asthesamcroflies

[asthesamcroflies]

Creep

Just cos it’s Halloween..........

She knew it was getting late, way too late to be pushing on with so far left to go, but she still heaved a sigh at the feel of the powerful Harley slowing. A gloved hand patted her knee and she laid her head against her old man’s back, the wordless conversation that passed between them showing that he realised her reservations and she understood the lack of options.

Maybe ten minutes later, they pulled off the tree-lined road and into the poorly maintained parking lot of probably the only motel for miles. The dimly lit vacancies sign was missing a couple of bulbs and she couldn’t help eyeing it uneasily as she slid off the bike.

“Sorry, darlin’,” came that Scottish drawl she loved so much, a strong arm banding around her waist. “I know it don’t look like much, but I just ain’t risking laying the bike down wi’ you on the back.”

Much as she was longing for their own bed, in their own little town, she swallowed that down and leaned in against him. “You must be exhausted,” she murmured. “This is … fine.”

The Samcro president chuckled at her attempt to make the best of it, giving her an appreciative little squeeze. “It ain’t that, but it’ll have to do for tonight,” he said, scanning the dark road for any sign of headlights. “Shite, I didn’t realise we’d pulled so far ahead o’ Tig and Rat. Maybe they didn’t see us make the turn … Listen, why don’t you scoot on into the office and see about a room? I’ll see if I can raise Tiggy.”

“Don’t be long,” she nodded, pressing a little kiss to his scarred cheek before handing him her helmet and heading off across the lot under the starlit sky, raking a hand through the windswept strands of her hair.

Much as she’d rather they had made it home from the road trip – a rare one deemed safe enough for her to travel with her old man – she had to admit the prospect of a bed for the night, any bed, was a welcome one and she had to stifle a yawn even as she pushed open the door of the quaint little office.

“Uh, hello?” she called, seeing a light on in a back room.

She almost regretted it when a balding man shuffled out to take up position behind the counter, his watery blue eyes seeming to creep over her from head to toe, making her suddenly feel much more exposed than she should have in her skinny jeans and close-fitting leather jacket.

“Room for one?” came the inquiry, curiosity tinged with something that seemed almost hopeful in that strangely soft voice.

“Oh, no,” she was quick to make the correction, jerking a thumb over her shoulder in the direction she had just come from. “My boyfriend’s just making a call …”

“Late to be out this way alone.”

“Yeah, well, my boyfriend and I were just driving home and time got away from us,” she started to explain, feeling a rush of relief when the door opened and Chibs strode in. “Oh, Filip, I was just explaining what happened.”

“Yeah? There ain’t a problem, is there?” the biker asked, seeming to sense his girlfriend’s unease and immediately taking up position by her side, her fingers quickly lacing through his.

But it seemed there wasn’t and the night manager of the run-down motel bustled about finding them a room, taking the payment and handing over a key on an oversized fob.

“This place gives me the creeps,” came the whisper, as they headed off to find their room, making Chibs chuckle.

“Nothin’ to be scared o’ when you got me,” he grinned, dropping a little kiss on top of his old lady’s head as she struggled with the key in the lock. “Ay, I’ve got a key for your lock right here …”

“Filip!” she giggled, feeling him crowding up against her in the narrow doorway and feigning outrage at the somewhat crude joke.

All her protests melted away though when the door finally gave in under her efforts and her old man hustled her inside, giving their basic surroundings only the most perfunctory glance before pushing her up against the nearest wall for a deep, longing kiss.

“I thought you wanted to get some sleep?” she tried, letting her legs hook around his waist as he lifted her up.

“After,” he mumbled against her lips, already fumbling with the fly of his jeans.

Maybe it was a sign that tiredness was creeping in after all that they actually made it to the bed at all, shedding clothes as they went.

“So fucking beautiful,” Chibs murmured lazily, his hands trailing over soft bare skin as his naked girlfriend finally straddled his hips, her hands gently stroking the length of his engorged cock before she rose up until the swollen head was rubbing against her sensitive clit.

“Tell me what you want …” she murmured, biting her lips as his hands slid over her thighs and up over her ribcage to cup her full firm breasts.

“Just you, my love,” he declared, his pupils lust-blown as he gazed up at her. “My gorgeous old lady riding my cock. Fuck, I’m so damn hard for you right now.”

“I know,” she smiled, leaning down for a teasing kiss that turned into a gasp of pleasure at the feel of his cock sliding over her pussy lips to press at her entrance.

Then she was sinking down on him, trying not to cry out as his length slowly filled her up.

“Oh my god, Filip,” she moaned, her hands braced on his inked chest, his hands taking a firmer hold of her hips and helping to guide her as she moved slowly on him. “Oh god, you feel so good …”

“That’s it, baby,” Chibs ground out. “Ride me, just like that. Fuck, that’s it.”

For a long moment, all that filled the tiny room was the sound of skin on skin, laboured breathing, and their mingled moans of pleasure. And when they finally came, the clenching of his old lady’s tight heat sending Chibs over the edge after her, they could only lay there in a sweaty tangle of sated limbs.

“Now get some sleep,” the Scotsman grinned, cuddling her to his chest and pressing a kiss to her temple – one that faltered when she froze in his arms and he found himself following her stricken gaze towards the previously unseen tiny blinking red light in the corner of the room. “What the fuck?”

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa fanfiction #soa chibs #chibs telford #filip telford

[asthesamcroflies]

This is me

So, I realised I haven’t really made this connection and I probably should as there is always the potential for little throwaway scenes from one-shots, lines of dialogue, etc to find their way into my other, bigger writing projects and I don’t want to be accused of plagiarisng myself lol ...

This account was created so I could dabble with writing while waiting for inspiration to strike for bigger projects, but I also have an account over at FF.net, under the handle Torithy.

I’ve played around with characters from a few fandoms over the years, but SOA has been my main thing for a while - my current work-in-progress is a Chibs-centric look at how the story continued post-season seven.

Original Sin

Do please check it out if you feel so inclined - feedback always gratefully received. :)

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa fanfiction #soa chibs #chibs telford #filip telford #chibs x oc #tig trager #happy lowman #lyla winston #original sin

[asthesamcroflies]

Hi thank you for writing Night One. It was amazing! I have another request if that’s okay. I’ve been watching David Labrava do renovations to his home and I would like to make a Happy request. Maybe he is fixing something and it goes wrong or gets a little hurt? I like prompts 21 and 23. Something funny and smutty. Thank you!

This kinda turned out more suggestive than full-on smut, but hope ya enjoy!

DIY

Getting back from the clubhouse much later than he said he would, Happy could feel his shoulders sag as he finally allowed himself to relax.

He wasn’t the type to vocalise it, but he had come to really appreciate that feeling of coming home – something he hadn’t really had since he was a kid, out getting into trouble on the streets before finally seeking sanctuary at his ma’s. Not until you came into his life.

Now, he had a home beyond the clubhouse, not just a house. Somewhere peaceful to just switch off, relax and—

“The fuck you doing, little girl?”

He realised his error as soon as you started at his barked query, precariously perched as you were at the top of a step-ladder and trying to lift a heavy framed print into position.

He was across the room in three strides to grab you and steady the ladder, before manoeuvring the artwork out of your now shaky hands, setting it down with only a little care and then hoisting you over his shoulder with only a little more.

“Hap!” you protested, as he carried you towards the bedroom and unceremoniously dumped you in the centre of the bed. “I nearly had it!”

“What, a broken neck?” he growled. “Told ya I’d do it.”

“Months ago,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes.

“Been busy,” he shrugged, rubbing a hand over his shaven head. “Ain’t like it’s going nowhere.”

“Clearly not on the wall,” you grumbled, making his eyes narrow dangerously.

Grown men would have baulked at that look, but not you. Because the leather and denim clad biker in front of you wasn’t Samcro’s lethal enforcer when he was with you, just the man you had – admittedly against the odds – fallen in love with.

He shrugged off his cut and you smirked in anticipation, leaning back on your elbows on the bed. Only for your face to fall when he turned on his heel and walked out.

“Happy!”

Realising his stubborn ass had gone to put an end to your nagging over the issue once and for all, you flumped back on the bed and let your eyes drift closed, disgruntled that you had got your way, but also done yourself out of precious time that could have been … spent in other ways.

