’ -

: slight smut 

Part One: https://writer-of-mayhem.tumblr.com/post/675559203955425280/you-dont-know-her-like-i-do-part-one
Part Two: https://writer-of-mayhem.tumblr.com/post/675926650790248448/you-dont-know-her-like-i-do-part-two
Part Three: https://writer-of-mayhem.tumblr.com/post/677404676210163712/you-dont-know-her-like-i-do-part-three
Part Four: https://writer-of-mayhem.tumblr.com/post/680066269767221248/you-dont-know-her-like-i-do-part-4

Piney threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, ruffling the top of your head fondly; in many ways, he was just as much of a father figure to you as your uncle Clay was, possibly even more so. Clay was the one you went to for good advice but Piney was the one you went to when you just needed a kind ear to listen to your problems. You stood together and watched as the guys sped out of the Teller-Morrow backlot; they were headed on a ‘blood drive’ for the Children’s hospital, or at least that’s what you’d been told. Honestly, sometimes you swore all the guys thought you were born yesterday when they tried lying to you - it was clear that their journey had nothing to do with charity and was actually a cover up for something all the more sinister. You didn’t care that Jax had lied to you because you knew he did it for your own protection and peace of mind, you just hoped they all made it back alive. 

Between everything that was going on with the club and the feud between your uncle and brother, the chances of someone coming home in a body bag were higher than ever. 

“I gotta take Abel home,” You told Piney. “He’s staying with me while Jax is away.”
The old man smiled at you, one of the most genuine smiles you’d seen coming from him since you first got back. “How’s all that going?” He asked. “You enjoying motherhood?”
You scoffed. “I wouldn’t call it motherhood, but I love taking care of him. He’s the calmest kid ever, some days I can’t even believe he’s Jax’s.”
“You’ll be more of a mother to that boy than anyone else ever will,” Piney said. “And it suits you, Y/N.”
You ignored the pain that blossomed behind your right eye. Talking about this was going to give you a migraine. “Thanks, Piney. You should come over later, I’m doin’ dinner for Gem.”

Piney kissed your forehead and disappeared into the clubhouse. You picked up Abel’s car seat being careful not to wake him and loaded it into the back of your Jeep. As a general rule, you took your bike over your car no matter where you were going, but today you were  transporting precious cargo, meaning you’d had to trade in your Harley. It was worth it if it meant you got to spend time with your God son. You gave him a bottle to drink on the way to the grocery store before getting behind the wheel and pulling out of the lot. 

-

You grabbed what you needed and was in the middle of putting Abel back in the car when Gemma ran past you. At first you didn’t even realise it was her, but when you spun around and saw her chasing a blonde you didn’t recognise, you knew you had to run after her. You couldn’t exactly leave Abel so you took him with you, cradling his head against your chest as you jogged after her, hoping they wouldn’t make it far so you could catch up. 

You swore under your breath. Why could nobody just have a normal bloody day in Charming?

When you rounded the corner, you saw Tara was also chasing Gemma, although you had no idea where she’d come from. The blonde woman that had Gemma rattled climbed into a car with a guy you recognised but couldn’t place, leaving Gemma standing dumbfounded on the sidewalk. Before you could get to her, Tara came up behind her and reached out to put a hand on her shoulder; the next thing you knew, Gemma was clocking her in the face. 

“Shit,” You sighed, jogging over to the two of them. “What the hell is going on?!”
“Y/N?” Gemma said. “What are you doing here?”
“I was getting groceries and I saw you run past. Who was that?”
Tara was clutching her nose, blood dripping between her fingers. “I need to go to St Thomas. This is definitely broken.”
“You broke her nose?!” You yelled. “Gemma, what-”
“Not on purpose. If I wanted to break her nose, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”
“My car is around the corner,” You said, shaking your head. “I’ll drive.”

-

While Tara got her nose looked at you and Abel waited with Gemma in the hospital’s chapel. You didn’t consider yourself to be a religious person, not after the things you’d been through in your lifetime. Surely if there was a God he wouldn’t just sit back and watch while people suffered so greatly, right? So sitting in the chapel with Gemma was just like sitting in an ordinary room. You gave Abel your car keys to play with while he sat in your lap and tried to work out the best way to go about talking to Gemma about what had happened. Having grown up under her care, you knew Gemma well, and you could tell just by looking at her that she was currently at war with her own mind. 

Tara poked her head around the door and once she saw the three of you sitting there, she came over and joined you, reaching out and letting Abel wrap one of his tiny hands around her finger. “How’s your nose?” You asked.

“It’s gonna be fine,” She explained. “It isn’t broken.”
You nodded. “That’s good.”
Gemma sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Guess I’m lucky you didn’t blow my head off,” The ghost of a smile flickers across Tara’s face. “You okay? That running couldn’t have felt good.”
You wondered what Tara was talking about, but then it dawned on you just how much pain Gemma was probably in after what happened to her. She shook her head. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Who was the girl?” When Gemma didn’t respond, Tara looks to you for help, but you have no idea what to say either. “Jesus Christ Gemma, you have to talk about what happened. I know what it’s like to keep something like this inside.” 
You realised what Tara is doing and it occurred to you that maybe if Gemma heard that you both understood what she was going through to some level she might feel like opening up. “So do I,” You said.
She scoffs. “I doubt that.”
“You know why I was carrying that gun a few months ago?” Tara presses. 
“The fed. You got a restraining order.”
“Yeah.”
“He went after you?”
Tara and Gemma lock eyes. “Yeah.”
“Raped you?”
“Uh, it almost went there. I was able to stop him.”
Gemma looked the way you felt - abhorred. “Does Jax know?” She asked incredulously. 
Tara nodded. “I had to tell someone. I… I knew it would eat me up if I didn’t.”
You and Gemma looked at each other knowingly. “What did Jax do?” 
“Well, there was nothing he could do. Kohn was already gone,” You knew that was bullshit. “My point is, you need to get this thing outta your head before you kill someone.”
“Tara’s right,” You interjected. “Keeping shit like this to yourself ruins your life, Gem.”
“And what would you know about it?”
Abel shifted in your lap and you looked at him, tears already blurring your vision. “I didn’t come back to Charming because I was homesick. I came back because I almost had a baby with a man who used to beat me when he drank.”
Tara gasped while Gemma just stared at you, open mouthed. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
You smiled sadly. “This is the point I was trying to make.”
“You could’ve talked to me, darl,” Gemma reached out and took your hand. 
“But I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to get the words out. Telling Jax and Opie was bad enough, I had no idea how to go about telling you.”
“Does Clay know?”

