margooo00

[margooo00]

Secondhand Heart - Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Teacher Reader Word Count: 4700+ Summary: With your truck still acting up, you take Jax up on his offer and bring it to Teller-Morrow for repairs. You haven’t been able to shake him from your thoughts, and you’re hoping to see him again. The way he looks at you only confirms what you’ve been trying not to admit, that this isn’t just one-sided. Warnings: 18+!!! minors DNI; light emotional tension, slow-burn beginnings, canon-divergent, eventual smut, brief mentions of grief. A/N: Part 2 is here!!! apologies for the delay, health issues and life 😅 Thank you for reading, following, and sticking with me. ✨All feedback (reblogs, comments, likes) is much appreciated and encouraged!!✨ Enjoy babes! 🩷 Divider by: @saradika

It had been a few days since your unexpected encounter with Jax, and your truck was still giving you trouble. Despite whatever magic he’d pulled off to get it started that rainy afternoon, you knew it needed some serious TLC before school started in a couple of weeks. Still, between your growing to-do list and the way your brain scattered in twelve directions at once, you hadn’t made the time for it. 

While you waited for your coffee to brew, your gaze drifted to Jax’s sweatshirt still draped over the back of your kitchen chair. You crossed your arms, chewing absently at the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the rush in your chest every time you looked at it.

The same pathetic thing you’d done every morning this week.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the moment he got off that bike. You didn’t know a single detail about his life, but you knew grief had a way of showing itself, even in silence. With Jax, you noticed it everywhere – in the set of his jaw, the tension in his posture, and the way he stayed guarded even when he smiled. 

But you also noticed the shift once he looked at you, the weight he carried seemed to ease ever so slightly. His eyes held yours with a quiet intensity, almost searching, unsure of what he was looking for, causing your stomach to descend into a slow, weightless somersault. That same involuntary flutter you couldn’t shake now.

He’d handed over his hoodie without a word. The brush of your hands was quick, but it hit you – warmth where it shouldn’t have been – an awareness that curled in your stomach like a secret. And maybe that’s what stayed, the feeling that around you, he could finally breathe.

You told yourself it was nothing. A brief, one-off interaction with a kind stranger who just happened to look like he did. 

Handsome as fuck. 

But your thoughts kept coming back to the way Jax looked back at you while he rode off, almost like he was daring you to follow him. 

The rich scent of dark roast filled the kitchen, pulling your focus back to the present. You let out a quiet sigh and mumbled to yourself, “Okay... this is not a thing,” even though you didn’t sound convinced.

Smokey padded into the kitchen then, fluffy grey tail flicking back and forth as he circled your legs once before sitting at your feet, staring up at you. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you scolded, crouching to scratch behind his ears. He leaned into your hand, whiskers twitching, but his narrowed jade eyes were full of cat judgment.

“I’m not spiraling over some ridiculously hot stranger with pretty eyes and a motorcycle,” you insisted.

Smokey answered with a sharp tail flick, then turned away and offered a slow blink that amounted to feline disbelief.

You poured your coffee, the familiar routine helping to calm your racing thoughts, and as you turned to leave the kitchen, your eyes landed on the hoodie. Exhaling a huffed breath, you grabbed it, fingers curling into the soft fabric, carrying both it and your mug into the living room. Smokey trailed behind you, angling for his usual morning cuddles.

You knew how ridiculous it was, crashing out over a stranger, especially his sweatshirt. But the damn thing still smelled faintly like him – warm and clean, the lingering traces of smoke and sun, and you agonized over how badly you wanted to be wrapped up in his scent again.

You couldn’t have imagined that spark, the flicker of surprise in his eyes when your hands touched. In that moment, it felt like Jax looked at you like he wanted to figure you out and forget you all at once.

Unable to stop wondering why, you buried your face in it one last time, trying to hang onto the smell of him just a little longer, heart beating faster for reasons you couldn’t even begin to understand.

Sure. This wasn’t a thing. Not even close.

With a resolved sigh, you set it aside, telling yourself you’d wash it before giving it back – because that’s all this was, right? Just returning what wasn’t yours and finally getting your truck looked at properly. But the truth was, you hoped he’d be there. And if you were really honest with yourself… you’d already be looking for him the second you got there.

The following morning, you headed toward downtown Charming, it had only been a few months since you moved here for a teaching job at the local elementary school. When your old college friend Lauren mentioned the opening, you jumped at the chance for a fresh start. She taught kindergarten, and having her around made the transition a little less overwhelming.

Between the move, tying up loose ends of your old life, and preparing for a new school year, you didn’t have much time to explore. So far, Charming felt mostly unfamiliar, but from what little you’d seen, it was a town built on small businesses, familiar faces, and an unexpected number of motorcycles.

Pulling into the Teller-Morrow lot, your eyes swept over the row of bikes lined up near the garage, their chrome gleaming in the late-morning sun. You parked in one of the empty spaces near the shop, reaching across the seat to grab your bag and Jax’s hoodie.

The pavement radiated warmth beneath your shoes as you shut the door behind you and glanced around, immediately noticing the large white building across the way. Bold black letters stretched across the front: Sons of Anarchy M/C. A reaper emblem sat just above the doors, and nearby, a large sign lined the fence – Men of Mayhem, Sons of Anarchy. 

Charming was known for its biker presence, and even with your limited knowledge, the club’s reputation had made its way to your ears. In a way, it made sense that Jax was part of something like this – even if you hadn’t pieced it together until now.

And here you were, right in the heart of it. 

A younger mechanic spotted you almost immediately, stepping out from one of the open bays, wiping his grease-covered hands on a rag. He was shorter and lean, with dark, wiry hair sticking out in unruly directions, his gray work shirt had the name "Rat" stitched on the front.

"Hey there," he greeted casually. "What brings you by?"

You flashed a nervous smile, nodding towards your truck. "She’s been acting up lately, stalling out, struggling to start, and overheating. I had someone look at it a few days ago, but it's not running much better."

Rat glanced past you to the pickup and then back to you. "Did you have it looked at here?"

"Not exactly," you admitted, hesitating a little. "I got stranded a few days ago and a guy named Jax stopped to help me. He was able to get it running just to get me home, but he told me his family ran this place and said I could bring it in."

Offering a charming half-smile, your brows lifted slightly, hoping Jax wasn’t just being nice. “So… here I am.”

Recognition lit Rat’s face immediately, a mix between amusement and genuine surprise. “Ahh, Jax. Ya know, he’s here, but he’s tied up right now,” he said, his eyes flicking briefly toward the clubhouse.

You caught the glance but didn’t follow it right away, not wanting to make yourself obvious. Instead, you nodded slowly, letting your eyes linger elsewhere before they finally shifted toward the white building across the lot. The disappointment of not seeing him settled heavier in your chest than you expected.

Rat motioned toward the garage, drawing your attention back to him. "C’mon inside. I'll get your info and then take a look at your truck."

