#soa hc

Jax:

Gets grumpy because he knows that you know it’s the most effective tactic you’ve got up your sleeve.

He’ll try to keep talking for about .5 seconds into the kiss before he gives up and gives into it.

When you break the kiss he’ll try to continue with, “As I was saying,” but all you gotta do is kiss him again and he’ll usually give it up.

He’ll roll his eyes and shake his head at you, but the smirk on his face gives him away. Never has he ever tried to stop you or push you away when he does it, so all the eyerolls in the world can’t fool you.

Will do it back to you when you’re getting worked up over little stuff. Partially for revenge, but also because it works just as well on you as it does on him.

Opie:

He’s the king of avoiding difficult conversations so you know he eats that shit up if you’re using it to distract him from him getting worked up about something.

Opie has never been a chatterbox to begin with, and he never really puts up much of a fight to finish whatever he was trying to say.

You can feel that his body is tense for a moment, but the second he realizes that you’re very kindly letting him know he should drop whatever the current topic was, he relaxes into it immediately.

He’s never won an argument against you yet and he knows it’s certainly not going to start in that moment, so instead of fighting it he’ll just scoop you up and carry you off.

Later on, when everything is said and done, he’ll tell you, “We do gotta talk about it eventually, you know.” And you nod in response, “Yea, eventually.”

Juice:

Catches him off-guard every single time, no matter how many times you do it. Which is...a lot.

It’s the best way you’ve figured out so far to keep him from spiraling too far when he’s rambling. It’s not a permanent fix, but a good temporary distraction.

You always cup his face in both your hands as you do it, and it always takes him a minute to realize what’s going on- he freezes up, eyebrows raised and the whole nine yards.

But it’s you. And he thinks about the fact that it’s you and then that thought is the only one in his head.

When you pull your lips away form his, there’s always a slightly dazed look in his eyes and a small smile tugging at his lips. He’ll let out a nervous, sometimes slightly embarrassed chuckle as he tells you, “You’re really good at that.” You laugh as you lean in to kiss him again, thumbs tracing his cheeks, “Practice makes perfect.”

Chibs:

He knows every trick in the book, including that one.

It’s not super effective in stopping a discussion or an argument, but he’ll still let you try because the man isn’t going to say no to kissing you.

Even if you break up his sentence multiple times, with multiple kisses, he’ll still continue to forge onwards.

You’ll huff and roll your eyes as you admit defeat. But just to continue to inconvenience him, you’ll continue to kiss him.

“We coulda had this talk done awhile ago, y’know,” he’ll remind you with a shake of his head. You know he’s right but that’s not the point- it’s the principle of the thing. So you just kiss him again.

He’ll make the comment that he always lets you finish what you’re saying when you’re trying to talk, and it takes all of your self-control not to tell him that these types of tactics always work both ways. You don’t want to give him that much power, though, so instead you settle for dragging out discussions in the funnest way you know how.

Happy:

Isn’t used to the tables being turned on him like that.

He’s used that trick with you countless times to try and distract you out of being frustrated with something (especially him), but he didn’t expect to have it used against him.

His annoyance persists, “I was talking.” And you shrug, “I know,” and kiss him again.

Bonus points if you have to pluck the toothpick out of his mouth to do it.

He lets you, even if it’s begrudgingly at first. He might be frustrated but he’s not an idiot, he’s not going to turn down a chance to kiss you. He might not always be the best at initiating affection, but the man never puts up a real fight when you start it.

Even if he tries not to give into it at first, by the end of it he usually forgets what he was originally talking about, and you can safely say that your mission is accomplished.

Tig:

Use this as your method at your own risk because it will never end with just a kiss.

Which realistically is half the reason you do it anyway. Everybody wins.

Sometimes he’ll go off on ridiculous tangents solely because he knows you fully intend to kiss him to shut him up and that’s much more fun for him than him simply just going up to you and kissing you, even though the outcome will be the same.

You’re both aware of the game but that’s what makes it so fun.

What also makes it fun is the fact that when he tries to do it to you, you fight him on it. He always looks so offended and that’s when you give in. It’s fun to just watch him get mad about it for a second.

A+ hands-down most effective way of getting what you want or getting out of any discussion ever.

Kozik:

He should see it coming but never does.

He’s an easily distractible boy and this scenario is no different.

Of all the ways you tell him that he’s getting carried away, or worked up over nothing, it’s truly his favorite.

Whatever thought he was originally in the middle of instantly goes out the window and all he cares about from that second on is kissing you. Which is what you prefer.

When you’re done kissing him and you pull away, you can see it clearly on his face that he’s in a completely different headspace than he was a few moments before.

He’ll chuckle, shake his head, say, “Anyway...” before moving onto the next thing.

Half-Sack:

Shocked and wears it all over his entire face each time.

It’s the same kind of surprised look he has over most of the things that you say and do.

Despite the shock, he always gives in. It only takes him about .2 seconds to do that, too.

He’s never one to put up much of a fight over anything with you, so the second you cup his face and kiss him, he instantly quits while he’s ahead.

He gives you a little smirk afterwards, “I should stop, huh?” You laugh, nodding in agreement, “Yea, you should stop.”

Ezekiel:

Usually too wrapped up in whatever he’s saying to even see it coming.

It’s good for him, though. You’re good for him.

It’s hard to get him out of his own head sometimes, especially if he’s off on a tangent about something, but it’s a trick that pretty much always works.

And if it doesn’t distract him entirely, it is usually enough to make him realize that he needs to check himself a little bit. For a few moments, all he’s thinking about is every single time you’ve kissed him, and it’s nice to get a wave of welcome memories.

