the sound of his voice. Juice rounded the corner to find Happy standing outside the hall closet, and when he stepped up to stand beside Happy he realized why he had yelled.

 The closet had no back, instead there was a hole in the sheet rock. Juice couldn’t see through it because something was covering the way, but with one small shove the false wall gave way, falling and opening up into the closet that backed up to it. Your hall closet.

“Shit!” Juice cursed, turning and beginning to head out the door towards your apartment as Happy began to climb through the hole in your neighbor’s closet.

 Juice walked in your front door with Clay and Tig just in time to see Happy emerge from the closet, both of their guns were drawn. After a quick sweep of the rooms they settled back in front of the closet peering through to the other side where Chibs and Jax were standing, dumbfounded, staring back at them.

“So this is how he’s been comin and goin’, the bastard,” Chibs shook his head with disgust.

Juice turned to Clay, “What are we gonna do?” his voice was dripping with stress.

Lunch Break

Happy Lowman x Reader (GIF isn’t mine) . . . SMUT!! . . .

“Hap..” you breathed, your chest rising and falling rapidly with excitement as your lover pinned you against the wall. “Hap, aren’t you afraid of getting caught?” you whispered, trying to focus on anything but his lips on your throat as he grunted in response and his teeth scratched your skin. “I’m not afraid of anything,” he growled, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor and join both of your shirts. “Happy if someone–” “–Fine.” Happy huffed, cutting you off and stepping away from you, “I’m gonna go back to work then.” He knelt down to pick up his shirt, but you reached out to him. “No! Wait.” He stopped, smirking at you. “I just meant… Maybe we could go somewhere that isn’t in the middle of the garage?” Happy surveyed the garage and the parking lot. It was lunch time so everyone had scattered but he knew how you felt about sex in public. It wasn’t that you were against it, it was just that you had two family members in the MC: Piney, and Opie, your dad and brother, who would completely lose it to see you getting it on with your boyfriend in the middle of the Teller-Morrow garage. “Come here,” he ordered, grabbing your shirt and tossing it to you for you to put on and picking up your bra, holding it in one hand as he took your hand in his other and began to haul you across the lot towards the clubhouse.

You smiled as he pulled you across the bar room floor and into the back hallway, walking down to the empty guest room and leading you inside. As soon as he shut the door behind you he threw your bra aside and his shirt came off again, the tattoos and muscles of his arms, chest, and abs on full display as he stepped to you. 

You pulled your shirt off over your head, lazily draping your arms around his neck as you pressed your lips against his, slipping your tongue inside his mouth while he walked you backwards towards the bed. He tossed you onto the mattress when the back of your legs hit the bed, and still standing at the foot of it, he began to take off his jeans, prompting you to shimmy yours off as well. You kicked your panties off and quickly crawled to the edge of the bed, waiting for Happy’s boxers to drop so you could greet his erection with a kiss. You placed your lips around the tip, sucking gently and looking up at your man whose eyes were closed, jaw clenched tightly, his hands weaving into your hair as you pulled more of him into your mouth. He groaned with satisfaction as you began to bob your head back and forth, taking in as much of him as you could before pulling back and doing it again.

Suddenly he gripped your hair tighter, pulling you off of him and up to his mouth, kissing you quickly before shoving you back onto the bed.

He climbed across the mattress to settle down over the top of you, one hand wrapping around your throat while the other was affixed to your hip. He ground his hips against your core, his thumb rubbing the skin on your neck as he watched you breathe slowly under the pressure of his hand. He smiled devilishly before kissing you harshly, holding you down against the sheets and putting his full weight on you. He kissed across your mouth and over to your ear, biting on outside of it as he continued to grind against your core. “How do you want it,” he asked you quietly, his breath hot against your skin. “However you want me, Daddy,” you toyed back at him, playfully biting your bottom lip when he leaned up to look at you.

A low chuckle emanated from his chest as he flipped you over, face down, pulling your hips up so you were on your knees with your ass in the air. He leaned forward, kissing and biting your left ass cheek, delivering a slap to your right which made you squeal.

He pulled away, and you turned to look back at him as he studied your center, pumping himself in his hand and reaching forward to run a finger through your folds. “You’re so wet, you little slut,” he grinned, slapping you on the ass again and pressing himself against you. He rubbed the tip of his penis across your core a few times teasingly before he pushed into you, forcing a gasp to escape your throat. As you started to move to ease the discomfort he leaned over your back, his hands pressing your shoulders against the mattress, “Don’t run,” he growled, and you nodded in response as he began thrusting into you, slowly speeding up to the fast pace you had become accustomed to. “Fuck, Happy..” you moaned, reaching between your legs to rub yourself, feeling your climax approaching. “You like that baby girl?” He asked, moving to hold your hips as he thrusted into you harder, his breathing becoming unsteady just as you went over the edge, seeing stars as Happy fucked you through your orgasm and coming undone right after you, pulling out to spill his seed on your ass and back. “Well that was a good break,” you turned over and smiled as he collapsed on top of you, wrapping his tattooed arms around you. “Yes it was,” he affirmed with a sigh. “We should make afternoon quickies a regular thing,” you joked. “Agreed,” he rasped, kissing you once again.

“Birthday Sex”

Tig Trager x Reader  (GIF isn’t mine)

SMUT!!!!

This is for you doll @mjcumberbatch Happy (early) Birthday!

______________________________

[Your Perspective]

“Your birthday is coming up…” he trailed off as he held the phone to his ear.

“Yes it is,” you smiled in response, “but you know I’m not big about birthdays Filip.” You could tell by how awkwardly he brought up the subject that he had something in mind. You were hoping he’d come back to Easterhouse to visit the family, but you knew that was a long shot. Filip hadn’t been back since he left as a teen. You were the only family he was even close to anymore. The rest had labeled him a black sheep and moved on with their lives without him.

“So why don’t ye come out here an’ spend your birthday in California?”

