Chapter Text
Maybe it was because you thought it wasn't a big deal to buy a car with over 200,000 miles on it. Maybe it was because you'd gone a little longer than you should've without taking your car in for a check up. Maybe it was because you had some of the worst luck known to mankind.
You were stuck on the side of the road, sitting in the backseat of your broken down car, legs dangling out of the open door. The only good part was that it wasn't a thousand fucking degrees outside, as it so frequently was in California. Why had you moved here?
You at least didn't have to wait long before you heard the sound of a truck, hopefully the tow truck, pulling up. Sitting up, you slid from the backseat right as the tow truck stopped in front of your car. You came to stand by where you'd already popped the hood, waiting as a young guy and an older guy got out. They were actually both attractive, and that felt unfortunate. You weren't dressed to impress a couple of cute mechanics.
“I, uh, tried to see what the issue is, but, uh, I don't know jackshit about cars.” You offered them an awkward smile, but it turned more genuine as they both laughed at what you said.
“No problem, ma'am. We'll get her loaded up.” Your nose crinkled as the younger one called you ma'am, but you let it go. You were probably just a year or so older than the guy, if that.
“We'll give ya a lift back ta the shop. We'll take a good look a’ her there.” The older man shut the hood as the other started to rig up your car. Scottish man. He was old enough to be your father, but damn was he attractive. And charming. Just from those two sentences, he had you hooked. Ridiculous.
You didn't pay much attention to all the work they were doing to get the car rigged up, instead grabbing your bag and cellphone. When they'd done the job, the younger one helped you up into the truck. Right. You had to sit in the middle. Being a bit of a bigger woman, that made you feel uncomfortable, but you'd have to get over it. Instead, you could just focus on sitting between two attractive mechanics as they drove you to the Teller-Morrow garage.
“So, you go by Juice…on purpose?” You looked to the younger man, grinning as the Scotsman laughed at your question. Juice gave a small pout before the most charmingly little smile took over his features.
“C'mon, there are worse things to go by! You'll meet Half-Sack at the garage.” He laughed, pointing at another young man as you all pulled up into the lot.
“Shit. You're right. Juice is definitely a better nickname.” You agreed, huffing a laugh. You could only guess why someone would go by Half-Sack. Well, you could ask, but you rather not.
Sliding out of the truck, Juice pointed you towards the office with a promise of your car being looked at immediately. It seemed pretty slow, so you believed him. You couldn't help but watch him and Chibs, another odd name you didn't ask about, get your car off the rig for a moment before walking in.
“Hey, um, I don't really know what to do from here but-”
“The guys have your keys?” The woman behind the desk asked harshly, not looking at you.
“Yep, uh, yes. Yes, they do.” You nodded, and she finally looked up at you. She sat back, looking you over, and that made you fidget awkwardly. “Do I wait here or do I need to go home?”
“You can wait here if you want. Slow day. They shouldn't take too long to figure out what's going on.” You looked out the window into the garage, watching the two men you met, and the one that was called Half-Sack, start working on your car.
You'd made it the first hour just sitting there, but god, it was just so boring. Gemma didn't seem like the chatty kind, at least not with strangers, but you could only sit there in silence for so long.
“Sorry to bother you, but, um, I'm still getting used to living here. What's the Sons of Anarchy?” You immediately felt stupid when she looked at you.
“Oh, honey, you really are new here.” She huffed a laugh, but a small smile was on her face. “Motorcycle club. They run the garage, and host charitable events.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, the bikes make sense now.” You cleared your throat awkward, shifting in your seat.
“So, how long have you been here?”
“A little over a month.”
“You seem young. What made you choose Charming?” You pursed your lips, thinking about how honest you should be.
“I've always thought there was a charm to small town living, so when I saw a town named Charming, I thought it was perfect.” That was the truth.
“Where're you from?” You shifted again, and you knew she could tell you didn't know how to answer. “You runnin’ from somethin’?”
“I…it's not…” You cleared your throat, eyes training on one of the tacky posters on the wall while you gathered yourself. “‘M from the Midwest. It's just…better out here for me.”
“Fair enough. Well, welcome to Charming.” She gave you another small smile, maybe a little more gentle than before, before going back to paperwork.
It really didn't take that long for them to figure out what was wrong with your car. The answer? Everything. The cost? Astronomical. So, you were about to have a full breakdown in front of a stranger. Multiple strangers. Hot strangers.
“Well, unless you guys are willing to do payment plans, I can't pay for that.” It would be cheaper to just buy a new car, actually, and you couldn't pay for that either.
“We might be able to arrange something-”
“No, actually, um, how long could I drive it without the repairs? Realistically.”
“You'd be lucky ta have two months, lass.” Chibs leaned in the doorway, his interjection making you blush slightly. Great. To both.