He’ll give you a little shake of his head and apologize, and in return you’ll smile, giving him another soft kiss on the lips.

Angel:

Knows it’s coming the second he sees you reaching for his face. And he lets it happen.

He knows it’s the politest way you know how to tell him to shut up. And truthfully, he’s glad you’re doing it that way because it means you aren’t mad.

He’ll shake his head and roll his eyes at you. Sometimes if he wants to be a real pain, he’ll tilt his chin up to make it more difficult for you to get to him, but he always, always gives in.

He tries to be slick about it but you can see the smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth.

Even though he’s more than content to drop the subject, a lot of the time he’ll start talking again just to get you to kiss him again, and that’s an opportunity neither of you will pass up.

Coco:

Makes a valiant effort to not be thrown off from the initial discussion, but usually isn’t successful.

“No, c’mon, ma, I’m serious,” he shakes his head and pulls away from you. You laugh and nod, “Yea, I know. I’m serious too, so c’mere,” and you pull him closer to you.

He’s shaking his head at you up until the very moment that your lips catch his.

Once that happens, though, he realizes that whatever it was, can wait. It’s so much easier to be kissing you than to be mad about something else- there will be time for that later.

He might grumble about it after the fact, but if you try to pull away he’ll always pull you right back in for another.

Bishop:

He’s another one who knows all the tricks, and knows exactly what you’re planning to do the second that you think of it. He can see it in your eyes.

He’ll continue talking though, not wanting to rob you of the opportunity, or rob himself of it, if he’s being honest.

He’s been told a million ways by a million people that he’s gotta ease up, or let things go. But the best, softest way he’s ever encountered is when you kiss him.

It’s not always easy for him to let go of whatever it is that’s bothering him, but he always makes an honest effort. The feeling of your lips against his is a pretty good start at forgetting his frustrations.

He leans into your touch with a slight nod, “Alright, sweetheart, I’m done. Promise,” and he’ll kiss you once more for good measure.

Gilly:

Has yet to figure out that you’re doing it to shut him up.

Truthfully, it’s better for everyone that it stays that way. It insures that it will continue to be an effective tactic.

He always is thrown off a little when you do it, because you usually do it mid-sentence. Sometimes he’ll ask why, or what you’re doing. But if you carry on like everything is normal, it usually has the desired effect and he’ll forget just how frustrated he was about something before you did it.

He’ll look at you, confusion on his face, “What was that for?” You just shrug in response, “Because I love you.” The confusion doesn’t disappear from his face but he always returns the sentiment, “Yea, love you too.”

Taza:

“That’s not always going to work, you know,” he’ll shake his head at you when you pull your lips off of his. You bat your eyelashes at him, cupping the side of his face in your hand, “But it’ll work this time?”

The answer to that question is almost always yes.

You can feel the laughter rumbling in his chest when you kiss him, because he knows exactly what you’re doing and he’s content to let it happen.

It takes a lot for him to get worked up, and usually if you’re kissing him to shut him up it’s because a tangent has gone on for a few beats too long.

He likes the loving hint, though. Even if he gives you a hard time about it.

Riz:

Very earnestly tries to keep making whatever point you’re attempting to distract him from.

“Please, querida, you gotta listen,” he’ll shake his head at you as you continue to try and derail the conversation. “I will,” you reassure him, “later.”

He opens his mouth to try to argue but before he can, you’re kissing him. And for as stubborn of a man as he can be, one thing he’s not going to do is stop kissing you once he’s started.

Even if the discussion picks up again later, it’s always calmer than it was the first time around, and that’s all you really wanted to begin with. And, if you manage to have a little fun in the process, it’s not the worst thing in the world.

Creeper:

You always catch him mid-sentence.

He freezes up for a moment. It takes a second for his brain to switch gears, but once he does he’s all about it.

Frustrations be damned, he’s going to take advantage of every opportunity to give you affection and love that he can, even if it means he’s gotta sidebar whatever is frustrating him at the time.

You love that about him, that even when something is bothering him he can flip that switch for you.

Whatever it was, you always end up circling back to it later. And, when you do, he’ll always shoot you a little smirk and tell you, “Alright you gotta let me get it all out this time, mama.”

Hank:

He will completely forget whatever he was trying to say. His mind goes 110% blank the second you kiss him.

Despite how frustrated he might’ve been only seconds beforehand, he will immediately wrap his arms around you and pull you closer.

He doesn’t usually see it coming, but that doesn’t really matter because whatever was happening before that moment doesn’t matter anymore anyway.

A little while after the fact it usually clicks with him that you did it with the intent to shut him up, and that you have a 100% success rate in doing so. The more he thinks about it, the more he can’t help but to just chuckle and shake his head at you.

Bonus- Nestor:

Doesn’t want to give in but he always does.

Wants to think that he’s too tough for that kind of thing to work on him so easily, and he wants you to think that too, but neither of you are fooled.

It’s a tactic that’s most effective when you catch him between sentences. He’ll be taking a breath before going off on the next tangent and that’s when you make your move.

You feel him sigh in defeat as he gives into you, and it’s a feeling of victory that goes unmatched by anything else in the world.

Even if it doesn’t mean that you won the argument, it means you at least put it off for a little while.

“It’s not fair that you get to do that,” he’ll shake his head at you when you go to catch you breath. It gets you to laugh as you shake your head, “I think it’s more than fair.”

Obviously, the circumstances of the death will impact the way they react to it. So, for the sake of this hc, let's just say the death happened because of club business/retaliation in some capacity.