Still, it was only one damn picture, how long could it take?

With that in mind, you hastily shimmied out of your jeans, leaving on the old button-down shirt of Hap’s you’d been wearing around the house, but undoing a few buttons – and then a few more for good measure. Until, in the end, there was just one button holding it closed over your lacy bra and panties. An impish grin tugged at your lips as you let your hair down and raked a hand through it to let it fall rumpled over your shoulders.

A quick check in the mirror, a slick of lip gloss and a dab of your favourite perfume and you dropped casually back onto the bed to lounge against the pillows and wait for your man to reappear.

But as the minutes stretched on, you got impatient and curious as to what the hell he could be doing. Then you heard the crash.

“MOTHERFUCKER!”

Oh shit. Scrambling off the bed, you ran barefoot to investigate, only to stop dead when you realised what must have happened.

God knows how it had happened or why, but your never-do-anything-by-halves man had managed to drive not just the nail into the wall, but the hammer as well, dropping the print in the process and smashing the glass. Which would explain the blood.

“Jesus, Hap,” you managed, once you realised he wasn’t quite as badly hurt as you’d feared, and trying to supress a smile at the outraged look on his face that things had not gone as planned. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Remind me to leave shit well enough alone?” he suggested darkly.

“You’re cute when you’re fucking furious,” you said, daring to offer him a small smile as you took his hand to examine the damage.

“Ow!”

“Baby,” you teased, something few would dare and even fewer would do and live to tell the tale. “Would a kiss help?”

“Depends what you’re kissing,” Happy said gruffly, having just realised the view he was getting. If there was one thing his possessive ass loved more than seeing you in his clothes, it was seeing you half out of them.

“If that’s how your mind’s working, I guess I can assume you’ll live,” you said archly, having satisfied yourself there was no glass embedded in his hand and the bleeding had almost stopped already.

He glared down at you, but anything he was about to say got lost when you kissed his fingers softly, looking up at him through long lashes as you sucked on the tip of one uninjured digit for just a moment, biting your lip coyly when you released him.

“Got this mess to clear up …” he started roughly, but you suspected he was only trying to provoke you – and this was one thing you weren’t prepared to wait for any longer.

Slowly undoing that one remaining button, you let that borrowed shirt slip to the floor and cocked your head to one side as you looked at him.

“It can wait.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa fanfiction #soa requests #soa prompt #soa happy #happy lowman #happy x reader

[asthesamcroflies]

Waiting Game

The wait was excruciating.

Every minute, every hour seemed impossibly long as days dragged into weeks. And the nights … They were absolutely the worst. At least by day, preoccupation was possible with a semblance of respite from the worst fears that stalked unwanted dreams.

In the bright light of day, it was easier to keep busy. And keeping busy was a must. But when the sun sank beneath the horizon, it dragged the heart down with it. As the light faded, so too did that hope. Hope that they would all emerge unscathed.

Three months was, comparatively speaking, nothing. But how quickly this life could be turned on its head. The mark of the reaper could buy protection – or paint targets on backs.

At least there was safety in numbers and one of their own had not been left to face this alone.

It was inevitable really. If their young president was going to be incarcerated, then one way or another, his sergeant was going with him.

Chibs Telford would have followed Jackson Teller into hell itself.

Knowing that didn’t make it any easier on his old lady though, left behind to worry and wait. Knowing that while, sure, they would have each other’s backs, ultimately it was the Scotsman’s job to serve as the last line of defence. To willingly put himself between Jax and any outside threat.

The club came first.

She couldn’t even resent that reality. She had known what she was getting into with him. He had made sure of that. All she could do was accept it, accept him for who he was, or walk away.

Simple.

It wasn’t simple at all though, not really. Because she had fallen hard for the scarred Scot, whether she intended to or not. Walking away had never really been an option.

So for three long months, she had waited. Because that was all she could do.

Wait.

And then, on the day they were all due to be released, she had to wait some more. Because that was the done thing. The club would go and retrieve their own, in a cavalcade of bikes and leather, flipping the bird to the guards on the way past the prison walls that had caged them.

And she would wait at TM, with Tara and Gemma, fighting the urge to tell the expectant croweaters and hang-arounds to fuck off. That this was no celebration. You didn’t celebrate survival, not really - you just clung on and tried not to drown in the relief that washed over you.

In the end though, she let them have their moment.

She held her ground, stood tensed by the end of the bar, gripping a glass of whiskey so tightly she thought it might shatter and watching as those heavy doors opened.

Predictably, Jax was first, head held high despite the signs that, yes, there had been violence inside. There was still a swagger in his step though as he nodded to those around him, a slow grin coming to his lips at that feeling of being well and truly back in the fold. She couldn’t begrudge him the slaps on the back, the hugs, the handshakes. Something in those blue eyes held more truth than the façade.

He knew they’d dodged a bullet, so to speak.

Still she waited though, even when her gaze fell on that familiar figure shouldering his way through well-wishers, acknowledging those intent on greeting him, but making sure to reach Jax’s side again and pulling him into a warm embrace.

She wasn’t close enough to hear, but she could see his lips move next to the Samcro president’s ear.

“Home safe, my brother,” he muttered, as if to confirm his job was done, before planting a kiss on his cheek and letting him go.

It was only then that his old lady realised her wait was finally over, swallowing the last mouthful of her whiskey and setting down the glass on the bar.

“Get ya another one, lass?” Chibs asked, when at last he was stood by her side, the ghost of a smile tugging at the weary corners of his mouth.

She looked him over - noting still vicious bruising to his jaw, shadows smudged beneath his eyes, a small but deep cut splitting his eyebrow – and shrugged casually. “Why not?”

He signalled to the croweater behind the bar for two, then let his arm drop to curl around his old lady’s waist, the tension starting to sag out of his shoulders as if he had finally realised he was home.

It was only then that she turned herself into his chest and wrapped her arms tight around his neck, letting out the breath it felt like she’d been holding the whole time he was gone.

“There now, my darlin’, I’ve got ya,” Chibs whispered gruffly. “I’ve got ya.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa fanfiction #soa chibs #chibs telford #filip telford #chibs x reader

[asthesamcroflies]

Juice Ortiz + sad + 10. ❤️

I should generally apologise for the seeming randomness of my timing when it comes to responses - sometimes life gets in the way and sometimes, particularly with requests, it just takes a bit of time for an idea to bubble up that (hopefully!) does it justice. I never really want to just bang something out that just about meets the criteria, I want to write something that (hopefully!) people will enjoy!

With this specific request, I realised I wasn’t sure if you wanted like a reader insert type angle or not, so I just went where the inspiration took me - I did succeed in making myself sad, so there’s that lol!

Prompt 10: “I lied.”

Live the Lie

“JC, you told me everything would be okay if you went back to Charming.”

He closed his eyes at the sound of the betrayal in that all-too-familiar voice. His tough, sassy, take-no-shit New Yorker. The one that got away, as they say. Things had just never quite worked out with them, not for long. Life had a tendency towards getting in the way. That was just how it was with them. It had often been the source of pains of regret for him, but now…

Maybe it was better that way.

“Juice? Juice, talk to me. What can I do? I dunno what to do here – you told me it would be okay!”

He cleared his throat, choking back the lump of emotion. “It is,” he tried, forcing a lightness to his tone that he definitely didn’t feel, knowing it was far from convincing, but the best he could do under the circumstances.

“How is it okay?! You’re calling from fucking prison!”

The despair in her voice, under the anger, drained any last semblance of energy from him and his shoulders slumped as he leaned an arm against the wall for support, clutching the receiver helplessly to his ear.

“I lied,” he sighed. “Okay? I lied. I knew the shit would hit the fan, but I… I had to do this. I… got tired of running. I just… got so tired.”

Silence. Heavy, heavy silence.

When she finally spoke again, he hated the soft tremble of her voice and the fear it held. He’d heard plenty of things from her over the many years they’d known each other – growing up together, drifting apart, and then finding their way back one way or the other – but never that. She was always so sure of herself. He was the frankly neurotic one, always overthinking, always trying to get a step ahead and never quite making it. They balanced each other out.

