𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐨

Your daughter hums softly to herself from the passenger seat, completely unaware of the war happening inside your head.

“Mama,” she says suddenly, “are we staying here for real?”

You glance at her.

Six years old. Missing front tooth. Purple headphones around her neck. The bravest person you know.

“Yeah, bug,” you say quietly. “We’re staying.”

Three days later, your daughter meets Juice Ortiz completely by accident.

Which is probably why it changes your life.

You’re unloading groceries from your trunk when she spots the motorcycle first.

“Whoa.”

You turn just in time to see her dart halfway down the driveway before you catch the hood of her sweater.

“Slow down—”

Too late.

A man pulls into the neighbouring driveway on a bike, sunlight flashing off chrome. Limited dark hair peeks out beneath his helmet, tattoos disappearing beneath a black cut. He kills the engine and looks up at the sound of your daughter’s voice.

And immediately smiles.

Not polite. Not forced. Just warm.

Your daughter stares at him like he’s the coolest thing she’s ever seen.

“Your motorcycle is awesome.”

The man grins wider. “Thanks, kid.”

You notice everything at once then.

The leather kutte with SAMCRO patches. The tattoos. The easy posture that somehow still feels dangerous.

You’ve heard of the Sons already. Small towns talk. Half the people in Charming speak about them like heroes. The other half speak about them like a storm rolling in.

Neither makes you feel particularly calm.

Your daughter, meanwhile, is enchanted, “What’s your name?”

The biker rests his forearms on the handlebars. “Juice.”

She gasps. “That is the BEST NAME EVER.”

You nearly die of embarrassment.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

“No, no,” he laughs, holding up a hand. “She’s right. It’s objectively cool.”

Your daughter nods seriously. “Way cooler than Mom’s.”

“Hey!”

Juice snorts.

And something strange happens then.

You watch your daughter—your shy, careful little girl who usually takes weeks to warm up to people—walk directly up to him like she’s known him forever.

“What’s your real name?”

“Juan Carlos.”

She considers this carefully.

“…Juice is better.”

He bursts out laughing. It’s loud and genuine and bright enough that you find yourself staring before you can stop.

Because he’s beautiful. Not in the polished way men in magazines are beautiful. Real beautiful. Crooked grin. Soft brown eyes. Scruffy jaw. Tattoos and nervous energy and a kind of sweetness that catches you off guard.

He notices you looking and suddenly you’re the nervous one.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “She doesn’t usually talk this much.”

“That’s okay.” His eyes flick back to your daughter. “I kinda like her.”

“Everybody likes me,” your daughter informs him.

You groan.

Juice laughs again.

And God help you, you think: Oh, this is dangerous.

After that, Juice somehow becomes part of your life without asking permission.

It starts small.

A wave from across the street. Your daughter running outside when she hears his bike. Juice crouching beside her with complete seriousness while she explains the difference between glitter glue and regular glue.

Then one afternoon you come home from work and find the two of them sitting on your porch steps.

Juice is enormous compared to her, all tattoos and leather and biker rings.

And he’s letting her paint his nails neon pink.

You stop dead.

Your daughter beams. “Mama! Look!”

Juice lifts his hand solemnly. “I’ve been transformed.”

You stare.

He has tiny flower stickers on two fingers.

“…I see that.”

“Apparently I’m pretty now.”

“You ARE pretty,” your daughter says.

He presses a hand dramatically to his chest. “That means a lot to me.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself.

Juice looks up at the sound.

Really looks at you. And the smile on his face softens.

It hits you hard enough to steal your breath for a second.

Because you can’t remember the last time a man looked at you gently.

You try not to fall in love with him.

You really do.

But Juice makes it impossible.

It’s in the little things.

The way he carries extra juice boxes in his backpack because he remembers your daughter likes the apple kind. The way he fixes the loose step on your porch without being asked. The way he always crouches to your daughter’s eye level when he talks to her, like whatever she has to say matters. The way he never pushes. Never invades. Never raises his voice.

After your ex, you notice gentleness like a starving person notices food.

And Juice is gentle in ways that ruin you.

One night your daughter falls asleep on the couch while Juice is over watching a movie. Curled against his side, one tiny hand tangled in the fabric of his shirt.

You stand in the kitchen doorway holding two mugs of tea and stop cold at the sight.

Juice notices immediately.

His voice drops soft. “Sorry. She knocked out like ten minutes ago.”

“It’s okay.”

You set the mugs down quietly.

He looks… careful. Like he thinks you might ask him to move.

Instead you whisper, “She doesn’t do that.”

“What?”

“Trust people.” Your throat tightens unexpectedly. “Not men.”

Juice goes very still.

Your daughter shifts in her sleep, pressing closer against him.

His expression changes in a way you’ll never forget. Something tender. Protective. Heartbroken.

“What happened to you two?”

The question is quiet.

You stare at the floor.

You don’t answer an Juice doesn’t push. He just reaches over slowly and touches your wrist for one brief second.

It shouldn’t feel monumental. But it does.

Because he touches you like he’s asking permission.

Every time.

People start noticing.

Chibs smirks whenever you come near the clubhouse.

Tig calls you “Juice’s old lady” exactly once before Juice nearly chokes to death denying it.

Your daughter, unfortunately, becomes the worst offender.

“You should marry Juice.”

You nearly swerve off the road.

“What?!”

From the backseat, “I said you should marry Juice.”

“I heard you!”

“Well?”

“Well NOTHING.”

She sighs heavily like you’re being unreasonable. “Okay, but he already loves you.”

Your heartbeat stutters.

“What makes you think that?”

Your daughter looks genuinely confused.

“Because he looks at you like Eugene looks at Rapunzel when her hair gets braided.”

You nearly start crying in a Walmart parking lot.

The problem is that you love him too.

You realize it slowly.

Then all at once.

It happens on an ordinary Tuesday.

Your daughter skins her knee playing outside. Nothing major, but enough blood to send her into tears. You’re kneeling in front of her in the bathroom trying to clean it when there’s a knock at the door.

Juice.

He takes one look at her crying face and immediately drops to the floor beside both of you.

“Hey, hey, bug, what happened?”

“She’s okay,” you assure him quickly, but your daughter launches herself at him anyway.

Juice catches her automatically, holding her against his chest while she sniffles dramatically.

And then he looks at you over her head.

Concerned. Soft. Steady.

Like he’s there. Like he’ll always be there.

Something inside you breaks open. Because nobody has ever stayed before.

You kiss him three weeks later.

Or rather— You almost kiss him.

It’s late. Your daughter’s asleep. Juice is standing on your porch after helping fix your kitchen sink.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur.

He shrugs. “Wanted to.”

The porch light casts gold across his face.

You’re standing too close. Or maybe not close enough.

Juice’s eyes flick down to your mouth.

Your breath catches.

And then— Fear. Sharp and ugly.

Because loving someone means they can hurt you. Because men always leave eventually. Because your daughter already loves him and if this goes wrong—

You step back.

Juice notices instantly.

The hurt on his face is small, but devastating.

“I should go,” he says quietly.

“Juice—”

“You don’t gotta explain.” He gives you a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Night, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

You stand on the porch long after he leaves, feeling like an idiot.

You avoid him afterward.

Not completely. But enough.

Enough that your daughter notices.

“Did you and Juice fight?”

“No.”

“Then why are you sad?”

You blink at her.

“I’m not sad.”

“Mama.” She gives you a look far too wise for six years old. “You do the quiet cleaning when you’re sad.”

You stare at the dish towel in your hands.

Damn.

That night, after she falls asleep, there’s another knock at your door.

You already know it’s him.

Juice stands on the porch looking nervous.

“I, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Guilt crashes through you instantly.

“I know.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Too fast. Too honest.

His eyes search yours.

“Then what is it?”

You should lie. Instead, exhaustion wins.

“You scare me.”

Juice recoils slightly like you slapped him.

“No! Not like that,” you say quickly. “God, Juice, no.”

His shoulders loosen a fraction.

You swallow hard.

“You scare me because my daughter loves you.”

He goes quiet.

“And I think…” Your voice breaks. “I think I’m starting to love you too.”

The words hang between you. Raw. Terrifying.

Juice stares at you like you’ve handed him something fragile.

Then he says, very softly, “Baby, I’ve been in love with you for months.”

Your eyes burn instantly.

“You deserve someone easier than me.”

He actually frowns.

“Easier?”

“I have baggage. I have a kid. I have trust issues and panic attacks and an ex who—”

“Hey.” Juice steps closer carefully. “Look at me.”

You do.

“I don’t want easier.” His voice is rough now. “I want you.”

Your chest aches.

“You don’t know what you’re signing up for.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I do.”

There’s no pity in his face. No hesitation. Just certainty.

And somehow that’s the thing that undoes you.

You start crying. Immediately mortifying.

“Oh my God, sorry—”

“No, no, c’mere.”

Juice pulls you against him gently, like he’s afraid you might bolt.

And the second his arms wrap around you, you break. Months of fear. Years of survival.