Jax:

We've seen how ruthless Jax becomes when he loses someone that he loves

Once the initial shock and sadness of it wear off, he goes into complete shut-down and vengeance mode. Any trace of the Jax everyone had once known when he was with you? Gone.

He runs the gamut between unbridled rage and utter vacancy, occasionally allowing the sadness to seep through, but not often, not while there’s still work to do.

Anything to keep his mind off the gaping hole in his chest where you used to be.

Never takes off his wedding band.

He knows that it should be the last kick that he needs to get himself out of the life, but it only drives him deeper into it, feeling like he has nothing else left to live for besides the club.

Saying that he’s living might be a bit of an exaggeration. He does just enough to keep himself alive, but barely.

Goes and sits at your headstone to write--it feels more comfortable than saying the words out loud.

But he does always whisper a quiet apology each time he gets up to leave.

Opie

Shuts down as much as he is able to.

The only time anyone sees any kind of real emotion from him is when he’s angry, or upset. Joy officially becomes a thing of the past.

He becomes a ship without a captain, not quite knowing what the point of anything is anymore.

Goes through the motions and does what’s asked of him, but everyone around can tell that he’s only doing it because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Mild to moderate self-destructive streak after your death, but just like with everything else, he doesn’t put a hell of a lot into that either. It looks more like him not taking any protective measures anymore.

He thinks about what you would’ve wanted for him, and knows that this isn’t it, but then he remembers that you aren’t there anyway so what does it matter?

Will not sleep on your side of the bed, or clear out your dresser and side of the closet. As much as it hurts to look at your things, he knows it would hurt more getting rid of them.

Can’t handle wearing his wedding band anymore, but he doesn’t get rid of it either. It sits perfectly safe on your dresser alongside your other jewelry.

Slows down when he rides past the cemetery, but very rarely goes it. Looking at your headstone makes it feel too real.

Juice

An absolute wreck for the foreseeable future.

He can shut down and tune out a lot, he’s had a whole lifetime of building up those skills, but nothing prepared him for losing you.

Cannot hold it together, and no one knows how to help him through that.

You were supposed to be the one who would be there even if everyone else left, but then you were gone. And now it doesn’t matter how many other people are there, he still feels alone.

Sees you everywhere, in everything.

The mere thought of moving on, of even moving or packing up your things makes his skin crawl.

You were the first thing in his life that made him give a shit about his future, but then you were gone, and the rest of his life seems like an impossibly long time to live without you.

He’s tried to meet you, but it never quite works, something always goes awry.

Sometimes he thinks it’s you trying to tell him it’s not time yet, but mostly he just chalks it up to being another thing that he can’t get right.

People say that it’s not his fault, that the weight of the guilt of you being gone will lessen with time, but it doesn’t. Not for him.

Chibs

Doesn’t get out of bed for days.

Manages to keep it together by a thread during the services while everyone else is around. But the second that everyone else leaves, and it’s just him in the middle of an empty cemetery, he completely breaks down. Not even able to stay on his feet.

People try to get him to talk about it, but he refuses. The closest he gets to talking about it is when he’s bottle-deep alone at home, rambling to you not really about you.

He hopes you can hear what he’s saying while also hoping you can’t see what he’s become since you’ve been gone.

He knew that you were the love of his life from the moment he met you, and trying to accept that you’re really gone is an impossible ask.

The days all start to blur together, and if someone was to ask him what he’d been doing to fill the hours, he wouldn’t be able to give a clear answer. Somehow, though, he managed to keep getting out of bed despite wanting to to nothing of the sort.

It’s the most he’s talked to god in a long time, not that anyone ever talks back.

Tig

Kicks himself for thinking that he wouldn’t lose you the same way that he’s lost everyone else in his life.

Whether it was directly his fault or not, he always ended up losing the people he loved. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to him, but it was. A surprising, cripplingly cruel reminder that he was going to end up alone at the end of it all.

He tries to shut it out. Most times he’s successful, throwing himself into the club like that would ever make up for the damage done.

He doesn’t talk about it, doesn’t let himself get emotional about it around the rest of the club. They mistake it for him not caring, for him moving on so quickly with his life.

But the reality of it is that he’s just suppressing it all. Pushing it farther and farther down each day so it has less of a chance of ruining him all over again.

If they thought that he was ruthless and cold and unhinged before, they weren’t ready for what was about to come.

Happy

He makes sure the entire world pays for what happened to you.

There isn’t enough space on his body for the amount of smiley faces he’d need to add as he goes on a vengeance rampage.

If anyone thinks it’s a bad idea, no one is brave enough to say so. They don’t want to be next.

He doesn’t ever really go home after that. He’s either on the road or staying at the clubhouse. He tries to lie to himself and chalk it up to him being singularly focused on revenge and the club. But deep down he knows he just can’t go back to where you used to live with him.

Home isn’t home if you aren’t there, so what’s the point?

You had been one of the first people he had ever allowed himself to be vulnerable around, and once you were gone, he knew that you were also the last.

He doesn’t talk about you much, not really ever sure if he’s able to handle it. But the few times he does, he never uses the past tense.

Kozik

He never thought that something was going to hit so close to home until it took the thing closest to him.

It was something that seemed like it would only ever happen to other people, until it happened to him.

The shock of it all was broken up only by the waves of sadness that followed.

He never thought about what his life would look like without you in it, and now he had no choice but to face the reality of it.

Denial was his best and closest friend.