“Tell me what I can do,” she tried. “Maybe if I talked to that Chibs guy, explained--”

“No,” Juice said, more sharply than he’d intended and with yet another pang in his heart at the thought of the man he had looked up to more than most. He knew that door was closed though.

“Juice, please, I just want to help – you need that, you need someone on your side.”

His eyes drifted closed again, fresh regret for how everything had played out washing over him and almost overwhelming him. He did need that, so badly, but no way was he dragging her down with him and that was the only thing that could come of getting her involved. He knew now that there was only one way out of the clusterfuck his life had become.

“It’ll be okay, babe,” he said, resignation seeping into every pore. It almost made it sound convincing, even to his own ears. “Please, don’t worry – you gotta live your life. Whatever happens.”

“Juice…”

“Listen, I gotta go – I hear there’s pie on the menu.”

“But Juice… Juice?”

He hung up the phone, still holding onto the receiver for a long moment, like he was clinging to the last trace of his old life. Then his gaze drifted down the hall, meeting the piercing stare of the man watching him from across the way.

Juice swallowed hard, let go, and followed in Tully’s wake as the flow of their fellow prisoners seemed to carry him towards the dining hall.

Whatever happened, the lie had somehow become truth. It was okay.

Because he was done.

#soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa requests #soa prompts #soa juice #juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #juice x reader

[asthesamcroflies]

REQUEST: Shattered

So, I had a request come in via messages, which is fine by the way, I can just post the details of it in order to reply publicly - I have to confess it’s something different for me, but I decided to give it a go to challenge myself. I don’t think I’ve ever written anything with that Son-on-Son vibe before, not for any particular reason, I just tend to have stuck closer to canon. Hopefully it’s not terrible lol - I did end up not going down the smut route, just cause I thought that slightly ambiguous, unspoken feel worked for this. I did kinda get all up in my own feels lol, so fingers crossed you guys like it...

Here’s the request details: Chibs, Tig, Juice (mentioned. Post series.) - Sad, Romantic, Smutty (if you want, it's not required) - 18, 15, 21 Past Chibs/Juice. Prez/VP dynamic. Chibs is shattered, he needs love, he needs peace of mind. Tiggy sees clearly this.

Prompt 18: “Please don’t do this.” 15: “Do you still think about her/him?” 21: “Would a kiss help?”

Shattered

It was late. Or early depending on how you wanted to look at it.

For once though, the Samcro clubhouse lay quiet and deserted. Almost. The new, eager-to-please prospect had tried to stay on to clear up, but had probably been barked at to get the hell out. That was an end to the night that was becoming more and more common – Sons, hangers-on and croweaters slipping away in the face of their stern president’s glare.

His vice president sighed heavily at that, wiping a hand over his face as he leaned in the doorway and took in the slumped shoulders and reaper on the back of the man he’d vowed to support come hell or high water. He could remember a time when the brash Scotsman was the life and rowdy soul of every fucking party.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, huh?

Tig knew, perhaps better than most, what it was to carry guilt, remorse, self-loathing. He’d been there for the near-apocalyptic series of clusterfucks that had torn right to the heart of their club and all but destroyed it, so he knew the burden Chibs now had to bear in trying to see what could be salvaged from the ashes – all while desperately trying not to ignite any simmering embers that could flare up and burn them all to the ground all over again.

But it never got any easier to see him struggle under that weight.

He was about to speak, to make his presence known, when Chibs downed whatever was left in his glass and slammed it down on the bar, before stumbling to his feet and crossing the room to stand in front of the framed mugshots of members past and present, those honoured and those who now hung upside down, crossed out, disgraced and a warning to those who may come after them not to stray too far from the club’s rules, spoken and unspoken.

Tig knew from his own reaction to that wall, once a source of pride, how deep it cut Chibs to see it now. In both their minds, Jax Teller still deserved better than to be remembered solely as having brought shame on the patch. Their young president had lost his way, had made mistakes – catastrophic mistakes at that – but he had suffered for it enough and, at the last, had owned his part in his own downfall. Those he had left behind couldn’t help but cling to their love for their young president, or else what had it all been for?

But they had to put up a façade to appease Packer and the other club presidents. They knew the enormity of Jax’s crimes and the price that had to be paid. It didn’t mean they had to like it.

But as Chibs’ hand reached out for a different photo, touching it lightly before his fingers curled into a tight fist, Tig knew there was a fate that was even more complicated for the Scot to come to terms with. He had loved Jax like a brother, like a son even. Juice … Juice had been something else.

That fist lashed out, shattering glass that bit into flesh and drew a hiss of pain, even through what was undoubtedly an alcohol-induced fog. But despite lifting the hand to examine the damage, despite seeing the shard of glass still embedded in it, Chibs only slowly clenched that fist again, forcing it deeper as blood seeped from the ragged wound.

Tig was the one who winced.

“Please don’t do this,” he blurted out, unable to witness any more of this without intervening.

Chibs slowly uncurled his fingers, never turning around. “Go home, Tiggy,” he murmured, the words slurred and his accent thicker than ever.

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m gonna leave you in this fucking state,” his VP scoffed, finally galvanised into action and snatching up what he hoped was a clean cloth as he strode across the clubhouse to take charge. “Lemme see this mess. Jesus…”

He had to force himself to be less gentle than he’d have liked, for reasons he didn’t care to fully explore, but he was still careful as he examined the bloody hand Chibs had been left nursing, tutting over the shard of glass before slowly working it out and pressing the cloth to the wound to stem the bleeding. It looked worse than it was, but it was still bad enough.

“You might get away without stitches,” Tig decided. “So you wanna thank your lucky stars, brother, because I can’t sew for shit.”

“Lucky,” Chibs echoed dully, with a bitter little laugh. “Aye, that’s me – real fucking lucky. I need a damn drink…”

“No, you fucking don’t,” Tig insisted, grabbing him by the shoulders to steer him away from the bar and into a seat.

“Just leave me be, Tigger,” the weary president sighed, raking his uninjured hand through the salt and pepper of his hair. “I ain’t exactly good company right now.”

“What’s new?” Tig snarked, but there was nothing but sympathy and concern in those sharp blue eyes as he sat down opposite his closest of brothers. “You can’t go on like this, man. Ain’t right.”

“Got a choice, do I?” Chibs demanded, the raw agony in his voice and in his brown eyes making even his battle-hardened VP flinch. “Want me to throw up a rope and have done wi’ it? Like… Like Juice.”

Tig stood up so fast his chair overturned with a crash and he jabbed a furious finger in his friend’s face. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he seethed. “Don’t you fucking dare! Tell me that’s bullshit. Tell me you wouldn’t. Tell me!”

“Aye, aye, fine,” Chibs reneged, taken aback even through his haze by the strength of the response to his flippant suggestion. “Fuck, I … I ain’t taking that way out. I ain’t, brother. Sit the fuck down.”

Still furious, Tig glared at him the whole time he was righting his chair and banging it back into place, before sitting down opposite him again. “Asshole,” he snapped, his glare only intensifying when Chibs actually managed a little laugh, wiping his hand over his face.

“Ah, Tigger,” he sighed. “Good to know ya care, brother.”

“Course I fucking care, shithead,” came the heated response. “You think I stuck around for the good of my fucking health? I said I’d always have your back and I damn well meant it. So you don’t get to punk out on me like a little bitch.”

“Your TLC could use some work…”

“Fuck you.”

Chibs chuckled humourlessly. “Love you too, Tigger. You gonna at least let me have one wee drink now me hand’s stinging like a motherfucker?”

“You’ve already had the better part of one wee bottle, by the looks of things,” Tig grimaced, before relenting and getting up to retrieve a couple of glasses and the nearly empty bottle of whiskey, pouring them both a drink and downing his swiftly. He figured he had a lot of catching up to do.

Seeing Chibs’ gaze land somewhere over his shoulder, Tig looked around to follow it back to the photos on the wall and specifically to the one that now hung behind shattered glass. And not for the first time.

“Do you still think about him?”

It was a stupid question, Tig knew that. The answer couldn’t be more obvious. But it was actually the only way he could think to even broach the subject of something deeper.