 You shook your head. You could  imagine how your uncle would react if you told him about your ex, and right now that was more than you were able to handle. Maybe once Gemma had told Clay her story and he’d processed that you could tell him about your past, but until then you had no desire to bring it into the present. 

“The point is, keeping this to myself and making the conscious decision not to deal with it had me running home with my tail between my legs,” You explained. “I’m not saying that I regret coming back to Charming, but maybe if I’d opened up to someone about it I wouldn’t have felt the need to run. You need to deal with what happened to you before your trauma starts calling all the shots.”

-

Abel stared up at you with wide, curious eyes when you started to sing him an old country song you loved as a teenager. You were giving him his afternoon bottle and attempting to lull him to sleep, hoping he would nap for a couple of hours so you could get some writing done. Since you’d spent most of the week taking care of Abel, the two of you had a pretty good routine down and as his eyes started to droop as he fell asleep, it dawned on you that there was nothing else in this world quite as precious to you as your god son. If anything ever happened to him, you would personally see to it that hell was raised and somebody paid a pretty price. 

Being careful not to wake him, you laid him down in his travel crib and crept downstairs, but before you could even open your laptop and get to writing, somebody knocked on the front door. You assumed it was Jax coming to collect Abel since the guys were supposed to be coming home from the run this afternoon, but when you opened the door you were face to face with Juice. 

You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t spoken to Juice since the wrap party. Truthfully, you’d been avoiding him, but now that you were looking him in the eye you couldn’t for the life of you remember why. “Hey,” he grinned.
“Hey yourself,” You smiled. “What’re you doing here?”
“We just got back and I thought I’d come over and check in.”
You stepped aside and gestured for Juice to come inside. “You want something to drink?”
“I’ll take a beer if you’ve got one.”
“Sure.”

Juice followed you through to the kitchen and perched himself on the counter while you fetched two beers from the fridge. He shrugged out of his kutte and a slew of inappropriate thoughts went through your head as you found yourself wondering what he looked like underneath the rest of his clothes. You handed him his beer - avoiding eye contact entirely - and leaned against the opposite counter, putting a fair bit of distance between the two of you. 

“So, you came to check on me?”
Juice grinned sheepishly. “Kind of. I realised we hadn’t really spoken since the party and I wondered if there was something wrong.”
Internally, you flinched. You’d hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Nothing’s wrong, just had a lot going on between babysitting Abel and trying to start my next project.”
“Okay,” Juice sipped his beer. “I thought maybe you regretted what happened.”
“Why, do you?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t regret it,” You told him. “I just don’t know how I feel about it.” 
Juice slid off the counter and closed the distance between the two of you. He didn’t make any moves to touch you, but the proximity was enough to stop your heartbeat. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“I-”
“Maybe you just need it to happen again so you can figure it out.”
You raised a brow. “You think so?”
“Yeah, I do.”
There was no point trying to put a stop to the inevitable, so you let Juice grab you by the waist and lift you onto the kitchen island. “Maybe you’re right.”

He began peppering kisses along the side of your neck and your jaw, leaving a trail all the way to your lips, which he took between his teeth before finally kissing you. You released a quiet, breathy moan and wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, locking him in, even though there was no way he would have moved anyway. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip and you let him in, exploring his mouth with your own tongue while he tangled his hands in your hair. 

“Figured it out yet?” He asked breathlessly. 
You smirked. “Not yet.”

This seemed to be the final push that Juice needed and before you could react he swept you up off the counter and headed for the stairs, all without breaking the passionate kiss that the two of you were wrapped up in. You wrapped your legs even more tightly around his waist and gasped at the friction this caused; it had been so long since you had been intimate with someone and as a result, your body was both excited and nervous simultaneously. 

Juice kicked your bedroom door shut behind you and laid you down on the bed, kicking off his boots before climbing on top of you. After a while, you began to get desperate to feel his skin against yours, so you tugged on the hem of his t-shirt, practically begging for him to take it off. He pulled away from you and sat up, a shit-eating grin spread across his face - he knew that he had you right where he wanted you. 

“You first,” He said, trailing his fingers underneath the waistband of your denim shorts.
A shiver ran through your entire body, but you did as Juice told you. “Now you.”

Obviously you knew he was in fairly good shape and you’d had a pretty decent idea of what he looked like underneath his clothes since the day you met him, but nothing could have prepared you for actually seeing it. He was genuinely the most gorgeous man you had ever seen, ripped and toned in all the right places, and the sight of him laid practically bare in front of you was making you feel some type of way. You unclasped your bra without needing to be told and pulled him back down, reconnecting your lips in a fiery kiss. His skin was warm against yours and you couldn’t wait to get even closer; hell, you wanted to crawl up inside the man and stay there forever. 

You were genuinely in awe of how naturally things seemed to be flowing between the two of you, the way you were able to communicate your desires to Juice without needed to use words like you could somehow speak telepathically. You both ridded one another of the rest of your clothes and after you had fetched a condom from your bedside drawers, Juice pushed into you. After being practically celibate for the better part of a year, it was initially quite painful and - as though he sensed this - Juice made sure to go slow and gentle until you gave him the word to speed up.

