Please do more of happy and his wife. Maybe she actually gets along with Gemma unlike Tara anc they are good friends and she comes to the clubhouse for a lockdown or something and everyone meets her finally and she brings there dog and someone flirts with happy and he gets out in the doghouse again and maybe they could recreate the scene with Gemma and Tara where they shootout the girls tires and maybe it could have a happy ending like he apologizes or something
idk if you take requests but if you do I’d love love love this!!!!!
i am not the biggest fan of this but i hope you like it :/ in my head her and gemma get manipedis together
wait…gemma’s known haps wife this whole time? (og post)
There’s a reason why Happy didn’t want the club to know about her — the exact reason currently happening, actually. If the club knows that means she’ll have to come to lockdowns and she wants nothing to do with that shit. Happy knows she can protect herself. If it isn’t for the baseball bat in her walk-in closet or the guns hidden around the house, it’s her big ass cane corso. The club doesn’t know that, though. Clay doesn’t know that.
“Hey,” Clay had turned to his wife, eyebrows furrowed and a finger tapping the clear glass holding whiskey in his hand. “You ever seen Haps wife at a lockdown?”
Gemma scoffed, leaning against the bar. “I promise you, she doesn’t need to be here. You think that man would marry a woman who can’t take care of herself with all the nomad shit he does?”
His head tilts to a nod. “Yeah, yeah. She should still be here, though, just to,” He waved his hand behind him at the clubhouse full of Sons and their family members. “Be with everyone. We’re family, her included.”
“Baby,” Gemma started, tossing the rag she’d been cleaning the counter off with to the side. “She’s Haps family — not ours. She don’t want nothing to do with the Sons.”
He considers for a minute before turning around and telling Happy to send her over anyways. Gemma mutters curses under her breath while Hap tries to tell him the same thing, that his wife would rather shoot herself in the fucking head than be there. Hap doesn’t try anything over the phone — it’s worthless arguing over the phone. She’ll hang up and block him until he gets home and apologizes…physically, if you know what I mean.
It takes an hour to get her and Cairo, because obviously she isn’t leaving her baby, in the car. She doesn’t say a single word the whole way, just smokes a cigarette out the window and makes sure Cairo stays on the other end of the car so the ashes don’t fling back in his face. The second they arrive she’s leaving the car; not slamming the door because it’s the beautiful cruiser she’s had her entire life. Hap doesn’t even have a car, but if had been his, there probably wouldn’t have been a passenger sideview mirror anymore.
She plops herself right down on an empty picnic bench with Cairo falling right to her feet. Hap walks back inside, defeated, and praying nobody will try to push her into anger any further than she’s already reached while he isn’t there.
“Thought you were gettin’ the wife,” Clay calls out when he reaches the bar. There’s no way he isn’t making it through this without a drink and knowing his woman, giving her one will lessen his consequences a bit. He nods towards the doors, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of the closest gin.
“Smokin’ outside.” He watches the spot where the picnic table is outside, like he can see through the wooden paneling stuck to the wall.
“Alright,” Clay nods back. “Come bring her to say hi, once she’s done.” Hap finally turns his head to look at the man, face as serious as always.
“You try to get her in here, she’ll kill a couple people. Already about to start shootin’ — that ain’t happenin’.”
Outside, she is proving Happy to be correct. Gemma and Tara stand to her back, close enough to watch her head turn to the random woman in a skimpy outfit trying to pick up a conversation, but too far away to hear what she’s saying.
“Oh, shit,” Gemma mutters. “I gotta go save this whore.”
“What?” She hears Tara ask as she quickly walks over to the picnic table.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” God, Gemma forgot how strong that Jersey accent is. It’s been too long. “But you need to stop talkin’ to me before I pull the glock out of my purse, lady,”
“Alright, tiger,” Gem manages to slide in between the two without getting hit by the hand slinging french tips around. She sends the other woman a look that says ‘she’s-not-fucking-joking-leave’ and watches her scamper away. “You’re not one ounce less of a shrew, huh, baby?”
“Yeah, whatever,” She waves off Gemma, who sends her a fond bump to the bicep before sitting across from her.
“Tara,” Gemma waves her the rest of the way over from where she’d already walked. “Come meet Hap’s wife.” She says her name, pointing to the chain smoking woman with a permanent scowl and a dog half her size sitting next to her.
“Don’t fuckin’ call him that when you sit at the same table as me,” She gestures around like she’s offended by the name.
“Come meet David’s wife, then,” Gemma rolls her eyes as she makes the correction.
“Hi,” Tara sends her a tightlipped but friendly smile. “Big dog you got there.”
“Oh, yeah,” She seems to loosen up at the mention of him. “He’s a sweet boy, though, never done nothin’ wrong a day in his life. Huh, baby? Yeah, you behave much better than your father, don’t you?” She turns back to Gemma, the hand holding her cigarette waving back around again. “I mean, come on, he thinks he can make me come to this shit? He’s got a fuckin’ mind of his own, he thinks that. Been with me ten goddamn years, huh, what’s the point if he makes me come here?”
“You’re so goddamned dramatic,” Gemma shakes her head with a grin, like she’s remembering all the other times she’s heard these rants. She watches Happy come back through the door with the fifth of alcohol and the two glasses. “By tomorrow, you’ll be over it.”