He led you into a small office tucked just off the side of the bays, the kind of space that felt more functional than welcoming. It was cluttered with paperwork, keys dangling from hooks, and old photographs pinned up alongside service notes, the smell of motor oil and coffee filling the small room. As he began jotting down your information and notes about your truck, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, your eyes unintentionally drifting toward the window that faced the clubhouse.

"Think it'll take long?" you asked, still holding out hope that if you waited long enough you’d catch Jax.

Looking up, Rat caught where your eyes had landed, his brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he just shrugged. “Hard to say. I’ll check it out, see what we’re dealing with.” 

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral, though your fingers tightened a little around the folded sweatshirt in your hands. His eyes dropped to the gesture, catching the subtle tension in your grip, and a knowing smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Jax give you that?” he questioned, amused but friendly. 

Heat crept up your neck as your eyes dropped for a second, then flicked back up. You let out a quiet, sheepish laugh, the memory still a little surreal. “Oh… yeah. I got caught in a downpour when my truck broke down. He lent it to me because I was literally drenched.” You gave a small, exasperated shake of your head, like you still couldn’t quite believe it even happened. 

Rat laughed quietly, shaking his head. "Yeah, sounds like Jax. Anyway, you can wait here or – “ 

The open door let in the sounds from the lot, but it was the shift in atmosphere that made you glance over. A woman stepped into the office with a natural confidence, instantly commanding the cramped space. Her dark hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, chunky highlights catching the light as it framed a striking face – strong features, high cheekbones, and eyes that were sharp and watchful.

Rat straightened, offering a respectful nod. “Gemma.”

She gave him a quick acknowledgment, then looked straight at you. Her expression wasn’t totally unfriendly, but pointed with quiet curiosity, her eyes narrowing slightly in silent evaluation.

“Who’s this?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as she looked you over.

While she spoke, she stepped further into the room, setting her purse down on the desk, her fingers brushed her hair back from her face before resting on the back of the nearby chair, nails tapping lightly as she waited for someone to answer.

Rat cleared his throat, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Gemma’s eyes pinned him in place. “She’s, uh… here for Jax,” he started, then immediately backpedaled. “I mean, kind of. Not really. He just… he helped her out the other day, and, uh, told her to bring her truck in for repairs.”

His hand shot up to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously as he glanced at Gemma, unsure if he’d said too much or not enough. “Figured it was fine,” he added quickly, his voice dropping toward the end.

Gemma’s eyebrows rose just slightly, intrigued. Those observant eyes of hers caught the hoodie you still held protectively in your arms, and a faint smirk twitched at the corners of her plum-stained lips, putting the pieces together.

“Did he now?” Her voice was warm, but with an edge of amusement. She stepped closer, eyes meeting yours directly. “You a friend of his?”

“No,” you answered quickly, cheeks warming slightly under her scrutiny. “I’m pretty new in town, but I broke down a few days ago and Jax stopped to help.” You finished explaining the entire situation, immediately understanding why Rat seemed so nervous around this woman. 

Gemma’s intensity seemed to soften a little at your explanation. “Well, sweetheart, you’ve come to the right place. I’m Gemma Teller.”

She held out her hand, and you shook it, feeling the strength and confidence in her grip. “Nice to meet you,” you offered, your voice warm.

Gemma released your hand slowly, eyes lingering on you curiously for another second before glancing around the small, cluttered office. “Sorry for the cramped quarters, we’re not exactly set up for comfort around here.”

“It’s fine, really,” you assured her, smiling again, the easy kind that came naturally.

Gemma’s mouth curved slightly in understanding. “There’s a picnic table right outside. Might be nicer than hanging around in here, if ya want.”

You nodded gratefully, relieved at the suggestion. “Thanks! I can wait out there.”

Rat gave you a small nod, taking your keys from you. “I’ll get started on it now.”

Stepping outside, you blinked against the bright sunlight and slid your sunglasses back into place. The warmth on your skin helped settle the nerves you were feeling. With the hoodie tucked under one arm, you made your way to the weathered wooden table Gemma had pointed out and eased down onto the bench, placing both it and your bag beside you.

Leaning forward, you took in more your surroundings, the garage bays were humming with activity, a few mechanics moving around cars and bikes. Off near the fence, a worn swing set stood out to you, one of the rubber seats hung slightly crooked, the wood frame lightened from years of sun, but it was obviously still used.

A swing set wasn’t something you'd expect to see here, not in the middle of an auto shop lot and club compound. It made you wonder even more about the people who lived and worked in this world – and what kind of life existed behind those clubhouse doors.

Your focus lingered there, a strange sense of anticipation tightening in your chest when you watched the door swing open. Voices, deep and rumbling, drifted out across the space as the men emerged one by one. Each wore a variation of a heavy leather vest, patches proudly displayed, but your eyes searched for only one.

And then, finally, there he was.

Your breath caught, heart skipping a beat before thudding harder in your chest. There was a sharp, electric shift inside you as Jax stepped into view. This version of him seemed to move differently, carrying himself with a presence that commanded the space around him. 

He wore the same black leather vest over his white tee as the rest of them, patches stitched across the front and back, but from where you sat, you couldn’t make out what they said. Still, you could sense it, he was someone important here, respected. Maybe even feared.

His blond hair was tousled effortlessly – catching the sun as he walked, neater than it had been when you first met him. His jaw set tight, beard scruff trimmed close, and his blue eyes were just as piercing and guarded as you remembered, noticing as he scanned his surroundings with quiet precision.

You swallowed thickly, taking him in, suddenly feeling exposed despite the shield of your sunglasses. Your attention stayed locked on him as he glanced your way, and even though he couldn’t see your eyes, something about your stillness must’ve given you away, because recognition flickered across his face – surprise and curiosity dancing in his features.

Jax stopped mid-step, eyes locking onto you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “No shit,” he muttered under his breath as he took a slow drag from his cigarette.

Opie’s gaze drifted between the two of you, clearly interested. "You know her?"

"She broke down on Rivergate Road the other day," Jax replied quietly, not looking away. "Didn't think I'd see her again."

A slow smile tugged at Opie’s mouth as he lit a cigarette. “She’s pretty,” he said around it, blowing out a stream of smoke. “Definitely not from around here.”

Smoke trailed slowly from Jax’s lips as he shot his friend a sideways glance, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "Yeah," he muttered, something guarded in his tone. "Pretty ain't the problem."

Chuckling softly, Opie’s eyes flicked back to you again. "Then what's the problem? 'Cause from where I’m standin’, brother, she's smokin'."

For a moment, Jax hesitated, cigarette halfway to his mouth, eyes lingering on you across the lot. You sat alone at the picnic table, sunglasses hid your eyes, but he could feel your attention on him, tugging at something deep in his chest, unsettling him more than he wanted to admit.

He shook his head slightly, voice dropping lower as he admitted, "Something about her just...caught me off guard."

Opie raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Off guard, huh?"