He didn’t talk about you often, solely because he didn’t want to face what had happened. The times when he did, though, it was always soft, with a lot of reverence, and always in the present tense, like you were going to come crashing through the door at any moment.

EZ

There has never been a time in his life that EZ didn’t compartmentalize. And this was no different.

That didn’t mean that he was actually dealing with it though. He just tried to lock it up in a box and tuck it in the back of his mind.

But there’s never any forgetting for him, no reprieve from the memories, and there is no lock in the world that was strong enough to keep those thoughts and feelings at bay for too long.

He always thought of you as the one thing that kept him from completely slipping over into the darkness in his mind. And now you were gone, and he didn’t see the point in trying to pretend that he was anything but the worst parts of himself.

Like father, like son, he keeps some mementos on the mantle. Things to try and bridge the gap between where he is, and where you are. Some days he thinks they help, some days he thinks he’s beyond helping.

He contemplates putting his ring on the chain around his neck that he never takes off, but decides against it, leaving it on his finger. He never takes that off either.

Angel

Quickly picks up any and every self destructive habit that he can.

Anything to keep him from thinking about you being gone, from feeling the emptiness that’s left behind.

He tries to push the feelings down and avoid them, but he’s never been good at that. The pendulum swings back and forth between anger and sadness, with not a whole lot of room left for anything else.

Every had thought and feeling that he’s ever had about himself only gets confirmed in his head once you’re gone. After all, if they weren’t true, why would the universe have taken you away from him?

Wallowing in self-hatred is easy, he’s done it his whole life. It’s the safer, easier option compared to letting himself actually grieve for you.

He wants to feel closer to you, but he knows that he can’t handle it. He thinks about the way his father refuses to move the urn from the kitchen and now he really doesn’t understand how that man handles it every day, a constant reminder every time he gets a damn cup of coffee

Bishop

He’s lost a lot in his life, thought that he was prepared for what it would feel like to lose just about anything. But not you. Nothing in the universe could’ve prepared him for what it felt like to lose you.

He didn’t know if he was drinking to blot out the memories of you, or to drive himself to a slow death. Regardless, he wasn’t successful in either endeavor, but not for lack of trying.

The hardness that had protected him and served him so well for so many years fortified and became razor sharp. He wasn’t ever going to love anyone again, not really.

Rage becomes his compass instead of his logic, which is dangerous for anyone, but especially a man in his position. He didn’t care, though. You were already gone so what did it matter now?

Sleeps exclusively on the couch at home. The only time he goes into what used to be your shared room is to get clothes for the day, and he never lingers.

Despite avoiding your things, he thinks of you constantly. It’s debilitating. He wants to hate it, but he’s afraid that if he stops, he’s going to forget what you sounded like.

Keeps his wedding band on a chain around his neck, tucked safely beneath the collar of his shirt.

Visits your headstone often, making sure it’s clean and with fresh flowers. But he doesn’t linger, not wanting to give himself a chance to feel too much.

Creeper

Every emotion that went through him, he felt it completely, coursing through every vein of his body.

Anger, sadness, emptiness, rage, each one became him.

His love and loyalty to you wouldn’t let him rest until he felt like some kind of justice had been served.

But what would ever be considered justice for what was done to you? It felt like he was on a journey without an end. And, for you, he was willing to resign himself to it for the rest of his life.

There was no one in the world that he loved more than you, and there never would be.

He wasn’t afraid to feel what he was feeling in front of everyone else. Anger was easy. They were all good at anger. But even his sadness, his loneliness, he wore that on his sleeve as well.

The void left behind by you being gone wasn’t ever going to be filled. And he didn’t bother trying. But he kept your things.

He didn’t know how much he bought into the afterlife, or reincarnation, or any of the bullshit he’d heard the guys talk about in vain attempts to comfort him. But what he did know was that it felt better to keep his wedding ring on. It felt better to leave your boots next to the door where you’d life them, your half-empty journals still in your bedside table. Nothing felt good, but some things felt better.

Coco

Retaliation is the only thing on his mind at first. That’s just how he’s wired.

Once the score is settled, though, that’s when he really starts to unravel.

On the other side of his rage, there’s nothing but hurt and guilt, and sadness, and those are the things that he doesn’t know how to handle. He doesn’t know where to put all those feelings.

The downward spiral starts quickly, and seems never-ending.

He’d given up on the world long before he met you, assuming that it was just in his DNA to never find real happiness. He just resigned himself to being too far gone to truly love and be loved by someone. But then you came crashing into his life and buried all those fears and thoughts.

And then you were taken from him too. Leaving him knowing that happiness, love, it was all real and he had it. But it was taken from him.

No amount of philosophizing can bring him any comfort or reasoning or justification for what happened to you. The Church of Coco’s doors officially get locked shut.

Taza

He always considered himself to be someone who had a decent grip on and relationship with death. Not in a morbid way, but a realistic one.

Losing you threw all of that out the window, though.

It was impossible to sleep, he was always on edge, just barely on this side of doing enough to stay alive.

He knew that you would’ve hated the path he put himself on, but he didn’t have it in himself to stop. Any thought about trying to heal and move through his grief, only made him dig his heels in harder.

Logically, he knew that one day he was going to wake up and it wasn’t going to be as suffocating. He’d experienced enough loss to know that he wouldn’t feel like he was on the brink of a total mental break forever. But it was hard to see that when he was in the depths of such a loss.

He tried to remind himself of everything that he’d ever been taught, ever said to anyone else, but it all felt futile. 

It was the only time that he didn’t ever want to feel better, he didn’t want to feel farther away from what had happened.