She scoffs, tapping her cigarette in the ash tray as she watched Gemma stand back up next to Tara. “Yeah, ‘cause i’ll have had my way with him tonight,” She grins, winking at the two woman as they start to leave so Hap can sit with her.
“You’re in for an ass reaming,” Gemma mutters to him as they pass by.
“Ain’t I always?” He responds, knowing full well, he wouldn’t want it any other way.
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summary tara went to get him. that was all it took.
prompt – age gap, visiting charter, possessive chibs, Scottish accent, tara gets him, makeout
warnings – age gap (early 20s/40s), intimidation, suggestive content, possessive behaviour
word count – ~3k
note – tara said not on my watch and chibs said hold my drink
requests are open :)
⋆｡°✩ 🎀 ♡ 🎀 ✩°｡⋆
The Tucson charter didn't come to Charming often.
Geography was part of it — the distance made regular visits impractical — but mostly it was temperament. Different leadership, different energy, the particular friction that existed between chapters that had grown separately and only came together when business demanded it. They weren't enemies. They were just distant in the way certain family members were distant — connected by something fundamental, separated by everything else.
Tonight they were here because business required it. Tomorrow they'd be gone.
You'd been navigating it fine. You knew how these nights worked — knew who to talk to, who to give a wide berth, how to move through a room full of men you didn't know who wore the same patch as the men you did. Charming was yours. The Tucson boys were strangers and you'd treated them accordingly. Polite. Present. Unavailable.
Most of them had read that correctly.
Chibs was outside.
A phone call — club business that needed quiet — and he'd stepped out twenty minutes ago with a brief touch to your arm and won't be long, love before disappearing into the night. You'd been fine. You were always fine. You didn't need him in the room to manage yourself.
The problem arrived about ten minutes after he left.
Young — early twenties, the swagger of someone who hadn't yet learned the difference between confidence and recklessness — and he'd found his way to you with the particular determination of someone who had decided the evening's outcome before it started. You'd been polite. You'd been clear. You'd given him every reasonable signal that the conversation was finished and you weren't interested.
He hadn't taken a single one.
"Come on," he said, for what felt like the fourth time, still too close. "I'm just talking to ye."
"And I've told you I'm not interested," you said. Steady. Even. Running low on patience.
"Ye haven't even given me a chance—"
"I've given you several."
He smiled — the kind that thought it was charming — and leaned in slightly. "What, ye waiting on someone?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"Me," said Tara, materialising at your elbow with the calm efficiency of a woman who had made a decision. She looked at the boy with the pleasant, unbothered expression of someone who dealt with difficult situations daily and found this one fairly unremarkable. "And I need her for a minute. Excuse us."
She steered you two steps sideways, turned her back on the boy, and leaned in.
"He's not stopping," she said, low.
"I noticed."
"How long?"
"Close to twenty minutes now."
Tara's expression shifted. She glanced over her shoulder at the boy, who was still hovering with the persistence of someone who hadn't been told no in terms he'd fully processed. Then she looked toward the door.
"I'll be right back," she said.
"Tara, you don't have to—"
She was already moving.
Chibs was leaning against the outside wall, phone to his ear, when Tara pushed through the door.
He read her face in about half a second. Held up one finger, said into the phone, "I'll call ye back," and hung up before the response came.
"What is it," he said.
"Tucson boy," Tara said. "He's been at her for twenty minutes and he won't quit."
That was all she said.
Chibs pushed off the wall and went inside.
He came through the door the way he always did — unhurried, completely certain, the cut already on his shoulders and his expression already doing the work before he'd made it halfway across the room.
You saw him the moment he entered.
The relief was immediate — visible, probably, in the way your shoulders dropped — and then you saw his face properly and everything in you settled. He crossed the room without rushing, people moving out of the way without being asked, and came to stop beside you.
Not in front of the boy. Beside you. Close. His hand settling at the small of your back like it had always lived there, warm and immediate and entirely deliberate, and he looked at the boy across from you with the patient, unhurried attention of a man who was in absolutely no rush at all.
The boy looked at him. Looked at the cut. Started to understand something.
"Alright," Chibs said. Pleasantly. Accent warm and even.
The boy nodded. "Yeah, I was just—"
"Aye," Chibs said. "I can see what ye were doing." He tilted his head slightly. "How old are ye?"
"Twenty three," the boy said, a little uncertain now.
"Twenty three." Chibs repeated it the way he repeated things when he was letting them sit. Then he looked at the boy steadily, directly, with the full attention of a man who had never once needed to raise his voice to make a point. "I heard what ye said earlier. About her wasting her time with someone twice her age."
The boy went still.
"Now," Chibs continued, his voice unchanged, "I'll give ye the benefit of the doubt that ye didn't know whose girl ye were talking to. Because if ye did know—" a small pause, "—we'd be having a very different conversation."
Silence.
"I didn't know," the boy said. Quieter than before.
"I gathered." Chibs nodded once. "And I want to be sure I understand what ye said correctly." He looked at the boy with the particular calm of someone who had made a decision and was taking his time getting there. "Ye implied that I'm too old for her. That she could do better." He paused. "Is that right?"
The boy said nothing. Which was the correct instinct.
"Because here's the thing," Chibs said, still in the same even tone. Still with the same unhurried patience. He glanced at you briefly — warm, private, entirely his — then back at the boy. "Aye, I'm twice her age. I'll not argue with that." He took one step forward, not threatening, just closing the distance enough to make the point land fully. "But I'd wager everything I have that ye couldn't satisfy her the way I can. And she'd tell ye the same."