You and Juice became a tangle of limbs beneath the sheets, coaxing each other towards your highs. Part of you didn’t want it to end; never in your life had you been with such a caring man, it was like having sex for the first time all over again. 

When you were both finished - and Juice made sure you did finish - you cuddled up next to him with your head resting on his chest, listening to the rise and fall of his breathing and the steady beat of his heart. 

You could hear the smirk in his voice when he said, “Figured it out now?”
“I think so,” You teased. “Might have to try again just to be certain.”

-

There was lots to get done at TM that day, cars that needed servicing and repairing, books to check, payslips to hand out. As per usual, you were one of the few mechanics actually getting these tasks  done, mainly because the club was knee deep in bullshit again, meaning all the guys were tied up. You had just finished changing the oil of a beamer and you were desperate to go home and take a shower, partly because you were sweating through your overalls and partly because the energy at the garage was so low, you didn’t really want to hang around much longer. 

You were contemplating heading home when the explosion happened.

One minute everything was normal, the next your ears were ringing and the mini van that had just been brought into the lot was up in flames and Chibs was being thrown across the asphalt. The only other time your heart had stopped within your chest like this was when you found out that you were pregnant, but at least then you’d had the opportunity to brace yourself. Now, as you found yourself sprinting across the lot to get to Chibs, it felt like your heart would never beat again. Everyone had had the same reaction as you and you’d all formed a protective circle around Chibs as Tara knelt down next to him to check that he still had a pulse. 

In the time it had taken for you to get from one side if the lot to the other, everything had suddenly became clear to you and it dawned on you that you were much more invested in the Scotsman lying half dead on the floor than you had first thought. By the time the ambulance arrived and Juice had wrapped a protective arm tightly around your shaking shoulders, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to cope if Chibs didn’t make it, and you had figured out exactly how you felt. Deep down, you’d always known that your ex wasn’t the only reason you’d come home, but you just hadn’t been able to put your finger on why until now.

And that reason wasn’t Juice Ortiz.

- 

End of part 5

TAGLIST:
@mrsstevenbuchananstark
@lalaooopsie
@1-800-imagines
@breakmeaswitchson
@evyiione
@nataliewalker93
@paintballkid711
@britty443​

Part One: https://writer-of-mayhem.tumblr.com/post/675559203955425280/you-dont-know-her-like-i-do-part-one
Part Two: https://writer-of-mayhem.tumblr.com/post/675926650790248448/you-dont-know-her-like-i-do-part-two
Part Three: https://writer-of-mayhem.tumblr.com/post/677404676210163712/you-dont-know-her-like-i-do-part-three

You hadn’t bargained for World War Three that morning, but everyday it got clearer and clearer that things weren’t what they used to be in Charming. You had shown up at Cara Cara in hopes of catching up with Jax since it had been a few days since you’d seen him and instead you were greeted by your uncle lobbing a cinder block through Gemma’s car window. You had put her on the back of your bike and taken her to your house to calm down and get away from the drama. 

Gemma was sipping a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette on your back porch, looking out at the garden. You’d spent the last week planting summer flowers and adding new garden furniture with the help of Juice and it was finally ready; the perfect place to wile away hot afternoons with a glass of iced tea and a good book. 

“Gem, what’s going on with you and Clay?” You asked tentatively. “I know you guys are having problems, but Jesus Christ.”

This led to Gemma spilling her guts about something she’d only shared with Tara and Unser thus far. You listened intently to her story - even when you didn’t want to - perched anxiously on the edge of your seat, your own cup of coffee long since gone cold. It was hard to hear Gemma sounding so vulnerable since she was always everybody’s rock, the person you went to if you were feeling too weak to go on, but you decided that it was high time that somebody be her rock instead, which is what kept you listening to her awful recollection of events; you swore that if you ever found out who did this to her, you’d personally slit their throats. 

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” 
“Don’t think it needs to be broadcasted to the whole family.”
You frowned. “Yeah, but you can’t deal with this by yourself. This is the kinda shit that will eat you up for the rest of your life unless you sort through it and talk about it,” Gemma shrugged. “So I’m guessing Clay doesn’t know?”
“No, and he’s not going to,” She said sternly. “This is what they wanted: to break us. And we Morrows don’t break.”
“But don’t you think it would help?”
“No.”
You sighed. You knew better than to try and convince Gemma that she was wrong. “Fine, but can you at least promise to talk to me if you need to get things off your chest? You can’t deal with this all by yourself.”
Gemma rolled her eyes. She hated coming across as weak. “Fine. But we’re done talking about it for now. It’s your turn to be honest.”
You cocked your head. “Honest about what?”
“Juice.”
Here we go. “What about him?”
“You two have been getting cosy lately.”
“We’ve already had this conversation. In fact, I’ve had this conversation with every single member of the club.”
“Except Juice.”
“There’s nothing to talk about with Juice. We’re just friends.”
Gemma lit another cigarette. “Friends don’t look at each other like that.”
“I don’t look at him like anything,” You insisted. “We are just friends, I swear.”
“Well, you should probably tell Juice that since he doesn’t think so.”

Your mind wandered to all the afternoons you’d spent with him since getting home; fixing up your bikes, building furniture for your house, getting your garden sorted, your shifts at TM and the evenings you two had spent out on the back roads of Charming, just riding around underneath the sunset. Those were your favourite: when it had just been the two of you and the open road, no destination in mind, just riding for the sheer pleasure it gave you both. When you really thought about it, you could understand why people thought it might be more than it actually was on the surface. Actually, when you really thought about it, you wondered if it possibly was more than it seemed on the surface; this was the first time you’d seriously given it some thought, and now you were it looked like something completely different to what you’d told yourself it was. 