“I let that lad down,” Chibs mumbled, taking another swig of his drink. “I coulda done somethin’, stopped it ever gettin’ that far.”

“He was a rat,” Tig reminded him, although not unkindly. “That’s on him.”

“He was an easy target,” Chibs shook his head. “He tried to come to me wi’ it. I didn’t hear him out. Not properly. We were all he had and I didn’t listen, didn’t see what was goin’ on in front o’ me own bloody nose.”

For a long moment, his VP could only sit in silence, musing on all the mistakes he’d made in his own life. The hurt he’d caused, to himself and his family, to others caught in his crossfire. He knew what it was to bear that burden. He didn’t want that for Chibs.

“What’s done is done,” he said finally. “Can’t change it, any of it. Can only learn from it. But you gotta let go, brother. You gotta let go or this is gonna eat you up from the inside out.”

“Easier said than done,” Chibs said quietly, his forced smile wry. “You know that.”

“I do,” Tig nodded, after a pause. “But I had you. And you’ve got me. So don’t forget that, you prick. You’ve got me. And I fucking need you. I can’t do any of this shit without you.”

Chibs looked up at the crack in his VP’s voice to find Tig was the one with his head down now. Slowly, he reached out to let his fingers trail through those wild dark curls.

“Oi,” he said roughly. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, you hear me?”

“Didn’t sound like that,” Tig mumbled. “Never does when you start talking like that.”

“Look at me,” Chibs demanded, finally trying to pull himself together at the realisation of what he’d done. “Look at me, Tigger. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. I promise you, my brother.”

“How do I know you ain’t just bullshitting me again?”

“When have I ever lied to you? About anything serious?” Chibs demanded, albeit with a swift amendment to account for the creative ways he had been known to get around his VP when he had to.

“You said you’d stop blaming yourself.”

The hurt beneath the accusatory tone stopped the Scotsman dead and he reached out to rest a hand on his VP’s shoulder. “I am trying, brother.”

“I know,” Tig sighed, covering the hand with his own ringed fingers. “I know.”

Chibs pulled him close. “Would a kiss help?” he murmured, already planting a firm kiss on the other man’s cheek.

“You ain’t getting off that light, asshole.”

Chibs could only laugh at that despite himself, his lips grazing skin again. “Ah, Tigger, last two standing… Never thought it would be us.”

“As long as it ain’t just me,” came the quiet, yet fervent response.

It was a sentiment that both warmed and broke Chibs’ heart.

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa fanfiction #soa prompts #soa requests #chibs telford #tig trager #juice ortiz #jax teller

[asthesamcroflies]

Hi can I get an imagine with Happy. The reader works with Gemma and Happy has a crush on her. One night they run into each other in a bar and they're a little drunk he takes her home where they get it on. She thinks its a one night so she gets up to go but he stops her and tells her he likes her and to stay. Definitely smutty with a cute ending please

So, I also had a separate request which just stated Happy Lowman/smutty/#26 and thought I’d incorporate the two... Enjoy!

Prompt 26: “You’re a little hostile right now...”

Night One

He didn’t usually get drunk, not in the traditional sense. He’d have to let his guard down for that and Happy Lowman did not let his guard down. Not usually anyway.

But he’d agreed to catch up with some fellow former nomads in a bar they used to frequent back in the day and had ended up drinking more than he’d intended. Not that he couldn’t hold his liquor. But yeah, all things considered, it had been a weird night. So much had changed. Just not for him.

Tank cutting out early had been the final straw. It turned out the burly biker who’d left the nomad life behind to land with the Samdino crew a couple of years ago, a man who had once swore he needed nothing more than his bike and his cut, now had an old lady and twin babies to consider. Tank, for Christ’s sake. Two babies.

Happy – fearless, intimidating Happy – found the mere thought mildly terrifying.

Actually, of the six of them – six guys known to put the fear of god in those who dared cross them or their club, six die-hard bachelors who lived their lives on the road – four were now firmly tied down in a way they’d always vowed they never would be.

That left Mouse and Happy himself still free to indulge in whatever the hell they pleased.

Where once that would have made Happy smug though, now it rankled at him. Not least because he knew nothing would please his ma more than to see him finally settle down. Landing in Charming with the mother charter had been the compromise that allowed him to check in on her, given her advancing years and sometimes poor health. But where his Samcro brothers had old ladies, kids and community ties, he still might as well have been a nomad in all but name – living out of the clubhouse, indulging in the easy pussy that flocked to the place, but never letting anyone get too close. There just wasn’t anyone who—

“Watch it,” he growled, as someone bumped into him, sending his drink sloshing over his hand. “Or I’ll… You.”

“Uh, Happy, hey. Sorry, shit, I’m such a klutz.”

The tall, gruff Son had no idea what to say to the woman stood in front of him. He never did. Not when she was holed up in the Teller-Morrow office with Gemma, not when she was casually strolling across the yard or through the garage, and especially not when she was stood before him in some dive bar in a tiny dress that barely covered her ass, those big eyes slightly hazy with alcohol as she gazed up at him.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, genuinely surprised to see her out of her usual habitat, but realising too late that the simple question unintentionally sounded less like small talk and more like some kind of interrogation.

“Uh, you’re a little hostile right now…” she said, somewhat defensively. “I am allowed a life outside TM, you know.”

Was she? Of course, she was. Well, it depended on what she meant by a life. The concept hadn’t really crossed Happy’s mind until now, and he found himself frowning at the thought of it. As far as he was concerned, her place was in the TM office. And unwittingly starring in the vast majority of the fantasies that drifted into his mind when he wasn’t entirely focused on work.

Obviously, he realised that the scenarios he pictured all too vividly were utterly incompatible with reality. She wasn’t some croweater, easy pussy. For a start, unlike most of the club girls, she had absolutely no idea the effect she had on him. For all he knew, this life she was apparently entitled to could include a boyfriend. Husband even. The thought rankled him more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

“Just… didn’t expect to see you here,” he muttered, realising he was just staring at her and shifting his dark gaze almost guiltily from those tantalising bare legs. Taking in her plump, glossy lips instead didn’t help in the slightest.

“I’ll get you another beer,” she offered, with a little eager-to-please smile, swaying on her heels just a little as she flagged down the barman. “Since I made you spill…”

And in the end, he’d let her. That was how they’d ended up talking most of the night, slow though the conversation was to ignite. Turned out she was there with a girlfriend who’d abandoned her in favour of some guy. Going back to the clubhouse had eventually been Happy’s idea. He was just surprised it was one he’d voiced out loud – and that she’d agreed. Maybe that life of hers didn’t actually include another man after all…

So that was where they’d ended up, back at TM. Both of them were now on more comfortable turf in familiar surroundings and, having raided the clubhouse bar, well on their way towards a new level of drunkenness.

“This might be the most we’ve ever talked,” she giggled, leaning against his shoulder as they sat on top of one of the picnic tables outside in the growing darkness. “You never talk to me, Happy. Don’t you like me?”

The Samcro enforcer didn’t know how to answer that. How could a man with his reputation admit that he didn’t have the courage to talk to a woman he actually liked the idea of for more than a quick fuck? As it turned out, her own Dutch courage negated the need for an answer from him.

Instead, her mouth simply crashed onto his.

She tasted of the vodka she’d been knocking back and something sweet that might have been whatever was slicked on her lips to make them look so damn irresistible and he kissed her back with a hunger that wasn’t exactly a familiar sensation for him. For once, he didn’t just want to get his dick wet courtesy of the first willing body – he wanted her. Specifically her.

“Not here,” he growled, drunk on booze and the intoxicating scent of her perfume, but not too drunk to register that they were too close to the main door to avoid an audience for long. And he wasn’t okay with that, not with her.

Making it to his dorm room was something of a blur though, as if the world flipped into fast forward, only to grind back down to slow motion when somehow she was under him on his bed in just tiny scraps of hot pink lace. He was pretty sure those delicate panties ripped in his big hands in his determination to get them off her, but he had to have her before she drove him out of his goddamn mind.

The groan he drew from her when his tongue plundered her wet heat went straight to his cock.

“Oh god, Happy…” she moaned, her short, neat nails raking over his shaved scalp and practically sending a shiver down his spine.