Riz

Being angry was easier than being sad, so that’s the emotion that he clung to the most.

He hated himself, but he hated the club more. Another thing that was easier, placing as much of the blame as possible on something besides himself.

But deep down underneath it all, he felt like he was solely at fault for the entire thing, and he didn’t know if it was something he would ever come back from.

He’s always had a mean bitter streak, something that you’d managed to mellow out of him over the years, but now it was back with a vengeance.

Anyone who tried to stop him from doing anything was met with the full force of all his pent-up rage.

The humor and the whimsy that he once had, the one-liners that he was able to conjure up to ease the tension in any situation, all of that was gone. Snubbed out like the end of a spent cigarette.

It was only in the small hours of the morning, when he was home alone in the darkness of the room you used to share with him, too drunk for his own good, that he let himself feel the sadness that was ripping him apart at the seams.

Nestor

His anger was always dangerous, but no other situation in the past compared to this one.

It was dangerous for him to feel what he was feeling, to think the thoughts that he was having, and also have the means to do something about them.

Consequences be damned, he was going to do whatever it took to get some semblance of even.

It didn’t matter who tried to talk some sense into him about it, he wasn’t going to listen.

It wasn’t until he was completely alone, washing the blood from his hands and face, tending to wounds and wishing that you were there to nurse him through it, that the anger gave way to the real emotion underneath--sadness.

You were his one shred of hope for having a normal life, or rather, a happy life, since there was no normal in his world. But now you were gone.

He was all business from there on out, but with a new reckless abandon that he hadn’t had before, knowing that you weren’t there to come home to so it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t make it.

When we say fanny pack, we mean club-issued, branded with the reaper on the front, type of fanny pack. It’s called fashion.

Jax:

A pack of cigarettes. One escaped and he’s too lazy to empty and clean out the fanny pack. 

One zippo lighter that has been out of fluid for almost the entire time he’s had the fanny pack. He always forgets and goes to use it, just getting more and more annoyed each time he tries to use it with no success.

3 loose tic tacs

A condom wrapper

Tara’s high school photo. Does he already have one in his wallet? Yea. Is it another copy of that same photo? Also yea.

Opie:

Nothing. It’s empty. He just wears it because he wants to be included.

Tig:

No one was more pro-fanny pack than Tig Trager. He did not stop at just one.

He has 3, and he wears all three at the same time. One around the waist, the other two over his shoulders, cross-body. He’s ready for any situation that may arise.

In the words of Cricket: “This one’s drugs (shakes it and you can hear pill bottles rattle), this one’s boozes (pulls out the little mini bottles of alcohol) and this one’s snacks (pulls out a Slim Jim). I’m ready for the weekend, where we going?”

Triple-packed with his shades on is his signature look. Also I will pay in undying love if someone is able to draw that up

Happy:

A switchblade. For emergencies.

Empty shells that he swipes up after shoot-outs. After all, it’s cheaper to reload those than to constantly buy new ones. Reduce, reuse, recycle, baby.

Juice:

It’s all tangled charging cords. So many cords that look the same but they’re not. He’s constantly wondering why they can’t all get the same kind of burner phone. It’s a mess.

There is one (1) pair of headphones in there for himself but he never gets to use them because they’re tangled up with all the other cords. It’s a mistake he will never let himself live down.

Random hard candies with crinkly wrappers. If he ever gets a snack for himself, he needs to be ready to share with the class because everyone is going to hear it and also want candy.

Bobby:

Keys. So many keys. He starts taking them from people once they start drinking so they don’t try to operate any kind of vehicle.

It only backfired once when he also got drunk and then proceeded to lose his fanny pack. They found it. It was fine.

Also, one poorly-rolled joint is kept there at all times.

Chibs:

Rosary beads

12 tightly-packed juiceboxes of Jameson. It’s all fun and games until he had to dive for cover in a fight and it went. Everywhere. Everything was sticky and it was all anyone heard about for the next week.

Chucky:

No one has an actual inventory on the type and number of items in his fanny pack. No matter what they’ve asked for, he’s had it. There is currently a running betting pool to see what item is finally going to make him say, “Sorry, I don’t have that.”

When that does happy, Chucky is so ashamed. Not because he doesn’t have it, but because he does. It’s just in his other fanny pack.

Jax:

You’re usually being woken up by the feeling of him fidgeting underneath you as you lay sprawled across his chest, or by the feeling of his hands running up and down your back.

He usually doesn’t wake up much earlier than you do, but that’s mostly because he wakes you up shortly after, whether it’s on purpose or not. You can feel the laughter in his chest as he listens to you grumble and groan about being awake.

Will quietly mumble good morning against your shoulder as he let’s you toss and turn in an unsuccessful attempt to get back to sleep. When you finally open your eyes, his smirk is almost always the first thing that you see.

Definitely the type to try and kiss you to make the process of waking up better. Forehead, temples, cheeks, lips, your whole face gets covered and if nothing else it gets you to smile and laugh. Most of the time it would end up getting out of hand and the wakeup process went from dreadful to the best part of your day.

On quiet days, the two of you get to linger, talking softly about things you hadn’t been able to catch up on during the busy times. It’s all whispers and soft touches. Busy days usually mean those conversations are happening while you watch him getting dressed and ready for the day, or vice versa. Last minute notes and things to do are said as shoes are pulled on and one, or both, of you make your way out the door.

Opie:

Early mornings are when he’s the most affectionate. And the most talkative. Something about the safety of the rest of the world not being awake yet.