“I don’t know what I want, Gem,” You told her honestly. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“What makes you think you’re gonna hurt him?”
“I’m just not sure I’m ready for a relationship.”
“Listen, darl, nobody said you had to marry him, but it won’t hurt to see how things go.”
You considered this for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“What do you think of Chibs?”
“What do I think of him? I’m sensing that it doesn’t matter what I say and that I should be asking you the same question.”
“I had a weird conversation with him after Bobby’s homecoming party,” You explained. “He told me that if I don’t like Juice I should tell him because he wouldn’t want anyone getting their hopes up. It was so strange.”
Gemma raised a brow. “Bit old for you, isn’t he?”
“You can’t say things like that!” You and Gemma both laughed. “I don’t know, there’s just something about him.”
“Sounds like you’re in the middle of a Puerto-Rican Scottish love triangle.”

You couldn’t deny this, but of all the things that you were expecting to happen upon coming home, this certainly wasn’t one of them.

-

Your back was aching from laying underneath a Porsche all morning and you were in desperate need of a break. Since you hadn’t broken ground on your new writing project yet you were picking up more and more shifts at the garage, not for the cash but for something to keep you busy. Juice was underneath the bonnet of the same car, tinkering with the engine in an attempt to figure out what exactly was wrong with it. You wiped your oily hands on your overalls and stretched, completely ignoring the side eye that Juice was giving you. 

Opie caught your attention; he was chatting with one of Luann’s girls in the parking lot, obviously regarding the flat tire on her car. There was something about the way they were looking at each other that made your heart twist in your chest - you’d become somewhat familiar with that look since getting back to Charming. You were pretty sure the girl’s name was Lyla and you had exchanged a few words with her on your visits to the studio to see Jax or Juice; she seemed genuinely kind-hearted, unlike her companion Ima who seemed hellbent on causing problems. Maybe Lyla was just what Opie needed. 

“Hey, isn’t there a wrap party on Friday?” You asked Juice. “At Cara Cara?”
“Yeah,” He replied. “Why?”
“Just wonderin’.” 
“You thinking of going?”
“Are you?”
“Probably,” He shrugged.
“I might come down for a bit,” You glanced at Opie and Lyla conspiratorially. 
“I’ll pick you up at nine,” Juice said boldly. “Saves us both riding there.”
You couldn’t help but feel slightly taken aback; Juice had yet to be so forward. “Alright then. It’s a date.” 

It was sweltering in the garage so you shrugged out of the top half of your overalls and tied them around your waist, leaving you in a black tank top. Your tattoos were on full display now, and Juice found himself staring at the colourful pictures that covered your arms, trying to make them all out. One of your arms was dedicated to music, and the other arm was what you liked to call your ‘random shit arm.’ It was a mismatched patchwork sleeve that still had some gaps that you were planning on filling, you just had to decide what to fill them with. 

“Woah,” Juice remarked. “I didn’t realise they went all the way up.”
You’d been in t-shirts most of the time, so nobody had seen the full extent of the artwork on your arms. “Yeah, I got most of them done in Denver.”
“They’re amazing. What’s that one mean?” 

You found yourself giving Juice a tour of all your tattoos, telling him the stories behind each one. He then did the same with all of his. In a weird way, you learned more about each other from your tattoos than you would have if you’d sat down and told each other your life stories. It only made the pit in your stomach wider and your feelings for the man in front of you intensify. Isn’t this the way it always starts? A simple round of conversation? 

You couldn’t ignore the fear that had consumed you at the thought of being close to a man again, not with the way that had ended last time. Part of you wanted to cut and run now before things got too serious, but love - you were learning - had this funny way of boxing you in and forcing you to acknowledge it. There was no more denying that you had feelings for Juice, feelings - that if left unchecked - could spiral into something serious. As much as you sometimes hated this about yourself, you were the sort of person who couldn’t seem to feel things subtly. When you hated somebody, there was no diluting it, and love was no different. In fact, the way you loved was probably even stronger than the way you hated. 

Which was what was going to make this so fucking difficult. Because not only did you have feelings for Juice, you were also starting to feel things for Chibs. The two couldn’t be more different, but you were attracted to them both like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t help but be curious about them, what it might feel like to kiss Juice, what it might feel like to coax Chibs into opening up about himself. 

Curiosity killed the cat, you told yourself bitterly.

But you know what they say about curiosity killing the cat, right? Satisfaction brought it back. 

-

Friday night came around sooner than you could have ever imagined. True to his word, Juice picked you up from your house at nine o'clock on the dot. It felt strange to be on the back of someone else’s bike, but you couldn’t dispute the way your chest filled with butterflies as you climbed on  and wrapped your arms around Juice. He was lean and sturdy and you couldn’t help but feel protected when you were around him, even though he was literally the softest guy you had ever met. Once you got through the somewhat tough exterior, he really was a giant teddy bear.

When you arrived at Cara Cara, the wrap party was already in full swing. Everyone was in high spirits and it felt good to be out after spending the week with your head stuck under car bonnets. When you and Juice walked in, a few of the guys turned to look at you; Happy smirked at you knowingly and you knew that you’d no doubt be teased later. Jax didn’t look surprised and Opie was too wrapped up in conversation with Lyla to pay you much mind; maybe you wouldn’t need to work at getting them together after all - they seemed to be doing just fine on their own. 

It was Chibs’ reaction that stuck out to you - rather, his non-reaction. One of Luann’s girls was straddling his lap, kissing his neck and running her fingers through his hair. When you and Juice walked in he barely glanced up and you couldn’t deny that you were kind of hurt by this. Maybe his infatuation with you was all in your head, a totally one-sided thing. Maybe you would be better off just focusing solely on Juice. However, you couldn’t deny the rage that filled you up at the sight of the pornstar in Chibs’ lap. 

“What are you drinkin’?” Juice asked you.
You forcefully tore your gaze away from Chibs and flashed Juice your best ‘I’m definitely not about to kill someone’ grin. “I’ll just have a double vodka.”
“With?”
“Vodka.”
Juice released a shaky breath. “No wonder I couldn’t keep up with you.”