Rolling his eyes, Jax let out a rough laugh. "Shut up," he grumbled, though a reluctant half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "It's not like that."

"Sure, man," Opie said lightly, skepticism heavy in his voice.

A muscle tightened in Jax’s jaw, another slow drag on his cigarette steadying him. He'd been careful and closed off ever since everything had fallen apart with Tara, keeping everyone at arm's length – but something about you slipped right past those walls. He hated how you made him wonder if he wasn't as broken as he'd accepted.

"She's trouble," he finally said, voice quiet but firm. "The kind I don't need."

Opie’s expression softened, the amusement shifting into something sincere. "Looks like the kind of trouble you want, though."

Flicking his cigarette away, Jax ground it out beneath his sneaker, eyes fixed on the ground. After a moment, he let out a breath. "Hell," he admitted roughly, glancing at Opie with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. "I don't even know her name."

A quiet laugh left Opie’s mouth, gentle understanding in his eyes. "Sounds like a good place to start."

Nodding his head, Jax gave Opie a dry look as he straightened. "Tell the guys I'll be right there, yeah? Just need a minute."

Opie nodded, giving his friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he turned toward the bikes. "Sure thing, brother."

Jax took a slow breath, glancing toward Gemma, who stood quietly by the garage office door, always observing. He went to her first, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, and you watched their brief exchange while trying to seem casual. Gemma’s gaze drifted toward you once, unreadable but curious. Your fingers tightened around the hoodie beside you on the bench, feeling your heart speed up the moment he turned your way and started walking towards you.

Swaggering, really.

It was effortless the way he moved, and the closer he got, the harder it was to pretend you weren’t affected.

He tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to notice the way your posture shifted as he approached – the way your shoulders straightened, your sunglasses casually pushed up onto your head, fully revealing your eyes to him for the first time that day. The sight made his pulse quicken, suddenly struck by just how different you looked today compared to the rain-soaked girl he'd met stranded. Now, dry and composed, your skin gently sun-kissed and your lips softened into the sweetest smile, you damn near took his breath away.

He swallowed hard, fighting against the feelings it stirred inside him.

Jax slowed as he reached you, the barest smile tugging softly at the corner of his mouth. “Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft and relaxed.

You squinted up at him playfully, rising to meet him. “Well, if it isn’t my roadside hero.”

He chuckled softly, shoulders relaxing as he took you in fully, eyes tracing your features carefully. “Guess that makes you my damsel in distress, huh?”

You scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes with a playful smile. “Maybe just a damsel with car trouble,” you corrected, nodding towards Rat, who was inspecting your truck. “Decided to take you up on your offer.”

"Good," Jax said, a flicker of relief passing through his expression. "Glad you brought her in."

You lifted his folded hoodie toward him. “Also wanted to return this to you. I’m no thief.” You joked gently.

His smile widened, eyes softening with amusement. “Never thought you were,” he teased, reaching to take it.

His large palm briefly covered the top of your hand in the exchange, instantly sparking warmth under your skin again. You both hesitated, eyes meeting as you registered the feeling. Jax’s eyes glinted slightly, catching the scent of you now clinging to his hoodie. He didn’t say anything about it, but you noticed the moment of quiet surprise before he carefully drew his hand away. 

You cleared your throat lightly, trying to steady the flutter in your chest. “I, uhh – I made sure to wash it too.”

Jax gave a small, appreciative nod. “Thanks.”

Your lips curved faintly as you answered, your voice softer. “You’re welcome.” A flush crept into your cheeks under the weight of his stare.

His grin returned – smaller now, a little bit lopsided – shaking his head like he couldn’t help himself. “So, not only are you not a thief,” he teased lightly, “you’re thoughtful enough to return it clean.” His blue eyes didn’t stray as he spoke, something earnest appearing there. 

You laughed under your breath, shoulders easing again as the tension gave way to something lighter. “Well, I figured I owed you at least that much for giving me something dry to wear.”

Jax gave you that same look he had the other day, like it was no big deal, just something he did without needing credit. Then, as if suddenly remembering the reason you’d come by, his attention shifted toward your pickup, his expression growing more thoughtful.

“You know, we can patch her up for now,” he said carefully, turning back to you, eyes gentle. “But eventually, you might wanna think about upgrading.”

You looked down, fingers brushing absently over the worn denim at your thigh. A faint smile tugged at your mouth, edged with something more fragile. “Yeah, I know she’s getting pretty old–or ‘vintage,’ rather,” you corrected yourself.

Your eyes dropped from his, and for the briefest second, you were somewhere else entirely. “But it belonged to my dad,” you added. “And I’m just… not ready to let it go yet.”

Your voice softened on those last words, warmth fading into something a little heavier. You didn’t look up, but Jax saw the shift clearly, the quiet shadow of grief crossing your face.

He recognized that look instantly. Hell, he felt it himself.

“Hey,” he offered softly, waiting until your eyes lifted back to his. He hesitated, then gestured toward the tattoo wrapped around his right forearm. “I get it. Some things you just hold onto… or memorialize.”

Your eyes traced the ink, an understanding settling gently in your expression. You didn’t need an explanation; it was clear how deeply personal the tattoo was to him.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Exactly.”

In the quiet, something important clicked into place, neither of you pressing further. You didn’t need details, just knowing someone else understood was enough.

After a moment, your attention drifted to the patches stitched onto his leather vest, curiosity rising as you lingered on the one labeled across his chest: President. You didn’t know exactly what that meant, but it was obvious that Jax held importance here. Questions danced on your tongue, but before you could ask, a low whistle from across the lot broke the delicate intimacy between you.

Jax turned toward the sound with mild annoyance, taking in the group of men by their bikes, visibly restless and waiting for him. He shook his head slightly, mouth quirking into an apologetic half-smile as he looked back at you.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he added warmly, voice genuinely regretful. “Club business.”

Your smile faltered for half a second before you caught yourself, heart sinking a little. But still, you lifted your chin, voice light and flirtatious. “You know… I wouldn’t mind hearing more about that sometime.”

His brows lifted slightly, an amused grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. As much as the thought clearly appealed to him, he remained guarded. “If we ever run into each other again, darlin’,” he drawled, a hint of skepticism beneath the charm, “I’ll tell ya all about it.” He punctuated the promise with an easy wink, though his eyes lingered a second longer than they needed to.

You tilted your head, expression a little dry, a trace of amusement sparking in your eyes. “Do you call all the girls ‘darlin’?” you asked, tone edged just enough to let him know you weren’t entirely charmed by it.

Jax’s smirk deepened, completely shameless. “Only the pretty ones.”

That pulled a soft snort from you before you could stop it, your eyes rolling as a laugh slipped out. “Wow! Guess I walked right into that one, huh?”

He chuckled, taking a step back without breaking eye contact. “Ya know, I never did get your name the other day.”