“Okay. Two months if I'm lucky.” Which, you weren't. “How much do I owe to make it so I can drive it home today?”
“There's no way you're drivin’ it home today.” Fuck. “Be lucky ta have it by Friday.”
“Wonderful. Sure. Why not?” You rubbed a hand over your face.
“Listen, hun, you go home, and we'll give you a call when it's ready.”
“How much will this temporary fix be?” You looked back to the woman, Gemma, with eyes that had lost all hope.
“It's…it's gonna be about five hundred.” You sighed, not sure if you were relieved that it wasn't as bad as you expected. $500 was still a crazy amount for you at the moment.
“Fuck me.” You blushed, sitting up a little straighter. “Sorry. Um, I'll figure something out.” You paced a little before pulling your phone out. “I'll call…someone. To come pick me up.”
“Juice can give you a ride.”
“I can do it.” Chibs' voice once again made your face flush. You needed to get that under control. He was leaving the room to grab whatever he needed before you could say anything.
“You ever ride?” You simply blinked at Gemma.
“Excuse me?”
“A bike.” She smirked at you, fixing paperwork on her desk. “You ever ride a motorcycle?”
“No. Why…Oh.” Oh. Shit. You were about to ride a motorcycle. Something you'd so far been terrified of.
“You'll be fine.” Guiding you out the door and towards the bikes, she pat your shoulder, leaning in close. “Just hold on real tight.”
There'd always been something alluring and also horrifying about a motorcycle. You didn't even know how to ride a bicycle let alone a motorcycle. Now, a very attractive man that you'd known for all of four hours would be driving you to your home with one.
“C'mon, lass. It won't bite.” The Scotsman called to you, holding out a helmet. He had the most attractive smirk on his face as he watched you approach cautiously.
“I've never ridden…”
“I can tell.” Pursing your lips, you climbed on behind him, securing the helmet to your head.
“Take it easy on me.” You held onto him tightly, fingers clutching his shirt, as he revved the bike. In an instant, you were off.
You weren't sure your heart had ever rated as quickly as it was currently. You were absolutely positive that Chibs was going the speed limit, which wasn't very high at all on the streets of Charming, and yet you felt like you were going hyperspeed all the way to your apartment. The way the adrenaline coursed through you was…unreal. And honestly? You kind of loved it. By the time you both came to a stop outside your building, you were breathless and a little dizzy on the rush.
“Easy, lass. We've made it.” He practically had to peel your fingers off of him, your hands white-knuckling his clothing.
“That was…amazing.” You breathed, laughing softly.
“Exactly. Glad I could introduce you to the wonder that is.” He held his arms out, the most charming smile on his face. If you were braver, you might ask about his scars, but they were such a piece of his charm.
“Hey, um…stay right here? I have something for you, as a thank you.” You gave a shy smile before hurrying into Your ground floor apartment. Grabbing a ziploc, you put a couple of cookies into it before coming back out. You held the bag out to him, a little awkwardly. “I made these yesterday. They're just chocolate chip, but I thought…since you had to drop me off…”
“You're a real swee'heart, aren'cha?” The older man took the bag, slipping it carefully into the pocket of his vest. Kutte? You knew it had a name but fuck if you knew what it was. You were blushing, deeply, and that was embarrassing. “Thank you. It's a wonderful show of gratitude.”
“Right. Um, you're welcome. Thank you.” You scratched your neck, feeling the heat radiating there as well. “I don't want to keep you held up or anything.”
“Someone'll give ya a call abou’ your car. See ya ‘round, lass.” He gave you a wink before revving his motorcycle and taking off. Watching him go, you made eye contact with a man in a van. You stood for a moment before turning and quickly going inside.
That night, you did some searching on the internet about these Sons of Anarchy people. There were…a lot of mixed reviews. They were criminals, philanthropists, mechanics…who knew what else. Yet, for some reason, you were more intrigued than disgusted. Public records didn't show any violence towards women, or sex crimes. You didn't know much about assault and battery, or what the differences really were between them. Arson wasn't very cut and dry. Maybe you were just making excuses now.
Like, how the next morning you were making an excuse to go back to the garage. Dressed for the job you'd be going to shortly, you paid the taxi driver and walked into the office of Teller-Morrow.
“You're back. Couldn't stay away, hm?” Gemma smirked as you smoothed down your skirt. “Chibs is a charming guy, huh?”
“Oh, well, yeah, but-”
“How old are you, anyway?”
“I'm twenty-six, but that's not why I'm-”
“He's a little old for you. Maybe Juice is a better fit-”
“Gemma!” You blushed furiously, but at least the other woman finally stopped talking. “I'm here to stop work on my car.”