Heavy drinking definitely wasn’t the solution to your current calamity but it would sure as hell take the edge off. You and Juice took your drinks over to the rest of the guys and settled in - thankfully on the opposite side of the room to Chibs and his lady of the night. After three drinks and revealing far too much about your time in Colorado to the Sons, Tara took your arm and led you outside, most likely to grill you about Juice. 

“So, fill me in,” She said. “What’s going on?
If you had a dollar for everytime somebody had grilled you about Juice in the last month, you’d be able to buy him the house next door to yours. “Nothin’. Yet.”
“Yet?”
“We’ve just been hanging’ out a lot, getting to know each other a bit better.”

Tara raised a brow. You couldn’t help but feel like you were back in high school, gossiping beneath the bleachers. Back then, she was still all about Jax while you somewhat struggled in the boy department. It wasn’t that you couldn’t score a date - in fact, being one of the most popular girls in school pretty much resulted in you having your pick of the litter - you just weren’t interested. Even then you much preferred spending your afternoons at TM with Jax and Opie and your evenings curled up on the couch between Gemma and Clay devouring books at an alarming speed. Now that the dynamic was changing, it was clear your friendship with Tara would change too; less of the Jax drama and more of the Y/N drama. 

You couldn’t figure out how you were supposed to feel about that.

“I can see that,” She scoffed. “Has anything else happened between you guys?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe tonight’s the night.”
“Maybe…”
“Listen, while I’ve got you, I need to talk to you about Gemma.”
“Uh oh.”
“I think she should talk to Clay about what happened, but she won’t listen to me.”
You shook your head. “Tara, you know just as well as I do that trying to convince Gemma what’s best for her is like trying to convince the sky that it’s green.”
“I know, I just thought she might listen if it came from you.”
“Well, judging by how fast she changed the subject this morning when I talked to her about it, I’m guessing it won’t make a difference who’s telling her.”
Tara sighed. “You’re probably right.”
“But what’s going on with you and Jax? You sort your shit out?”
“You could say that,” She smirked. “I think Ima gets it now, anyway.”
“Do I wanna know?”
“Probably not.”

-

You and Tara spent the majority of the night huddled on one of the loveseats gossiping and catching each other on everything you’d missed since being apart. As insufferable as she became for a hot minute, you had to admit that it felt good to have your best friend back. It was getting late and you were tipsy to put it lightly, but when Juice came over and took your hand, you didn’t have it in you to deny him no matter how much you wanted to go home to bed. He led you outside to the deserted parking lot, not the most romantic place in the world, but before you could make a snarky comment about it, he had you pressed up against the wall. 

Your body came alive when he put his hands on your hips and pushed you backwards and the way you looped your arms around his neck was so natural, it was like second nature. The kiss came far too quickly but also not quick enough. You didn’t think you imagined the low growl he made when you took his bottom lip between your teeth, and once you got started it was hard to stop. He peppered kisses along your jawline and down the side of your neck until he found that sweet spot just above your collarbone that had you coming undone beneath him. He sucked hard - definitely leaving a questionable mark - and you groaned loudly, not caring who heard it. You were sure that if this had been happening at the clubhouse you would end up in Juice’s dorm.

However, you weren’t at the clubhouse and you most definitely weren’t alone, so you really had no right being as shocked as you were when Chibs and Tig wandered out, drinks in hand. 

“Well, well, well,” Chibs said. “What do we ‘ave here?”
Tig looked at you and then Juice, and then back to you. “Clay is gonna make your death real slow,” He assured Juice. “Like, reeaaaalll slow. And painful.”
Juice rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Tig.”
Chibs swigged his whiskey. “I see you made up yer mind then?” He asked you. “Decided to go fer it?”
You swallowed the mysterious lump that had formed in the base of your throat. “Yeah, I did.”
“Well, good fer you lass. Be careful with that one,” He said to Juice. “She’ll keep you on yer toes.”
“How would you know?” You countered. 
“Just a feeling.”

-

End of part 4

TAGLIST:
@mrsstevenbuchananstark
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@breakmeaswitchson
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part one - https://writer-of-mayhem.tumblr.com/post/675559203955425280/you-dont-know-her-like-i-do-part-one
part two - https://writer-of-mayhem.tumblr.com/post/675926650790248448/you-dont-know-her-like-i-do-part-two

When you came back to Charming, you expected a lot of different things, but one thing you most certainly hadn’t been expecting was being in the funeral procession for Donna Winston, a woman you’d known for fifteen years, a member of your family. Opie had asked you if you would ride next to him and of course you had agreed; there was a banner reading ‘FUNERAL’ taped to the front of your Harley and every now and again you’d steal a worried glance at your brother. He kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead. Jax was nowhere to be seen and you were pissed that he hadn’t shown up to support Opie, but that couldn’t be your main concern right now. Riding through Charming Cemetery in front of Donna’s hearse was a surreal experience, and not in a good way. You felt this inarticulable, dull ache in your chest that had started the second you found out about her brutal murder and had worsened with every passing day. You had loved her like a sister and in some ways you’d ended up closer to her than Tara, but losing her was more than that; it was proof that all was not well here at home and that everything was more uncertain than it had ever been. Donna’s death was cataclysmic and you hadn’t bargained for such difficulties. You were sorting through so much shit that you genuinely didn’t know if you had any space left in your brain to take on more.

The service was beautiful and the very least that Donna deserved. Jax showed up halfway through and made an example of himself, but mostly everyone ignored him. He had his own shit going on in his head that he needed to deal with, and you would help him the best you could, but not today. Today was about being there for Opie, Piney and the kids. After the burial, you headed back to Opie’s house for the wake which was an extremely pitiful affair. Growing up, Opie had been hard to read, but the older you both got the more difficult it became to understand his emotions. You sat outside in the garden with him watching the kids on the swings, digging through your vocabulary in an attempt to find words that would console him without pissing him off. 

So far, you hadn’t been successful. 