The room around them had gone very still.
The boy's face had gone red.
"So," Chibs said, pleasantly, as if none of that had just happened, "I think we're done here. Enjoy yer evening."
The boy left. Quickly. In the direction of his own charter without looking back.
Chibs watched him go. Said nothing. Waited until the distance was sufficient.
Then he turned to you.
And before you could say a word he took your face in both hands, tilted it up, and kissed you.
Not soft — thorough. The kind that made a point all on its own, warm and certain and entirely unhurried, his thumbs at your jaw and one hand sliding into your hair. You went with it without thinking, hands finding the front of his cut, and he kissed you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to, which as far as he was concerned you were.
When he finally pulled back his forehead dropped to rest against yours.
"Alright, mo chridhe?" he murmured. Low, just for you.
"Very alright," you said, slightly breathless.
The corner of his mouth pulled up.
Around you, the room had resumed itself — conversations restarting, people looking away with the particular tact of people who had witnessed something and decided it was none of their business. Across the room Tig was saying something to Happy with an expression of profound satisfaction. Happy looked like he was pretending he hadn't seen anything and failing at it.
Tara, from the other side of the clubhouse, caught your eye and raised her glass slightly.
You raised yours back.
"Ye didn't have to say that," you said to Chibs, after a moment. "The thing you said to him."
"Which thing," he said, the picture of innocence.
"You know which thing."
"It was true," he said simply. Completely unbothered. "I was just being honest with the lad."
You looked at him. "That's not why you said it."
"No," he agreed, the almost-smile fully there now. "It was also very satisfying." He looked back out at the room, his arm settling around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Twenty three," he said, more to himself than to you, with the dry tone of someone who had filed something away for later amusement. "Aye."
"Filip."
"He's a child."
"He's the same age as me."
"Ye," Chibs said, looking down at you with the particular expression that made your chest do things, "are nothing like him." He pressed a kiss to your temple. "Not even close."
You shook your head. Leaned into him.
"You're impossible," you said.
"I'm Scottish," he said. "It's different."
Across the room, the Tucson boy was very quietly, very thoroughly ignoring your entire corner of the clubhouse.
Chibs noticed. Said nothing. Drank his drink.
His arm stayed around you for the rest of the night, and he didn't move it once.
summary: jax was never scared of women. until he met the one who didn’t flinch at blood or business. she’s the daughter of a former samcro president — born into the club but never allowed inside. not because she wasn’t loyal. because she wasn’t a man. now she moves product on her own terms. guns, cash, clean ups, disappearances. not anyone’s old lady. not looking for permission.
she runs parallel to the table, never beneath it. and jax?
he can’t stop watching. can’t stop wondering how a woman like her exists — someone just as lethal, just as loyal, and just as fucked up as him.
“What was that?” Y/n asked Jax as he came back into their room having investigated the crashing sound coming from their kitchen.
“Kids are in the kitchen trying to make breakfast.” Jax told her with a mischievous smile on his face.
“Okay? Why?” Y/n raised a brow at him inquisitively.
“They’ve decided it’s Mother’s day week. Said you’re to good for a mom for only one day. I have to agree.” He stated flopping down on the bed next to her.
“So I’m guessing I’m supposed to stay in bed?” She said as she turned to lay on her back.
“Yep. I’ll keep you company, don't worry.” Jax smirked as he moved to lay on top of her.
“Oh I’m sure you will.” Y/n teased smiling up at her handsome husband as he pulled her into a kiss.
Over the last 9 an a half years Jax had proved not to waste the chance Y/n had given him to prove he truly did love her.
In that time the two dated for 2 years and have been married for 7 and half years. In those years of marriage they didn’t push to have kids right away but about a year, year and half later Y/n did end up getting pregnant.
Thomas Able Teller was their first born son at 5 years old now. They also have Hayden Harley Teller, their daughter who was 3 years old. The two were loved immensely by Jax and Y/n but they were loved a ton by the club as well.
Jax and Y/n had never felt the kind of love they hold for each other for anyone else. Jax hated that he wasted so much time when he could’ve been this happy all along.
Jax had been determined to prove to Y/n that he truly loved her and wanted to be with her and her only. He hasn’t even looked at the crow eaters, sweetbutts, or any women on the road or at home since that day at her place. He doesn’t want anyone else, Jax has the only woman he’s ever wanted. He put a tattoo and a ring on it. Just as she did to him.
As they laid there in bed waiting for their kids to come into the room, Jax traced the tattoo y/n had on the side of her ribs. It hurt like a bitch but was worth it. Y/n didn’t get the normal crow. Y/n’s tattoo was a reaper, the Sons Of Anarchy reaper. Y/n and Jax had gotten matching tattoos on their wrists as a claim on each other to each other. They were always in view to everyone.
“What are the plan’s for today?” Y/n asked him wondering what was planned.
“Need to pick some stuff up and take it to TM.” Jax shrugged his shoulder, that’s all that really needed to be done today.
“You want company?” Y/n questioned him with a raised brow as she ran a hand through his hair.
“You know I’ll never turn down you being with me.” He smirked at her moving in to kiss her again.