Part of him wanted to just eat her out until she screamed for mercy, but another part – the part of him that was achingly hard for her – needed something more. And it seemed that was what she wanted too, as instead of complaining when he pulled away, she simply lay there breathless and taking in the sight of his lean, inked torso while he retrieved a condom from the night-stand.

His hand curled lightly around her slim throat and, in one long, slow thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, muttering dark curses at the feel of how tight she was around his throbbing cock.

“Happy…”

His name on her lips was practically a whine as her legs wrapped around his pistoning hips, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs and her hands reaching back to grip the headboard of the bed, stretching out her gloriously naked body for him.

“Fuck, yes,” she groaned, her laboured breath hot on his ear. “Harder…”

For once, Happy did as he was told.

The hand around her throat slipped downwards the fullness of her tits, cupping, squeezing the firm flesh, pinching her dusky nipples as he slowed the pace of his thrusts, wanting this to last if it was probably going to be the only chance he got.

She bit her lower lip, her head thrown back and her hips meeting his perfectly as she focused on chasing the orgasm that seemed to be brewing low in her belly.

“Happy, please…” she ground out, one hand leaving the headboard to trail down her own stomach and between her legs, her fingers grazing his slick cock as it slipped in and out of her, before finding the tiny bundle of nerves they had been seeking out.

He only let her rub frantically at her clit for a second, then firmly gripped her wrist and drew her hand away, guiding it back to the headboard with a glare and a shake of his head. If she wanted to cum, he didn’t need any fucking help getting her there.

The biker picked up the pace again, slamming into her hard and fast as she cried out in pleasure, her eyes squeezing closed. His hand cupped her cheek at that, getting her attention.

“Look at me,” Happy demanded roughly, his own breathing getting ragged with his exertions.

Her eyes opened, meeting his and he swallowed hard, letting his thumb trace over her full lower lip, prompting her to gently suck on the digit. When his hand finally slipped away, it trailed down her body, over skin flushed and covered in tiny beads of sweat, and sought out her clit just as she had.

It was somehow too much and not enough all at once and her hips arched helplessly towards his, her thighs clenching and her body trembling as she cried out.

“Oh, Happy, fuck, fuck, fuck…” she all but sobbed. “I’m… I’m gonna cum… I’m… Oh, fuuuuuck!”

With a flare of masculine pride at the response he could induce in her, Happy held out for as long as he could, jaw clenched as he fucked her through the intensity of her orgasm. But the vise-like grip of her soaked pussy around his cock quickly won out and he soon came hard and with a roar that he muffled against her throat, before collapsing down on top of her.

“Jesus…” she sighed breathlessly, as he shifted his weight off her to lie on his back by her side, trying to get his breath back and dashing sweat from his brow with his forearm.

Neither of them spoke. Nothing that came to Happy’s tongue seemed right and the silence soon stretched out between them uncomfortably, even as his brain berated him and told him he was in danger of completely fucking up whatever the hell had just happened.

Sure enough, she started to shift away from him, awkwardness creeping in and, despite what had just transpired between them, making her wrap herself in the tangled sheets and clutch them to her chest.

“Uh, I guess you probably want me to go…” she said softly.

His head snapped towards her at that, but she already had her back to him and didn’t see the look on his face.

“It’s okay,” she continued, obviously not wanting to make the whole situation any more awkward than it had to be. “I’ve been around enough to know how it works, Hap.”

“Stay.”

His low voice was rougher than ever, more hesitant than he’d ever been about anything. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Stay. Uh, please?”

She turned, wide-eyed. The Tacoma Killer didn’t say please.

“You… You don’t have to do this,” she tried hesitantly, trying to second-guess what was going on here. “One night, that’s the deal, right?”

He shrugged, feigning a casualness he really didn’t feel. “Doesn’t have to be.”

“So… not just one night?” she said, quiet and unsure, clearly mulling over what that might mean.

“Maybe just… night one?” Happy suggested, a rare little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he reached for her again. They could figure it out later.

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa fanfiction #soa prompts #soa requests #happy lowman #happy x reader #soa happy

[asthesamcroflies]

Hi I was wondering if you could write a story with Jax Teller. The reader is pregnant and goes into labor during a lockdown but she doesn’t tell anyone she’s in labor. Eventually Jax or Gemma or Lyla catch on but they won’t make it to the hospital so they have to deliver the baby in the clubhouse. I totally understand if you do not want to write this. Since it doesn’t follow what you are specifically asking. Thanks.

Thanks for the ask - happy to give it a go, so hope you enjoy! :)

Lockdown delivery

“You think I don’t know the timing’s shit? Of course, I know the timing’s shit!”

You could hear your old man’s voice rising angrily, even over the thrum of noise filling the crowded clubhouse. Not for the first time, Samcro had been forced into lockdown by an outside threat for the safety of its members and all those they held dear. Old ladies, kids, some extended family, close friends – all those who were considered at risk now seeking refuge within the clubhouse walls.

All the responsibility, more now than ever, of the club’s young president Jax Teller. Your old man.

It was a huge burden on his shoulders and, for all his usual confidence and authority, there was worry etched between his brows. You hated knowing you were a big factor in adding to that.

With a sigh, you let a hand rest lightly on the huge swell of your stomach. You had to admit you didn’t exactly need all this right now, not at just coming up on thirty-seven weeks pregnant and with the finishing touches still to be done on the nursery and so much still to organise.

You were exhausted and yet here you were, doing what you could to be of practical help and to show your support for your old man.

“Go lie down, baby – we can manage,” Gemma scolded yet again, on her way past with another armful of blankets to make their guests more comfortable. “You look worn out.”

“Thanks,” you managed, through gritted teeth, rolling your eyes at Gemma’s usual bluntness and too stubborn to be dismissed even if it was for your own good. “I’m fine…”

But you trailed off with a pained expression, your other hand going to the small of your back as the dull ache you couldn’t seem to shake only deepened.

“You good, doll?” Lyla stopped briefly in her tracks to check in, but she had her hands full too, trying to feed the impatient little kids who’d been voicing their needs loudly amid ongoing groans over being kept shut up inside, so she accepted your less-than-convincing nod more quickly than she otherwise might.

So left to your own devices again, you took a deep, steadying breath. Goddamn Braxton Hicks contractions. You’d been having them all damn day and… Really? Had it really been that long? Normally, they passed much quicker than that…

No. No, it couldn’t be. You had at least another three weeks to go – not to mention a lockdown to get through!

Maybe you would have that lie-down after all.

*****

“Jax?”

“What, mom?” the biker finally snapped, more sharply than he normally would, riled at having his attention diverted from a quick situation update from his grim-faced sergeant.

Gemma’s eyes narrowed in warning at his tone, but she let it slide, knowing full well the pressure on her son’s shoulders right now. And that she could well be about to add to it.

“Oh, nothing important,” she snarked nonetheless. “Just the small matter of your old lady. You know, the heavily pregnant one?”

That was enough to cut through Jax’s focus on the club and he was immediately on a red alert of a different kind. “What about her? She okay?” he demanded. “Where is she?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing… No one’s seen her in a while.”

“What?! Shit. Well, she can’t have left – no one’s left. Jesus, how do you lose a pregnant woman in here?” Jax bit out, raking a hand through his blond hair. “Sorry, Hap, I gotta go deal with this.”

*****

Gasping in pain, you tilted your head back against the seat, now regretting the seemingly bright idea of taking the weight off your feet in the rare peace of the big old car that had been left in for a service at TM before the shutters had been forced to come down. With every dorm room already full, it had seemed like the best chance of just sitting back and holding on until the pains you’d been experiencing had passed. And you had still been telling yourself they would pass. That there was no way you could be so unlucky as to be in labour in the middle of a lockdown.

Ha, if only that were true.

Trying to remember everything you’d been told about breathing, you couldn’t hold back a cry in response to a particularly strong contraction.

“Oh god, please not now…” you all but sobbed, realising that even if you called out for help, it was highly unlikely anyone back in the main clubhouse would hear you.

But just as panic was about to set it, you heard your old man’s voice calling your name, concern already obvious in his tone. And somehow you found the strength to respond.

“Jax, I’m here!”

“What the hell are you doing out here? I’ve—Oh, shit!”