You blinked, then laughed, a little embarrassed. “Oh – right.” Your name left your lips quieter than you meant, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Something in his expression shifted, repeating your name, almost like he was testing how it felt to say. The way it sounded in his voice sent a flutter through your chest, light and unsteady, your heart skipping a beat.

He glanced once toward his waiting crew, then back at you before stepping away. “You showin’ up kinda made my day,” he confessed before he could even stop himself. “Good seeing you again.”

There was a bigger smile on his face now – more at ease – and it suited him. He definitely seemed more comfortable here than he had the other day. His voice was easy, but the weight behind it wasn’t. Something about you still lingered on him, even as he turned to go

You beamed, despite yourself, heart thudding in your ears at his honesty. “You too, Jax,” you managed, voice a little breathy as you gave a small, lingering wave.

Watching as he crossed the lot, that trademark swagger still in his step, Jax glanced back once, catching your eye again across the distance; confirming that whatever had sparked between you two on that roadside was nowhere near finished.

You hadn’t imagined it after all.

Reaching his bike, he opened a small compartment, folding the hoodie carefully before tucking it inside, his fingers lingering on it before closing it shut. Your intoxicating scent was now woven into the soft material, pulling him straight back to the way you’d looked at him moments ago.

Behind him, Tig let out a low whistle, watching you. “Damn, brother. If you ain’t gonna tap that, I might go introduce myself.”

Jax didn’t even look at him, just reached for his helmet with a shake of his head.

Opie crossed his arms, grinning. “Shit, you were about two seconds from writin’ her a fuckin’ poem.”

Chibs chuckled low, Scottish accent thick. “Aye, heartbroken or not, still got a dick, eh Jacky boy?”

The guys all burst out laughing, the kind that came easy between brothers who’d been through hell together.

Jax slid his helmet on and turned to them with a smirk. “You assholes done?”

Tig grinned as he mounted his bike. “Not even close.”

They were still laughing as engines fired up around him, the sound echoing through the lot like second nature.

Jax let out a chuckle of his own, shaking his head as he swung a long leg over his bike and tugged on his gloves. He could feel their eyes on him, the shit-eating grins practically radiating off them.

He looked back once more, his eyes finding you without even trying. You were still watching him, arms folded loosely over your chest, your beautiful smile stretched wide across your face. Even from across the lot, it hit him all over again – the low and steady pull towards you, settling under his skin in a way he didn’t know what to do with.

He focused forward again, the teasing laughter around him made it clear that his brothers had seen everything. And yeah, maybe they were right, he just wasn’t ready to admit it yet. 

Jax twisted the throttle, the engine roaring to life beneath him, and even as the others rolled out ahead, he took one last look back – just for a second.

Then he kicked off after them, that damn grin still tugging at his mouth.

tag-list: @laurfilijames @stevie75 @aria725 @unholycheesesnack @pumpkinkpieandtomato @thedreadandthefugitivemind @jmamas92 @glxsyy-itza396

sorry if I missed anyone, please let me know if I did or if you’d like to be added! 🩷

[margooo00]

LEWIS PULLMAN as RHETT ABBOTT OUTER RANGE: "THE VOID"

[margooo00]

🔥Imagine this…

“Hey, gorgeous,” a voice called over the rumble of an engine. You glanced over to see a guy on a motorcycle pulling up alongside you on the sidewalk. “If I remember right, I promised you a ride.”

“Jax,” you smiled, stepping off the curb and resting a hand on his shoulder. “Right now’s not a great time I’m in a rush.”

“Then all the more reason to hop on. Where you headed?”

“To my mom’s. She called, said she needs me there right away. Something’s going on,” you explained, climbing onto the back and gripping his shoulders.

He let out a sharp laugh, handing you a helmet with a grin.

“What?” you asked, buckling the strap.

“Just picturing something,” he said.

“What, Jax?”

“How you’re about to mount my horse.”

“Cut it out,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around him to signal you were ready.

He laughed again and eased the bike onto the street. You leaned into him as the wind whipped past, then decided to tease him, your hand sliding lower until you cupped him through his jeans.

Jax’s grin widened, the vibration of his laugh mixing with the engine beneath you. But then, without warning, he turned off the main road and pulled over onto a quiet stretch.

“What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?” you asked.

He didn’t answer, just shot you a wicked smile. In one swift move, he swung you around to face him, your back against the handlebars, your hips perched over the tank.

“Jax!” you yelped, trying to close your knees and push him away when his fingers slipped under the edge of your panties. “Oh my God, Jax…” Your voice faltered as a rush of pleasure broke through the protest. Still, your gaze kept darting to the road. “Stop… someone will see!”

“Relax,” he murmured, never slowing, pressing firmly against your lower belly. “Nobody cares.”

“Oh, God!” you gasped, eyes squeezing shut just as a car passed an elderly woman in the passenger seat locking eyes with you before it sped by. “Jax!”

“You’re insane!” you burst into laughter, clinging to him when your feet hit the ground. “I cannot believe you just did that. That was humiliating.”

“Humiliating for me?” he teased.

“For everything! You’re known by everyone in this town they’ll talk…”

“And what would they even say?” He caught your mouth in a hungry kiss. “That I pleased my girl? Big deal.”

“I’ll never forget this,” you said breathlessly.

Minutes later, your mom stepped out onto the porch as you pulled up.

“Sweetheart,” she started, then froze, frowning at Jax. “You couldn’t take a cab?”

“Traffic was hell, Mom. The bike’s faster,” you said, pulling off your helmet. “What’s the big emergency?”

“Remember Michael? The one I told you about?” Her voice turned bright with satisfaction. “He’s here. He came to meet you.”

Jax leaned closer, his voice low. “Who’s Michael?”

“My mom thinks he’s the ‘perfect match.’”

“I see.” His jaw tightened. “Put the helmet back on and hold on to me.”

“What? Jax, don’t…”

“I said, hold on.” He guided your arms around him, fired up the engine, and gave your mother a pointed look before pulling away. “We’re leaving.”

*credit to gif owner

[margooo00]

Imagine staying a night at the clubhouse and waking up to Chibs

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You wake up around 5am, the clubhouse completely silent. Your head was pounding from drinking the night before. You roll out of bed, the one in the spare room you stayed in, before groggily walking out into the hall.

As you go into the kitchen to grab a drink you get startled from the sudden voice. "Rough night?"

You blink a few times and take in your surroundings more. You then notice Chibs leaning against the counter in the kitchen with a slight smirk on his face. You then realise how rough you must look. Still in the same clothes as yesterday, hair messy.

You smile, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah.....a rough night indeed" you laugh before walking into the kitchen to grab a glass. Before you can even make it to the cupboard Chibs has already grabbed you a glass and has filled it with water from the cooler.

He smiles, handing you the water "Here love. Aye........ drink up....."

You gulp down some water, then you put down the glass. "Thank you" You meet his gaze, finding him already looking at you with an amused look. He seems a little hung over himself but not as bad as you.