All of it spills out ugly and shaking against his chest. Juice just holds you tighter.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs into your hair. “I got you.”

Nobody has ever said that and meant it before.

Your first real kiss happens an hour later.

After the crying. After the talking. After Juice confesses he fell a little in love with you the first time he saw you threatening your daughter with broccoli at the grocery store.

“You were terrifying,” he says solemnly.

You laugh wetly. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

He’s smiling when he cups your face.

And he pauses. Waiting. Even now. Even after everything. Permission.

You kiss him first because suddenly you need to.

Juice makes a small broken sound against your mouth that nearly destroys you.

Then he kisses you like he’s been starving for it. Warm and careful and aching.

One hand cradling your jaw, the other around your waist.

Like he wants you close but refuses to force it.

When you finally pull apart, both of you breathing hard, Juice rests his forehead against yours.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers.

You laugh shakily.

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna love you for a real long time, sweetheart.”

And for the first time in years, the idea of forever doesn’t terrify you.

Your daughter finds out the next morning because you can't hide things from her very well.

She walks into the kitchen, sees Juice making pancakes while you steal sleepy kisses from the corner of his mouth, and gasps so loudly both of you jump.

“I KNEW IT.”

Juice nearly drops the spatula.

You cover your face with both hands.

Your daughter points accusingly. “You kissed!”

“No yelling before breakfast,” you mumble.

She launches herself at Juice instead.

“Are you my stepdad now?”

“Whoa,” Juice laughs.

“Can I still paint your nails?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay good.” Then she looks at you both very seriously. “You’re both way happier now. It was getting annoying.”

Juice bursts out laughing.

You stare at your child in betrayal.

And somewhere in the middle of pancake batter, laughter, and Juice pulling you into his side while your daughter chatters endlessly beside him—

You realize something quietly monumental: You’re safe here.

Not because Charming is safe. Not because the world is safe.

But because you finally found someone who handles your heart like it’s precious instead of fragile. Juice loves your daughter like she hung the moon. And he loves you like surviving you was the best thing that ever happened to him.

So when he kisses your forehead later that morning while your daughter dances around the kitchen in mismatched socks, you lean into him without fear.

And when he smiles against your skin and says, “C’mere, sweetheart,” you do. Every single time.

The silence afterward was immediate.

Complete.

Absolute.

The kind of silence that only happened when everyone collectively witnessed something so unexpected that their brains temporarily stopped functioning.

You were standing beside Happy near one of the picnic tables outside the clubhouse, the afternoon sun warm against your skin, half-listening to whatever argument Tig and Juice were having while Happy leaned against the railing beside you, arms crossed, expression blank as always.

You'd been dancing around this thing between you for months.

Months of lingering glances. Months of finding reasons to sit next to each other. Months of Happy somehow always ending up beside you whenever you entered a room. Months of everyone else realising what was happening long before either of you admitted it.

The final straw had been that morning when you'd woken up after spending the night at the clubhouse and found Happy asleep in a chair outside the room you'd been using.

Not inside.

Outside.

Like some terrifying tattooed guard dog.

When you'd asked why he was there, he'd shrugged and muttered something about making sure nobody bothered you.

As if that was a normal thing to do.

As if sleeping in a wooden chair for eight hours because you wanted someone safe wasn't the most ridiculous act of devotion imaginable.

So now, standing outside while everyone talked and laughed around you, you'd finally gotten tired of waiting. Tired of pretending. Tired of watching Happy look at you like you hung the moon and then immediately acting like he hadn't.

So you turned toward him, reached up, grabbed the front of his kutte, and kissed him.

Happy froze instantly.

Completely.

Every muscle in his body locking up.

And then—catastrophically—that noise. That absolutely criminal noise.

The silence lasted another two seconds.

Then Tig choked on his drink, Juice doubled over laughing and Chibs nearly fell out of his chair.

"You hear that?" Tig wheezed.

"Oh my God," Juice gasped.

"Was that him?"

"It was absolutely him."

Happy slowly pulled back from the kiss.

His face was completely blank.

Which would have been convincing if his ears weren't bright red.

You stared at him.

He stared back.

Then you said the worst possible thing.

"Happy."

Nothing.

"What was that noise?"

A muscle twitched in his jaw.

Across the yard, Juice made a sound suspiciously close to a dying seal.

Happy looked like he was considering murder.

You smiled.

"Oh my God, that was you."

"Don't."

"It sounded like you got possessed."

"Don't."

"You growled."

"I didn't."

"You absolutely growled."

"I didn't."

"Tig, did he growl?"

Tig was crying.

Actually crying.

"Sweetheart," he wheezed, clutching his chest, "I've heard happier sounds from bears."

The look Happy gave him promised violence.

The look he gave you promised something significantly less violent. And much more dangerous.

Because despite the embarrassment creeping across his features, despite the entire club laughing themselves sick, despite the fact that he clearly wanted the ground to open beneath him and swallow him whole... He was smiling.

Just a little, barely enough for you to see, but more than enough to steal your breath.

The laughter around you faded into background noise.

The world narrowing until it was just the two of you.

Happy reached up, wrapped one large hand around the back of your neck, and pulled you closer.

His eyes dropped to your mouth.

"You done?"

The question came out rough.

Low.

Dangerously soft.

You knew immediately he wasn't talking about the teasing.

Your pulse jumped.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

You smiled.

"Depends."

His gaze darkened.

"On what?"

You tilted your head.

"Whether you make the noise again."

Juice made a choking sound from somewhere behind you.

Someone—almost certainly Tig—slapped a table.

Happy closed his eyes.

For one long suffering second.

Then opened them again.

"You think you're funny."

"I know I'm funny."

His thumb brushed your cheek.

Gentle.

Almost impossibly gentle for a man who looked like he belonged in nightmares.

Then he leaned down.

Close enough that only you could hear him.

"Keep talking and I'll kiss you again."

Your heart nearly stopped.

Because Happy Lowman wasn't a man who made empty threats.

You swallowed.

His mouth twitched.

"There she is."

"Oh, shut up."

"You first."

And before you could think of a response, before you could recover, before the club could start making even more obnoxious comments—

He kissed you.

This time he was prepared.

Mostly.

At least until you slid your fingers up his neck and over the back of his head.

Then there was another sound.

Slightly quieter.

Equally catastrophic.

The entire yard erupted.

Happy immediately broke the kiss.

"Jesus Christ," Chibs muttered.

Tig collapsed against a table.

Juice was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe.

And Happy, whose reputation as the scariest man in SAMCRO had survived years of violence and bloodshed, looked genuinely ready to disappear.

You laughed so hard tears filled your eyes.

Happy stared at you for a moment.

Then something in his expression softened completely.

The embarrassment vanished.

The annoyance vanished.

Everything vanished except affection. Pure, helpless affection. The kind a man carried when he was so deeply in love there wasn't any point denying it anymore.

"Yeah," he muttered quietly.

You blinked.

"Yeah what?"

A small smile appeared.

Real this time.

Warm.

Unhidden.

The kind almost nobody ever got to see.

"Was me."

You burst out laughing again.

Happy shook his head.

Then pulled you against his side, holding you pressed against him, keeping you with him. Like he'd finally decided he was done pretending too.

Around you, the club continued laughing, making jokes, giving Happy endless amounts of grief.

He ignored every second of it.

Because you were tucked safely against him. Because your hand was resting over his heart. Because every time you looked up at him, you smiled.

And for a man who had spent most of his life believing happiness wasn't something meant for people like him, that smile was worth surviving every joke the club would make for the rest of his life.

Even the ones about the noise.

Especially the ones about the noise.

Because in the end, everyone could laugh all they wanted.

You were still his girl.

“I’m telling you man, this shits gonna work” Tig flashes a wicked grin towards juice who’s standing next to him looking down at the tiny pink pills in his hand, his enthusiasm not matching his friend.

“This feels…wrong” juices smile turns lopsided.

“I’ve seen you plug a bullet hole...in a guys ass..with your finger, but this is where you draw the line?” Tig barks a laugh, guiding his friends hand over the oversized pitcher and tipping each tablet in. “It ain’t…wrong. It’s all herbal man, from the earth. One love and all that yada yada yada”

“But that was differ-”

“No buts, Juicey boy” Tig says head shaking, “it’s an aphrodisiac, alright? If one of the girls already has the hots for one of us, she’ll just have em…a little hotter.” He shrugs, so unbothered “it ain’t gonna make her jump on the first cock she sees” Trager gives the punch a lazy stir, the flash of silver peeking through the red liquid. “Just a few more turns and they should dissolve” he mutters, eyes zoning in on the drink as if he’s conducting some kinda science experiment instead of the cheap liquid sat before him.

Juice doesn’t say much at all, just stays hovering over his shoulder, chewing at the loose skin beside his thumbnail, Tig last not even five seconds before he realises “What is your problem?” He whines, not even bothering to make eye contact.