You saw that request coming from a mile away, “I don’t know Filip I–” “–Lass you haven’t visited in years. Me an’ the guys, we all miss you… Tig too,” he added, causing you to blush. There was a teasing tone in his voice that antagonized you. Chibs knew you had a small crush on his outlaw brother, but he also knew, unbeknownst to you, that Tig had grown fond of you the last time you visited on your birthday four years ago.

“Alright, fine,” you spoke finally, feigning annoyance, “I’ll come. I’ll text you my flight details when I know them.” “I’ll be waiting at the airport for you when you land, lass,” Chibs smiled and hung up the phone, pushing away from the desk in the office at TM and walking out into the garage where Tig, Bobby, Opie, Clay and Jax were all working on bikes and cars for customers. “Just got off the phone with (Y/N)…” Chibs paused as he saw everyone’s attention turn to him, but none’s head whipped around quicker at the mention of your name than Tig Trager. Chibs grinned, “…She’ll be joinin’ us in Charming for her birthday next week.” “That’s really good, brother,” Clay smiled, patting the Scotsman on the back, “It’ll do you good to have your family around for a little while.” “Yeah…” he smiled back, looking across the garage at Tig whose mouth was agape as he stared off into space. Chibs didn’t know what it was about his younger cousin that made Tig so nervous, but it was entertaining to watch.

Obsessive - Part 29

Happy has seen the guy, but who is he? *Mentions of extreme child abuse* (This will be multi parts so check back for my next installment. As always, if you want to be notified of my updates just let me know and I will message you when I post new chapters) **Disclaimer: I do not suffer from OCD so I cannot begin to imagine what it is like. Any and everything that I am writing is what I’ve learned from people I know and the internet as well as asking advice from friends who know more about it than me. If anything is wrong or inaccurate of someone with OCD, please excuse my ignorance, as I said I am asking questions to help with the descriptions but I’m sure I will get something wrong eventually.

Juice Ortiz x Reader

(GIF isn’t mine) __________________

Happy’s revelation made something click in Juice’s head. The reason he recognized the guy in the photo, the reason he thought the guy looked familiar, was because he ran into him that day he took you to see Tara.

“Oh my God,” Juice gasped, “I’ve seen him too, at the hospital.” He let go of your hand as he ran his hands over the top of his head. “Well now that we know where he lives, let’s go talk to the son of a bitch!” Tig growled, his fists slamming down on the table followed by a chorus of shouts and whoops. You had been quiet, listening to everything and trying to take it in, but nothing made sense.

“Wait!” you shouted, looking over to your dad who was staring back at you, “I don’t understand, is he…” you trailed off, trying to make your mouth say the words as you fidgeted with your hands, “is he my… real dad?” The room got quiet and you shifted your stare to Tig who looked at you sadly and then looked to Piney who caught your eye for a moment but then peered down at his lap. You felt Juice’s hand back on your knee and you intertwined your fingers with his as everyone looked from you back to Clay. “No baby,” he said with a sigh, “I guess it’s time to tell you the real story of how you ended up here,” you felt your heart rate increase, as Clay looked around the table, “Tig, Jax, you two stay. Everyone else, clear out and get ready to go pay our apartment-dwelling creep a visit tonight.”

Piney, Opie, Chibs, Bobby and Happy stood to walk outside, but as Juice prepared to stand and join them, your grip tightened on his hand causing him to look at you pleadingly, the purple under his eyes and across his nose sending you the message that he didn’t want to anger Clay again. Without looking away from Juice you spoke to your father, “Dad, can Juice stay, please? I want him to know, too.” Clay looked at you and back to Juice before nodding and allowing Juice to stay. Happy closed the door as he exited the room and Jax was the first to speak, “Why don’t I know about this?” he asked, his piercing eyes shooting daggers at Clay. The two were always at odds, but this time you understood why. Jax was the VP of the charter and knew nothing, same as you.

“This shit happened before you even had a license Jax,” Clay said defensively, “By the time you were a part of the club, it was old news. Until today I had no reason to believe he was a threat to SAMCRO or your sister.”

You could tell Clay was exhausted, and getting the third degree from Jax wasn’t making his mood any better. “Who is he, dad?” you asked, trying to break up some of the tension that was coursing between Jax and Clay. Clay looked at Tig who nodded to him reassuringly as they both took a deep breath and looked at you.

“(Y/N), your mom wasn’t a drug addicted porn star, she was a junkie and a whore,” he began and you looked down at the table, gently tapping the table top as you listened for the rest of the story to find out how John Howard fit into it all. Tig picked up where your father left off,  “She was turning tricks out of Oakland for this guy, John Howard. He was her pimp.” Clay nodded in agreement and carried on talking, “According to your mom, she had a regular that she ended up falling in love with.”   “Yeah. The only problem though, was that Howard wanted her for himself when she wasn’t working for him, so she had to keep her relationship with this guy a secret. Started seeing him without Howard knowing and not making him pay,” Tig added, “Big no-no in her line of work…” You felt Juice’s grip on your hand tighten and you looked over to him, this story was getting crazier with every new sentence.

“So she ended up pregnant–”

“–with me?” you interrupted, and Clay and Tig both nodded. Jax looked from you back to Clay, “Okay so what happened that caused (Y/N) to end up here?” he asked and you shifted your gaze between Tig and Clay again, waiting for one of them to answer. “Well,” Clay began, “The pregnancy went well I guess. Howard went through it all believing you were his, got your mom to stop the drugs so you’d be healthy, he did everything right.” “Yeah,” Tig agreed, “If it wasn’t for what happened after you were born we’d have thought he was the perfect guy to be your father, we wouldn’t have stepped in…” “But how did you even know these people to feel the need to step in?” you asked, not understanding how the club could be tied to a pimp based in Oakland. “Our paths crossed by accident,” Clay answered you. You could tell there was a long story ahead, “After you were born, Howard started getting suspicious. You didn’t look like him and the older you got the more he could tell you didn’t look like your mom either. I guess he started questioning his other whores and one of them talked because Howard beat your mom pretty bad. She told him who your father most likely was, the client she had been dating, and Howard found him, killed him, and dumped him in Charming.” Your questioning expression was replaced with one of understanding as it all began to make sense. “So you found out this pimp was who dumped the body and went to tell him he couldn’t do that in our town…” you guessed, looking at Tig who smiled approvingly and nodded, “Yep,” he answered, “took a little convincing, but he ended up seeing things our way.” Tig grinned again. “So was her dad the dead guy in the photo that was sent to me?” Juice asked and Clay nodded, “That was (Y/N)’s real father, as far as we know.”