As soon as you saw him staring at you, you could let your eyes close in relief, knowing at least you weren’t alone in this now.

“Now? Seriously?” he grimaced, before quickly realising that wasn’t exactly the reassurance you needed. “Hey, hey, easy now, darlin’. It’s gonna be okay. We can call an ambulance and see if--”

“I … I think it’s too late for that …” you managed, panting for breath. “I’m so sorry, Jax. I thought it was just Braxton Hicks and--”

You broke off with another cry of pain, making your old man wince in response.

“Fuck,” he swore. “Okay, two seconds, I swear – I’ll be two seconds.”

“Jackson!” you yelped. “Don’t leave me, you asshole!”

“Two seconds!” he hollered back, dashing towards the clubhouse, yelling for his vice president at the top of his lungs – literally turning on his heel and racing back to you as soon as he’d managed to get the attention of a startled Chibs and had the Scotsman running to catch up with him, convinced they were all mere moments from being blown sky-high. Again.

But Chibs skidded to a halt when he realised the truth of the situation, his eyes widening.

“Ah, Jesus Christ, Jacky – I’m no a fucking midwife, brother!” he declared in alarm.

But seeing you sobbing in pain as you caught your old man’s hand in a death grip, the VP crossed himself, kissed the rosary that hung around his neck and heaved a heavy sigh.

“Towels, hot water, and a bottle o’ whisky,” he ordered.

“She can’t drink in her condition,” Jax protested.

“The whisky’s fer me,” Chibs clarified.

*****

It was rare for the clubhouse to fall so quiet in the middle of a lockdown, but with word about what was going on having spread, a hush had fallen over all those now waiting for news – or at least a hush periodically broken by screams drifting through from the garage, making the mothers among those gathered exchange sympathetic, knowing looks, while even the most battle-hardened Sons could only cringe in something close to horror.

And in the backseat of that godforsaken car you’d sought refuge in, you no longer gave a shit who heard what as you struggled in agony, exhausted by your body’s efforts.

“I can’t, I just can’t,” you panted, your hair sweaty and falling in your flushed face. “Please, just make it stop.”

“I know, darlin’, I know,” Jax tried to soothe you, his hand still caught in your death grip, but his well-meaning words enough to make you round on him with renewed energy.

“Do you? Do you really, Jackson? Are you also pushing something the size of a watermelon out of your vagina, darlin’?” you snapped, your voice rising shrilly. “Oh my fucking god, someone just get this baby OUT OF ME!”

Chibs could only chuckle, looking at you over the top of his glasses as he patted your knee gently while your words turned into a roar as you pushed through yet another agonising contraction. “Atta girl. Come on now, lass – nearly there…”

“I can’t…”

“You can, baby,” Gemma coaxed, from where she was hovering anxiously in the background with an armful of towels. “And you’re damn well going to – I want to meet that grandbaby of mine!”

You could only grit your teeth at that, more than tempted to take out all your pain and discomfort on everyone around you, but starting to lack the energy for that. Just when you really did think you couldn’t take much more though, it was done.

And a small whimper turned into a full-throated cry.

“Welcome to the Reaper Crew, wee fella,” Chibs declared, shooting you and Jax a little grin, tears shining even in his brown eyes as he laid the tiny wriggling bundle in your arms.

“A son,” you whispered tearfully, trying not to cry, even as Jax blatantly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, his arm curled protectively around your shoulders. “We have a son.”

“And he’s absolutely perfect,” your old man nodded, leaning in to kiss your damp forehead, his ringed fingers tenderly tracing your baby’s soft cheek. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa fanfiction #soa prompts #soa requests #samcro #jax teller #jax x reader

[asthesamcroflies]

Taking SOA story requests

I thought I’d have a little fun between projects to keep the creativity flowing – easier said than done sometimes! So if you’d like to request a short story, just hit me up with your main character(s) + vibe + quote(s) combo from the below lists and I’ll see what I can do.

I’ve only listed the SOA characters I think I could make a reasonable stab at (I’ve got a personal soft spot for writing for Chibs, Tig and Kozik, but I’ve played around with most of those listed in some form or other). I’ve also given some very general vibes to guide me on the type of story you’d like  – you can get more specific and again, I’ll see what I can do. I like shaking things up a little, so with the quotes, I can’t guarantee I’ll take the obvious road lol. I may amend slightly for context and it may not be the main character who says it. Story length will vary depending on how inspired I get, as will response time! :)

Choose your main character(s) + vibe(s) + quote(s) combo

You may also want to state whether you want a reader/OC insert, canon relationships (eg. You request a Jax-centric story - let me know if, even if it isn’t relationship-focused, you want a backdrop of him with Tara, Wendy, another canon character, or a reader/OC), or the focus solely on the character(s) you pick.

Characters

Jax Teller Tara Knowles Chibs Telford Tig Trager Opie Winston Lyla Dvorak Happy Lowman Herman Kozik Juice Ortiz Nero Padilla Wendy Case Gemma Teller-Morrow Original Female Character (OFC) Original Male Character (OMC)

Vibes

Dark Light Funny Serious Romantic Smutty Sad Happy Other (Please specify)

Quotes

1.      “Well, there goes the fucking plan…”

2.      “Does this seem normal to you?”

3.      “If you don’t know that by now, I don’t know what to tell you.”

4.      “I love you, but this has to stop.”

5.      “What are you smiling about?”

6.      “How long was I asleep?”

7.      “Take that back.”

8.      “Don’t tell me to calm down.”

9.      “Problem solved.”

10.   “I lied.”

11.   “Can’t say I won’t do it again…”

12.   “Someone has to be the voice of reason.”

13.   “I don’t think we’re going to make it this time.”

14.   “Don’t even think about it.”

15.   “Do you still think about her/him?”

16.   “If you’re waiting for me, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

17.   “Is that what I think it is?”

18.   “Please don’t do this.”

19.   “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

20.   “Shove your regret up your ass.”

21.   “Would a kiss help?”

22.   “Maybe I’m the one who needs saving.”

23.   “You’re cute when you’re fucking furious.”

24.   “We’re definitely going to get caught…”

25.   “That would have hurt a lot fucking less.”

26.   “You’re a little hostile right now…”

27.   “My bed or yours?”

28.   “It doesn’t always have to be you, you know.”

29.   “Shut up, you know you liked it.”

30.   “In my defence, it did work…”

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa fanfiction #soa prompts #soa requests #jax teller #chibs telford #tig trager #tara knowles #opie winston #lyla dvorak #juice ortiz #happy lowman #herman kozik #nero padilla #wendy case #gemma teller-morrow #samcro #samcro imagine

[asthesamcroflies]

PROMPT: Getaway (Version 5)

You and your old man never got a proper honeymoon – the club couldn’t spare him at that time for more than a few days and it was just too dangerous for you both to head off alone, so you’d had to make do. But he always promised he’d make it up to you and, a few months late, you finally get your dream honeymoon.

Previously, Jax, Juice, Kozik and Tig, but now Filip ‘Chibs’ Telford...

Chibs

When he gets clearance to finally whisk you away for an extended break, Chibs knows it’s an opportunity that might not come around too often, given his role in the club.

Besides, he knows you regret never having travelled outside the Americas, so taking you to Scotland to introduce you to the country of his birth seems perfect.

He does worry a little that you’d rather soak up the sun somewhere exotic, but you’re thrilled to share something that means so much to him.

You enjoy exploring cities like Glasgow and Edinburgh, but immediately fall in love with the remote Highland cottage you rent for a few days total relaxation, loving the tranquillity and the chance to just curl up on the couch to read with your head or feet in Chibs’ lap.

He does most of the cooking, knowing he’s not always there to look after you at home.

Some evenings, you cook together, talking and laughing in the kitchen, tasting as you go and sharing a bottle of wine. There’s one disaster when the two of you get caught up in each other and accidentally burn dinner while having sex. But it just means Chibs leaving you to soak in the tub while he drives the Jeep he’s hired to the nearest village and gets you acquainted on his return with the joy of melt-in-the-mouth battered fish and thick, salty chips. You eat on the couch together, under a blanket and with a movie on the TV, and the moan of pleasure at your first taste is almost obscene, making him chuckle.