"Nah.......no need for that" He takes a sip of his coffee. "Ya needed it after the night you had"

"Oh.....don't remind me, please" you grimace slightly, playfully. "I don't even want to think about it"

"Come here.......let me look at ya" He beckons you over. You come as he asks and he gently touches your collarbone. You gasp slightly as a sudden pain hits you.

"Sorry......." He whispers, rubbing your lower back gently with his other hand. He meets your gaze to make sure you aren't in a lot of pain before continuing. "You took a right tumble last night........ nearly scared me to death" he huffs, checking the bruise over.

"Well I guess that's what I get for dancing on the bar" you giggle making Chibs let out a little laugh also.

"You were magnificent lovey........" He teases, stroking the bruise gently before letting his hand fall away. However, the other stays on your lower back. "Just a nasty bruise......got to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don't get into too much trouble" He continues to tease you.

You blush, laughing slightly as you start to feel better, no longer as embarrassed. "I wouldn't mind that......"

Chibs raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Oh really?" He moves a little closer, your bodies almost touching. "I might just have to do that then"

Your blush darkens as he pulls you closer, a hand holding his arm out of instinct. His eyes wander over you, taking you in. You feel the slight embarrassment starting to creep back as you remember your messy appearance. Until you see how he is looking at you, like you're the most beautiful thing in the world.

Suddenly you hear someone clearing their throat and then Juice appears at the kitchen door, half naked and still drunk. "Oh.....hey guys....." He smirks lazily looking you both over. You move away, Chibs' face twisting slightly in annoyance at Juice interrupting.

"Hey sweetie" you smile at him, almost laughing at his state. One you've seen him in many times before.

Chibs can't help but laugh "Right Juicy, let's get ya back to bed aye?" Chibs gives you a wink before carting Juice off towards his room. "Oh...yeah....yeah totally. Bye Y/N!" Juice slurs, wobbling along with Chibs.

"Bye!" You laugh, watching them both go. You feel your head starting to pound slightly. You huff, grabbing the glass of water again to take a few sips. Your heart is still beating rapidly from the intimate moment with Chibs, the beating of your head nowhere close to the beating of your heart in this moment.

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Charlie Hunnam in Sons of Anarchy

part one of ?

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LEWIS PULLMAN as Rhett Abbott OUTER RANGE 1.05 — The Soil

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did anyone notice that in the season finale of season three, Chibs is drinking a Jameson juice box? I’m on my third rewatch of SOA, and I’m still noticing new things.

of course I got distracted and did a deep dive, the prop department made it special just for him.

[margooo00]

I Need You More 2:| Stay With Me

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 5.3k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; mutual pining, canon-typical violence, brief depiction of near underage sexual assault, angst, hurt/comfort

a/n: This one took me a long time to finally get written because I kept getting distracted, but part two is finally here! Heed the warnings for this fic. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

series tag list: @kmc1989  @chloe-skywalker @secretlysamcro @the-jer-bear @simonsbluee

Leaning against the brick exterior of the bakery downtown, Jax slipped the lit cigarette between his lips and took a long drag, the late morning sun hanging just above the tops of the buildings downtown. He kicked his feet out along the sidewalk as he leaned further back against the bakery, making himself more comfortable while his attention remained fixed across the street on Zobelle’s cigar shop, Impeccable Smokes. 

With a bored exhale, Jax blew the smoke from his cigarette away from where Opie stood leaning his shoulder against the brick just a few feet beside him. He was smoking his own cigarette, his heavy stare also focused just past both of their parked bikes on the side of the main street, watching the same shop as Jax.

Clay had tasked the pair of them to keep an eye on Zobelle throughout the week, wanting to know who was coming and going into the bastard’s shop ever since Zobelle and Weston had the goddamn balls to make an unexpected drop-in at the clubhouse during the middle of a party last week. After demanding that the Sons stop selling guns, they’d earned themselves a top spot on the club’s shit list–especially with Zobelle’s presence insulting them right there in the middle of downtown Charming.

But as Jax stood there, taking a drag on his cigarette, his eyes drifted over from the cigar shop that he was supposed to be watching and over to a figure making their way down the sidewalk across the street. With his gaze hidden behind his sunglasses, Jax’s eyes followed the young woman as she continued walking, a phone pressed to her ear. He’d noticed her walking through downtown every morning, always appearing around this same time for the past few days. Unable to resist, Jax found himself always watching as she made her way into the coffee shop that was next door to Zobelle’s cigar shop. 

His eyes tracked the woman as she stepped into the small store and took her place in line behind the register. Despite the years that had slowly passed since he'd last seen her in Charming, Jax knew exactly who she was. It had taken him the entirety of Monday to place why her face had looked so goddamn familiar, but then he'd figured it out.

The years had changed you from that teenage girl he once knew, but he’d never forgotten you. Even if you’d once been the shy, well-behaved girl he’d grown up going to school with, the one who’d always had her nose buried in a book and raised her hand to politely answer the teacher’s questions in class, Jax had never failed to notice you growing up. How could he not have noticed you? You were pretty, but you were also incredibly smart. While he remembered some of the kids calling you shitty things growing up because of how quiet and bookish you were–something he’d always shut down whenever he’d fucking heard it, including from Tara–he’d always thought your intelligence was attractive. 

You were nothing like the other girls Jax had known in Charming. You didn’t bat your eyes at him and play dumb to get his attention–shit the girls in his life still did just to get him to look their way at the clubhouse or Caracara. He didn’t find it cute whenever they did, back then or now, but he admittedly wasn’t exactly looking for conversation from any of them anyway. Having brains hadn’t exactly been a requirement for Jax Teller to want to fuck someone.

But you? You’d had his attention growing up–not that he’d ever admitted that to anyone. Though Jax had certainly never acted on anything when it came to you, either. You were far too good for the likes of some piece of shit high school drop-out turned biker outlaw like himself. You were the type of girl who deserved to get out of Charming and find some nice guy who made six-figures. Someone who could buy you a big house, a fancy car, and help you raise three well-adjusted and equally normal kids. You were the type who didn’t need to know what three day old vomit smelled like when it dried into a couch cushion, or how many panties flushed down a toilet would fuck up the plumbing–and he still wondered who the fuck was behind that. 

You were the type of girl always just out of Jax’s reach. The type he’d only ruin–and not in the fun kind of way he’d often thought about back then. Because fuck had you certainly featured in a few of his fantasies back in the day. Most of them involved you helping him study for school which would turn into him getting you on your back and showing you what he was good at.

He’d also never forgotten that night downtown eight years ago. That night he’d heard a girl screaming for help when he’d been on his way to Tara’s for some of their usual bullshit of drinking and sex. And when he’d jogged straight towards the voice and found that it was you who’d been crying out for help–that it was you being pressed up against the barber shop wall by some drunk bastard late at night–Jax had been damn near ready to kill the disgusting bastard. Because there was no way in hell someone like you should’ve ever been touched like that let alone put into that situation.  

You deserved far better than that shit.