“We have incoming.” Y/n joked second’s before the bedroom door opened, Thomas and Hayden came in with cereal and toast on plates. They climbed up on the bed to join their mom and dad. It was a good morning, once the food devoured they all got dressed and headed out.
“What are we picking up?” Y/n asked, grabbing two cart’s as they entered the grocery store.
“Beer, and some food.” Jax told her.
“Maybe we should pick up stuff and BBQ at TM tonight.” Y/n looked at her husband, wondering his thoughts on her suggestion.
“You are the best wife ever.” Jax smiled at her and leaned over to plant a kiss on her lips.
Once they got themselves and the kids dressed the four of them headed to the store together to get supplies for the BBQ.
“I’ll get soda and Juice boxes. You got the stuff we originally came here for and we’ll meet up at the meat station.” Y/n was thinking about everything they’d need for the BBQ.
“Yes ma'am.” He loved when she took charge of situations.
“Who’s going with who?” Y/n asked looking at the kids, it was easier to have me go with each of them when they split up in stores. So they didn’t try to find the other parent and get lost. Thomas grabbed Y/n’s leg’s and Hayden grabbed Jax’s. “I guess that settles that.” Y/n laughed.
Little did the couple know they were being watched from the moment they got out of the car. Tara Knowles was back in Charming after 10 years, and she was not welcome back. Tara didn’t expect to be welcomed back, her and Y/n hadn’t spoken in the past decade. Samcro never liked her either so there was that to. She had a great life in Chicago but she felt like coming back and seeing if Jax would come with her this time. She could get him away from the stupid club and finally have him be who she wanted him to be. Before she left it felt nice to have the boy every girl wanted, it felt powerful. Although she didn’t get what her sister saw in Jax or the club. But in Chicago she hadn’t had many relationships and she wanted the one she could control back.
Tara stood there watching Jax and Y/n, it wasn’t hard to put together that they were married judging by the ring’s Tara could see on their fingers. Tara couldn’t believe they actually got together, and judging by the kids who looked just like the couple they had been together for a while.
That didn’t deter Tara though, she took Jax from her sister once. MArriage and kids wouldn’t change that.
At least that's what Tara thought. But Jax and Y/n’s relationship had never been stronger.
Once Y/n and Jax were done shopping they headed over to the club.
“Whose idea was the BBQ-ing?” Gemma asked her son as she approached him unloading the car and handing stuff off to Juice to put away.
“Y/n/n’s.” Jax answered, shutting the trunk.
“Always thinking of others that one.” Gemma smirked, proudly of her daughter-in-law’s idea. She was the daughter Gemma never had.
“That’s why I think of her.” Jax smiled looking off towards his wife who was helping Thomas and Hayden on the swings. Y/n always was thinking of others so Jax made sure to take care of her since sometimes she forgets to take care of herself.
“You’re doing a good job baby. I’m proud of you.” Gemma kissed her son’s cheek as she to admired her son’s wife playing with her grandchildren.
“It’s all because of her, Ma.” Jax liked his lips, he couldn’t take credit for all of it.
“But you chose to be the man she deserves. That’s all you baby. You made yourself a better man.” She patted his shoulder.
“She’s the best decision I ever made.” He smiled with what could only be described as heart eye’s as he continued to watch Y/n.
“We can all agree on that, Jackie.” Chibs smiled agreeing with their VP, they all had been waiting years for the two to get together.
“Took you long enough.” Tig huffed with a shit eating grin.
“He just had to get his head out of his ass.” Clay smirked, wrapping his arm around Gemma.
“Yeah, yeah I get it.” Jax waved off their teasing and walked over towards his wife and children. Jax and Y/n played with the kids on the playset enjoying time together with their family. That was till a certain someone walked into the TM lot.
“Jax.” Opie called out to warn him that his attention was needed.
“What the fuck is she doing in town?” Tig furrowed his brow.
“Wha the fuck is she doing here?” Chibs narrowed his eyes at the unwelcome woman.
“You’re not welcome here.” Gemma stated with crossed arms and a glare that could send someone straight to hell.
The second everyone saw the brunette standing there things became tense. Luckily most of the other’s like Donna and the kid’s hadn’t shown up yet.
“I’m not here to talk to you Gemma.” Tara glared at the older woman who had never liked her. She always preferred Y/n.
“Well no one here wants to talk to ya lass.” Chibs spoke glaring at the woman.
“I’m here to see, Jax.” Tara rolled her eyes, ignoring the Scottish biker.
“He’s busy with his family. You need to leave.” Opie spoke up, stepping forward, he was not going to let Tara come back and ruin his bestfriends happiness together.
“Family? Give me a break. She let’s him fuck her because she misses me and end’s up pregnant. That’s his family?” Tara scoffed, shaking her head in denial.
“That’s it.” Jax snapped moving to go to Tara and put a stop to all of this once and for all.
“Jax-” Y/n didn’t want him to lose his cool in front of their kids, that was why she hadn’t stomped over to beat the crap out of her sister.
Jax heaved Y/n’s warning knowing what she meant in the tone she called his name out in. But Tara was not going to talk about her like that.
“Get off my lot, and get the hell out of my town. And if you so much as insult my family again you don’t want to know what I’ll do.” Jax growled as he towered over the dark haired woman who just walked in not giving a damn.
“Come one, Jax. You’ve obviously played house, now come back to the real thing.” Tara reached up to cup the back of his neck but Jax pushed her hand away and took a step back shaking his head.