The apprehension is written across his face clear as day, “it just feels…I don’t think we should-”

Tig stops stirring with a heavy sigh, looking over at juice like he has no sense in the world. “Crow eaters love to drink right?” Juice doesn’t even manage to open his mouth to answer, “and crow eaters love to fuck…this is just… speeding up the process”

“Hey sweetie, you okay?” Gemma calls out halfway to her car when she notices me.

“Yeah” I answer, slamming my car door behind me, my voice sounding more tired than I had planned “is my dad here?” I ask, keys jingling softly in my hand as I make my way over to her.

Gemma pushes her dark lensed glasses up the bridge of her nose, squinting towards the clubhouse. “Pretty sure him and Bobby went out to run some errands. Shouldn’t be too long though” she tilts her head “Go on in sweetheart, Lylas in there setting up for the friday night shit show” she turns to leave then throws her head back towards me “That asshole still messin’ with you sweetheart?” Her expression shifts to that of a worried mother, I shake my head no, not wanting to start a whole debate about the situation, having to tell dad was hard enough. “cause if he is, you know where we are” she gives me a reassuring smile that makes me feel just a little better.

“Thanks Gem” I say, and she gives me a small wave before I turn and head towards the clubhouse, my havaianas slapping against the concrete with each step. The row of chrome catches my attention straight away, especially his. Even when he’s not close by, even when I don’t mean to think of him, I always fucking do, a silly little crush I’ve never learnt how to let go.

Jax Teller is my dad’s president and loyal brother, and unfortunately for me, that’s the only connection we’ll ever have, no matter how many far fetched scenarios I create in my mind, that's all he'll ever be, plus I doubt he’d ever look twice at me anyway, not in the way I’d want him too. “A samcro daughter” is how they all know me, and that alone solidifies everything. Not that it matters, my dad would lose his fucking shit if that line was crossed, president or not. It would just be another smiley added to his collection.

“Hey y/n, didn’t know you were stopping by tonight” Lylas smile is the first thing I see as I make my way over to the bar, she looks up from drying a glass, her expression softening a little as soon as she notices me.

I slide onto one of the rusted stools with a sigh, tossing my keys onto the bar, “neither did I” I admit, rubbing at my temples. “Dad said he needed to talk but Gem said he only just left”.

My eyes drift around the clubhouse, a few crow eaters scattered near the pool table, Rat and another prospect talking all hush hush in a corner and everyone else is…“Where is everyone?”

Lyla tilts her head towards the heavy double doors “I think something might be going down” she sighs, placing another clean glass back where it belongs.

“Isn’t it always” I roll my eyes, letting out a tired breath as I lean over the bar.

“Always” she laughs, placing a hand on her hip, “Don’t take this the wrong way y/n but…you look like you need a drink”

“That obvious huh?”

Lyla smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes like her usual smile. “Ope may have told me”

“Course he did” I gesture towards her with an open hand, reminding her of the drink she just offered. “Who knew outlaws were such gossips?”

“You’re Happys little girl, that business is their business” she slides the gin and tonic my way. “When your dad told the club what your ex did…” her voice lowers, leaning on her forearms” “…Jax didn’t hesitate to make it club business”

“Yeah…” I take a sip “…I figured”

“Every single one of them would kill for you y/n especially your dad”

I don’t really hear the rest of what Lyla says. I’m too busy picturing Jax’s face the night Dad had told them about the bruises he’d found, about me finally breaking down and admitting the truth after months of insisting I was fine. I wonder how his expression changed, did he do that beautiful jaw clench he usually does when he’s pissed, did he ask for more details? And part of me wants to know if it became club business because I’m Hap’s daughter, or if it’s because the club president has a soft spot for me. A girl can dream right?

“What’s in the bowl?” I raise my voice over the music, the clubhouse getting louder now that there’s more bodies crammed inside.

“Uh…honestly, I don’t actually know” he laughs under his breath, “Tig just said to keep it topped up for the ladies” I squint, leaning in and taking a closer look. Bright chunks of orange, strawberries and lime bobbing around in the red liquid. Rat leans in beside me, inspecting the ingredients himself, “um, fruit flavour maybe?”

I can’t help but laugh, “yeah, I gathered that much” I still can’t decide if Rat stumbles over his words cause maybe he likes me, or if it’s cause my dad would skin him alive for even looking at me too long.

One of the familiar girls parades over, reaching for the ladle. She fills her cup to the top before throwing back a mouthful without a second thought. “Hey, what’s in the punch?” Rat calls out to her.

She pauses, smacking her lips together dramatically as she tries to figure out the ingredients. “Vodka…or rum maybe…and fruit…and…more vodka” she flashes him a flirtatious grin before bouncing back off to her girls.

“I mean, it sounds good…” I glance around the clubhouse, still no sign of Dad “Will you make me one?” I ask, holding out a red cup towards Rat.

“Uh…” he scratches the back of his neck, eyes darting round for a way out. “…yeah, yeah sure” he takes the cup from me, avoiding eye contact.

“I hope you’re not getting Happy’s daughter intoxicated” Rat freezes, the stream of red still spilling from the ladle. I don’t even have to turn around, I already know who it is. “No…no I was just uh-” His attention then turns to me, “You even old enough to drink yet?”

“I’m not a kid Jax” I scoff in his direction as the prospect hands me the now full cup with a hesitant smile just before giving Jax one of those manly nods and melting back into the crowd.

“Bobby just called your dads like 10 minutes out”

“Thank fuck for that” I take a sip, surprised at how good it actually tastes. “…I can finally get out of this shit hole.” I catch the raise of his eyebrow “…no offence”

“None taken” he chuckles, “Not really a place for a girl like you anyway” As soon as the words leave his mouth, I swear I see the exact moment he wishes he could take them back.

“What’s that spose to mean?” I ask, flirting with the possibility his words have a hidden meaning under the surface. “I grew up here”.

His mouth opens, then closes just as fast. “I know that, I just…I just meant…” he stares at the floor like it’s gonna give him an explanation, “You know what I meant”

“Ummm, not really” I can’t help smiling, hiding it behind my cup, eyebrows raised enough so he knows I’m still waiting on the explanation.

He lets out a muffled laugh, shaking his head “I just meant…” the skin of his cheeks begin to turn the same shade of red as the punch, “…stop it” he warns with a crooked smile on his face. Just as I go to tease him further, he nods towards the doors and I follow his eyesight to see Dad and Bobby strolling in.

“Speak of the devil” I mutter, leaving Jax with a smile, and making my way over to Dad

I wander into the parking lot, I need a breather from the unexpected emotional conversation I just had with my dad, and the effects of drinking a third cup of punch. We ended up talking about everything I’d come here for, and then some. He even managed to convince me to stay a little longer said something along the lines of “you’re always at 100, bring it down a little, kid” I agreed, on one condition though. Told him I’d rather not walk in that clubhouse and find him face down in a crow eater, he laughed, which is something rare if you know my dad. “Wouldn’t do that y/n…not in front of you anyway” Asshole.

Looking up at the star scattered sky, I draw in the deepest breath I’ve been able to take in a long fucking time. The cool night air fills my lungs to its maximum capacity and for a split second, I swear they feel close enough to touch, close enough for me to pluck one out of the sky and wish upon it.

But as I breathe out, something feels…different. I’m suddenly aware of every single inch of my body, the air dances along my skin to the sound of my too loud heartbeat as little goosebumps pave the way for the movement. I hook my thumbs in the waist band of my jeans, adjusting them out of habit, but the way the denim shifts against my skin causes between my thighs to throb…what the fuck.

“You good?” Jax’s voice stops the air from dancing with me.

I turn to find him sauntering over, a cigarette balanced on his beautifully plump bottom lip. The smoke curling around him adds to the fucking masterpiece that he is. I still haven’t answered him, I’m too busy taking in every single detail of his face. The roughness of his beard, how he just looks so dangerous but so gentle at the same fucking time.

He pulls the cigarette from between his lips and holds it out to me, silently offering. I take it without thinking cause all I can think about is how this is probably the closest I’ll ever get to having his mouth on mine. Whole time he’s saying something, and I can see his lips moving but I’m too hooked on the way his lips move around each word, too hooked on wondering how those lips would feel if they were doing anything but talking.

“y/n?” His hand wraps gently around my arm, giving me a little shake. The gesture pulls me straight back to reality, a quiet sound leaves my mouth before I can even stop it.

“Did you just…” he lets go slowly, “did you just…”

“No” I answer, trying to cover up whatever the fuck just happened. My face, just like the rest of my body, feels like a fucking furnace.

“That sounded like a moan” he says, both entertained and concerned.

“No I just…I’m fine I just-” can’t stop imagining what it’d be like to get throat fucked by you. I don’t wait for him to say another word, I practically throw the smoke back in his hand before turning and making my way back into the clubhouse, leaving him with 100 questions, the answers I don’t even have myself.

