Yo,

After a long hiatus I am trying to get back into writing again. I thought that maybe starting a new story would help me get over this colossal writers block I have been having with my other on-going story 'The Raven'.

I do not own sons of anarchy blah blah blah blah you know the drill.

This story will follow the main plot line of sons of anarchy starting with season 1. I am probably going to use some dialog from SOA and the events that occur, however the perspective is going to be though my OC Erin Winston.

This is aiming to be a coming of age story through the eyes of a young girl surrounded by the biker life style. Some of her thoughts and feelings are going to be based around mine when I was young, as I was in a somewhat similar surrounding… though without the guns, violence and general nastiness.

Going to be an OC/Chibs story as he is crazy hot

Would bang.

So here we go,

R-S

She was sat in the office, holding down the fort while Gemma was away running errands. Her sneakers were itching to be placed on the desk and relax, as it was the weekend after all. However Erin Winston was always one for playing by the rules, despite her upbringing, which could have allowed any child with even a small ounce of rebel in them to run a riot.

She however was not one of those children, unlike her brother Opie. He and Jax got into all sorts of trouble as kids, and just so long it didn't particularly come to the attention of the club and they minded their manners, there was no blow back. Erin always felt that being a girl her father expected more of her, not to get into trouble and to definitely not get involved with boys. This rules though were somewhat playfully imposed on her became how she lived her life; always wanting to please her dad. Though she knew deep down that no matter how much he loved her, the only way she would have really pleased him was to be a boy and take after him like Ope. Unfortunately this wasn't the case, much to her dissatisfaction.

She mused this while watching the colourful images of the screensaver bounce around. Though, she thought ruefully I would probably be shit at riding away, as she could barely ride a pedal bike; having all the grace and balance of clown.

She huffed in the afternoon heat, blowing her hair out of her face as she did so, and self-consciously pulling it back across her right eye where it belonged. Her plain bark coloured brown hair was an annoyance as well as a curtain of shyness to which she could hide behind. It was neither straight nor wavy, and neither long nor short, making her the very opposition of all the women she had known in her life; plain.

Her face blended in exactly with her hair, plain. She wasn't overly pretty but nor was she ugly either, but she just didn't stand out for either one, which was frustrating especially when at times like now, when a croweater would walk past her.

She looked at them with all their makeup and confidence and resented them for their beauty, however she was also thankful, the life of a croweater was not a glamourous one, as much as they would like to pretend. Being available for any biker to fuck when and where they life just to gain some inch of respect. She knew that, that wasn't how she wanted to gain respect, and yet… she wished people looked at her with interest or at the very least notice when she entered the room. She had a nasty habit of sneaking up on people and making them jump without meaning to, she just blended in so easily with the background.

These bleak depressing thought of her own life swirled around her head while she was waiting for the phone to ring, though secretly hoping it didn't; talking to people on the phone wasn't her strong suit, she was surprised Gemma even let her stand in.

Gemma. She was very much like a mother to Erin, always there with a comforting smile and blunt advice whenever it was needed. Gemma never made Erin feel invisible and never jumped when she walked up behind her, a fact she was very happy about. As a young teenager she would follow Gemma everywhere, and still now even at the age of 18 she saw Gemma as this mother duck, and she was her baby duck trailing behind her in her shadow. Though one subject they could never see eye to eye on was how Erin dressed. A smile appeared on her face as she thought of the arguments that occurred when they spoke of clothing, and although Erin was not always stubborn, she was when it came to revealing clothes. Erin would always balk at the short skirts or low cut vests Gemma pointed out when they went shopping. Erin was happy living day to day in skinny jeans, an oversized baggy band shirt and an oversized lumber jack shirt to go over that, and always in the blandest colours possible. She reasoned if she felt uncomfortable in her skin wearing the baggy clothes, she couldn't imagine how uncomfortable she would be in a short skirt and a low riding shirt.

She was once again brought out of her daze by a large pickup truck driving into the yard, followed shortly after by roaring bikes.

Though the thing the caught her eye was the car hooked up to truck, with the tail end of a dear through the windscreen. She quietly chuckled thinking of the shock the driver must have had when the dear went through, then uncomfortably stopped laughing, realising that the driver was probably injured. She suddenly felt guilty.

She saw the prospect half-sac jump out of the truck and land kicking up a small amount of dust as he did so. He was a gangly young man, not much older than herself though with a hardened look in his eye that she wasn't sure she would ever gain. He was also a particularly dumb lad, much to her secret amusement. She was never entirely sure why Chibs vouched for him to be a prospect, though she secretly suspected that Chibs probably couldn't remember either.

That thought brought her eyes back to the man that had just jumped out of the driver's seat of the truck and was walking over to the dear strewn car. Something about the way he walked just oozed confidence, and she couldn't help but watch. His clothes and kutte were dusty from hard labour and the hot weather. No matter what he seemed stiflingly overdressed even more than she was, he apparently just didn't feel the heat. His sun glasses where covering his deep dark eyes and just below that at the edges of is short beard were his scars. She wasn't afraid of them anymore, the way she had been when they first met, they just made her sad to think of his pain, but they also gave him this added look of danger that she was inexplicably drawn too, much to her embarrassment…

Thanks for reading, I will hopefully get up the next chapter in the next couple of days, though bear with me as I am notoriously shit at keeping to my word when it comes to writing.

Peace out.