“I have the real thing, and you ain’t it.” Jax spat at her, how she had the audacity to come here in the first place blew his mind.
“Yeah and what’s she to you Jax? Hmm? Because as I remember it I’m the one who has your crow.” She threw out as she moved her sight’s to look at Y/n as she spoke the last sentence. Tara wore a smirk as she looked at her sister.
Those words everyone knew were aimed to cut Y/n deep, and that pissed everyone off. Especially Jax.
“Yeah, well Y/n got something a lot more meaningful. To me and the club. Your crow mean’s nothing, you should get it removed Tara. Because you mean nothing to me, nothing to this club, family and town.” Jax was trying with all his might to control his anger but Tara was making it extremely difficult.
He wore a proud smile talking about Y/n’s tattoos but his whole facial expression darkened when he continued after that.
“Oh come on Jax. You left whatever you two had once for me.” Tara pointed out with a cocky smile on her lips.
“Get it through your thick skull. We are nothing and we’ll never be anything again. You used me before and that will never happen again.” Jax stated hoping she’d get the hint and leave and never come back. But since she was going to try and tear Y/n down, why not rub it in how much he loves his wife. “I love her for who she is and she loves me for who I am. That’s something you’ll never have.”
“You’ll regret it.” Tara couldn’t believe he really wasn’t choosing her over everyone else.
“No, I won’t. Because I have everything I could ever want.” Jax smiled watching Tara leave the lot pissed but Jax felt relief. Relief that she was gone and that he got to say all of that to her face.
Jax turned heading back to Y/n’s side, he noticed Thomas and Hayden were now with Chibs and Tig by the picnic tables.
“I’m sorry.” Jax apologized approaching Y/n he knew it wasn’t an emotional free situation especially with how Tara was on purposely saying things to put Y/n down.
“Neither of us knew she was in town. It’s not your fault. She thinks she’s an entitled bitch.” Y/n shrugged, it wasn’t anyone's fault her bitchy sister decided to show up and try her luck.
“You’re all I have ever wanted. You gave me love, understanding and my own little family. I love you Darlin.” Jax reached up to run a hand through Y/n’s hair and wrapped the other around her waist.
“I love you too Jax.” Y/n spoke, pulling him into a passionate kiss. They were with each other, right where they have always belonged.
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The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in your hospital room when you first woke up. Your head felt foggy, and you couldn't quite remember how you'd ended up here. The stark white walls and antiseptic smell made everything feel surreal. You were just starting to drift back to sleep when the sound of heavy boots echoed down the hallway, followed by what could only be described as controlled chaos.
"Jesus Christ, Hap, you can't just stare at people like that," came Jax's voice from the corridor.
"I'm not staring. I'm observing," Happy's monotone response drifted through the door.
You couldn't help but smile despite the dull ache in your head.
They'd come.
Of course they'd come.
The door burst open, and suddenly your quiet hospital room was filled with leather, denim, and the unmistakable presence of SAMCRO.
Jax entered first, his blonde hair slightly disheveled, blue eyes immediately scanning you for signs of serious injury. Behind him came the rest of the crew, each one looking distinctly out of place in the sterile medical environment.
"Hey there, lass," Chibs was at your bedside in seconds, his accent thick with concern. His scarred face softened as he took in your appearance, and you could see the relief washing over him. "How ye feelin', love?"
"Like I got hit by a truck," you managed, your voice hoarse. "But better now that you're all here."
Chibs reached out to gently stroke your hair, his touch impossibly tender for such rough hands. "Scared the hell out of us, ye did. When we got the call..." He trailed off, jaw tightening. "I was already on my bike before Clay finished tellin' me what happened."
A sharp wave of pain shot through your abdomen, making you wince and clutch at your stomach. The medication they'd given you earlier wasn't touching the severity of it.
"Easy, lass," Chibs murmured, his hand immediately finding yours. "The pain still bad?"
You nodded, not trusting your voice as another wave hit.
"Juice," Jax called over, "come here. She needs distraction."
Juice scrambled over, his eyes wide with concern. "Oh man, okay, distraction. I can do that. Um, did you know that the human brain processes visual information 60,000 times faster than text? That's why, like, when you're in pain, sometimes looking at something can help more than just thinking about other stuff, you know? Like, there's this whole thing about how visual cortex stimulation can actually interfere with pain signals, and I read this study once where they had people look at these really complex patterns and it literally reduced their pain responses by like thirty percent, which is actually pretty amazing when you think about it because—"
"Juice," Opie interrupted gently, "breathe, man."
"Right, sorry, I'm rambling. I do that when I'm nervous. But hey, did I tell you about the time I accidentally hacked into the hospital's system trying to get better WiFi? Because that's actually a really funny story, well, funny now, terrifying at the time because I thought I was going to get arrested, but basically what happened was—"
Another sharp pain made you grip Chibs's hand tighter, and Juice immediately launched into an even more elaborate story about his various technological mishaps, his words tumbling over each other in his effort to keep your mind occupied.
While Chibs fussed over you and Jax pulled up chairs for everyone, Happy had positioned himself by the door like a leather-clad sentinel. His arms were crossed, and he was staring intensely at every hospital staff member who dared to walk by your room.
A young nurse with a medication cart froze in the doorway, her eyes wide as she took in Happy's imposing figure and the tattoos ceiling around his muscles like snakes.