The weather’s not all bad, but it does rain sometimes, and there’s at least a couple of spectacular thunderstorms. Getting caught out in it is just a good excuse to head back to the cottage and get out of your wet clothes though. It usually ends with sex.

There’s a lot of sex. In bed, in a nice hot shower, on the kitchen counter. In front of the roaring fire is a favourite for both of you. And you love the intimacy of knowing it’s just the two of you for miles.

It’s only weeks after getting home that you realise your child has been conceived in its father’s homeland – the news stunning Chibs and bringing tears to his eyes as he holds you close.

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #samcro prompt #sons of anarchy imagine #chibs #soa chibs #filip telford #chibs x reader

[asthesamcroflies]

PROMPT: Getaway (Version 4)

PROMPT: Getaway

You and your old man never got a proper honeymoon – the club couldn’t spare him at that time for more than a few days and it was just too dangerous for you both to head off alone, so you’d had to make do. But he always promised he’d make it up to you and, a few months late, you finally get your dream honeymoon.

Previously, Jax, Juice and Kozik and still to come Chibs, but next, Alexander ‘Tig’ Trager...

Tig

Tig feels like you put up with a lot as his old lady and he still can’t quite decide why, so he’s been vowing to go all out on spoiling you when he finally gets the chance, even if it’s only for a few days.

You have no idea how he’s afforded the luxurious Mexican beach resort, but he just grins knowing he’s been planning this for a long time. Like before you even married him in a low-key ceremony nearly a year ago. It’s a proper honeymoon and anniversary treat all in one.

In some ways, you’d have struggled to picture your tough biker here. In other ways, this – where everyone strolls around by the beautiful pool and beach half-naked, is paradise to Tig. But while he might enjoy a feast for the eyes, you’re left with no doubt that you’re where his true interest lies.

He pushes you to make the most of it all – to use the spa, get massages, facials, whatever relaxes you. He even joins in because the point of this was to make up for all the times he’s not there for you. Besides, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy a bit of pampering himself.

He doesn’t protest when you want to explore shops and bars, but generally both of you are content to just be lazy for once. You spend most of your time naked or in a bikini, only really getting dressed up for dinner, and that’s exactly how Tig likes it. When you do go all out, he’s sure people wonder why you’re with the likes of him, but it only makes him proud to be by your side.

And the sex, sometimes getting a little rough with you just how you like, in a big bed surrounded by such luxury definitely does something to him.

He still loves when neither of you have to bother making an effort though and there’s even the chance to just sunbathe topless by the tiny private plunge pool right outside your spacious room. The massages you give each other there always have a happy ending.

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #samcro prompt #sons of anarchy imagine #tig #soa tig #tig trager #alexander trager #tig x reader

[asthesamcroflies]

PROMPT: Getaway (Version 3)

PROMPT: Getaway

You and your old man never got a proper honeymoon – the club couldn’t spare him at that time for more than a few days and it was just too dangerous for you both to head off alone, so you’d had to make do. But he always promised he’d make it up to you and, a few months late, you finally get your dream honeymoon.

Previously, Jax and Juice and still to come Tig and Chibs, but next up Kozik...

Kozik

As a club sergeant, everything Kozik does has to be planned with military precision whenever possible. Of course, those plans could get shot to shit, sometimes literally, but he has to be prepared. So when he finally gets the chance to whisk you away, he wants it to be special, but he also embraces the chance to just go with the flow.

So he turns up with a shit-eating grin and a hired campervan, much to the amusement of his brothers. They think any old lady will hate it, but Koz knows his girl better than that, so it’s no surprise when you bounce into his arms in delight, your legs wrapped around his hips.

The two of you are free to just hit the open road and go where the notion takes you – wine country, surfer havens, quirky little towns off the beaten track.

Finding an incredible little secluded spot, with a gorgeous natural plunge pool at the foot of a waterfall takes your breath away and Koz’s knowing smirk suggests he might have planned this part.

Tombstoning from the top satisfies the thrill-seeker in both of you, and you burst back up from underneath the surface laughing, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, letting him tread water for you both.

Your days may be packed, and that suits you both just fine, but with night comes peace and you revel in just laying in the van looking out at the stars after making love, wrapped in Koz’s arms or with him just holding your hand over his heart. It makes him think back to the rough days he spent on the streets as a junkie, trying to dull everything he experienced as a Marine and he realises, not for the first time, that the club saved his life, but you gave him a reason to live.

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #samcro prompt #sons of anarchy imagine #kozik #herman kozik #soa kozik #kozik x reader

[asthesamcroflies]

PROMPT: Getaway (Version 2)

You and your old man never got a proper honeymoon – the club couldn’t spare him at that time for more than a few days and it was just too dangerous for you both to head off alone, so you’d had to make do. But he always promised he’d make it up to you and, a few months late, you finally get your dream honeymoon.

Previously Jax, and still to come Tig, Chibs and Kozik, but now Juan Carlos ‘Juice’ Ortiz...

Juice has never been to Disney World. You’ve never been to Disney World. First chance he gets, he’s taking you to Disney World.

The guys laugh and take the piss out of him for being such a big kid, but he absolutely does not care because he knows it’ll make you happy.

And the two of you love just wandering around hand-in-hand, being tourists, being kids. You both get excited over all the rides and take dozens of pictures – including with all the characters. He’s definitely researched everything and worked out an optimum route with the least queuing though.

You have to get a picture of him with Goofy because Juice is your goof and you love him for it.

He buys you Minnie Mouse ears and makes sure to get a picture of you wearing them in front of the castle because you’re his princess and he adores you.

That’s why he makes sure to book the nicest hotel he can afford, wanting to spoil you as much as he can and it’s definitely worth it.

Watching the spectacular fireworks display with you in his arms and then taking you back to the hotel and making love to you all night is a definite highlight for Juice. He thinks he couldn’t possibly love you more than he does right then.

He finds out he was wrong when, weeks later, you give him a gift for no reason. He unwraps it to find a tiny white baby grow covered in little Mickey and Minnies inside, the sight bringing him to his knees, tears slipping down his cheeks even as his grin threatens to split his face and he kisses your tummy tenderly.

A family is all he’s ever wanted. A family with you – that’s the fairytale come true.

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #samcro prompt #sons of anarchy imagine #soa juice #juice x reader #juan carlos ortiz

[asthesamcroflies]

PROMPT: Getaway

You and your old man never got a proper honeymoon – the club couldn’t spare him at that time for more than a few days and it was just too dangerous for you both to head off alone, so you’d had to make do. But he always promised he’d make it up to you and, a few months late, you finally get your dream honeymoon.

Still to come, Tig, Juice, Chibs, Kozik, but first, Jax Teller himself...

Jax

It’s not about how far you go, it’s about just having a chance to switch off and a Californian beach holiday is perfect.

Jax leaves the cut aside for once to avoid drawing unwanted attention, but loves cruising the scenic coastline on his Harley, with you wrapped around him, the breeze in your hair.

He prefers to stay active, surfing, swimming, snorkelling – or even just hanging out, exploring seaside towns, and you can feel how relaxed he is, his arm usually draped around your shoulders or waist to keep you close.

But he’ll happily take time to just recharge, lazing on the beach in the sun with you, dozing or people-watching, letting you read or just enjoy the sun on your skin. Anything that gets you in a bikini is fine with him and the way he looks at you as his strong hands rub on your sunscreen with an almost indecent thoroughness is enough to light you on fire.

He’s not above scooping you into his arms and running into the sea with you though, laughing his ass off at your shrieks.

You have almost as much sex on the secluded patch of sand outside the cute beach house you’ve rented as you do between the crisp sheets of its big bed. Especially as the two of you watch the sunset sink into the ocean.

That easy smile’s never far from Jax’s face and you sense he might not to be too hard to coax into another holiday in future, club permitting, knowing Abel would love it instead of staying with Grandma Gemma and Grandpa Clay.

You can already picture football games on the beach and paddling the shallow waters with your boys – Jax, Abel, and a little one of your own someday.

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #samcro prompt #sons of anarchy imagine #jax teller #jax x reader #soa jax

[asthesamcroflies]

PROMPT: Missing You (Part 2)

“Fuck, darlin’, that ain’t exactly the welcome home I was after!” Chibs declared, startled to find a gun pointed at his chest in his own bedroom and by his scantily clad old lady no less. “Uh, surprise?”