I have no idea what the fuck that was, but Hap's kid just moaned when I touched her arm. I finish the rest of my smoke, that’s now sticky with her lipgloss and can’t stop myself from draggin’ my tongue over the taste of her. I catch myself as soon as I fuckin’ do it, silently cursin’ my dumb ass before paddin’ my airforces across the lot to the heavy doors. The second I step inside, my eyes find her. She’s in one corner, completely fuckin’ taken over by the music, dancin’ to herself, her hands driftin’ over her own body in a way I’ve never fuckin’ seen before. She’s not new to these parties, even got a little drunk and loose once or twice, but nothin’ like this, this is…somethin’ else.

My eyes immediately search for my sargeant at arms, thank fuck. He’s already passed out, smothered in the tits of one of his favourite crow eaters. My eyes dart back to y/n, still doin’ the same shit. I make my way over slowly, sittin’ on the edge of the table in front of her, tryna break whatever fuckin’ trance she’s in. “y/n…” I keep my voice so only she can hear “you gotta stop darlin’”

She doesn’t answer, she looks at me, like really looks at me, but says fuck all. Then, still without breakin’ eye contact, she slowly trails a finger from her tits, bringin’ it to her mouth and catchin’ her finger tip between her teeth, directly at me.

“What the fuck” I mutter under my breath, immediately pushin’ myself off the table and steppin’ in front of her, blockin’ the view just in case her father decides to come back to life.

“You’re looking at me like you like what you see” she whispers, I actually glance over my shoulder to make sure it’s me she’s talkin’ to. I mean, she’s not wrong but right now, this shit don’t sit right with me. She’s smilin’ and slowly closin’ the distance that’s left between us, her hands ghostin’ over the president patch on my kutte.

“I can tell…” she hums, “…you wanna taste it” my jaw clenches on instinct. Jesus fuckin’ Christ. What is happenin’ right now?

My eyes flick around the clubhouse, tryna make sense of what the fuck I’m actually lookin’ at. Crow eaters wrapped around each other, tongue kissin’, titty lickin’ like half the fuckin’ guys in this room don’t exist. Others are dancin’ by themselves doin’ the same shit that y/n’s just been doin’, everythin’ just seems…off.

Then I see them. Juice and Tig, standin’ in front of our mugshots, empty punch bowl on the table between them, nothin’ left but the ladle and a mixture of discarded fruit at the bottom. Juice looks like he’d rather be anywhere else…but Tig? That smug bastards got a grin from ear to fuckin’ ear which tells me he knows exactly what the fuck is goin’ on.

“Come with me” I say to y/n grabbin’ her by the arm and weavin’ us through the bodies.

“Ooooh boy” she mutters, clawin’ at her neck with her free hand.

I shoot Hap a quick side eye to make sure he’s still facedown and thankfully he is. As we pass, I lock eyes with the two dicks. “You two have some fuckin’ explainin’ to do”

We reach my dorm, and I shut the door gently behind us. “y/n listen to me…” I say, grabbin’ her shoulders and lookin’ her in the eyes. Probably the wrong fuckin’ move right now.

“I really wanna please you Jax” she whines, “please” she reaches for the back of my neck, but I catch her wrists, guidin’ her hands back down to her sides.

“No…no you don’t y/n listen to me…” she keeps pressin’ against me, turnin’ until her ass is flush against my trying-so-fuckin’-hard-not-to-be hard-cock. Fuck. It’s takin’ everythin’ in me not to react, not when she’s like this. “Somethin’s wrong but you gotta stay here and let me figure this shit out, okay?” I move her towards the mattress, easin’ her down onto the bed.

“Sit here, and don’t fuckin’ move” I warn her, hopin’ like fuckin’ hell shes in the same place when I get back. I go to leave the room, grabbin’ the key from the drawer and as I turn to shut the door behind me, I get one last glimpse of her, layin’ on her back, hands slippin’ beneath the waistband of her jeans. I lock the door before I see anythin’ else, and stand there in fuckin’ disbelief, my hands restin’ on the top of my head. It’s almost as if I’m being pranked.

“Talk” I say, stepping behind the two culprits “now”

Juice looks straight at Tig almost as if to beg him to speak up, which he obviously doesn’t. So it lands straight back on Juice, the words come out like vomit, I’ve never seen a man confess so quick. “Tig put pills in the punch” I stare at him in fucking shock, or rage, I don’t know which emotion is strongest.

“Uh… technically you put them in… they fell out of your palm”

“So you’re tellin’ me... you two fuckin’ idiots spiked the punch bowl?” I shake my head, “Tig I knew somethin’ was off with you…but this? you can't fuckin' do shit like that brother!”

“They’re herbal man…” Tig begins to mumble, “…how many times do I gotta explain” he whines in that monotone way of his. “Once they uh…take care of it, it’ll wear off”

Juice jumps in, like he’s tryna outrun the blame. “Tig said Venus uses them, they’re like…female sex enhancers or somethin’ makes chicks wild!”

“Female sex enhancers” I repeat the words, emphasis on the first one, noddin’ my head as I try to unpack this situation.

“Yeah” juice says, soundin’ like he’s tryin’ to convince himself.

Tig goes to speak but I raise a hand to stop him “I don't even know how to ask what I wanna, without soundin' like an asshole” I huff a laugh, “but what I do wanna know, is which one of you is gonna explain to Happy, that his kid daughter is currently in my dorm strung out on herbal sex enhancements beggin’ for attention?”

“Shit” they both say, their expressions switching up quick time.

“Yeah…shit” I echo, throwin’ my hands up in annoyance.

“We didn’t know she was gonna drink it man” juice blurts out, “we wouldn’t have-”

“I can’t find y/n” Happy appears out of nowhere, drunk and slurring “Her cars still out...side”

Silence. Absolute, fuckin’ silence.

“She’s uh..she’s around I saw her” Tig says, draggin’ his words out like he’s makin’ them up as he goes. Cause he is.

“Yeah she’s uh…” I clear my throat, givin’ myself a second to make up somethin’ believable “…she uh drank too much, told her to sleep it off in the dorm, didn’t think you’d want her drivin’ home like that, or any of these fuckers takin’ her” I give a threatenin' look to the bastards standin' beside me.

“Yeah…” for a second he doesn’t look convinced, but then he continues “…she’s had it rough these past weeks. My fault, I convinced her to stay and party…she’s probably just…drinkin’ it all away like her dad” he shrugs, finishing what’s left in his bottle. “Better to let her sleep it off” he begins walkin’ in the opposite direction. “Thanks brother”

“Count yourselves fuckin’ lucky” I just about snarl the words to the two idiots in front of me. “Herbal or not, don’t you ever put any form of fuckin’ pill, powder, or fuckin’ dust in a drink round here again” my eyes flick between the two “fuckin’ assholes”

“You know Jax…” Tig drawls nudgin’ Juice in the elbow and stoppin’ me in my tracks. “I’m startin’ to think maybe you’re enjoyin’ this attention from little miss Lowman”

Not gonna lie, his words land somewhere I didn’t expect em’ to and not cause he’s wrong, cause I mean technically he ain’t even though I’m not thinkin’ shit like that in this current situation but I’d be lyin’ if I said I ain’t never thought em’. y/n’s always been happys kid to me…to everyone in the club. But now she’s grown and at some point the I guess I did start seein’ her differently but Hap trusts me, he’d put his life in my fuckin’ hands whole time I’m thinkin’ bout’ puttin’ them hands all over his daughter. It’s fucking wrong.

Juice, clearly smart enough to value his life, keeps his mouth firmly shut as Tig continues. “I mean I know I ain’t the only one who’s looked twice at-”

My elbow catches him straight under the chin before he can even finish whatever the fuck he was about to say. His teeth crash together, a spray of blood and spit hittin’ the floor as he doubles over clutchin’ at his jaw.

“Please, feel free to tell Happy exactly why you’re pissin’ blood” I say coldly, shovin’ past him and purposely knockin’ into him with a shoulder. “Have some fuckin’ respect” a small scoff makes its way up my throat, the fuckin’ hypocrisy.

My skin feels hotter than satans throne, not that i’d actually know, I’ve never sat on it. The goosebumps that covered my skin earlier have now turned into tiny little prickles beneath my skin. I drag my hands over my arms, desperate to find some kind of relief, but it only makes it worse, like rubbing shards of glass straight into my flesh. What the fuck is happening to me?

Not even ten minutes ago I was completely lost in whatever had come over me, my hands moved by some invisible force to play with myself until the moment swallowed me whole and I came undone all over Jax’s bed, and just like that, the euphoric feeling just…stopped, replaced by whatever the hell this is.

Speaking of Jax, oh my god. Did I really say all of that out loud to him, or is this some kind of sick, very twisted, lucid dream? I really wanna please you. The words echo in my head on repeat, my stomach clenching in a cringe, “fuuuuck” I whisper to the empty dorm. My chest suddenly tightens as if the air refuses to go in any deeper no matter how hard I inhale.

Just as my thoughts begin to get a little too loud, I hear the slight sound of the lock turning, my eyes snapping straight to the door. Jax steps inside, closing it quietly behind him before tossing the key onto the side. There’s a look on his face, something like sympathy maybe? Or maybe disbelief I can’t even work it out right now.