"Um, I need to check on the patient," she squeaked.
Happy said nothing, just nodded and continued staring. The poor girl looked like she might faint.
"Hap," you called weakly, "your terrorizing the nurse."
"I'm not terrorizing anyone," he replied in his flat tone, though you caught the slight twitch of his lips. "I'm observing. "
"You're being creepy, man" Juice chimed in, then immediately looked like he regretted speaking when Happy's gaze turned to him.
The nurse finally gathered enough courage to scurry past Happy, who tracked her movement like a predator watching prey. She fumbled with her equipment, hands shaking as she tried to take your vitals.
"Bet you get to see all sorts of veins?" Happy asked her conversationally.
The nurse's face went pale. "I... what?"
"Lots of veins," Happy muttered. "Very accessible."
"HAPPY," everyone shouted in unison.
"What? I was making conversation."
The nurse finished her tasks in record time and practically sprinted from the room. You couldn't help but laugh despite the pain, which made your ribs ache but felt good anyway.
"Nice work, Hap," Tig called out. "You've got a real gift for making people uncomfortable."
"It's a talent," Happy replied seriously.
"More like a superpower," Jax added with a grin. "We should put it on your resume. 'Happy Lowman: Professional Intimidator.'"
"'Will stare at your enemies until they wet themselves,'" Opie added in a deadpan voice, which made everyone chuckle.
Happy actually looked pleased.
While Happy continued his intimidation campaign in the doorway, Tig had become fascinated with the various medical equipment in your room. He was currently examining the blood pressure cuff with the intensity of a scientist studying a new species.
"You know, this would make excellent restraints," he mused, wrapping the cuff around his own wrist and pumping it up.
"Tig, no," Jax said without looking up from where he was arranging the flowers they'd brought.
"I'm just saying, the medical field has really advanced in the bondage department," Tig continued, now trying to figure out how to deflate the cuff. "This is way more sophisticated than handcuffs."
"Tig, seriously, stop playing with—"
"OH GOD, IT'S STUCK!" Tig's voice shot up an octave as he frantically pulled at the cuff, which had apparently tightened around his wrist. "IT'S CUTTING OFF MY CIRCULATION!"
Chibs sighed and moved to help him, pressing the release valve while muttering something that probably wasn't appropriate for mixed company. "Ye daft bastard, it's got a release valve."
"You're an idiot," Opie said fondly, shaking his head.
"A sexy idiot," Tig corrected, rubbing his wrist. "Who almost lost a hand in the name of science."
"In the name of stupidity," Clay corrected from his corner.
"Hey now, there's a fine line between stupidity and curiosity," Tig protested.
"Yeah, and you crossed it about five miles back," Jax said with a smirk.
Tig immediately moved on to investigating the adjustable bed controls. "Ooh, what does this do?"
Before anyone could stop him, he'd pressed a button, and your bed began to fold in half.
"TIG!" you yelped as you were suddenly jackknifed in the middle.
"Sorry, sorry!" He frantically pushed buttons, making the bed go up and down like a carnival ride. "How do I fix this?"
"Just... stop... pushing... buttons!" you managed between bounces.
Juice rushed over to help, but in his haste, he tripped over the power cord and unplugged half the equipment in the room. Alarms started beeping, and the lights on your monitors went dark.
"Shit, shit, shit," Juice scrambled to plug everything back in while Tig continued his battle with the bed controls.
"Are you trying to kill her?" Clay asked, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that made everyone freeze.
"It was an accident!" Tig protested. "I was just trying to make her more comfortable!"
"By folding her in half?" Opie raised an eyebrow.
"The bed is very versatile!"
The chaos was interrupted by the sharp click of heels on linoleum. Gemma Teller-Morrow swept into the room like a force of nature, her dark hair perfectly styled, designer purse clutched in her manicured hands.
"What the hell is going on in here?" she demanded, taking in the scene, Tig still wrestling with the bed controls, Juice on the floor trying to untangle power cords, Happy scaring another nurse in the doorway, and you looking like you'd just survived a tornado.
"We're visiting," Jax said innocently.
"Visiting?" Gemma's voice could have cut glass. "It sounds like you're demolishing the place."
"We're being supportive," Tig added helpfully.
"You're being shitheads," Gemma corrected sharply. "All of you."
"Ma—" Jax started.
"Don't 'Ma' me, Jackson. Your supposed to be making her feel better, not giving her a migraine."
Clay snorted. "Tell us how you really feel, Gem."
"I feel like I'm surrounded by a bunch of grown men who have the emotional intelligence of toddlers," she shot back. "Which, let's be honest, isn't far from the truth."
She surveyed the room with the eye of a general assessing a battlefield, then immediately went into full mother mode. "Everyone out."
"Ma—" Jax started.
"OUT." Gemma's tone brooked no argument. "You're stressing her out, and she needs rest, not whatever circus act you idiots are putting on."
"But we just got here," Juice protested weakly.
"And you've already broken half the equipment in the room," Gemma pointed out. "Go get coffee. Come back in an hour when you've all remembered how to behave like civilized human beings instead of a pack of wild animals."
"We're not that bad," Tig said with a pout.
"Trager, you tried to turn medical equipment into sex toys."
"I was being innovative!"
"You were being a shithead. Now go."
The men began to file out, but Chibs hesitated by your bedside. "I don't want to leave ye, lass."