“Why?”
“I just…I'm just going to sell it for parts or something. I'd be lucky to have two months with it, and I can't afford five hundred dollars at the moment.” You took a deep breath before sighing. “I can walk, or learn public transport around here. I could use the exercise. Which, actually, I'm going to be late if I don't start now-”
“Where do you need to go?” It was a good thing she didn't seem to feel bad cutting off your rambling.
“I'm a substitute teacher for a first grade class.” That should hopefully explain the beige blouse you wore with a long, maroon skirt.
“You look the part.” You weren't sure if that was a compliment or not. Maybe. She walked to the door leading to the garage, poking her head out. “Half-Sack! Grab the truck.”
“Oh, you don't have to do that.” You spoke up, fidgeting uncomfortably. She brushed you off, and you watched the young man jog off to the truck. “Thank you, Gemma.”
“No problem, sweetheart.” She gave you a nice smile before sitting back at her desk.
“I'll be back this evening to pay whatever I owe for what's already been done.” You didn't wait to hear if she had more to say, rushing out to meet at the tow truck.
It was while pulling out of the lot of Teller-Morrow that you swear you saw that same van from the day before.
First grade may not be for you. The kids were cute, yeah, but fuck they were a lot to handle in such a large quantity. The teacher you were subbing for also had bus duty, so of course you had to do that as well. So it was already later than you really intended to be going back to the shop, and the walk was going to be long, but you couldn't afford two more taxis, and you still needed a way home after Teller-Morrow.
You'd just passed a small gas station when a van, the van, sped into an alley moments before you walked by. Out of it jumped two large men in ski masks. Eyes wide, you started to turn and run back towards the station, but it was too late. There was a hand buried in your hair, and an arm around your waist, pulling you back. You screamed, and hit, and kicked at whatever and whoever you could reach.
A sharp punch landed against your cheek, another to your stomach. You continued to kick and scratch at the arm holding you as they attempted to get you closer to the van. When you didn't stop screaming, another fist collided with your nose this time, and a hand covered your mouth. You bit into the skin, refusing to go down without a fight. One of them had your shirt by the collar, and it ripped when you tried to pull out of their grasp again.
“Hey! I'm calling the cops!” Someone yelled from the street, and suddenly you were dropped to the ground.
“Stupid bitch!” One of them growled at you before kicking you in the ribs.
“Ugly fucking croweater.” Another punch to your cheek.
Then, as suddenly as the two appeared before you, they were in the van and speeding off. You continued to lay there, desperately trying to catch your breath, hearing the sound of footsteps approaching quickly. The cops were coming, and that meant ambulances, too, you could already feel it. Forcing yourself up into a seated position, people were trying to convince you to stay down as you stood up. You smoothed your skirt, trying to pull your blouse back in place. You still hadn't your bag on you, so of course that had nothing to do with what just happened.
“Hey, hey, ma'am, wait! The cops will be here-”
“Oh, no, that's okay. I'll just…go.” You stumbled, a hand holding your side.
“You need an ambulance-”
“No, I'll be okay, thanks.” You walked past a few people, back to the street. Looking down at your blouse, you knew you didn't want to know what your face looked like based on the blood splotches alone.
“Let me give you a ride home.” A woman with brown hair looked you over, concern written all over her face. There was just something about her that felt like you could trust her. “I'm a doctor. I can look you over.”
“Actually, I know it's crazy, but could you take me to Teller-Morrow instead?” You followed her to her car, choosing to ignore the confused and surprised look she gave you.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Are you sure?” You got into her car, trying not to bleed in her car.
“Yeah, I'm sure. I appreciate the ride.” You let your head rest against the seat, wiping at the blood that was still flowing from your face.
“I'm Tara, by the way.”
“I'm Y/N. And I'm really sorry if I bleed on your seats.” You offered her a smile as she drove, but quickly cringed in pain.
“No, that's okay. We'll be there soon, anyway.” She shifted in her seat, giving you a tight smile. “Why…why didn't you want to stay for the cops or the ambulance?”
“I just…I have stuff I need to do instead.” You looked out the window, watching as she pulled through the gates. You hoped the office was still open. It was much later than you anticipated this morning. Gemma was already coming out to meet you both.
“Tara, is something-” You stepped out of the car, and the older woman's mouth dropped. “Jesus christ. What the hell happened?”
“Hey, it's nothing. I just needed to come take care of that payment-”
“You should be at the hospital.” She came closer, carefully turning your face in her hands to look at you.
“I can't afford to pay you guys to fix my car. I really can't afford the ER.” You huffed a laugh, pulling your wallet out of your bag. Her hand caught yours, and she shook her head.