“I don’t need to talk about it,” He told you.
“Okay, Ope. But if you change your mind, you know you can come to me with anything. And if you need help with the kids, just let me know.”
“I will.”

You really didn’t know what else to say, so you just got up and hugged him. It took him a while to hug you back and when he did it was half-hearted, but you knew that was the best you were going to get from him at that moment. You went inside and found Jax leaning against the counter with a beer; he looked far too casual for a wake so you smacked him round the back of the head. 

“What was that for?” He frowned.
“This isn’t the fucking clubhouse, it’s Donna’s wake.”
He rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”
“Don’t ‘Jesus Christ’ me, Jackson Teller. Come outside. I gotta talk to you.”

He followed you out to the front of the house. You perched on your bike and did the same since his was parked right next to yours. You could tell by the expression on his face that he knew where this conversation was headed. 

“What’s goin’ on?” You asked. “Since I’ve been back, I’ve watched someone I love get killed and another get thrown in jail. I feel like I’ve walked into a warzone.”
“That’s because you have,” He spat. “Things ain’t what they used to be. Not with the club, not with me, not with Ope.”
“So I’m realising.”
“The club is involved in a lot of shit and Clay can’t see that we need to get out before it’s too late to come back from it. We need change, but he won’t accept that.”
You understood that your uncle was stuck in his ways, a stickler for tradition. He liked to do things the way they’d always been done and anyone that challenged him never got their way; why would Jax be any different? “You know what he’s like. He likes things done his way.”
“Yeah, but his way is gonna get SAMCRO wiped out. We’ve already got ATF breathin’ down our necks.”
“No shit?”
“I wish that was the worst of it,” Jax swigged his beer. He was more stressed than you’d ever seen him. “I found this book that my old man wrote,” He told you. “It’s about what he really wanted for the club. His vision.”
“And what was his vision?”
Jax smiled sadly. “Not this.”
“Can I read it?” 
“Sure. Just don’t tell Clay. And don’t tell Gemma, either.”
You nodded. “Alright.”

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence. The entire club and anybody affiliated had come to Donna’s wake and the street was lined with an assortment of Harley Davidsons. You looked at each one, trying to figure out who each one belonged to. Since the Prospect’s bike was white, it was pretty easy to pick out and you could tell that the Dyna next to it was Juice’s because you’d been working on it with him for  a couple of weeks, but since Donna’s death you hadn’t really had much time to talk to him. In actual fact, you’d steered clear of TM because the energy there was enough to give you a migraine. You and Gemma had been focusing on prepping your new house for the move, buying furniture (which Half-Sack had the joys of building) and choosing wallpaper samples. 

You took out your pack of cigarettes and lit one, desperate for something to do with your hands. Funerals made you antsy because you always felt like there was more you could be doing, even when there wasn’t. When you glanced at Jax, he was already watching you, worry etched into his features. 

“Why’d you really come home, Y/N?” He asked.
You almost dropped your cigarette. “I told you, I-”
“I know that’s all bullshit. It’s not because you missed us, it’s not because you got bored of Colorado. Something happened to you, didn’t it?”
You sighed. “Somethin’s telling me you already know the answer.”
“Ope told me some of it.”

You nodded. It didn’t surprise you that Opie had told Jax, and not even because of their brotherly bond with each other; it was more because of their brotherly bond with you, and when one of them felt that you needed protecting, they always enlisted the help of the other. 

“So what did he tell you exactly?” 
“He told me that your ex was a dick and that he used to beat on you.”
You flinched. “That all?”
“There’s more?” Jax looked like he was about to be sick. 
“Had an abortion,” You took a long drag of your cigarette. “He got me pregnant and I knew he’d use the kid as a way of keeping me close, so I got rid of it.”
Jax stood up and set his bottle of beer down on the seat of his bike. Seemingly, he didn’t know whether to hug you or hit something. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.”
“I also didn’t want him doing what he did to me to a child,” You murmured. “It wouldn’t have been fair.”
You put your cigarette out and Jax took both of your hands, pulling you up off your bike. He wrapped his arms around you. “I wish you would have come to me.”
“I’m here now.”
“I assume there’s no point in asking what his name is or where he lives?”
You managed a laugh. “Nope. Not a chance. He’s not worth it.”
“Fuck, Y/N,” He sighed. “I’m so sorry you went through all of that.”
“Don’t be sorry. Wasn’t your fault.” 
“Is it just me and Ope that know?”
“So far, yeah. I’ll tell Clay and Gem eventually, I just need a little more time.”
“I can tell them if you want, if that’s any easier.”
“Yeah,” You relaxed somewhat. “Yeah, thanks Jax. I don’t really feel like telling this story a third time.”
“No worries, babe.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”

-

Since Donna’s funeral, you’d had two main focuses: Opie and the kids and your house. Opie was keeping everyone at an arm’s length which was a force of habit for him, but you were doing your best helping Piney with school runs and whatever else you could. The rest of your time was spent putting the finishing touches on your new house, which you were moving into that day. It truly was a gorgeous house and you couldn’t have asked for anything better. When you pulled up to the property, the first thing you saw was the expansive front lawn, winding stone path with a matching driveway which led to the huge double garage where you already knew you’d spend a lot of your time. The house itself was clad with dark oak panels which matched the front porch and door and all of the windows were massive, allowing for plenty of natural light - the bay window in the front room was one of the main reasons you’d chosen the house. 

“I’m in the wrong business,” Chibs elbowed you playfully. “Should be writing books instead of fixing cars.”
You smiled at him. “I don’t make that much.”
He guffawed. “No need to be modest, love.”

Most of the Sons were helping you move into your home. The midday sun beat down on your back as you hauled box after box into the house - you’d finally arranged for the rest of your belongings to be shipped to California with your overly-helpful assistant who you’d been eager to leave behind. Happy and Juice were upstairs putting your bed together, Chibs and Jax were helping you with boxes, Gemma was unloading the massive grocery shop she’d just done for you in the kitchen and Clay and Tig were putting your bookcases together. You paused in the doorway after dumping a box on the floor to catch your breath and put your hair up. Winters in Colorado might have been unforgiving, but summers in California were downright lethal.