Gemma's expression softened slightly. "Twenty minutes, Filip. Then you go get something to eat."
Chibs nodded gratefully and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll be right back, lass."
Once the room had cleared except for Gemma, the older woman immediately began straightening up, fluffing your pillows and adjusting your blankets with the efficiency of someone who'd been taking care of people her entire life.
"Men," she said with fond exasperation. "They mean well, but they have the finesse of a bull in a china shop."
"They were just worried," you said softly, wincing as another wave of pain hit.
"Oh, honey, we were all worried." Gemma's tough exterior cracked slightly. "When Chibs got that call, I thought he was going to lose his mind. I've never seen him move so fast. He was already halfway to his bike before anyone could stop him."
She settled into the chair beside your bed, her expression serious. "What happened, sweetheart? And don't give me any of that 'I'm fine' bullshit. I can see right through that."
You found yourself telling Gemma everything - how you'd been feeling overwhelmed lately, how you'd been trying to handle things on your own, how you'd apparently pushed yourself too hard. She listened without judgment, occasionally reaching out to squeeze your hand.
"You don't have to carry everything alone," she said finally. "That's what family is for. And like it or not, you're family now."
"I didn't want to be a burden—"
"Stop." Gemma's voice was firm but kind. "You're not a burden. You're one of us. And we take care of our own."
The door opened quietly, and Chibs peeked in. "How are ye feelin', lass?" Chibs approached your bed as if you were made of spun glass.
"Tired," you admitted. "But better. The pain's starting to ease up a little."
He settled carefully on the edge of the bed, his hand finding yours. "I was so scared," he said quietly. "When I saw ye lying here..."
"I'm okay," you assured him. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Ye better not," he said, his accent thick with emotion. "I can't lose ye, lass. I just can't."
Your moment of peace was interrupted by the sound of arguing in the hallway. Through the small window in the door, you could see Tig apparently having a animated discussion with a doctor while the rest of the crew watched.
"What is he doing now?" Gemma sighed.
"I think he's trying to get medical advice," Chibs said, squinting through the glass. "For his... proclivities."
"Oh, for Christ's sake," Gemma muttered, standing up. "I'll be right back."
She marched out of the room, and you could hear her voice cutting through the discussion. "Tiggy, what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I was just asking about the therapeutic benefits of—"
"NO. Whatever you were asking, the answer is no."
"But Gemma—"
"No buts. Literally. Leave the poor doctor alone."
About an hour later, there was a soft knock on the door. Bobby poked his head in, looking around cautiously.
"Coast clear?" he asked in a stage whisper.
"Come in, Bobby," you said with a smile. "Gemma's gone to get coffee."
Bobby slipped inside, and you noticed he was carrying a small paper bag that he was trying to hide behind his back.
"How you feeling, sweetheart?" he asked, settling into the chair beside your bed.
"Better. The pain medication is finally starting to work."
"Good, good." He glanced toward the door, then leaned in conspiratorially. "I brought you something. The good stuff."
Your eyes widened slightly. "Bobby, I don't think I should—"
"Not that kind of good stuff," he chuckled, pulling the bag from behind his back.
"The really good stuff." He said with a grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows.
He opened the bag to reveal homemade cookies, the smell of chocolate chip and something else wonderful wafting out.
"You baked for me ?" you asked, surprised.
"Shhh," he said, looking around dramatically. "I figured you could use some real comfort food, not whatever cardboard they're serving you in this place."
"Bobby, these smell amazing."
"Secret ingredient," he said with a wink. "Biker Loveeeee. Or maybe the extra vanilla. Don't tell Gemma I'm feeding you cookies before dinner."
You took a bite, and it was like a warm hug in food form. "These are incredible."
"Been perfecting the recipe for years," he said proudly. "Started baking when I was trying to quit drinking. Keeps the hands busy, you know?"
"Well, these are definitely the good stuff."
"Damn right they are. And there's more where that came from. You just focus on getting better, and I'll keep you supplied with proper baked goods."
The door opened, and Chibs walked in, immediately suspicious. "What's that smell?"
"Nothing," Bobby said quickly, shoving the bag behind his back again.
"Bobby," Chibs said in a warning tone.
"It's cookies," you said, not wanting to get Bobby in trouble. "He brought me cookies."
"Can I have one, Love?" Chibs said with a wolfish grin reaching for the bag
"Get your own," Bobby said, as you clutched the bag in mock defense. "These are for the patient."
As the day wore on, the crew settled into a more manageable routine. They took turns sitting with you, each bringing their own particular brand of comfort and chaos.
Juice had become your unofficial pain management specialist, launching into increasingly elaborate stories whenever he saw you wince. "So there was this one time I was trying to upgrade the security system at the clubhouse, right? And I may have accidentally connected it to the neighbor's garage door opener, which sounds innocent enough, but you have to understand that Mrs. Henderson has this really specific schedule for when she puts her car away, and suddenly every time someone walked past the motion sensor, her garage door would start opening and closing like it was having a seizure, and she thought her house was haunted..."
His rambling stories were oddly comforting, the steady stream of words giving your mind something to focus on besides the dull ache in your stomach.
Even Clay's usual gruff demeanor replaced by something almost paternal as he squeezed your shoulder and promised that everything would be handled while you recovered.