Despite him being more present in the mornings, you usually have to be the one to say something first. But he always feeds into it, laying on his side so that he’s facing you, or letting you situate yourself so that you’re lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest.

Super open to suggestion. All it takes is one lingering kiss for a soft, quiet morning to turn into anything but that. And on the opposite side of that, all it takes is you softly toying with his hair or his beard for him to completely melt into a puddle on the mattress with you.

The two of you don’t usually end up going to bed at the same time at night- he’s usually out late with the club. So early mornings are usually your quality time together in the midst of all the chaos.

Almost every day you try to convince him to blow off the club, and the rest of the world altogether, and just stay in bed with you. The suggestion is usually met with a tired smile and a shake of his head as he tells you with his gruff, sleepy voice, “Not today.” And you’ll ask, “Tomorrow?” And he chuckles as he sits upright, wiping the sleep from his eyes, “Maybe.”

Tig:

Wakes up ready for anything and everything, every single day. Everything includes club shit, personal shit, and fooling around with you even though it was probably the last thing you did before falling asleep the night before.

Definitely wakes you up by touching you and kissing you, figuring that the worst case scenario is you waking up and telling him he’s shit outta luck. Not that that usually happens.

Despite all the activities your mornings are usually filled with, there’s always softness underneath it all. Tig lets you toy with his hair, which is always a certified mess in the mornings.

He doesn’t say it, but he loves when you wake up before him, because that usually means he wakes up to the feeling of your palms gently cupping his face, the warmth of your hands stirring him out of his sleep.

Slow mornings when you’re both hungover after a party that got a little out of hand are always quiet, almost peaceful. A lot of whispers and quiet grumbling, groaning if his phone goes off and sends throbbing sensations through both your skulls.

If he’s the one who has to get out of bed to leave first, he always leaves with a kiss, an apology for leaving you, and an, “I love you,” as he goes.

Juice:

Just wants to cuddle. All day. Big spoon, little spoon, doesn’t matter.

If you try to get out of bed before him, he will immediately wrap his arms around your waist and pull you back against him. He’ll nuzzle into your neck without a word, no matter how much you’re laughing or trying to fight him.

Unlike some of the other guys, Juice is usually the one trying to convince you to stay in bed all day, not the other way around. He’d put the entire world on hold if it meant he got to spend the whole day in bed with you.

He’s a morning person if you’re a morning person. If you’re the kind of person who wants to wake up and work out and do things, he’ll do them right alongside you. But if you’re the kind of person who thinks that the day starting before 10AM is too early, he’s totally down for that too. All that he asks is that you budget in about 5-10 minutes of snuggling time before going about your day.

Doesn’t believe that he wakes you up with his snoring, but will still apologize anyway. Whenever you call him out on it he always comes back with something cheesy like, “Yea but at least then you get to wake up to my handsome face, too.” When you laugh and try to push him away he always ends up just laying on top of you to keep you from being able to move.

Mornings in bed together are a safe time, something that you both need, but him especially.

Kozik:

Not a morning person, and he will try to drag you down with him.

No matter what important things either of you have going on that day, he will try and convince you it can get taken care of tomorrow. He will be the best big spoon in the world to try and get just a few extra minutes under the covers with you.

If cuddling and smooth-talking doesn’t work, that’s when you’ll feel his hands start to wander. Even if you don’t have the time for early morning escapades, you make the time. Because how are you supposed to say no? It’s always slow, and gentle, and loving. The two of you drag it out for as long as you can until one of you really does need to leave for the day.

When you go to get out of bed and get ready, he’ll always reach and grab your hand, trying to pull you back no matter how far past your alarm you already stayed. It always gets you to laugh, and when you turn around and look at him, there’s always a smile on his face. You shake your head and give his hand a squeeze before going and getting ready for the day, reminding him that maybe he should do the same.

Chibs:

He’s also not much of a morning person, but you love how grumpy he is about it.

No matter what you ask him in the morning, the answer is always no. Even if you’re asking him if he wants a cup of coffee, he still grumbles and says no. Despite that, though, if you bring him stuff anyway he always accepts it and says thank you.

Same goes with affection. You can bat your eyelashes all you want as you plead with him, “Gimme a kiss,” and he’ll still say no. However, while he’s lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, or even with his eyes closed, if you lean over and kiss him he won’t let you pull away quickly.

He has to be awake for a while before he finally has it in him to say the words, “Good morning,” and you know that he’s saying it because you’re there.

After a lot of nudging and a strong cup of coffee, he usually starts to come around. By the time the two of you are pulling breakfast together he’s becoming his usual, loving, affectionate self, stealing little touches and kisses from you. It usually makes him want to go straight back to bed to waste the day away with you.

Happy:

Always awake before you. Truthfully, you wonder if he ever really goes to sleep. He’s up when you go to bed, and he’s up when you wake up.

Sometimes he’s already wandering around the house and getting ready for the day, other times he’s lying in bed next to you, either staring at the ceiling or at you.

Not a huge cuddler, but he knows you are so he lets you lay on him, fingers tracing along all his tattoos while you mumble sleepy, half-coherent sentences to him as you come around. He loves it but he doesn’t know how to say it, so he doesn’t, just let’s you keep talking.

You’ll ask him what he’s got going on for the day and the answer is always the same, “Club shit,” no emotional inflection on the two words whatsoever, and you have to admit to yourself that you find it a little amusing.

He loves when you ask, “Do you have to go right now?” because he knows exactly what’s going to happen if and when he tells you no, that he’s got some time.