But not long after that night, only a few weeks later, you'd graduated from Charming High School with Tara’s class. He’d seen you around Charming a few times on his bike after graduation day, but you’d never once looked his way for longer than a few seconds. He didn’t know if it was because he scared you somehow, or if you’d felt embarrassed about what had almost happened to you that night when he had found you, but he’d never had a chance to speak to you again since he’d walked you home. And when summer came to a close, you’d disappeared to live the life you deserved, attending university somewhere far away from the small town you’d grown up in.

He had never heard a damn thing about you again after that.

But he’d certainly never forgotten you or that kiss you’d given him on his cheek. How you’d leaned in towards him before pressing your soft, warm lips against his skin, the sweetness of them lingering there for a moment before your eyes grew wide, as if shocking even yourself at the gesture. He recalled how fast you’d bolted up to your front door in embarrassment afterwards, but Jax hadn’t forgotten that little kiss on the cheek. No one had ever kissed him quite so innocently before or after that night. 

Absently reaching a hand up now, his fingers scratched at the place beneath his beard where your lips had once been eight years ago. He watched you through the coffee shop window, staring down at your phone in your hands as you waited for whatever drink you'd just ordered. He’d been seeing you around downtown Charming a lot this past week, always stopping into the coffee shop to grab a coffee in the morning. He had no idea if you were suddenly back in Charming or just visiting, but he’d grown curious with each passing day that he continued to see you.

“Who is she?”

The sound of Opie’s voice caused Jax’s attention to abruptly shift away from where you stood inside of the coffee shop by the counter. Taking another drag on his cigarette, Jax looked over his shoulder at his best friend. Opie was staring right through the window of the coffee shop now, too.

Blowing out the cloud of smoke, Jax attempted to play dumb. “What?” he asked.

Opie’s attention slowly returned to Jax, the corner of his lips gradually rising into a smirk. He tilted his head, gesturing towards the shop across the street.

“The girl I see you staring at every morning when she goes to get coffee,” Opie pressed. “I've spent most of the week standing out here with you, brother. I'm not stupid. I see you watching her every time she goes in there. Who is she?”

Looking down at the cigarette in his fingers, Jax shrugged at Opie’s question. He wanted to lie and say he didn't know or care who you were, but if Opie had already noticed him watching you every morning, he knew damn well he wouldn't fall for that. 

“Just some girl from back when we were in school, I think,” he answered, trying to sound as disinterested as he could. “Didn't know she was back in Charming.”

“Right, yeah, just some girl from high school, huh?” Opie replied, clearly not buying Jax's answer. “Brother, you've been staring at her every time she shows up at that coffee shop this week. Only girl I ever knew you noticed back in high school was Tara.” 

Opie gestured his head back at the shop across the street again. Through the window, Jax could see you standing near the door inside the shop now, still talking on the phone with your coffee held in one hand. Briefly he wondered what the call was about that had put that pinched expression on your face that he could see from across the street before Opie continued.

“And that ain't Tara. So who is it?” Opie pushed. “Because I don't recognize her.”

Behind the dark sunglasses he was wearing, Jax’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “Fine,” he grumbled. Jax paused for a second, his lips thinning out in annoyance before your name finally fell from between them. 

Opie’s head tilted to the side at the sound of it, his brows knitting together above his own sunglasses. He took another inhale from his cigarette before he pulled it from his lips, pointing it across the street at you still standing in the shop as the smoke billowed out of his mouth.

“That’s her?” he asked skeptically. “The one the fuckin’ jocks called mute cause she barely ever spoke outside of class?”

Jax frowned at his best friend’s comment. He remembered all too well how that fucking nickname stuck to you back in the day. He also remembered overhearing Greg–or whatever the fuck his name was–at the gas station a few days after that night he’d saved you from the drunk downtown. Jax broke the dipshit’s nose when he’d heard him making a joke about you because he’d spotted you leaving the library across the street. He hated hearing you called that back then, and he still hated hearing it now.

“She wasn’t mute, Ope,” Jax retorted, his words sharp. “Don’t fuckin’ call her that.”

The corner of Opie’s lips twitched into a grin before his hands raised in a placating gesture, his almost finished cigarette still pinched between two fingers. Jax’s jaw clenched in irritation, aware that he’d just come across far too defensive over you and that damn nickname he’d hated hearing. It always put this look on your face that made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t used to, but now he definitely didn’t sound as disinterested as he’d been trying to appear.

“Wasn’t callin’ her that,” he countered, hands slowly lowering back to his sides. “Just how I remember her, brother.” Opie paused, his eyes still on Jax beside him. “But you seem very protective over some girl you didn’t know. What’s up with that?”

Tossing his cigarette down to the sidewalk, Jax roughly crushed it out beneath his shoe. He’d never told anyone about that night he’d saved you. Why would he? But he figured at this point, it didn’t matter if Ope knew or not. That was years ago and nothing had ever really happened.

“I talked to her once,” he confessed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Jax glanced back through the coffee shop window, seeing you still standing by the exit and talking on the phone. You looked frustrated or upset, he couldn’t quite tell the difference from this distance.

“Just once?” Opie pried, a hint of disbelief in his tone. “One little chat years ago has you staring at her every goddamn morning all these years later? I’m callin’ bullshit, man.”

“I saved her, alright?” he agitatedly snapped. “There was this drunk asshole downtown when she was walking home one night. I heard her screaming for help and showed up to find some piece of shit–” he paused, teeth gritting together as the memory of that scene and your scared face resurfaced in his mind, “–pressing her into the wall of the barber shop tryin’ to–”

Opie’s expression had shifted to serious, all traces of his teasing gone at Jax’s explanation and the way he’d abruptly cut himself off. That had not been what he’d expected Jax to tell him. Out of the corner of his eye, Jax noticed the way Opie looked back across the street at you, his lips pressed into a grim line on his face. He stared at you for a long moment before he focused back on Jax.

“Shit,” he breathed out. “What the fuck happened?”

“Caught some drunk jackass tryin’ to take advantage of her,” Jax explained, his jaw tense. “I’d been goin’ over to Tara’s when I heard her screaming for help. Knocked the son of a bitch out cold, but I sure as fuck wanted to do more.” 

He shook his head, arms still crossed over his chest as he turned and rested a shoulder against the bakery wall beside them to focus on Ope. Opie mirrored the position, leaning against the brick again as that solemn expression remained on his own face.

“She was just seventeen, man,” Jax gritted out. “I just–I couldn’t–” 

He ran a hand through his shaggy hair in frustration as a sharp exhale fell out of him. He tried to remind himself that you’d been okay in the end–you were literally across the street drinking coffee right now. Nothing had happened to you.

“I walked her home afterwards, completely forgot about even fuckin’ going to Tara’s after that,” he admitted, the faintest trace of a smile pulling at his lips. “She kissed me on the cheek when she thanked me before darting into her house,” he added quietly.