Jax blinked, looking from you back to Clay once again, shaking his head. “It still doesn’t add up,” he spoke, “Did you take (Y/N) to prove a point?” Clay shook his head no and continued on with his story, “No. We left Oakland and a few hours after we made it back to Charming, a lady shows up looking for me. Turns out your mom heard our heart-to-heart with the pimp and decided to ask for the club’s help in getting you clear of it all… ‘cause…” Clay trailed off, you could tell whatever was coming next was hard for him to relive. Even Tig shifted in his seat from unease so you knew whatever was coming was about to be bad.

“Because John had given your mother a choice–” “–A shitty fucking choice,” Tig scoffed, interrupting Clay and shaking his head with disgust.

“Either he’d kill your mom, and have you taken to an orphanage,” your dad spoke softly, “or he’d let her live and keep you, but he would use you to…” he trailed off, unable to make his mouth say the words as he hung his head. Tig reached over and patted his shoulder, taking a deep breath and looking at you, “He was gonna spare your mother’s life, but only if she willingly let him….” Tig took a deep breath, breaking eye contact with you as he looked away and his hand rubbed his face, “If she let him pimp you out.”

Your heart dropped and Jax cussed under his breath as Juice wrapped his arm around you and pulled you even closer to him. Your eyes began to water as you asked the only question you could think of, “And she said yes….?” your voice cracked, betraying you as you tried to remain strong, to show your dad, Tig, your brother, and Juice that you could handle the entire truth.

“Yeah,” was all Clay could say in response, he had aged ten years from the start of this conversation.. “She realized quickly that she had made a mistake which is why she came to us, doll.” Tig looked at you with sad eyes and nodded to let you know it was okay to be upset, “She knew she couldn’t save you alone, and as soon as we found out what would happen to you if we didn’t step in… It was a no-brainer.”

Clay looked up and began to speak again, having found his resolve once again, “Gemma made me swear that once I got you out of there, that I’d never allow you to go back to your birth-mother–” “–but that didn’t end up being an issue,” Tig finished and you furrowed your brows at him questioningly.

Suddenly, all the dots connected for Juice and he looked up at Clay, “(Y/N)’s mom is Rachel Smith?” he half-asked, half-stated. Clay and Tig both nodded again. “Yes.” Clay answered, “We came in and snuck you away when Howard was out. I brought you back up here, and Gemma took you home. A few days later we heard news that Rachel Smith was killed and John Howard had been charged with her murder.” Juice looked at you. "We paid a lawyer to draft some paperwork and forge some documents willing us custody of you should anything happen to your mother, and we followed the case until John was sentenced…” “…and that’s pretty much where the story ended, until the sick bastard apparently got out of prison with a fixation on you.” Tig added, leaning back in his seat, relieved to finally have that story off his chest. Now you could see there was a fire in his eyes. Tig wanted to kill this man, the man that killed both of your biological parents and threatened to scar you for life. You wanted to kill John Howard, too.

Top Yourself

Based on the song “Top Yourself” by The Raconteurs as requested by @girl-with-no-faith-in-medicine  Tig Trager POV Warning: SMUT! Also Tig is kind of an asshole...lol

She knew what this was when we first started it all. It most certainly DID NOT involve me getting ‘I’m lonely’ phone calls asking me to come over for more than just to get her off. She always gave it up when I showed up, I guess that was her way of saying thanks for coming over. I wonder what’s gonna happen when I stop answering the phone?

I show up like I always do. I don’t have to knock because the key is under the mat so I let myself in. She’s sitting on the couch, looking cute as ever. I see her and I remember why I don’t tell her no. She’s so hot; but if this got to be too much, or if she stepped away, I could live without her. I have a feeling she can’t live without me, not anymore. If I’m not around to fuck her to sleep, hold her through the night, she’d lose herself. She can’t deal, she can’t do it alone. She’s unraveling now and I haven’t even pulled away…yet.