“Hey” the word comes out short and sharp.

“Hi” I manage to make a sound, the panics still there though, and it’s so close to erupting.

“You okay?” He studies me as he walks over slowly, sitting cautiously beside me. The denim of his jeans brushes against mine and my skin automatically prickles with that clawing sensation.

“No…I…” I rub hard at the skin just above the lace of my black cami, trying to ease the tightness. “I…” I try again but the words just won’t come out. I can’t fucking breathe.

Jax understands without me even having to use the words. He moves swiftly from beside me to kneeling between my legs, those ocean eyes pinned on mine. “I need you to listen to me y/n, alright?”

I nod, barely.

He rubs a hand over his beard like he’s tryna work out how the fuck to word this. “Tig and Juice thought it’d be funny to add a little somethin’ to the punch”

A little something? Oh my god, have I been drugged? The question must make its way to my face because he answers straight away. “No” he shakes his head quickly, “Not drug drugs…well…” he chews on the inside of his cheek, like he’s tryna find the best explanation for this. “Nothin’ like that, I mean it’s still fuckin’ stupid but…” he lets out a defeated sigh. “The way you’ve been actin’…the stuff you’ve been sayin’…”

My heartbeat is so fucking loud I can just about hear him over it.

“…it’s because of what they put in the punch. Some herbal shit…an aphrodisiac or whatever the fuck Tig called it” his jaw clenches tight, so beautiful. “They thought it’d make everyone a little more…honest. Though I don’t think you were part of their plan” he lets out deep chuckle that immediately sets off the paranoia I inherited from my fathers side of the family.

“You’re…you’re laughing at me?” The words leave my mouth more like a question than an actual statement.

“No! No…y/n I’m not laughin’ at you” he tries his best to smile softly, reaching for my hand and letting his thumb absently brush back and forth over my skin. “I’m laughin’ at the situation…” he shakes his head dragging his free hand down his beard “…had to be you to put me in this position, huh?”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” The longer he keeps me talking, the easier it is to ignore the panic attack that could still possibly spill.

I follow the movement of his eyes as they drop to where his thumb is still moving over my hand. “All the shit you said tonight…the shit you did…” eyes are back on me now “…stuff like that doesn’t usually come from nowhere darlin’”

“So you think I meant it?” My index finger finds the edge of his ‘NS’ ring and I start tracing the letters, giving my hands something to do as my heart picks up the pace again, I stare down at the silver instead of him.

“I think…” he pauses, like he’s figuring out how to say shit without making this something more than it needs to be…or should be. “…I think the shit you drank tonight made it easier for you to say stuff you probably never intended to say out loud” he moves from below me to take up the space next to me again, the wood creaking under his weight.

“And if I did…mean it?” The remaining alcohol gives me the confidence to ask, but the second I say it I feel so fucking young sat beside him.

His thumb rolls slowly back and forth across his bottom lip like he’s weighing up exactly how far he can go with his answer and the longer he takes, the more I feel physically sick and suddenly don’t want to hear what he has to say, I cut in, taking away his chance to answer. “You you gonna tell my dad?

“Tell your dad?” Whatever composure he had left finally crumbles, his head rocking backwards with a laugh like thunder and it’s obvious now, he is definitely laughing at me. “Am I gonna tell your dad I was about two seconds away from watchin’ you…” I look closely at him as he fights to pull himself together, clearing his throat and sitting a little straighter. “…watchin’ you handlin’ yourself on the edge of my bed?” His lips pull upwards into a tight and disbelieving smile, shaking his head slowly “…you know your dad just as well as I do darlin’. Don’t think that conversation ends particularly well for any of us”

“Fuck my life” I sigh, burying my face in my clammy hands. My skin still feels all kinds of weird but at least I’m no longer on the verge of having a full blown episode. I fidget and shift against the mattress, knowing Jax has noticed I can’t stay still for more than five seconds.

“Haven’t seen you since your old man told me all about the shit that went down” I think he asks to distract me from the now.

I close my eyes at the mention of the topic I tried so hard to hide from everyone, chewing my lip out of awkwardness, “I’m fine” it’s become a habit to lie about it.

“Yeah…that’s what you kept tellin’ your dad right?…” I look towards him just as his eyes drop to the skin on my upper arm, it’s so faint you’d have to really be looking to see it, so it surprises me that he finds one. “…this don’t seem very fine to me” his index finger grazes over one of the last bruises that’s fading away, his touch giving me even more chills, but this time it’s not cause of what was in the punch.

He shakes his head, tipping my chin up with his thumb so I have no choice but to meet his eyes. “Anythin’ ever happens like that again, with anybody…I don’t give a shit if you’re scared, embarrassed or just don’t wanna tell your old man…” he slips straight into his authoritative mode. “You tell me. Do you understand what I’m sayin’?”

“Yup” I pop the p and say it with so much breath I almost cringe, but not enough to stop be from letting my head fall against his shoulder.

His kutte smells just like dads, leather and ash and like home. I feel his hesitation before his arm slowly curls around my shoulder, tucking me into his side. Neither of us say anything for about two minutes, which feels like a fucking life time. At some point, he relaxes enough to let his chin rest against the top of my head, smushing my face against the leather across his chest. I hate how easy I could get used to this.

Eventually he clears his throat, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe he just had similar thoughts to what I did. Probably not though, right? His chin lifts away softly and the warmth of his arm disappears as he pushes himself up off the bed, pulling me with him. I get to my feet but I’m still all slouchy and awkward with embarrassment, Jax just gives a quiet laugh as if he’s trying to make this whole damn thing seem normal.

“Cmon’ Darlin…’” his fingers move to straighten the twisted cami strap against my shoulder, “…coulda been worse…” his mouth tilts at one corner, his eyes making my stomach twist into a tight ball of yarn. “…I coulda stayed and watched” the grin he tries to hide is fucking sinful and for the quickest moment, I almost laugh with him, almost let myself play into the delusion I’ve had forever, so close to forgetting who he actually is, forgetting he’s the same grown up who used to flick me in the back of the head, or in some cases straight on the forehead whenever I got too mouthy with Dad around the clubhouse. “Quit talkin’ to your old man like that” he’d grumble at me around a toothpick tucked between his teeth, not even giving me a second thought cause back then I was just the teenage brat hanging around after school.

“Don’t do that” I had doubt he’d hear me but he pulls back a little, eyebrows showing his confusion, “Don’t…” I suck in nearly all the available air in the room, deciding if I should carry on. Fuck it. “…don’t start something you know we can’t finish”

He nods in silence a few times, like he’s trying to gather all his thoughts before using his words. “You should get some sleep darlin’…” he takes a step back, forcing space between us. “… I’d offer to take you home but I already told your pops you were in here cause you drank too much and I didn’t trust any of those drunken bastards to drive you” his hands rest on his hips like he doesn’t know what to do with them “….so…take a shower, take the bed for the night and if you need to, there’s some spare clothes in the top drawer just there and just…forget about tonight, aight’?” He steps towards the door plastered in samcro memorabilia.

“Thank you” the words come out a mumble.

He stops, looking back at me over his shoulder, “For what?”

“For…” I start scratching at my arm, even though there’s no longer any itching sensations “…not being weird about it”

“About what?” He tilts his head in fake confusion, eyebrows touching in the middle like he genuinely has no idea what I’m talking about. It takes me a second but I realise what he’s doing, pretending tonight never happened to save me the embarrassment. “Get some sleep trouble” he leaves me with a sinful grin and a wink that has no fucking business coming from the man my dad calls brother.

© pictures, gifs & music do not belong to me!! Credit to all original owners. Dividers by @/cafekitsune

A/N: you guys know I love me a lil forbidden trope. I wasn’t planning on doing a part two to this BUT after talking with my babe @ibeliveinunicornsandmagic and scrolling across @mrtynae on tik tok - I couldn’t get the fucking dads best friend trope out of my head and now I NEED to make a part two so I can get to some smutty smut x (shoutout to you btw, if you’re on here PLEASE make yourself known!!! or if anyone follows them tell them secretlysamcro LOVES! - my tik tok is not as inconspicuous as this tumblr lol ) I’m deffo gonna have to write some more about this naughty lil pair hehe, thank you for taking the time to read!!!! Loves u all Xx

xoxo secretlysamcro

“I’m telling you man, this shits gonna work” Tig flashes a wicked grin towards juice who’s standing next to him looking down at the tiny pink pills in his hand, his enthusiasm not matching his friend.

“This feels…wrong” juices smile turns lopsided.

“I’ve seen you plug a bullet hole...in a guys ass..with your finger, but this is where you draw the line?” Tig barks a laugh, guiding his friends hand over the oversized pitcher and tipping each tablet in. “It ain’t…wrong. It’s all herbal man, from the earth. One love and all that yada yada yada”

“But that was differ-”

“No buts, Juicey boy” Tig says head shaking, “it’s an aphrodisiac, alright? If one of the girls already has the hots for one of us, she’ll just have em…a little hotter.” He shrugs, so unbothered “it ain’t gonna make her jump on the first cock she sees” Trager gives the punch a lazy stir, the flash of silver peeking through the red liquid. “Just a few more turns and they should dissolve” he mutters, eyes zoning in on the drink as if he’s conducting some kinda science experiment instead of the cheap liquid sat before him.