“No wonder why you’re staring at her,” Opie teased lightly, reaching out and lightly smacking Jax on the shoulder. “Probably the tamest thing a girl has ever done to you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ope,” Jax replied, chuckling at the comment that held far too much truth. “That’s not–”

But Jax didn’t finish his thought because something solid had smacked roughly into his shoulder and disrupted the conversation. Stumbling back a step, Jax looked over at who’d just run into him, but when he recognized it was a flustered you, his hands immediately flew out and grabbed onto your upper arms to steady you before you could fall. A soft curse flew out of your lips as your phone slipped out of your hand and fell face-down straight to the pavement with a sharp clack while the coffee in your other hand sloshed up onto the lid of your cup. 

“Whoa, easy there,” Jax soothed, his hands still on your arms. “You alright?”

You nodded, your eyes still on the phone that had fallen to the ground. “Yeah,” you replied. “Shit, I’m sorry, I wasn’t–”

Jax noticed you begin to bend down, obviously about to pick up your dropped phone. You were probably wondering if you’d just shattered the screen from that fall it took. He released his grip on your upper arms before holding up a hand in your line of sight, effectively stopping you. 

“I got it,” he said. 

As he crouched down to grab the phone from off the sidewalk, the little amused noise that fell from Opie nearby didn’t go unnoticed by Jax. But he ignored it, standing back up and flipping the device over in his hands, finding that the screen looked completely devoid of damage. He held it out towards you, his eyes landing back on your flustered expression.

“Doesn’t look like it cracked,” he informed you.

“Thanks,” you replied, accepting the phone from his outstretched hand before pocketing it into the back pocket of your jeans. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just run right into you,” you continued apologizing again, your gaze landing on him now. “I was just dealing with something and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and–”

Abruptly stopping yourself, Jax’s eyebrow quirked up in amusement over his dark sunglasses as he studied your face, watching you actively press your lips together to quiet yourself. So you’d gone from the incredibly quiet girl he’d known to a complete nervous rambler? That was oddly adorable.

“Point is, I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t spill coffee on you, did I?”

Your eyes dropped down to his leather kutte, clearly examining it for coffee stains. But the corner of Jax’s mouth curved into an amused smirk when he noticed you eyeing the patches on the front of it. There was no way you had no idea who he was. 

“I’m good, sweetheart,” he assured you, that smirk still on his lips. You’d gotten even prettier with age, something he hadn’t been able to see quite as clearly from across the street this past week. “I’m not exactly afraid of a little iced coffee.”

Something like an awkward laugh met his comment as you took a step backwards, aware that you were still standing far too close to him after having run into him. Out of the corner of his eye, Jax caught the way Opie was leaning against the bakery watching the pair of you without even bothering to hide it. 

But Jax didn’t care. He’d been dying to know why the hell you were back in Charming, whether you were staying or just visiting. Tongue running along his bottom lip, he figured this would be his only opportunity to sate his curiosity. Your name fell from his mouth before you could make some excuse to disappear, and Jax relished the way you’d gone rigid in surprise at the sound of it.

“That’s you, right?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered hesitantly, eyes still a bit wide. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m…surprised you remember.”

“You think I wouldn’t remember you?” Jax questioned incredulously.

He had literally saved you from being sexually assaulted in this very downtown years ago. That wasn't the kind of thing he just forgot.

“I mean, I wasn’t–wasn’t exactly the most memorable person in our class,” you bluntly stated.

Pausing, your eyes shifted from Jax to where Opie still stood leaning against the wall watching the pair of you. It was clear that you didn't really know how to react to the both of them in this unexpected encounter you’d found yourself in, but you clearly recognized Ope, too. After a second, your attention returned to Jax. 

“People generally forget the awkward weirdos from school,” you simply concluded.

Jax pulled a face at the way you’d described yourself. A weirdo? No, that sounded more like the shit the kids back then said about you, and he didn’t like hearing that coming from you at all. 

“The hell are you talkin’ about, darlin’?” he countered, speaking without even thinking first. “You were the smartest person in our class. Yeah, you were quiet and a little awkward sometimes,” he continued, not even knowing why the words were just spilling out of his mouth to you like this, especially in front of Opie, “but you weren’t some weirdo just ‘cause you were always walkin’ through the halls reading a different book every week, or the one getting the highest test scores in every damn subject. You were smarter than everyone else in that school, probably even some of those fuckin’ teachers.”

Jax watched as your brows rose marginally onto your forehead at his sudden defense of you, obviously caught off guard by it. Internally he cursed himself, realizing he’d just given voice to a handful of thoughts that he probably shouldn’t have ever spoken aloud. Thoughts that clearly showed he’d been paying attention to more than just Tara back then. He could only imagine the shit Opie would say to him about it later.

“Oh,” you replied softly, shifting on your feet as you clutched your coffee in both hands. “I…didn’t think anyone was really paying attention to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Jax muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was.”

Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth as you chewed it for a moment, scanning over Jax’s face. He wondered if you remembered that night downtown all those years ago when he’d stumbled on you late at night. Had you ever paid attention to him back then–before or after that night? Had he ever crossed your mind in the years since you left Charming? Or did Jax Teller disappear from your thoughts the day you’d left Charming's city limits?

But he couldn’t ask any of that. Not that it mattered anyway, it wasn’t like he was going to make a move on you or ask you out or something. His earlier thoughts about you deserving better than someone like him still held true. Though he still found himself curious about what the hell you were doing back in Charming eight years later. 

“Been a bit since you’ve been here, right?” he asked, trying to sound casual as he changed the subject, somewhat embarrassed about his passionate outburst a second ago. Head tilting to the side, Jax studied you behind his dark sunglasses. “What brings you back to Charming now, darlin’?”

Almost immediately your gaze dropped down to the iced coffee in your hands, the faintest crease forming between your brows. He saw the way your expression shifted almost instantly, the corners of your lips curving downwards as you fell quiet. That only piqued his interest more as he remembered that phone call you’d had across the street before running into him. 

“My aunt,” you began softly, still not meeting his gaze. “She passed away a couple of weeks ago. Left me her house here in Charming.”

“Shit, I’m sorry for your loss,” Jax said, immediately regretting asking you about it. “I didn’t know.”

“Sorry that’s what brought you back,” Opie added quietly. 

Keeping your gaze averted on your iced coffee, you nodded at the words of condolence from both of them. Jax didn’t know you that well, but it seemed like you must’ve been close with your aunt if she left you her place and you’d grown this solemn about the shift in conversation.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. “Not exactly the best reason to be back in town, but that’s life. I’ve just been trying to go through her stuff this week. Trying to set up an estate sale and figure out what I’m doing with the house.”

“That why you seem so distracted?” Jax asked. “Dealin’ with all that?”

Your gaze finally rose from the coffee back to Jax’s face, a melancholic little smile on your lips. The sight of it stung for some reason. Apparently, even after eight years, he still had that soft spot for you.