I walk over to her, sit down beside her on the couch and she snuggles up close to me, throwing an arm across my stomach, but it doesn’t last long. Like I said, I’m not here for the company, I’m here to get my dick wet. I kiss her, running my hand up her thigh to cover the heat between her legs as I shift my weight to push her onto her back and lean over top of her. I tug her pants down her thighs as she rids herself of her shirt before falling back again and waiting for me to kick my jeans and boots off. I stare her down as I unbutton my shirt and she starts playing with herself, looking up at me for approval before pushing a finger into herself and closing her eyes. My dick is ready for her and I palm it though my boxers, stroking it a couple times while I watch her before I push them down as well and kneel on the couch in front of her. I reach out and run my hands across her bent knees, pulling them apart further and pressing my lips against the inside of her thigh. I hear her whine as I pull on her flesh with my teeth and I smile, she equally loves and hates it when I bite. I push her legs open further and kiss overtop of her hand which is covering her center, shielding it from me. This is a game I like to play: make her move her hand without touching it. I kiss up her stomach, biting the skin covering her ribs as I make my way up to her breasts. She squirms under me as I take a nipple in my mouth, and when I roll it between my teeth she arches her back, taking a deep breath and moaning my name. Her free hand finds my back, her nails starting to dig in as I suck on the sensitive skin, but if I want that other hand to move I have to move too… up to her neck. As soon as I get to her collarbone both her hands are wrapped around me, fisting my hair and holding my shoulders. I win. My erection is pressing against her pelvis now, grinding into her as I lick a stripe up her neck all the way to her ear and bite down on her earlobe. She shudders underneath me and lifts her hips to meet my own, wrapping her legs around my waist. She’s ready now, but I’m not ready yet. Now that she is unguarded, I slide my hand down her body and across her slit, sliding my middle finger up and down her folds while she pants heavily in my ear. She wants this just as much as I do. I move down to cover her clit with my lips as I sink my finger into her, her fingers tangling in my hair and pushing me further into her as I suck, kiss, and lick every inch of her sex, my fingers moving in and out of her, opening her up and preparing her for what came next. Her orgasm hits her like a freight train, she’s gasping and grabbing and writhing under me as I remove my fingers from inside her to pin her down and finish eating her through her orgasm. She finally calms, her breathing still heavy as I line up with her opening and push in. She gasps and grips my forearms as I still myself inside her, I can’t help but smirk at the reaction she has every time I’m in her. She knows how to boost an ego. It doesn’t take long before I’m bored though, so I pull out, extending my hand to her to help her up, leading her to the edge of the couch, and bending her over the arm as I move to stand behind her. Not wasting any time, I rub the head of my dick across her slit again before pushing in again, met with that same moan. I love this position. I get to watch her grip the couch pillows, white-knuckled, as she tries to stifle the yelps and groans that rip through her throat. I can feel myself getting closer to being done but I hold back, biting my bottom lip and gripping her hips tighter. Goosebumps cover her when I rub my hands up her back and stroke the skin covering her shoulders before moving my hands up and wrapping my fingers around her throat. I pull her head back and lean down, leaving hickies all over her back and shoulder blades while I’m fucking her. She begs me to fuck her harder even though I know she couldn’t take it if I really let go, but I do it anyway, pounding into her. She gives up trying to hold back her moans, mewling and screaming when I push her down, pinning her chest down to the cushion with both hands and thrusting until I can’t hold it anymore and I pull my dick out of her, covering her ass in my cum.

After we’re through I move to pull my clothes back on. She whimpers something about its late and I should stay. She knows the sex is the only reason I’m here. She’s a good lay, but she tries so hard, too hard. I know she is trying to make me want to stay on my own. I get it. I’m the best she’s ever had, she’s told me more times than I can count. Even if she hadn’t told me I would still know just by how she acts when I leave. She wants me to fall for her like she is falling for me. She knows it’ll never happen. I’m not that kind of guy. I wonder how she will handle it once I call it quits.

I spent the night again. Just like she wanted me to. Sometimes I feel bad and give in, but we both know it won’t be for long. The clock is ticking, and this companionship has an expiration date. She is hanging on to something that doesn’t even exist, telling herself that because I don’t leave right after I get mine that there’s something between us. She is desperate, close to falling apart every time I remind her that this is temporary, that I’m not the sticking around type. I can tell she still holds onto a shred of hope when she gets up in the mornings before me, makes breakfast and coffee. I take it to go. Tell her thanks for last night, and head to work. I know she’s gonna call tonight. My phone rings for the fourth time this week. Monday, I told her I was busy - it wasn’t a total lie, I was in bed with a crow eater at the time. Wednesday when she called is when I broke it off, telling her it needed to end before she got too attached; I knew I wasn’t kidding anyone, the attachment had already manifested itself. Thursday when she called, I ignored it and texted her telling her it wasn’t gonna happen. This time I don’t answer at all. Sometimes I feel bad, knowing she got attached... Knowing I let her... But then I remember that I warned her against it. She should’ve never fucked me, cause I’m moving on and now she’s gonna have to top herself.

Obsessive - Part 28

Clay knows who the stalker / attacker is. What happens next? (This will be multi parts so check back for my next installment. As always, if you want to be notified of my updates just let me know and I will message you when I post new chapters) **Disclaimer: I do not suffer from OCD so I cannot begin to imagine what it is like. Any and everything that I am writing is what I’ve learned from people I know and the internet as well as asking advice from friends who know more about it than me. If anything is wrong or inaccurate of someone with OCD, please excuse my ignorance, as I said I am asking questions to help with the descriptions but I’m sure I will get something wrong eventually.

Juice Ortiz x Reader

(GIF isn’t mine) __________________

“Come on.” Happy was walking towards you and motioned with his arm for you to stand up, “Gotta go pack a bag.” You started to protest but Happy kept talking, “Clay’s orders (Y/N). You don’t have to like it, just gotta do it.” You sighed, knowing there was no way you could tell the Unholy One ‘no’. Chibs patted you on the leg and stood up, clapping Happy on the shoulder and steering him away a few steps, “How’d Clay take seeing Juicey boy? Didnae hear any yelling so I assume it went okay?”

Happy nodded, “They got some threats--” he began but Chibs nodded, “Aye, (Y/N) tol’ me. What else?”

“Needs you to call everyone and get’em up here.” Happy rasped.

“Now? Its almost 9…” Chibs questioned but Happy only nodded his head in response, “Must be big….” Chibs exhaled heavily and turned back to you, “...Alright, I’ll give everyone a call,” he raised his eyebrows at you and extended his hand to help you up.

“What do I need to pack exactly?” you huffed at Happy who stood behind you, hands in his pockets as you pulled several neatly folded shirts, jeans, and dresses out of your dresser.. He shrugged as if to say he had no idea and you sighed, “Hap, do you at least know how LONG I need to pack for?”

Another shrug.