Juice doesn’t say much at all, just stays hovering over his shoulder, chewing at the loose skin beside his thumbnail, Tig last not even five seconds before he realises “What is your problem?” He whines, not even bothering to make eye contact.

The apprehension is written across his face clear as day, “it just feels…I don’t think we should-”

Tig stops stirring with a heavy sigh, looking over at juice like he has no sense in the world. “Crow eaters love to drink right?” Juice doesn’t even manage to open his mouth to answer, “and crow eaters love to fuck…this is just… speeding up the process”

“Hey sweetie, you okay?” Gemma calls out halfway to her car when she notices me.

“Yeah” I answer, slamming my car door behind me, my voice sounding more tired than I had planned “is my dad here?” I ask, keys jingling softly in my hand as I make my way over to her.

Gemma pushes her dark lensed glasses up the bridge of her nose, squinting towards the clubhouse. “Pretty sure him and Bobby went out to run some errands. Shouldn’t be too long though” she tilts her head “Go on in sweetheart, Lylas in there setting up for the friday night shit show” she turns to leave then throws her head back towards me “That asshole still messin’ with you sweetheart?” Her expression shifts to that of a worried mother, I shake my head no, not wanting to start a whole debate about the situation, having to tell dad was hard enough. “cause if he is, you know where we are” she gives me a reassuring smile that makes me feel just a little better.

“Thanks Gem” I say, and she gives me a small wave before I turn and head towards the clubhouse, my havaianas slapping against the concrete with each step. The row of chrome catches my attention straight away, especially his. Even when he’s not close by, even when I don’t mean to think of him, I always fucking do, a silly little crush I’ve never learnt how to let go.

Jax Teller is my dad’s president and loyal brother, and unfortunately for me, that’s the only connection we’ll ever have, no matter how many far fetched scenarios I create in my mind, that's all he'll ever be, plus I doubt he’d ever look twice at me anyway, not in the way I’d want him too. “A samcro daughter” is how they all know me, and that alone solidifies everything. Not that it matters, my dad would lose his fucking shit if that line was crossed, president or not. It would just be another smiley added to his collection.

“Hey y/n, didn’t know you were stopping by tonight” Lylas smile is the first thing I see as I make my way over to the bar, she looks up from drying a glass, her expression softening a little as soon as she notices me.

I slide onto one of the rusted stools with a sigh, tossing my keys onto the bar, “neither did I” I admit, rubbing at my temples. “Dad said he needed to talk but Gem said he only just left”.

My eyes drift around the clubhouse, a few crow eaters scattered near the pool table, Rat and another prospect talking all hush hush in a corner and everyone else is…“Where is everyone?”

Lyla tilts her head towards the heavy double doors “I think something might be going down” she sighs, placing another clean glass back where it belongs.

“Isn’t it always” I roll my eyes, letting out a tired breath as I lean over the bar.

“Always” she laughs, placing a hand on her hip, “Don’t take this the wrong way y/n but…you look like you need a drink”

“That obvious huh?”

Lyla smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes like her usual smile. “Ope may have told me”

“Course he did” I gesture towards her with an open hand, reminding her of the drink she just offered. “Who knew outlaws were such gossips?”

“You’re Happys little girl, that business is their business” she slides the gin and tonic my way. “When your dad told the club what your ex did…” her voice lowers, leaning on her forearms” “…Jax didn’t hesitate to make it club business”

“Yeah…” I take a sip “…I figured”

“Every single one of them would kill for you y/n especially your dad”

I don’t really hear the rest of what Lyla says. I’m too busy picturing Jax’s face the night Dad had told them about the bruises he’d found, about me finally breaking down and admitting the truth after months of insisting I was fine. I wonder how his expression changed, did he do that beautiful jaw clench he usually does when he’s pissed, did he ask for more details? And part of me wants to know if it became club business because I’m Hap’s daughter, or if it’s because the club president has a soft spot for me. A girl can dream right?

“What’s in the bowl?” I raise my voice over the music, the clubhouse getting louder now that there’s more bodies crammed inside.

“Uh…honestly, I don’t actually know” he laughs under his breath, “Tig just said to keep it topped up for the ladies” I squint, leaning in and taking a closer look. Bright chunks of orange, strawberries and lime bobbing around in the red liquid. Rat leans in beside me, inspecting the ingredients himself, “um, fruit flavour maybe?”

I can’t help but laugh, “yeah, I gathered that much” I still can’t decide if Rat stumbles over his words cause maybe he likes me, or if it’s cause my dad would skin him alive for even looking at me too long.

One of the familiar girls parades over, reaching for the ladle. She fills her cup to the top before throwing back a mouthful without a second thought. “Hey, what’s in the punch?” Rat calls out to her.

She pauses, smacking her lips together dramatically as she tries to figure out the ingredients. “Vodka…or rum maybe…and fruit…and…more vodka” she flashes him a flirtatious grin before bouncing back off to her girls.

“I mean, it sounds good…” I glance around the clubhouse, still no sign of Dad “Will you make me one?” I ask, holding out a red cup towards Rat.

“Uh…” he scratches the back of his neck, eyes darting round for a way out. “…yeah, yeah sure” he takes the cup from me, avoiding eye contact.

“I hope you’re not getting Happy’s daughter intoxicated” Rat freezes, the stream of red still spilling from the ladle. I don’t even have to turn around, I already know who it is. “No…no I was just uh-” His attention then turns to me, “You even old enough to drink yet?”

“I’m not a kid Jax” I scoff in his direction as the prospect hands me the now full cup with a hesitant smile just before giving Jax one of those manly nods and melting back into the crowd.

“Bobby just called your dads like 10 minutes out”

“Thank fuck for that” I take a sip, surprised at how good it actually tastes. “…I can finally get out of this shit hole.” I catch the raise of his eyebrow “…no offence”

“None taken” he chuckles, “Not really a place for a girl like you anyway” As soon as the words leave his mouth, I swear I see the exact moment he wishes he could take them back.

“What’s that spose to mean?” I ask, flirting with the possibility his words have a hidden meaning under the surface. “I grew up here”.

His mouth opens, then closes just as fast. “I know that, I just…I just meant…” he stares at the floor like it’s gonna give him an explanation, “You know what I meant”

“Ummm, not really” I can’t help smiling, hiding it behind my cup, eyebrows raised enough so he knows I’m still waiting on the explanation.

He lets out a muffled laugh, shaking his head “I just meant…” the skin of his cheeks begin to turn the same shade of red as the punch, “…stop it” he warns with a crooked smile on his face. Just as I go to tease him further, he nods towards the doors and I follow his eyesight to see Dad and Bobby strolling in.

“Speak of the devil” I mutter, leaving Jax with a smile, and making my way over to Dad

I wander into the parking lot, I need a breather from the unexpected emotional conversation I just had with my dad, and the effects of drinking a third cup of punch. We ended up talking about everything I’d come here for, and then some. He even managed to convince me to stay a little longer said something along the lines of “you’re always at 100, bring it down a little, kid” I agreed, on one condition though. Told him I’d rather not walk in that clubhouse and find him face down in a crow eater, he laughed, which is something rare if you know my dad. “Wouldn’t do that y/n…not in front of you anyway” Asshole.

Looking up at the star scattered sky, I draw in the deepest breath I’ve been able to take in a long fucking time. The cool night air fills my lungs to its maximum capacity and for a split second, I swear they feel close enough to touch, close enough for me to pluck one out of the sky and wish upon it.

But as I breathe out, something feels…different. I’m suddenly aware of every single inch of my body, the air dances along my skin to the sound of my too loud heartbeat as little goosebumps pave the way for the movement. I hook my thumbs in the waist band of my jeans, adjusting them out of habit, but the way the denim shifts against my skin causes between my thighs to throb…what the fuck.

“You good?” Jax’s voice stops the air from dancing with me.

I turn to find him sauntering over, a cigarette balanced on his beautifully plump bottom lip. The smoke curling around him adds to the fucking masterpiece that he is. I still haven’t answered him, I’m too busy taking in every single detail of his face. The roughness of his beard, how he just looks so dangerous but so gentle at the same fucking time.

He pulls the cigarette from between his lips and holds it out to me, silently offering. I take it without thinking cause all I can think about is how this is probably the closest I’ll ever get to having his mouth on mine. Whole time he’s saying something, and I can see his lips moving but I’m too hooked on the way his lips move around each word, too hooked on wondering how those lips would feel if they were doing anything but talking.

“y/n?” His hand wraps gently around my arm, giving me a little shake. The gesture pulls me straight back to reality, a quiet sound leaves my mouth before I can even stop it.