He usually leaves the house before you, and you always make sure to say, “I love you,” before he goes. And while he doesn’t always verbally say it back, he usually stops whatever he’s doing when you say it, comes over to you, and gives you a rough kiss on the lips or on your temple, before going on his way.

Half-Sack:

Super lazy in the mornings, and you love it.

Even after he wakes up, it takes him forever to really wake up. Mornings with him are quiet, usually filled with the two of you talking quietly, laughing softly at whatever half-awake jokes he’s making.

He likes laying in bed with you for as long as possible, preferably with your head resting against his chest. He likes that you can hear his heartbeat, and that he can easily play with your hair and rub your back.

Despite the fact that it takes him awhile to get his bearings, he’ll still listen to you talk all morning. It’s his favorite sound to wake up to. For as much as he loves sleeping in, he does enjoy the feeling of you gently nudging him awake and softly saying, “Good morning, time to wake up.”

If your phone is within his reach when the alarm goes off, he’ll quickly grab it and shut the alarm off, holding the phone out of your reach if you try to grab it and get out of bed. It sends the both of you into fits of laughter as you try to wrestle it away from him, glad to start long days with smiles on your faces.

- Waking Up Next To Them- Sons of Anarchy HC

- Getting Patched Up- Sons of Anarchy HC

- Their Partner Punching Someone In The Face- Sons of Anarchy and Mayans MC HC

- Types of Kisses- Sons of Anarchy HC

- Girl Getting Hit On In A Bar- Mayans MC HC

- Killing The Spider In The Shower- Sons of Anarchy HC

- Killing The Spider In The Shower- Mayans MC HC

- Kissing Them To Shut Them Up- Sons of Anarchy and Mayans MC HC

- Brushing Their Partner’s Hair- Sons of Anarchy and Mayans MC HC

- Dealing with Your Death- Sons of Anarchy and Mayans MC HC

Jax:

Tries to play it cool but he is 110% eating it up. For as tough as he tries to be you know that he loves getting taken care of and doted on.

Is definitely the type to be like, “It’s really not that bad, babe,” while doing nothing to try and stop you from wiping the blood out of his cuts and the sweat off of his face, a smirk on his face the entire time.

Will say shit like, “You can sit on my lap if that makes it easier.” And sometimes, despite your eyerolls, you do.

The guys would try to give him shit about it, talking about how, oh sure, he could hold his own in a fight just fine but cleaning out his own cuts was something that he couldn’t handle. And he’d let them talk, silently shaking his head while soaking up the fact that he knew he had someone who cared enough to stitch him up when necessary.

You do it because you care, sure, but you also need the extra reassurance that he’s actually alright. You always tell him that the next time he gets into a stupid fight, you’re not going to be there to clean up the mess, but you both know it’s an empty threat.

When you’re done cleaning out the cuts and making sure nothing’s broken, he looks at you with that slick little smile he always has, “Still pretty?” And you roll your eyes as you nod, “Yea, still pretty.” You try to walk away and not feed into the game, but he always gets you and pulls you back for a kiss to thank you, not that you need it.

Opie:

Is very bad at being taken care of. Despite the fact that he wants to be taken care of, and afterwards always feels better, he’s awful at giving in and letting it happen.

He will stand up and tilt his chin up so that you can’t reach his face well enough to clean and bandage his cuts. On more than one occasion you’ve dragged a chair or crate over to stand on just to prove your point, and only then did he finally sit down and allow you to look him over.

Hardly ever winces when you take care of him, even if you’re using alcohol on the cuts. Sometimes you think it’s a bit of an act, but you don’t call him out on it. He’s almost always in better shape than whoever he went up against- he’s not a man who is easily out-sized and with the size of his rings he might as well show up to fights with brass knuckles. So cleanup usually doesn’t take long. You usually spend more time getting him to sit down so you can look him over than you actually spend patching him up.

Refuses to wear bandages. Unless there is a deep knife cut or a legitimate bullet hole somewhere, he just tries his luck and leaves the wounds exposed. You’ve tried to convince him, but it’s an argument that you never win.

It always ends with you thanking him for letting you patch him up, which makes you chuckle every time you think about it. When you’re done you cup his chin in your hand and tilt his head, inspecting your work, and that’s always when he drops the tough guy act for a minute. His shoulders will relax and he’ll offer you a small smile, mumbling a very quiet, “Thank you,” that only you can hear. You’ll laugh and say, “You’re welcome,” just as quietly, and he’ll take your hand from his chin and softly kiss your knuckles.

Tig:

Loves every second of it and doesn’t care who knows.

He will sit like the perfect patient while you take care of him. Always a little more dramatic than necessary, especially if there’s medical alcohol or stitches involved. But you know that he just does it to get some extra love and attention from you. And you indulge him.

While you’re cleaning out his injuries, he’ll give you a run-down of whatever fight landed him in that condition to begin with. You assume that the stories are always a bit embellished, but you don’t argue or try to refute any of it. Honestly, it’s fun to listen to, especially if he’s already a little drunk.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” he’ll always say to you when you’re wiping the blood from his eyebrows and lips, “A literal angel.” You always smile, and shake your head, and tell him, “I’m just a woman with a first aid kit.”

When he sees you closing up your kit, he’ll ask, “You sure I’m all set?” You laugh, and cup his face in your hands, making a big show of giving him another once-over, “I think you’re gonna be alright.”

Will almost always call after you when you try to walk away, “You still gotta kiss it better, you know!”

Chibs:

Tries to wave you off the whole time. Will light up a cigarette while you’re trying to wipe blood off his face no matter how inconvenient.