You grumbled at him as you stomped past, walking out of your bedroom into the hallway. If it hadn’t been for all the time you had spent with Happy recently, you never would’ve felt so comfortable giving the Killer attitude, but now you knew he’d never hurt you so you had no problem expressing your true feelings, even if they were unfairly directed at him. You opened the hall closet to pull out some sheets and a few towels, if your dad was gonna force you to sleep at the clubhouse, you’d need clean towels and linens in order to make yourself feel less unclean. You gathered a fitted sheet and a flat sheet that had fallen off the shelf and re-folded them, placing them in your bag and grabbing a couple towels as well.

“John Howard?” Juice questioned Clay, “How do you know who he is?” “Its a long story, Juice, one that I don’t want to have to tell twice. Just get all the info you can on the guy before church, and a current address if there is one available,” Clay sighed a deep, stressful sigh, “I’ll give you and everyone else the rundown when they get here.” Juice nodded and turned to walk off to the bedroom in the back of the clubhouse, but halted and spun back around, “Hey Clay?” he spoke, getting the older man’s attention, “I’m sorry you found out about me and (Y/N) the way you did….” he trailed off for a moment, “...It wasn’t my intentions to keep any secrets from you, but things got complicated really fast and--” “--It’s okay Juice,” Clay cut him off, “I forget sometimes that when it comes to her and Gemma… they’re not club business…. I can’t just keep her away from you all. But she’s my little girl, and I love her. I just want her to be safe. You get that, right?” “Alright, yeah…” Juice replied before smiling to his President and marching down the hall with purpose.

Juice stared at the mugshot of the man Clay had ordered him to research. The man in the picture was young, so the photo couldn’t have been taken long after the picture of ‘Emily’ had been, who Juice now was completely convinced was actually you as a baby. He pulled up the perpetrator’s rap sheet, a long list of misdemeanors and small offenses, all relating to drugs or prostitution, except for one, the last one. First Degree manslaughter, 25 years. He took a deep breath and exhaled, this guy had just gotten out of prison 6 months ago, it made sense now why the stalking had seemed to just begin out of nowhere, but there was no current address. Juice gathered the info he had printed, including the mugshot, and closed his laptop just in time to hear voices drifting down the hall. It was time to go to church and learn the truth about (Y/N)’s stalker.

“She was just about to wrap her lips around my dick when Chibs called. It better be worth a skipped blowjob man…”  you heard Tig telling Bobby as he followed behind you and Happy walking into the clubhouse. You rolled your eyes. Of course it was important, it was about your stalker. Happy had your bag slung over his shoulder as he guided you to the bar and set your things on the counter top. Non-members weren’t allowed in the Chapel during a meeting unless it was absolutely necessary. You grabbed a seat on the stool and watched as Tig, Bobby, Chibs, Happy, Jax, Opie, and finally Piney and Juice filed into the chapel. Before closing the door behind him, Juice turned to look at you, his expression unreadable as he nodded in your direction and you smiled softly back, wondering what was going on inside.

The gavel slammed down, marking the beginning of church for everyone inside. Clay gazed around the room, landing on Juice as he took a deep breath and sighed heavily. Juice could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he awaited the information, but he felt bad that the one person this affected the most wasn’t able to sit in.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Clay asked to the room, but was looking at Juice as he spoke. Happy was the first to respond, “I… uh, She’s...not a member, boss.”

“This is about (Y/N)?” Jax and Bobby asked to a deaf ear as Clay shook his head, “Go get her, someone, please. She needs to hear this.”

You were looking through your phone, when the chapel door opened and Chibs called to you, “(Y/N), yer dad wants ye in here, love,” he winked at you as you stood from your seat, and walked over to the door, trying to fight back the grin that was on your face. You were a little too happy to be sitting in on a club meeting. You stepped past Chibs who closed the door behind you as you scanned the room. All eyes were on you, but your eyes caught Juice’s and you walked around the table, behind Piney, to pull up a seat beside him. Your dad smiled at you half-heartedly as Chibs sat back down and he began to speak. “You all know that some piece of shit attacked my little girl about a month ago,” Clay paused as there was a chorus of nods and mumbles throughout the room, “and today I got some information about who it might be. Juice..?” he trailed off prompting Juice to stand and hand a picture with a mugshot on it to Jax and another to Clay.

“John Howard.” Clay said and Tig and Piney both sucked in a harsh breath, cursing in whispers swept around the room as you sat, not understanding what some of the people in the room obviously already knew. Juice passed another sheet of paper over to Jax as the mugshots circulated around the table and began to speak, “He did 25 years in a state penitentiary for first degree manslaughter in the death of a woman named Rachel Smith, court documents say prosecution was going for second degree murder at the time, and even with all the evidence really stacking up that way, Howard had apparently hired the best defense attorney in the state and they got it bumped down to manslaughter. He got out six months ago, but his release is where his trail goes cold.” Juice stopped speaking and sat down beside you, taking your hand in his as the room filled with more whispers. “Why do we think this is the guy that’s been following her?” Chibs asked, leaning his elbows on the table top.

Your father sighed and leaned back in his chair, “Someone sent a photograph to her….” he trailed off, hesitant to continue talking, “....of John Howard and her when she was an infant.”

You weren’t honestly surprised, at this point you had figured out that the infant in the old Polaroid was you. You were just relieved that the club knew the person who had been tormenting you. “Because of the threats that were sent to Juice, I have reason to believe that he is the--” “--Boss,” Happy interrupted Clay, standing up from his seat at the end of the table, “I’ve seen this guy,” he was clutching one of the mugshots in his hand. “He’s (Y/N)’s neighbor.”

Obsessive - Part 27

What’s gonna happen when they try to tell Clay? Will he even let Juice speak? (This will be multi parts so check back for my next installment. As always, if you want to be notified of my updates just let me know and I will message you when I post new chapters) **Disclaimer: I do not suffer from OCD so I cannot begin to imagine what it is like. Any and everything that I am writing is what I’ve learned from people I know and the internet as well as asking advice from friends who know more about it than me. If anything is wrong or inaccurate of someone with OCD, please excuse my ignorance, as I said I am asking questions to help with the descriptions but I’m sure I will get something wrong eventually.