“Did you just…” he lets go slowly, “did you just…”

“No” I answer, trying to cover up whatever the fuck just happened. My face, just like the rest of my body, feels like a fucking furnace.

“That sounded like a moan” he says, both entertained and concerned.

“No I just…I’m fine I just-” can’t stop imagining what it’d be like to get throat fucked by you. I don’t wait for him to say another word, I practically throw the smoke back in his hand before turning and making my way back into the clubhouse, leaving him with 100 questions, the answers I don’t even have myself.

I have no idea what the fuck that was, but Hap's kid just moaned when I touched her arm. I finish the rest of my smoke, that’s now sticky with her lipgloss and can’t stop myself from draggin’ my tongue over the taste of her. I catch myself as soon as I fuckin’ do it, silently cursin’ my dumb ass before paddin’ my airforces across the lot to the heavy doors. The second I step inside, my eyes find her. She’s in one corner, completely fuckin’ taken over by the music, dancin’ to herself, her hands driftin’ over her own body in a way I’ve never fuckin’ seen before. She’s not new to these parties, even got a little drunk and loose once or twice, but nothin’ like this, this is…somethin’ else.

My eyes immediately search for my sargeant at arms, thank fuck. He’s already passed out, smothered in the tits of one of his favourite crow eaters. My eyes dart back to y/n, still doin’ the same shit. I make my way over slowly, sittin’ on the edge of the table in front of her, tryna break whatever fuckin’ trance she’s in. “y/n…” I keep my voice so only she can hear “you gotta stop darlin’”

She doesn’t answer, she looks at me, like really looks at me, but says fuck all. Then, still without breakin’ eye contact, she slowly trails a finger from her tits, bringin’ it to her mouth and catchin’ her finger tip between her teeth, directly at me.

“What the fuck” I mutter under my breath, immediately pushin’ myself off the table and steppin’ in front of her, blockin’ the view just in case her father decides to come back to life.

“You’re looking at me like you like what you see” she whispers, I actually glance over my shoulder to make sure it’s me she’s talkin’ to. I mean, she’s not wrong but right now, this shit don’t sit right with me. She’s smilin’ and slowly closin’ the distance that’s left between us, her hands ghostin’ over the president patch on my kutte.

“I can tell…” she hums, “…you wanna taste it” my jaw clenches on instinct. Jesus fuckin’ Christ. What is happenin’ right now?

My eyes flick around the clubhouse, tryna make sense of what the fuck I’m actually lookin’ at. Crow eaters wrapped around each other, tongue kissin’, titty lickin’ like half the fuckin’ guys in this room don’t exist. Others are dancin’ by themselves doin’ the same shit that y/n’s just been doin’, everythin’ just seems…off.

Then I see them. Juice and Tig, standin’ in front of our mugshots, empty punch bowl on the table between them, nothin’ left but the ladle and a mixture of discarded fruit at the bottom. Juice looks like he’d rather be anywhere else…but Tig? That smug bastards got a grin from ear to fuckin’ ear which tells me he knows exactly what the fuck is goin’ on.

“Come with me” I say to y/n grabbin’ her by the arm and weavin’ us through the bodies.

“Ooooh boy” she mutters, clawin’ at her neck with her free hand.

I shoot Hap a quick side eye to make sure he’s still facedown and thankfully he is. As we pass, I lock eyes with the two dicks. “You two have some fuckin’ explainin’ to do”

We reach my dorm, and I shut the door gently behind us. “y/n listen to me…” I say, grabbin’ her shoulders and lookin’ her in the eyes. Probably the wrong fuckin’ move right now.

“I really wanna please you Jax” she whines, “please” she reaches for the back of my neck, but I catch her wrists, guidin’ her hands back down to her sides.

“No…no you don’t y/n listen to me…” she keeps pressin’ against me, turnin’ until her ass is flush against my trying-so-fuckin’-hard-not-to-be hard-cock. Fuck. It’s takin’ everythin’ in me not to react, not when she’s like this. “Somethin’s wrong but you gotta stay here and let me figure this shit out, okay?” I move her towards the mattress, easin’ her down onto the bed.

“Sit here, and don’t fuckin’ move” I warn her, hopin’ like fuckin’ hell shes in the same place when I get back. I go to leave the room, grabbin’ the key from the drawer and as I turn to shut the door behind me, I get one last glimpse of her, layin’ on her back, hands slippin’ beneath the waistband of her jeans. I lock the door before I see anythin’ else, and stand there in fuckin’ disbelief, my hands restin’ on the top of my head. It’s almost as if I’m being pranked.

“Talk” I say, stepping behind the two culprits “now”

Juice looks straight at Tig almost as if to beg him to speak up, which he obviously doesn’t. So it lands straight back on Juice, the words come out like vomit, I’ve never seen a man confess so quick. “Tig put pills in the punch” I stare at him in fucking shock, or rage, I don’t know which emotion is strongest.

“Uh… technically you put them in… they fell out of your palm”

“So you’re tellin’ me... you two fuckin’ idiots spiked the punch bowl?” I shake my head, “Tig I knew somethin’ was off with you…but this? you can't fuckin' do shit like that brother!”

“They’re herbal man…” Tig begins to mumble, “…how many times do I gotta explain” he whines in that monotone way of his. “Once they uh…take care of it, it’ll wear off”

Juice jumps in, like he’s tryna outrun the blame. “Tig said Venus uses them, they’re like…female sex enhancers or somethin’ makes chicks wild!”

“Female sex enhancers” I repeat the words, emphasis on the first one, noddin’ my head as I try to unpack this situation.

“Yeah” juice says, soundin’ like he’s tryin’ to convince himself.

Tig goes to speak but I raise a hand to stop him “I don't even know how to ask what I wanna, without soundin' like an asshole” I huff a laugh, “but what I do wanna know, is which one of you is gonna explain to Happy, that his kid daughter is currently in my dorm strung out on herbal sex enhancements beggin’ for attention?”

“Shit” they both say, their expressions switching up quick time.

“Yeah…shit” I echo, throwin’ my hands up in annoyance.

“We didn’t know she was gonna drink it man” juice blurts out, “we wouldn’t have-”

“I can’t find y/n” Happy appears out of nowhere, drunk and slurring “Her cars still out...side”

Silence. Absolute, fuckin’ silence.

“She’s uh..she’s around I saw her” Tig says, draggin’ his words out like he’s makin’ them up as he goes. Cause he is.

“Yeah she’s uh…” I clear my throat, givin’ myself a second to make up somethin’ believable “…she uh drank too much, told her to sleep it off in the dorm, didn’t think you’d want her drivin’ home like that, or any of these fuckers takin’ her” I give a threatenin' look to the bastards standin' beside me.

“Yeah…” for a second he doesn’t look convinced, but then he continues “…she’s had it rough these past weeks. My fault, I convinced her to stay and party…she’s probably just…drinkin’ it all away like her dad” he shrugs, finishing what’s left in his bottle. “Better to let her sleep it off” he begins walkin’ in the opposite direction. “Thanks brother”

“Count yourselves fuckin’ lucky” I just about snarl the words to the two idiots in front of me. “Herbal or not, don’t you ever put any form of fuckin’ pill, powder, or fuckin’ dust in a drink round here again” my eyes flick between the two “fuckin’ assholes”

“You know Jax…” Tig drawls nudgin’ Juice in the elbow and stoppin’ me in my tracks. “I’m startin’ to think maybe you’re enjoyin’ this attention from little miss Lowman”

Not gonna lie, his words land somewhere I didn’t expect em’ to and not cause he’s wrong, cause I mean technically he ain’t even though I’m not thinkin’ shit like that in this current situation but I’d be lyin’ if I said I ain’t never thought em’. y/n’s always been happys kid to me…to everyone in the club. But now she’s grown and at some point the I guess I did start seein’ her differently but Hap trusts me, he’d put his life in my fuckin’ hands whole time I’m thinkin’ bout’ puttin’ them hands all over his daughter. It’s fucking wrong.

Juice, clearly smart enough to value his life, keeps his mouth firmly shut as Tig continues. “I mean I know I ain’t the only one who’s looked twice at-”

My elbow catches him straight under the chin before he can even finish whatever the fuck he was about to say. His teeth crash together, a spray of blood and spit hittin’ the floor as he doubles over clutchin’ at his jaw.

“Please, feel free to tell Happy exactly why you’re pissin’ blood” I say coldly, shovin’ past him and purposely knockin’ into him with a shoulder. “Have some fuckin’ respect” a small scoff makes its way up my throat, the fuckin’ hypocrisy.

My skin feels hotter than satans throne, not that i’d actually know, I’ve never sat on it. The goosebumps that covered my skin earlier have now turned into tiny little prickles beneath my skin. I drag my hands over my arms, desperate to find some kind of relief, but it only makes it worse, like rubbing shards of glass straight into my flesh. What the fuck is happening to me?

Not even ten minutes ago I was completely lost in whatever had come over me, my hands moved by some invisible force to play with myself until the moment swallowed me whole and I came undone all over Jax’s bed, and just like that, the euphoric feeling just…stopped, replaced by whatever the hell this is.