“Filip!” you gasped. “I could have fucking shot you!”

“Aye, so d’ya wanna maybe put down the piece, love?” he suggested, bemused to find you still had it levelled at him, and admittedly proud to see there wasn’t so much as a tremble in your hand, even though you’d clearly been frightened. He’d trained you well.

Dropping it on the bed, you took a deep, shaky breath, even as your pup – infinitely more perked up – bounced over to paw joyfully at his master, emitting a small bark to try to get his attention.

“There’s my boy,” Chibs enthused, crouching down to fuss over the delighted dog. “Hey, buddy, did you miss me, huh? Did you miss yer aul’ da?”

His dark eyes never left you though, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you try to recover yourself – his shirt slipping off one shoulder as you raked a hand through your hair. He was still watching as you checked the safety of the gun before returning it to its box, standing on tiptoe to push it back into the closet and causing the hem of his shirt to creep even further up your otherwise bare thighs.

“Need a hand, love?”

He was already behind you, having moved swiftly to reach over your head and push the box right back into its hiding place, his breath warm against your ear and a firm hand on your hip. The closet door had barely closed before he had you pressed up against it, caught between it and him. You managed to squirm around to look up at him though, wanting to take in the sight of that handsome scarred face, shifting coyly from foot to foot at the hungry look in his eyes.

“Did you miss me?” you asked, walking your fingers lightly up his chest, over the well-worn leather of his cut.

“What do you think, darlin’?” he all but growled, before leaning down to capture your mouth in a kiss that nearly robbed you of breath, breaking away only long enough to snap his fingers at the pup still bustling around his feet and then point towards the door. “Oi, you, downstairs - bed. Good boy.”

He kissed you again, his hands lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist as your hands gripped his shoulders. “And you …”

The grin on his face was roguish as his longing gaze raked over you.

“Bed.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #samcro prompt #sons of anarchy imagine #chibs #soa chibs #chibs x reader #chibs telford #filip telford

[asthesamcroflies]

PROMPT: Missing you

(Should I continue this with a little part two? 🤔)

It’s been five days since your old man left on a run. Five long days and four lonely nights.

The first one, even though you had the memory of a loving goodbye so fresh in your mind, was still the hardest – when all the time you knew you’d be apart, not even really knowing if he was safe, stretched out in front of you.

The second was, comparatively, the best. Resigned to your enforced break from each other, you made the most of it with a little evening of pampering and enjoyed stretching out in the comfort of the bed big you usually shared.

The novelty quickly wore off though, when you realised you’d rather be curled up in strong arms than spread out all alone.

It seemed you wouldn’t be alone on night five, even though you’d heard nothing from your old man yet as to when he might make it back. It could be hours, or it could be days. But when you’d gotten out of the shower and pulled on one of his shirts to sleep in, you’d padded into the bedroom to find his side of the bed occupied.

With a soft chuckle, you grabbed your phone and sat down on the edge to fire off a text message.

You: Someone’s missing you…

You weren’t expecting a reply straight off. God only knows what was going on for him right now. Probably not the chance to freshen up and grab an early night like you. Still, he wasn’t too long at all in replying.

Chibs: Is it you, lass? x

You: Well, yeah. But also…

You replied with a short text and then just snapped and sent off a photo that spoke for itself, capturing your six-month-old golden retriever slumped on his daddy’s side of the bed and looking utterly miserable.

Chibs: My boy! 😍 Hope he’s looking after you, lovie. Tell him his da’ll be home soon x

You: He’s been the best boy, he just doesn’t understand why you’re not here 🐶 I know how he feels – I wish daddy was here to take care of me too xx

Chibs: You gonna send me a pic of that? 😉

You: 😘

Chibs: Jesus 😮😍😍😍

You’d shrugged off his shirt, your cheeks flushing even in the privacy of your own home as you toyed with the strap of your lacy bra while snapping a picture to send – something suggestive rather than explicit. God, you missed—

The sudden sound of a door from downstairs and heavy footsteps nearly made you jump out of your skin and you froze, your heart thumping furiously in your chest. There was a gun in a box in the closet and your old man had made sure you knew how to use it, but you didn’t want to have to. The footsteps were getting closer though and, as the pup on the bed only whined, you snatched up the shirt you’d discarded to quickly pull it back on before clambering over the bed to get to the closet.

“Fuck, darlin’, that ain’t exactly the welcome home I was after!” Chibs declared from the doorway, phone still in one hand, startled to find a gun pointed at his chest in his own bedroom and by his scantily clad old lady no less. “Uh, surprise?”

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #samcro prompt #sons of anarchy imagine #soa chibs #chibs telford #filip telford #chibs x reader #chibs

[asthesamcroflies]

PROMPT: SOS

You’re on a girls’ day out, shopping, lunch, cocktails – but then you get a distress call. It’s your old man. It’s gotten crazy busy at TM and he knows he promised he’d pick you up and take you out for dinner after, but customers are losing their shit, there’s no one manning the office, and the prospects are fucking useless…

“Hey, chill, I’m on my way.”

Jax

As soon as you step out of your car, he gets that slow smile that’s always a dead giveaway there’s something dirty running through his mind, but there’s genuine gratitude in those blue eyes too.

He swaggers over for a kiss and to drape an arm around your shoulders as he walks you across the yard, dropping another kiss to the top of your head as you sit down at the cluttered office desk.

“I’ll make it up to ya, darlin’ …”

He’s definitely sticking around and getting his hands dirty instead of delegating now you’re here.

The shirt’s definitely coming off and you’re not even going to pretend you’re not enjoying the view.

He offers to lock up, but only so he can get you alone in the office at the end of a long day.

Some of your efforts to organise are wasted when he sweeps paperwork off the desk to fuck you on it instead.

You’re not complaining.

Chibs

He’s too busy to notice until you’re almost right in front of him, but his eyes light up when he sees you and his smile dimples his scarred cheeks.

“You’re a bloody angel, lass …”

He tries not to get too distracted from his work, content to sneak glances at you from across the garage, smiling when he catches your eye.

But he still manages to keep finding excuses to wander into the office when he suspects a customer’s trying to get too friendly.

He tells the others he’s working through his break so he can clock off in time to take you for that dinner he promised.

But when you bring him a coffee, seeing you walk away from him to head back into the office is a temptation too far and strong arms slip around your waist.

You don’t want to get caught by his brothers, but you have to admit there’d be a certain irony in a quickie with your old man on the hood of the car belonging to a particularly lecherous customer …

That accent in your ear, hot kisses down your neck as he’s buried inside you makes you wonder why you even hesitated.

Opie

He’s proud to see his old lady coming to the rescue, meeting you in the yard with a kiss.

He sets you up in the office, making sure the prospects keep you supplied with coffee or whatever you need to be comfortable.

The first impatient customer who raises their voice at you hears a throat cleared behind them and turns to almost smack into the man mountain behind them, arms folded across that broad chest and a glare on his face.

He steals a kiss any time he has to be in the office, being careful not to get engine oil or grease on your outfit.

But he waits to get you home to fully show his appreciation, even if you don’t quite make it as far as the bed.

It’s worth the wait.

Kozik

His grin when he sees you threatens to split his face and he abandons whatever he’s working on to wrap you up in his arms and twirl you around.

“Knew you’d come through for me, baby …”

He says he’s teaching you when he shows you what he’s working on, but really he just wants you there to talk to and goof around with.

Before long, you’re wearing his work shirt unbuttoned over your outfit and his baseball cap backwards on your head.

He keeps calling you his little grease-monkey – you get him back by smudging grease like war paint on his cheeks.

Jokes on you when the two of you end up making out and it rubs off on you.

He clocks off early, after ordering the prospects to valet your car as payment for helping out – besides, he wants you to have to leave it there so you have to ride home wrapped around him on his bike.

#sons of anarchy #soa #soa imagine #samcro prompt #sons of anarchy imagine #jax teller #chibs telford #opie winston #herman kozik #jax x reader #chibs x reader #opie x reader #kozik x reader #teller morrow