“I’m usually the one they call to clean everyone up, you know. I think I’d know if I was hurt, darlin’,” he’ll huff and puff as he finally gives in and let’s you take care of him. You shake your head as you try to bite back a smile at his stubbornness, “I think that you’re too hard-headed to know if you got hurt or not. You need a second opinion.”

He watches you as you go through your entire process. He never admits it in the moment, but he’s impressed at how good you’ve gotten with patching everyone up. You spent enough time watching him to learn the basics and put them in practice.

He’s a good, if not slightly bitter, patient. He lets you do what you need to do and he will sit still for it, even if he lets out a puff of cigarette smoke every now and again.

“You love me,” you casually remind him in a sing-songy tone, which gets him to drop the bitter façade and laugh. He’ll nod, looking at you, “I do, love. I love you a lot. Even if you’re gonna be dramatic with all this,” he gestures to the first aid kit.

When you’re done, and everything is packed away, you pour a shot and hold it out for him with a smile, “For being such a good patient.” He laughs, snubbing out his cigarette, “Now this is my kinda medicine.” You roll your eyes, chuckling as he throws it back.

Juice:

Loves being taken care of but doesn’t know what to do with that feeling because very rarely does it ever happen.

Will try to sit still for you to do what you have to do but it’s hard for him to fight off the jitters, coming down from whatever adrenaline rush he had from the fight beforehand.

A lot of, “I really think I’m okay,” and, “You don’t have to do that, don’t have to worry about that.” You let him say it because you know he needs to, but you continue to patch him up and take care of him.

Thanks you after each thing you do in the process of cleaning him up, and you always say you’re welcome, no matter how excessive it seems to get.

One of the few guys who will accept band-aids without an argument. Every now and then you buy the kind that has cartoon characters or superheroes on them and make him pick who he wants over his cut eyebrow or busted knuckle. It gets him to loosen up and laugh a little as he makes a decision.

“You’re too cute to be getting banged up like this all the time,” you tell him as you clean the blood off his knuckles. His eyes get wide for a moment before he tries to recover, laughing quietly, “Next time someone gets in my face I’ll tell them you said that.”

Kozik:

Is no stranger to having to get patched up, and is as close to the perfect patient as you could ask for.

You feel him smiling at you the entire time you’re cleaning out the gashes on his face, and you can’t help but to shake your head. Sometimes you’ll make the remark that someone who just got their ass kicked shouldn’t be looking so happy, and he usually responds with, “Yea, well, you should see the other guy. You’d be happy too.”

Not that you ever pressed him for details, but he usually gave them to you anyway. Whenever you asked how a certain cut or bruise happened, he assured you that it was just a lucky shot that landed. The fact that he seemed so unfazed by it was comforting and concerning at the same time, and you were wondering how that worked.

“I’ll be alright,” he assured you, “I doubt there’s gonna be any permanent damage.” You nod as you carefully clean out his bruised, cut-up knuckles, “I’m sure you’re right, but I still gotta do this.”

Each time you’re done taking care of him, he always flashes you his best, boyish, most charming smile, “See? Good as new, all thanks to you.” And you always want to have something smart to say in response, but the grin on his face makes it nearly impossible. For good measure, you always give him a soft kiss on the lips, taking extra care to be gentle if his lip got busted during the fight, “Now you’re good as new.

Happy:

Pretty much silent the entire time. Doesn’t argue with you about it (anymore), but also doesn’t really say much about what you’re doing regardless.

He’s got the highest pain tolerance in the world, you’re fairly certain.

He wasn’t used to having someone around to patch him up, and when you had first started he had no idea what to do besides let you, and since then you’d never really stopped. The silence got to be a bit much so you would talk, and he would listen. Sometimes you wondered how much he was really paying attention to what you were saying, but every now and then you’d see him staring intently at you.

You took extra time cleaning out all the cuts, bandaging anything up that needed it. It could’ve gotten done faster, but you had to admit that you enjoyed the closeness.

If you were taking longer than normal, he’d ask, “Done?” It wasn’t angry, or even really rushing you, it was just a genuine curiosity as to how much longer it could take you to patch him up. It was tough for him to wrap his head around it since nothing ever really hurt him that bad.

Despite the fact that you knew the answer, you still always asked, “You all good? Need anything else?” And each time, he’d always shake his head, “All good.” He’d watch you close up the first aid kit and sit back in your chair. He’d stand up and press a chaste kiss to the side of your head, his wordless way of thanking you even if he didn’t totally understand why you always felt like you had to look after him.

Half-Sack:

Treats it like he’s getting his hands wrapped before a boxing match, or taken care of between rounds. He’ll sit on the chair backwards with his chest pressed against it, arms braced against the top of the chair so you had easy access to his busted up knuckles.

You can’t help but to smile as you pull your own chair up with your first aid kit in tow. He looks so calm, so unbothered by it all. You suppose, after everything he’s been through, that getting a few bruises and cuts on his cheekbones and knuckles really wasn’t the worst thing that’d ever happened to him.

“I should be your cut-man for your next fight,” you chuckle as you carefully swab the cut running along his cheekbone. He laughs, wanting to nod but not quite wanting to move, “I’ll run it by the guys, have you coach from the corner with them.” You start cleaning the blood from his knuckles, “You should keep the fights contained to the boxing ring.”  Even though you weren’t looking directly at his face, you could feel the dorky little grin he was giving you, “I do try, I swear.”

He watched as your facial expressions shifted, your focus evident. He liked how much you cared, even if he didn’t really know how to tell you that.