Speaking of Jax, oh my god. Did I really say all of that out loud to him, or is this some kind of sick, very twisted, lucid dream? I really wanna please you. The words echo in my head on repeat, my stomach clenching in a cringe, “fuuuuck” I whisper to the empty dorm. My chest suddenly tightens as if the air refuses to go in any deeper no matter how hard I inhale.

Just as my thoughts begin to get a little too loud, I hear the slight sound of the lock turning, my eyes snapping straight to the door. Jax steps inside, closing it quietly behind him before tossing the key onto the side. There’s a look on his face, something like sympathy maybe? Or maybe disbelief I can’t even work it out right now.

“Hey” the word comes out short and sharp.

“Hi” I manage to make a sound, the panics still there though, and it’s so close to erupting.

“You okay?” He studies me as he walks over slowly, sitting cautiously beside me. The denim of his jeans brushes against mine and my skin automatically prickles with that clawing sensation.

“No…I…” I rub hard at the skin just above the lace of my black cami, trying to ease the tightness. “I…” I try again but the words just won’t come out. I can’t fucking breathe.

Jax understands without me even having to use the words. He moves swiftly from beside me to kneeling between my legs, those ocean eyes pinned on mine. “I need you to listen to me y/n, alright?”

I nod, barely.

He rubs a hand over his beard like he’s tryna work out how the fuck to word this. “Tig and Juice thought it’d be funny to add a little somethin’ to the punch”

A little something? Oh my god, have I been drugged? The question must make its way to my face because he answers straight away. “No” he shakes his head quickly, “Not drug drugs…well…” he chews on the inside of his cheek, like he’s tryna find the best explanation for this. “Nothin’ like that, I mean it’s still fuckin’ stupid but…” he lets out a defeated sigh. “The way you’ve been actin’…the stuff you’ve been sayin’…”

My heartbeat is so fucking loud I can just about hear him over it.

“…it’s because of what they put in the punch. Some herbal shit…an aphrodisiac or whatever the fuck Tig called it” his jaw clenches tight, so beautiful. “They thought it’d make everyone a little more…honest. Though I don’t think you were part of their plan” he lets out deep chuckle that immediately sets off the paranoia I inherited from my fathers side of the family.

“You’re…you’re laughing at me?” The words leave my mouth more like a question than an actual statement.

“No! No…y/n I’m not laughin’ at you” he tries his best to smile softly, reaching for my hand and letting his thumb absently brush back and forth over my skin. “I’m laughin’ at the situation…” he shakes his head dragging his free hand down his beard “…had to be you to put me in this position, huh?”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” The longer he keeps me talking, the easier it is to ignore the panic attack that could still possibly spill.

I follow the movement of his eyes as they drop to where his thumb is still moving over my hand. “All the shit you said tonight…the shit you did…” eyes are back on me now “…stuff like that doesn’t usually come from nowhere darlin’”

“So you think I meant it?” My index finger finds the edge of his ‘NS’ ring and I start tracing the letters, giving my hands something to do as my heart picks up the pace again, I stare down at the silver instead of him.

“I think…” he pauses, like he’s figuring out how to say shit without making this something more than it needs to be…or should be. “…I think the shit you drank tonight made it easier for you to say stuff you probably never intended to say out loud” he moves from below me to take up the space next to me again, the wood creaking under his weight.

“And if I did…mean it?” The remaining alcohol gives me the confidence to ask, but the second I say it I feel so fucking young sat beside him.

His thumb rolls slowly back and forth across his bottom lip like he’s weighing up exactly how far he can go with his answer and the longer he takes, the more I feel physically sick and suddenly don’t want to hear what he has to say, I cut in, taking away his chance to answer. “You you gonna tell my dad?

“Tell your dad?” Whatever composure he had left finally crumbles, his head rocking backwards with a laugh like thunder and it’s obvious now, he is definitely laughing at me. “Am I gonna tell your dad I was about two seconds away from watchin’ you…” I look closely at him as he fights to pull himself together, clearing his throat and sitting a little straighter. “…watchin’ you handlin’ yourself on the edge of my bed?” His lips pull upwards into a tight and disbelieving smile, shaking his head slowly “…you know your dad just as well as I do darlin’. Don’t think that conversation ends particularly well for any of us”

“Fuck my life” I sigh, burying my face in my clammy hands. My skin still feels all kinds of weird but at least I’m no longer on the verge of having a full blown episode. I fidget and shift against the mattress, knowing Jax has noticed I can’t stay still for more than five seconds.

“Haven’t seen you since your old man told me all about the shit that went down” I think he asks to distract me from the now.

I close my eyes at the mention of the topic I tried so hard to hide from everyone, chewing my lip out of awkwardness, “I’m fine” it’s become a habit to lie about it.

“Yeah…that’s what you kept tellin’ your dad right?…” I look towards him just as his eyes drop to the skin on my upper arm, it’s so faint you’d have to really be looking to see it, so it surprises me that he finds one. “…this don’t seem very fine to me” his index finger grazes over one of the last bruises that’s fading away, his touch giving me even more chills, but this time it’s not cause of what was in the punch.

He shakes his head, tipping my chin up with his thumb so I have no choice but to meet his eyes. “Anythin’ ever happens like that again, with anybody…I don’t give a shit if you’re scared, embarrassed or just don’t wanna tell your old man…” he slips straight into his authoritative mode. “You tell me. Do you understand what I’m sayin’?”

“Yup” I pop the p and say it with so much breath I almost cringe, but not enough to stop be from letting my head fall against his shoulder.

His kutte smells just like dads, leather and ash and like home. I feel his hesitation before his arm slowly curls around my shoulder, tucking me into his side. Neither of us say anything for about two minutes, which feels like a fucking life time. At some point, he relaxes enough to let his chin rest against the top of my head, smushing my face against the leather across his chest. I hate how easy I could get used to this.

Eventually he clears his throat, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe he just had similar thoughts to what I did. Probably not though, right? His chin lifts away softly and the warmth of his arm disappears as he pushes himself up off the bed, pulling me with him. I get to my feet but I’m still all slouchy and awkward with embarrassment, Jax just gives a quiet laugh as if he’s trying to make this whole damn thing seem normal.

“Cmon’ Darlin…’” his fingers move to straighten the twisted cami strap against my shoulder, “…coulda been worse…” his mouth tilts at one corner, his eyes making my stomach twist into a tight ball of yarn. “…I coulda stayed and watched” the grin he tries to hide is fucking sinful and for the quickest moment, I almost laugh with him, almost let myself play into the delusion I’ve had forever, so close to forgetting who he actually is, forgetting he’s the same grown up who used to flick me in the back of the head, or in some cases straight on the forehead whenever I got too mouthy with Dad around the clubhouse. “Quit talkin’ to your old man like that” he’d grumble at me around a toothpick tucked between his teeth, not even giving me a second thought cause back then I was just the teenage brat hanging around after school.

“Don’t do that” I had doubt he’d hear me but he pulls back a little, eyebrows showing his confusion, “Don’t…” I suck in nearly all the available air in the room, deciding if I should carry on. Fuck it. “…don’t start something you know we can’t finish”

He nods in silence a few times, like he’s trying to gather all his thoughts before using his words. “You should get some sleep darlin’…” he takes a step back, forcing space between us. “… I’d offer to take you home but I already told your pops you were in here cause you drank too much and I didn’t trust any of those drunken bastards to drive you” his hands rest on his hips like he doesn’t know what to do with them “….so…take a shower, take the bed for the night and if you need to, there’s some spare clothes in the top drawer just there and just…forget about tonight, aight’?” He steps towards the door plastered in samcro memorabilia.

“Thank you” the words come out a mumble.

He stops, looking back at me over his shoulder, “For what?”

“For…” I start scratching at my arm, even though there’s no longer any itching sensations “…not being weird about it”

“About what?” He tilts his head in fake confusion, eyebrows touching in the middle like he genuinely has no idea what I’m talking about. It takes me a second but I realise what he’s doing, pretending tonight never happened to save me the embarrassment. “Get some sleep trouble” he leaves me with a sinful grin and a wink that has no fucking business coming from the man my dad calls brother.

© pictures, gifs & music do not belong to me!! Credit to all original owners. Dividers by @/cafekitsune

A/N: you guys know I love me a lil forbidden trope. I wasn’t planning on doing a part two to this BUT after talking with my babe @ibeliveinunicornsandmagic and scrolling across @mrtynae on tik tok - I couldn’t get the fucking dads best friend trope out of my head and now I NEED to make a part two so I can get to some smutty smut x (shoutout to you btw, if you’re on here PLEASE make yourself known!!! or if anyone follows them tell them secretlysamcro LOVES! - my tik tok is not as inconspicuous as this tumblr lol ) I’m deffo gonna have to write some more about this naughty lil pair hehe, thank you for taking the time to read!!!! Loves u all Xx

xoxo secretlysamcro

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