“Now's not the time. Come on. Let Tara have a look at you.” The doctor already had a bag slung over her shoulder, walking across the lot. Gemma put her arm around you, guiding you in the same direction. “Garage is closed. Clubhouse is cleaner anyway.”
“Thanks. I appreciate this.” You could feel tears starting to prick your eyes, the adrenaline from your almost abduction wearing down. You couldn't help but let out a sob as you walked. “Fuck, I'm sorry. I can't believe I'm just now crying.”
“Cry all you need to, baby.” She gave you a sad look as you walked into the clubhouse. She guided you to a table where Tara was unpacking her medical bag. “The guys will be out soon, I'm sure. You alright with an audience?”
“I'm just glad to get this bleeding to stop.” At least one thing could stop streaming out of your face. The tears wouldn't be stopping any time soon. Unfortunately, every shaky breath rattled your body in a painful way. You briefly wondered if you had a broken rib.
“You really should be going to the hospital.” Tara added, almost like a gentle scolding, as she cleaned your face. You sat as still for her as your hiccuped breaths would allow. It was silent, other than your stupid, soft crying, and the murmured voices from the other room. Finally, she spoke again. “I don't think your nose is broken. Your cheek might have a fracture.”
“Oh, great.” You wanted to laugh, but really you could only cry. You really had the worst luck in the world.
“Only an x-ray will show for sure. You should get one for your ribs, too.” Before you could object to that, the doors to the adjoining room were opening. The first face you recognized was Juice, then Half-Sack.
“Holy shit.” Juice breathed out, stopping in his tracks. A man with blonde hair was joking with someone else and ran into him. He was ready to get on to the other man, when he then saw you.
“Jesus. Ma? Tara? Who is this?”
“Y/N? Christ alive, lass!” Chibs was kneeling next to you in moments, his eyes scanning your features. What a time to have your shirt half ripped open, and bloody. “Wha’ the hell happened to you?”
“These guys…” You took a deep, shaky breath. “I dunno. They just got out of this van and tried to grab me for some reason. I…I noticed them yesterday, and this morning, but I didn't think…”
“What'd they look like?”
“They had masks on, I didn't…” You tried to think. You were sure the one in front, the one that had hit you so many times, was white. Maybe he had tattoos. The other guy…you weren't sure. “One was white. I don't know about the other. He…he was behind me.”
“Did they take anything?” This time it was Gemma that asked. Lips pursed, you felt more tears roll as you shook your head.
“Did they say anything? Think real hard, darlin’.” The blonde man spoke now. You saw on his vest thing that it said vice president.
“Called me a stupid bitch, and an ugly croweater? I don't even know what the fuck that means.” You laughed, shaking your head. You didn't miss the looks shared between everyone in the room. “What?”
“This charter, we're called SAMCRO.”
“Croweaters are like groupies.” The way Gemma said that made it sound like that was the nicest way of putting it.
“You said these guys were followin’ you?”
“I guess. I saw them yesterday after Chibs dropped me off at my apartment, and then again this morning when Half-Sack drove me to the school.” You swallowed hard, forcing down a sob. You were so stupid. For all your paranoia, you couldn't put together that you were actually being followed for once.
“Jax, we can't just send her out there.”
“She needs to go to the hospital. File a police report.” The blonde, Jax, looked at you now, but you shook your head.
“I'm not going to the hospital. I can file a report, but police are useless when the only real witness doesn't know shit.” You wiped at your eyes, cringing at the feel of anything touching your face. You stood from where you were sat, Chibs standing as well. “I appreciate you fixing me up, but I should really get out of your hair.”
“Y/N, you're not safe out there.” Tara sighed, putting her supplies back in her bag.
“No, it's okay. I'm not going to walk this time, I'll call a cab-”
“You can't risk your life because of your stupid car. No one knows why those guys went after you other than because they saw you here, with us.” Gemma forced you back down onto the chair, her hands on your shoulders. “Let the guys talk out everything, we'll get you home. Clay?”
“Right. We'll have someone outside your apartment until we get this figured out.” The big guy you'd seen, a little reminiscent of Hell Boy, finally spoke. Ah. President patch.
“I appreciate it, really, but I don't-”
“Stop talkin’, lass.” Chibs spoke up again, giving you a pointed look. There was some emotion on his face that you couldn't pinpoint. You did stop talking, though.
“Alright, we'll work on figuring this out. Juice-”
“I'll go.” Chibs cut off Clay, but received a nod.
“Chibs. You'll be first shift. We'll try to figure out what's going on. You, uh…”
“Y/N.”
“Right. If you think of anything else we could use, tell us.” Clay didn't wait for your answer before walking behind the bar.
“C'mon. I'll give you a ride home.” This time, Gemma pat your shoulder before encouraging you to stand up.