Juice Ortiz x Reader

(GIF isn’t mine) __________________

You pulled up to TM on Juice’s bike and it was already dark. Chibs and Happy were sitting outside, their bikes were the only ones in the lot apart from Clay, who was undoubtedly sitting at the head of the table inside the chapel as he usually did when he had things to think over. You slid Juice’s bag off your shoulders and handed it to him, “I think you should stay outside with Chibs and Happy,” he cautioned and you nodded as he took your hand and led you up to the pavilion where his brothers were sitting at a picnic table. You let his hand go and he began heading towards the door, while you took your place at the picnic table beside Happy who nodded to you.

Chibs was already on his feet, jogging towards Juice who he headed off at the door to the clubhouse.

“Think abou’ what yer doin’ Juicey,” he warned, blocking the younger man’s path, “Clay is pissed at you.”

Juice huffed, “Chibs, it might seem like everything is fine now but it won’t be for very long. I need to talk to Clay. Move,” he reached an arm out to push Chibs aside who let out an exasperated chuckle and gripped the young biker’s wrist, “Aye, it migh’ be okay for you, but it ain’t okay for Clay. I’m no’ lettin’ ye go in there an’ have yourself killed over the lass because you want to be honorable. Ye already got two black eyes, boy.” Chibs finished speaking and looked over to you, sitting on the table beside Happy who was leaned back, rolling a toothpick around in his mouth. He motioned with his head to Happy, beckoning him over, but you stayed planted on the bench, not wanting to be tied up in the drama any more than you already were..

“Chibs,” Juice sighed, beginning to show his agitation, “(Y/N) is in danger and her father needs to know. You can get out of my way or you can fucking come with me but I’m going in there brother.” He was determined to go in, just as Chibs was determined to stop him. “Juicey, I’m lookin’ out for yer best interest here…” Chibs trailed off as Juice huffed and glared back at the Scotsman.

The two men stared each other down for what felt like hours, but in reality it was only a few seconds before Chibs sucked in a deep breath and sighed, stepping away from the door and allowing Juice to pass.

“Hap, go with him,” Chibs ordered and Happy nodded, following behind the youngest biker as they both disappeared behind the heavy clubhouse door.

Juice was walking towards the chapel when he felt Happy’s hand on his shoulder. He turned around to look at his taller brother, who fixed him with a hard and protective look, “Maybe I should go in first…” Happy’s raspy tone trailed off and Juice swallowed, nodding and allowing Happy to overtake him and step in through the chapel door first. Juice’s heart was racing as he walked inside behind Happy to see Clay sitting at the head of the table. His cigar was in one hand, his other hand stretched out on the large Oak table, his pistol only inches away from his fingertips. For a moment, Juice hesitated to step inside, but then he remembered how important the information he had was, so he swallowed down the fear he was harboring, and stepped up, beginning to speak.

“Um, C-Clay…” his voice faltered causing Clay to lift his gaze to meet his own, “I, um… I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier... There’s, uh, something I need to tell you...” he paused, “when I left here I went to (Y/N)’s house and I ended up finding something that you need to see.” “Unless it concerns my little girl’s safety--” “--It does, Clay,” the anxiety in Juice’s voice made Clay tense but he said nothing. He glared at Juice as Happy stood beside him until finally Juice broke the silence again.

“Look, what happened between (Y/N) and I…” he paused, slinging his backpack off his shoulder and setting it on the table in front of him. “I wanted it to happen and so did she. I really care about her Clay, but I received a threat from someone right after we spent a night together--”

Clay stood up, his chair screeching against the wood floors causing Juice to stop abruptly and take a step back defensively.

“Show me what you have,” Clay ordered as he leaned over the head of the table, placing his cigar in the ashtray.

Juice took a deep breath, gulping loudly and unzipping his bag to pull out the envelope and its contents and slid it across to the grey-haired man.

“You should have come to me as soon as this happened.” Clay sat back down in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face with frustration after seeing the contents of the envelope.

“I know, I know… and I’m sorry I didn’t but I was worried about what you’d do if you found out about us and… I fucked up. I know I did. I’m so sorry, Clay, but that’s not all.” Juice reached back into his bag and pulled out the photo you had received in the mail, handing it over to your father whose mouth gaped at the sight of it. “That was sent to (Y/N) in the mail,” Juice stared intensely at the photo in Clay’s grasp, “....Same handwriting on the envelope it arrived in as the threats sent to me. Any idea who this guy is?” “Jesus Christ,” Clay breathed, he looked up at the two men standing before him, focusing on the taller man. “Get Chibs. One of you take (Y/N) back home to pack a bag, and bring her back here. Church in an hour, I need everyone here, have him let everyone know.” He ordered Happy, who had been standing by Juice’s side the whole time. Happy nodded and retreated back towards to entrance to the bar. Clay then turned to Juice, “Go get your laptop. I need to you do a search on a name…” He sighed again, running his hand across the top of his hair, “I know who (Y/N)’s stalker is.”

“Can you hold me” and “I can’t do this without you” with Chibs for @girl-with-no-faith-in-medicine “He never would have been anywhere near this Godforsaken town if it hadn’t been for me,” you sobbed into your hands as you sat doubled over on your bed. You had just been told that your brother was stabbed and killed trying to protect Jax’s family. As much as you understood why he stepped in between a crazed man with a knife and an innocent baby, you still couldn’t handle losing your little brother.  “He only moved here after he was discharged because I was here.” Filip sighed, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He hated being the bearer of bad news, but given the fact that he was your old man, and Kip was his prospect, the club felt he was the best man to tell you what happened. “Love,” his voice wavered, “I’m so sorry.” Tears fell from your cheeks and stained your denim-clad legs as you sniffled quietly, falling over to pull your legs up on the bed as you curled up and stared blankly in front of you, your face puffy and red. “What can I do?” Filip asked, taking a seat at the foot of the bed and placing his hand on your calf, stroking your leg gently with his thumb. You closed your eyes, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, “Can you hold me?” You choked out, your bottom lip quivering as you uttered the final syllable. His eyes were glossy as he wordlessly kicked his boots off and climbed into the bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips against the nape of your neck, squeezing you close against him. “I can’t do this without you, Filip,” you whimpered. “I’m here, darlin’. I’ll always be here,” he promised as he began to sniffle as well. 