“Slackin’ already?” Chibs teased.

You flipped him off and headed through to the kitchen for a glass of water. Gemma took one sight of your flustered self and started making fresh lemonade. 

“You don’t have to do that.”
“I was gonna do it anyway, might as well start now,” She smiled. “How’s it goin’?”
“Good, almost done with the boxes. Unpacking them is gonna be the fun part.” You rolled your eyes.
“We’ll do it tomorrow night  if you like? We’ll open a bottle of wine, order some takeout.”
You grinned. “That sounds great, thanks Gem.”
“You’re coming to Bobby’s party tonight, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” You assured her. “I’m glad he’s finally getting out.”
“Me too. Hey, maybe he’ll get his guitar out and you guys can sing like you used to.”
“Maybe.”

You looked back on these particular memories fondly. Growing up, Bobby had taught you how to play the guitar and you’d learned that you could actually sing pretty well if you put your mind to it. You’d spent countless afternoons with him learning different songs and losing track of time. He was just as much your uncle as Clay was and you had a very strong bond with him. To say you were excited for him to be getting out of jail would be an understatement.  

“I’m gonna go and see how Juice and Hap are getting on upstairs.”
“Okay darl. I’ll call you when the lemonade is ready.”

In your bedroom, Juice and Happy were arguing over which part screwed into which. All of the bedrooms in your new house had a Juliette balcony and the guys had thrown the doors wide open to let in some fresh air. They were both shirtless, a sight that wasn’t exactly unwelcome. When they saw you standing in the doorway, Juice and Happy both looked up.

“Why’d you have to buy the most complicated bed in the world?” Juice whined. “There’s like a thousand parts to this thing.”
You shrugged. “It was the biggest one they had.”
“Why’d you need a Queen sized bed when it’s just you sleepin’ in it?”
Chibs came up behind you with a large box labelled bedroom and nudged you to the side with it. “You can’t say that to a lady, Juicy Boy,” He chastised. “How do ye know she’s gonna be alone in that bed forever?” 
Juice frowned. “I don’t, but-”
“Quit yer moanin’,” He interjected. “And get back to work.”

Chibs smirked at you on his way out and you couldn’t help but smirk back - you had no idea where this flirty banter had come from, but you weren’t exactly opposed to it. Juice seemed to catch on to this and immediately diverted his gaze from you back to the instruction manual for your bed. You knew he had a bit of a thing for you and if you were being completely honest with yourself, seeing him shirtless covered in a sheen of sweat that glistened in the sun had forced you to see him in a new light. Literally. Happy watched you come to this conclusion with an amused look on his face, and you headed back downstairs before he could say anything to you about it. 

Seeing everyone bustling around your house, helping you to make it a home, made you happier than you had been since the early days in Colorado, except this was even better because your family was a part of it. There was a box labelled keepsakes in front of you, and it had sparked your curiosity. You took your keys out of your pocket and sliced through the tape. Inside the box were your photo albums, some of your old journals, your film camera and a bunch of used rolls of film. This was a hobby from your teenage years and there had been a period where you weren’t spotted without this camera on you. In the top of the box was a pack of new film which you decided to load into the camera; chances were it wouldn’t even work, but you decided if it meant you’d be able to commemorate this day, it would be worth a try. 

You pointed the camera at Clay and Tig who were both bent over one of your obnoxiously large bookcases. Your uncle noticed the camera and grinned at you.

“Haven’t seen that thing in years.”
“Neither have I,” You confessed. “I forgot I had it.”
He came over to where you were standing. “You got any of your old pictures?”
You gestured towards the box of albums. “I still need to get the later ones developed. I think it’d be cool to see what’s on those rolls.”

Clay picked out an album at random and flipped to the first page. There were three photos: one of Gemma and Clay in Christmas hats kissing underneath the mistletoe, one of you and Jax opening gifts that Gemma must have taken and one of Jax by himself, grinning like a fool at the camera. Your chest ached at the thought of simpler times, and judging by the look on Clay’s face, he was thinking the exact same thing. He turned to the next page which was full of photos that had been taken on the same day. There was Piney in one of the paper Christmas crowns you got from crackers, Opie and Jax playing cards at the dinner table, Gemma in the kitchen fussing over the roast and Clay looking very regal with a cigar at the head of the table. There was also a photo of you and your uncle taken by Jax, which Clay slid out of it’s spot. 

“Can I have this one?”
“Sure,” You said. “I think I’m gonna frame some of these for the house. Seems like such a waste, keeping them all shut in a box.”
“You should start taking pictures again,” He suggested. 
You’d never really thought about it. “I don’t even know why I stopped.”

Although when you thought about it, you did know why you’d stopped. You took photos of the people you loved and cared about - the people you were scared of losing - and when you moved to Colorado you left all of those people behind. For you, there was nobody worth photographing in Denver because they were all in Charming.

And here they all were, right in front of you. You lifted the camera to your face and snapped a candid shot of Chibs and Jax smoking on the porch, laughing at a shared inside joke. It was definitely one for the wall. 

“Lemonade!” Gemma called from inside the house. 

You found the strap for the camera inside the box so you could put it around your neck. Tig and Clay disappeared to get a drink and you realised just how parched you actually were. You bent over and lifted the box so it was out of the way, and when you looked up, you met Chibs’ eye as he and Jax made their way through to the kitchen. A strange feeling settled over you when he winked at you for the second time that day, but before you could unpack it, Juice came bounding down the staircase, almost knocking you out. 

He seemed to have perfect timing.