"These sumbags giving you any lip?" he asked, gesturing toward the rest of the crew with a smirk.
"No more then usual," you replied with a weak smile.
"Good. If they get out of line, you let me know. I'll sort them out."
But it was Chibs who never left your side for long. He'd pulled his chair as close to your bed as possible, his hand almost constantly touching yours, as if he needed the physical contact to reassure himself that you were really okay.
"Ye scared ten years off my life today," he murmured during one of your quiet moments together.
"I'm sorry," you whispered back.
"Don't be sorry, lass. Just... promise me ye'll tell me when things get too much. I can't protect ye from everything, but I can damn well try."
"I promise."
The afternoon brought more visitors, each member of the crew cycling through with their own brand of support. Tig had convinced a nurse to let him wheel you around the ward "for exercise," which had resulted in him racing down the hallway until Gemma caught him and threatened to tie him to a chair.
"I was being therapeutic!" he protested.
"You nearly ran over an elderly man with a walker." Gemma corrected.
"He was moving really slow!"
"He was ninety-three years old, you moron!"
Happy had taken up permanent residence outside your door, his intimidation factor having reached legendary status among the hospital staff. A new nurse had tried to enter your room earlier, taken one look at Happy's tattooed scowl, and immediately turned around and walked the other way.
"I think you're scaring away the medical professionals," you told him.
"Good," he replied. "They bother you too much."
"They're just doing their job."
"So am I."
"Your job is to terrify healthcare workers?"
"Today it is."
As evening approached and visiting hours were ending, the crew began to say their goodbyes. Each man stopped by your bed, offering their own version of comfort and promising to check on you tomorrow.
Happy, surprisingly, was the most touching. He stood awkwardly by your bed for a moment before leaning down and very gently kissing your cheek "Feel better," he said in his monotone voice. "I'll keep scaring the nurses for you."
"Thank you, Hap." you said, meaning it.
Tig bounded over with his usual energy, but his hug was surprisingly gentle. "Next time you need to use medical equipment, call me first. I'm practically an expert now."
"I'll keep that in mind," you laughed.
"And if you need any more... therapeutic consultations, you know where to find me," he added with a wink.
"Tig," Jax warned.
"What? I'm being supportive!"
"You're being inappropriate."
"I'm being multifaceted."
Juice was the hardest to get rid of, still rambling as he gathered his things. "So I was thinking maybe tomorrow I could bring my laptop and show you this documentary about pain management through audio frequencies, because there's actually some really interesting research about how certain sound waves can interfere with pain signals, and I know you were hurting earlier so I thought maybe it could help, plus I have this really good noise-canceling headphones that might make it more effective, and—"
"Juice," Opie said gently, "she needs to rest."
"Right, sorry, rest is important for healing, I read that somewhere, or maybe I heard it on a podcast, but either way, sleep is when your body does most of its repair work, so I should probably go and let you sleep, but I'll be back tomorrow with the documentary and maybe some of those crackers you like from the vending machine, the ones with the cheese, not the peanut butter ones because those are disgusting—"
"JUICE," everyone said in unison.
"Okay, okay, I'm going. Feel better!" He finally left, still talking to himself as he walked down the hall.
Even Gemma seemed reluctant to leave, fussing over your blankets one more time. "You call if you need anything," she said firmly. "Anything at all."
"I will."
"I mean it. Day or night. Sweetheart."
"I know. Thank you Gem."
Finally, it was just you and Chibs. The room felt enormous with just the two of you, and suddenly all the emotions of the day caught up with you.
"I really scared you, didn't I?" you asked quietly.
"Terrified me," he admitted. "When I got that call, I thought... I thought I might lose ye before I ever got to tell ye how much ye mean to me."
"Chibs—"
"No, let me say this." He took your hand in both of his, his calloused fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "I love ye, lass. More than I've ever loved anyone. And I know I'm not much to look at, and I know the life I lead isn't safe or easy, but—"
"I love you too," you interrupted softly.
His eyes widened. "Ye do?"
"Of course I do. How could I not?"
The smile that spread across his scarred face was blinding. "Ye have no idea how long I've wanted to hear ye say that."
"I'm sorry it took me ending up in the hospital to say it."
"Don't care how I got to hear it, lass. Just matters that I did."
He leaned down and kissed you softly, and you tasted relief and love and the promise of tomorrow on his lips.
"Get some rest," he murmured against your forehead. "I'll be here first thing in the morning."
"You don't have to—"
"Try and stop me," he said with a grin. "Besides, someone needs to make sure Tig doesn't try to reprogram your bed again."
"And someone needs to make sure Bobby doesn't sneak me too many cookies."
"Aye, that too. Though I have to admit, they were pretty good."
"Don't tell him I said this, but they were amazing."
"Your secret's safe with me, lass."
As he gathered his things to leave, he paused at the door. "Sweet dreams, lass. I'll be thinking of ye."
"Chibs?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. All of you. For caring so much."
"Always, lass. Always."
And as the door closed behind him, you settled back into your pillows with a smile, Bobby's cookie wrapper crumpled in your hand. Tomorrow would bring more chaos, more laughter, more of the beautiful madness that came with being part of the SAMCRO family. But tonight, you were surrounded by the warmth of knowing you were loved, protected, and cherished by the most unlikely family you could have ever imagined.
The heart monitor beeped steadily beside you, and for the first time all day, it sounded like a lullaby.