“36 Hours”

Happy Lowman x Reader (GIF isn’t mine) ***I know literally zero about childbirth so if any of the details are wrong, please don’t hang me for it*** . . .

36 hours.

That’s how long ago your water broke and your old man, just getting in from another late one, had to get up from barely 30 minutes of sleep to rush you to St. Thomas. It was now 3pm the following day, Gemma had been in your room more than she had been anywhere else and the guys had trickled in periodically to check on you. The hospital staff knew better than to tell any of them they weren't allowed in of course, and Happy hadn’t left your side since you got there.

“Hey darlin’, how’s the little mini-killer coming along?” Gemma had just walked in and was standing beside your bed, her painted fingers stroking some of your sweat-matted hair away from your forehead.

“Stubborn, of course, like his damn father,” you groaned, while Happy, who was in the hospital bed beside you grunted his disapproval in your statement, his eyes barely open and his face completely void of energy. He wasn’t supposed to be on the bed with you, but as it were, the hospital staff was afraid to reprimand any of SAMCRO, especially Happy.

“Hap, when’s the last time you got any sleep?” Gemma questioned, raising an eyebrow at the tattooed biker. You could tell he was trying to do the math, but his sleep deprived brain wasn’t processing quickly enough, so you responded for him, “He got in right as my water broke night before last… I don’t think he slept while I did last night… So his last nights sleep was two days ago…” you looked at your old man, stroking his tattooed arm with your free hand as he held your other.

“Jesus Christ,” Gemma hissed towards Happy, “Go get some rest, Hap. Go home or to the clubhouse. Hell I’m sure if you asked Tara she would let you crash on the couch in her office… I’ll stay here with (Y/N). You need to sleep honey.”

Happy tensed beside you, it was obvious he took issue with something Gemma said, “I can’t miss it,” he rasped, sitting up a bit to look at the Biker Queen.

“Happy Lowman you look terrible, go get some rest. Seriously.”

“Gemma I’m not leaving (Y/N) alone while I go sleep. I’m not,” he spat back at her, the two glared at each other for a while before you broke the silence.

“Happy, go find Tara please? I want you to have at least SOME energy when Mini-killer gets ready to come,” you pleaded with him and he shook his head again.

“I’ll sleep right here beside you if I have to, but I’m not leaving.” Happy was steadfast.

You peered up at Gemma who, although obviously irked at not getting her way, wore a proud smile on her face. “Well if I’m not needed I’ll be going, call me if anything changes. You sure you're alright sweetheart?” She asked once more and you nodded, smiling at the tall dark headed woman, “Hap,” she called to the man laying beside you and he looked towards the door to meet her eyes, “Take care of her,” she ordered and he smiled. “Yes ma'am.”

He wrapped an arm around you, leaning his head against your shoulder and soon his shallow breaths turned into light snoring, keeping his promise of never leaving your side.

“Athair”

Chibs Telford x Reader (GIF isn’t mine) . . .

“Hey sweetheart.” The familiar Scottish voice lifted you from your book to gaze across the picnic table you were seated at. “Hey Chibby,” you grinned lightly as the old biker approached, walking around the table to plant a kiss on your forehead before plopping down on the bench beside you, straddling the Mahogany two by fours and looking over at you. “What’re ye up to today?” he asked, his elbow perched on the table top, supporting his head which was tilted to the side as he looked at you. “I’m just reading. It’s a pretty day out,” you shrugged, turning to gaze at him.

Your mom, a croweater, had died giving birth to you so many years ago, and your dad, well, nobody knew who he was. SAMCRO was the only family your mom had, who thankfully were able to gain custody of you, and you were raised by Gemma Teller with lots of help from the bikers she called family; but none put forth more effort to lend a hand than Chibs Telford. Filip, having been exiled from Scotland and away from his tiny baby daughter only months prior to your birth had a soft spot for you as soon as he laid eyes on you. In fact, you called him ‘Dad’, and he let you, until you turned 10 and he and Gemma sat down to tell you the truth about your upbringing. You were devastated to learn that Chibs wasn’t your real dad, and things were rocky for a few months, but eventually you got over it. Filip was the only dad you’d ever known, after all, and you loved him so much for stepping up to be a constant in your life when he had no obligation to be.

“Aye, it is beautiful out,” he paused, “I gotta ask ye somethin…” he trailed off, anxiety and nervousness coated his words as he began to wring his hands, looking down at the picnic bench he shared with you. You set your book down, closing it and turning to face him as he looked back up at you, searching his eyes for clues before you responded. “What is it?” you asked, his nerves now contagiously implanting themselves onto you. “I, uh, I know that yer….” he paused, searching for words to string together, “….well yer already grown up, ” he sighed, “but I love ye like you were my own, and I…well… I ain’t got family of my own, especially no’ here,” his eyes began to gloss at the same time you were piecing together his words, “I’m gettin’ older, love, an’ I got nobody but you and the club. So when I die–” “–Chibs, don’t say stuff like that,” you interjected, pouting at the very idea of losing the one constant father figure you had. Chibs reached out and took your hand, taking a deep breath and shaking his head as he looked at you, “No, darlin’, I’m no’ thinkin about leaving ye, not just yet…” he trailed off, pausing for a few seconds before beginning to speak again. “I want to make it official, I want ye to be my daughter,” he smiled finally as a single tear dropped down his cheek. Your stunned mouth gaped as tears filled your eyes, “I spoke with Gemma an’ the club and they think I shoulda done it sooner but they agreed. So… Will ye let me adopt you?” The nervousness was back in his tone as he awaited your response.