-

Later that same day, you were getting ready for the party. Everyone had gone home just an hour earlier after a big dinner at your new house cooked by you and Gemma; you had Christened the new dining table and poured over the old photo albums you’d stumbled upon, much to everyone’s amusement. Juice and Happy were  especially taken with the photographs as they’d all been struggling to picture you being a part of this unusual life they all led. But, as it turned out, you’d once fitted perfectly - before they’d even known what paths they’d take in life - and even though they didn’t say it out loud they all thought that you still fitted perfectly. Especially now that you had a bike of your own. 

You were sitting cross-legged in front of your full-length mirror doing your makeup (your vanity was one of the things that hadn’t gotten done today) and singing along to the music that was playing loudly from your home sound system, another one of the things that had sold you on the property. It was so loud that you almost missed the sound of your doorbell ringing. You paused the song and waited to see if your ears were deceiving you, which apparently they hadn’t been because the doorbell was indeed ringing. 

When you went down to open the door, you were more than just a little bit surprised by the person standing on the other side of it. 

“Sup Doc,” You forced a smile. 

You didn’t like Tara, but if she and Jax were serious about giving things another shot then you would tolerate her. If Jax could forgive her (and you) for splitting, then you supposed you could too. Maybe. She held a bunch of flowers out to you and you took them.

“Little homecoming gift,” She said. “This place is gorgeous.”
“Thanks. They say home is where the heart is.”
“Your writing has really taken off then?”
“Majorly,” You told her about all of your books and some upcoming deals you had with publishing houses. “Hey, do you wanna come in? I’m getting ready for Bobby’s party, but we can talk at the same time.”
Tara smiled. “Sure.”

You were surprised by how easily you and Tara fell back into step. You spent the next hour catching each other up on everything you’d missed since you’d both moved away from Charming, and you started to wonder whether it might be easier than you were expecting to forgive her. You arranged for dinner and cocktails the following week to talk some more. 

“You’re really not gonna come to the club with me?”
Tara laughed nervously. “It’s really not my scene. Plus, me and Jax aren’t in the best place, we need to sit down and talk properly before I start showing up at the club.”
You rolled your eyes. “I don’t give a fuck about Jax, I’m inviting you. So will you come? Please? I’d kill to have another girl around.”
She smiled genuinely and you could tell that she was relieved that you both seemed to be on the same page again. “Fine, fine. I’ll come.”

-

You and Tara started turning heads the minute you pulled into the lot. It was like being sixteen again. She was on the back of your Harley and you had to admit, you’d done an amazing job with her hair and makeup. You’d also lent her one of your favourite tops, and she looked great in it. Clay and Tig were having a hostile-looking conversation with a pompous looking asshole in a suit, so you and Tara went straight inside to get some beers. Jax spotted you first and started waving you over, but then he saw Tara and stopped. He seemed shocked to see the two of you together and you couldn’t really blame him. Tara went over to speak to him and you took the opportunity to welcome Bobby home. 

“Munson!” You yelled. 
He turned around and when he saw that it was you, he gave you a huge bear hug. “Thanks for coming, Y/N.”
“You really think I’d miss this? Hell no. Let me get you a beer.”
“Oh, he moved on from beer a little while ago,” Chibs appeared at your side, smirking knowingly. “He might be better suited to a round of shots.”
You grinned. “Shots for everyone then,” You turned around and yelled at the Prospect. “Shots for everyone, Sack!” 

You ended up spending the majority of the night heavily drinking with the guys. Tara and Jax left pretty early, probably to have that ‘chat’ Tara was talking about earlier. You and Juice were currently seeing who could down the most vodka without throwing up. You won this little competition and Juice had to sprint to the bathroom before he threw up everywhere. 

“You’re like a machine,” Half Sack said. “How can you drink that shit without puking. Tastes like gasoline.”
You shrugged. Juice had reappeared looking a little bit worse for wear. “Guess I can just handle my booze, unlike some.”
Chibs elbowed Juice. “Yer pathetic, ye know that?”
Juice rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks Chibs.”

Bobby - along with most of the other guys - had either disappeared with a girl or was occupied with one on a couch or table. There was a couple of crow eaters sitting on bar stools giving you the evils, probably jealous of your closeness to the Sons. You hadn’t had to whore yourself in order to get into their good graces and they seemed to have actual respect for you, something they weren’t familiar with. You ignored their glares and focused your attention on Juice who looked like he needed to puke again. 

“You look like death.” You said. 
Chibs laughed. “She’s got a point. Maybe you should call it a night, aye?”
“Yeah,” He agreed. “I’m gonna head to bed.”
“See you in the morning, Juicy,” You smiled. 
“Night, Y/N.”

Juice dragged himself off to the dorms and you took yourself outside for a cigarette. Chibs followed you and when you perched yourself on one of the picnic benches, he sat next to you. 

“That poor lad almost drank himself into a coma tryin’ to keep up with you,” He pointed out. “He really likes ya.”
This was getting harder and harder to deny. “So?”
“So, if you like him too, you should tell him,” Chibs offered you one of his cigarettes and you accepted it. “And if not, you should tell him that too. Wouldn’t want anyone getting their hopes up.”
You raised a brow. You liked Chibs, he’d been here before you left but you still didn’t know him that well. “What’s this got to do with you?”
“I like Juice, I sponsored him when he was a prospect,” Chibs explained. “He’s got a soft heart.”
“Yeah, I’m gathering that.”

You looked at Chibs, really looked at him for the first time. There was something inherently dangerous about the man that went beyond surface level things like his scars and his kutte. You could practically feel the electrical current that thrummed through his veins, the sometimes brutal strength that coursed through his blood. His dark hair was peppered with grey and when he leaned over slightly to light his cigarette, it fell into his eyes. He ran his slender fingers through it and glanced up at you, catching your gaze. 

“What?” He asked.
“Nothing,” You said. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking about what?”
“I never thought I’d be back here,” You admitted, the alcohol giving you freedom of speech. “I thought that when I left five years ago, I was turning my back on Charming.”
“And now?”
“And now I can’t even remember why I wanted to leave in the first place.”

-

End of part three