Unable to speak, and lost for words to express your joy, you simply nodded as the floodgates lifted and you began to cry, throwing yourself into Filip’s arms and hugging him…. Your new dad.

Obsessive - Part 26

So it seems like they made up. It’d be a shame if something....ruined it. (This will be multi parts so check back for my next installment. As always, if you want to be notified of my updates just let me know and I will message you when I post new chapters) **Disclaimer: I do not suffer from OCD so I cannot begin to imagine what it is like. Any and everything that I am writing is what I’ve learned from people I know and the internet as well as asking advice from friends who know more about it than me. If anything is wrong or inaccurate of someone with OCD, please excuse my ignorance, as I said I am asking questions to help with the descriptions but I’m sure I will get something wrong eventually.

Juice Ortiz x Reader

(GIF isn’t mine) __________________

After taking a few extra moments to catch your breath, you stood and followed Juice through the hallway and your bedroom and into the bathroom. He was leaning over the sink, having just cleaned the blood from his nose, he was now examining the bruises that were forming under his eyes. You smiled at his naked form and stepped up behind him, placing kisses on his back and shoulders, watching his face in the mirror as he smiled and then turned around to face you. His hands ran up and down your sides as he kissed your forehead and you tilted your head up to bite his bottom lip, your hand falling down across his abs to land on his member.

“Again?” he pulled away asking with surprise in his voice. “Mhmm,” you sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth and grinned at him as you pumped his cock in your hand.

He took your hand and removed it from himself, turning so that you were now with your back to the bathroom cabinets as he cupped your cheeks and pressed his lips into yours. He walked you back until you were pinned against the sink before he ran his hands down to your hips and lifted you, placing you up on the edge and stepping between your legs. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers lazily stroking the back of his neck and mohawk as you kissed him and he pressed himself firmly against you, his already hardened length rubbing between your thighs..

He hummed against your lips with a sigh and gently broke the kiss, pulling back and opening his eyes as you reopened yours to gaze back at him. He smirked, kissing the tip of your nose before he stepped back, “Are the condoms still in your night stand?” he asked quickly and you nodded to him, “Mhmmm,” you smiled.

“Don’t move,” he ordered which made the butterflies in your stomach start their frenzy. Juice was such a sweet guy, he was hardly ever ‘in charge’ of anything but you loved it when he bossed you around. You were so tangled up in your thoughts you almost didn’t notice him standing in the doorway again, worry etched into his features as if it’s residence was permanent.

“What’s wrong?” you asked when his presence snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Do you know this guy?” he asked, stepping closer to you, still stark naked, holding something small and square in between his thumb and index finger. You took it from him and looked at it, the polaroid of the man and baby that you had received by mistake in the mail.

“No, why?” you asked nonchalantly, handing him the photo back.

“He looks familiar is all,” Juice shrugged.

“Someone mailed it to me,” you explained, “Blank envelope, no return address, I just figured it was intended for whoever owned that mailbox before me,” you paused, “Anyway I forgot about it actually, just stuck it in that drawer when I got it and haven’t thought about it since. Do you think you know him?”

“I just think I’ve seen him before-- You said it was mailed to you?” Juice’s face suddenly got stern. “Yeah, Chibs brought it to me a few weeks ago when he checked the mail for me, why?” You questioned.

“Do you still have the envelope?” He glanced over your question to ask his own.

“Y-yeah I think so…. Juice why are you questioning me about this?” You began to feel anxious about his interrogation. Nonetheless, you hopped down from the sink to walk into your room and stopped at your closet to pull on a hoodie and some jeans before going to your nightstand, pulling the envelope out of the drawer as well, and holding it out to him.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, snatching the envelope from your hand and looking at it closely, “Fuck!” he cursed.

“Juice. What. Is. Going. On!” you followed after him, totally confused as he took off towards your living room.

“Put your shoes on you’re coming with me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

You folded your arms and narrowed your eyes at him in protest.

“(Y/N)... Come on, Please?... Bring the picture and envelope with you. It’ll all make sense when we get to my house.” He was pulling his jeans and shirt on as he barked orders at you. Finally you sighed, seeing the distress in his expression, and you went back in your room to pack.

Juice didn’t live far from you, so after a quick ride up the street he was parking in front of his home. He helped you off his bike, keeping your hand in his as he led you up the cement walkway up to his front door and unlocking it. You stood just inside the threshold as he walked over to his couch and pulled something from under it, turning back to you with apprehension, “You might want to sit down…” he trailed off and you gulped, walking to sit on his couch as he stood before you.

Juice took a deep breath, unrolling the now torn envelope and pulling out the panties that belonged to you and handing them to you. “Juice why do you have--” “--Just… Wait. Look at everything else okay? Then ask questions if you still have any…”

Confused, you nodded and waited for him to hand you everything else. The photos of you two in bed together, the note telling Juice not to touch you, the photo of the dead man with the message on the back, and the threat inside the envelope itself. Then Juice took the envelope with your address on it and held it out beside the written threats. The handwriting was the same. You gulped, tears forming in your eyes as you put it all together. The person that sent a picture to your P.O. Box was the same one who had been inside your apartment. He had threatened Juice as well, and was now threatening to kill you.

Shocked, you turned to face the biker before you, “Juice, I…. I’m so sorry,” you began to cry and he sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you to his chest.

“It’s not your fault baby,” Juice was stroking your arm as he kissed the top of your head, “but we need to tell your dad. You’re in danger, even more now that...you know…” Juice gave you a half smirk as you pulled away. You knew what he meant; the warning not to touch you had been broken and if the stalker kept his promise then he planned to kill you.

Juice was right, Clay needed to know.