“I don’t know if I’m keeping the house,” you admitted with a sigh. “Feels wrong to sell it, though. But Charming hasn’t exactly been my home for quite awhile.”

“How long are you sticking ‘round for?” Jax questioned curiously. 

The familiar rumble of approaching motorcycles followed his words, but Jax’s attention was admittedly singularly focused on you right now. Here you were, quite literally running into him eight years after you’d left. He’d never expected to see you in town again, and for some reason he wanted to know that you weren’t just rushing back out of Charming. Though out of the corner of his eye, he saw Opie’s head turn towards the noise.

“I don’t know,” you answered Jax with a shrug. “I’m still going through her things, and then I need to figure out what feels right. I'm not exactly–”

“Get down!”

Opie's loud shout cut your explanation clean off before the sound of gunshots rang out through downtown Charming. Two bikers that were not Sons rode their way through the main street and began to open fire as they drove. The biker on the left began shooting up the glass front of Zobelle’s cigar shop, the sound of it shattering impossible to miss among the screaming that soon followed. The biker on the right began shooting bullet after bullet in the direction of Jax and Opie as he drove by, though.

Jax didn’t have time to study their kuttes in the chaos of the moment as his heart leapt into his throat. Without giving it a second thought, he instinctively reached out and grabbed you by the arm before pushing you straight down to the sidewalk. He was vaguely aware of Opie dropping to the ground himself as Jax covered you with his own body, your iced coffee flying right out of your hands when you hit the pavement. 

As the bikes continued to roll through downtown, a few more bullets shattered the windows of shops while the citizens of Charming ran screaming from the danger and gunfire. Jax had thrown himself completely over the top of you, attempting to cover every inch of you to keep you safe beneath him as best as he could while the bullets kept flying. He swore he could feel the racing of your heart against his own chest with how tightly he was crushing you beneath himself.

“Just stay down, darlin’,” his panicked voice murmured. “You'll be fine. They're almost gone.”

He could smell the sweet mixture of coffee, vanilla, and the scent of something floral with how close he was pressed to you, but his attention was on the back of the bikers’ kuttes as they rode down the street. He didn’t recognize the symbol etched onto the leather as the two men disappeared around the corner, the snarl of their bikes growing fainter.

Even after the gunfire had finally ceased, Jax didn’t move from his position over the top of you. He looked around at the damage done to downtown, taking in the sight of shattered glass littering the sidewalk. Out of his peripheral, he saw Opie hesitantly rise to his feet. 

“Anyone hit?” Jax called out to him.

Opie craned his neck, searching along the streets of downtown as he scanned back and forth. He shook his head a few seconds later.

“Don't think so,” he replied. “Don't see anyone down. Think they were after Zobelle’s place for some reason.”

Jax carefully began to lift himself off of you on the sidewalk, his own eyes still sweeping over the damage he could see in front of himself. That definitely seemed to be the case, especially since they’d been aiming at the cigar shop initially. It was probably the fact that two other bikers were standing across the street that must have caught their attention. They'd probably thought the Sons were somehow aligned with fucking Zobelle and attacked him and Ope because of it, trying to send a message.

“Yeah, think you're right about that,” he replied, straightening himself up. “Wonder who they–”

The moment Jax focused back down on you, outstretching a hand for you to grab to help pull you back to your feet, he saw why you'd been so quiet through the entire situation. He figured you'd just been lying there beneath him terrified and that's why you hadn’t said a single word or rushed to get out of downtown yourself. 

But as he stood there looking down at you lying on the sidewalk, his outstretched hand uselessly hanging in the air, he could see the pained look on your face as one of your hands rested over your right side. Bright crimson coated your fingers, a thick gush of it seeping past them to pool onto the sidewalk next to you. The red had mixed with the light brown of your iced coffee which had spilled when Jax had dropped you to the pavement after the first shots had been fired, but the two substances combined made a grisly puddle along the cement that just looked wrong.

One of those bullets had hit you. The realization had dawned on Jax seemingly at the same time that it had for Opie.

“Oh, shit,” Opie cursed from just beside him. 

Fear gripped Jax as his mouth went dry, his entire face feeling like it had paled in mere seconds. Moving to your side, he dropped back down to his knees next to you on the sidewalk, his shaking hands momentarily hovering above your body as he tried to think of how to help. That's when he noticed that his left hand was already stained with your blood from when he'd been covering you moments ago. 

“Call a fuckin’ ambulance, Ope!” Jax snapped, his eyes not leaving you as he finally found his voice. “Now!”

He heard Opie take a few steps away, following Jax's orders while Jax’s attention remained on you lying there bleeding in the middle of downtown. You were making this soft, pained wheezing sound as you looked up at him from the ground, your face pinched in agony. The sound of your labored breath and that look in your eyes shattered his heart–you no doubt thought you were about to bleed out right there in front of him. But there was no goddamn way in hell that Jax was going to let that happen.

“You're gonna be alright,” he assured you, aware that his own voice sounded a little off even to himself. “I got you.”

His shaking hands carefully moved yours away from the wound on your side before he pressed his there instead, wincing at the sharp hiss of pain the pressure elicited from you. But he needed to keep you from bleeding out too much, he didn't have a choice. He could hear Opie on the phone behind him talking to a dispatcher now as his own heart pounded frantically in his chest. Jax just needed to slow the bleeding for a few minutes, just long enough for an ambulance to arrive downtown. That was all he needed to do. Because once the EMT arrived, they'd help you. They would fix this. They’d fix everything.

“Just focus on me, sweetheart,” he soothed, his eyes on yours. At some point in the middle of the driveby, Jax’s sunglasses had fallen off of him and disappeared somewhere. His eyes held yours in what he hoped was something comforting as he kept talking, his hands keeping pressure against your side. “An ambulance is coming now. You're gonna be just fine, okay? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, darlin’.”

He saw your eyelids flutter, the sight making him nervous. So did the quiet, pained groan that fell from your lips afterwards. Seeing you like this was absolute torture, especially because he knew damn well that this was all his fault. He was the reason you were lying there with a bullet in your side right now. Because you'd been standing there talking to him. The thought killed him, but he couldn't focus on that right now. He needed to stay calm for you.

“Stay with me, sweetheart,” he murmured, eyes still on yours. “You're doin' good. Just stay with me, okay?”

As the minutes slowly ticked past, Jax’s soothing words of reassurance eventually switched to soft apologies repeated over and over when your eyes had finally closed. The apologies didn't stop even when he heard the approaching sound of sirens in the distance, and he knew they wouldn't stop long after you’d been loaded into that ambulance.

[margooo00]

LEWIS PULLMAN as Rhett Abbott OUTER RANGE 1.08 — The West

[margooo00]

I just died a little bit.

ostt on tik tok

i’m unwell because of this edit

[margooo00]

I cannot put into words what that blue shirt does to me.

[margooo00]

Hi 😊

can i pls have a fluff date with tig? ❤️

Absolutely you can!

Enjoy him in all of his fluffy glory

💜 💜 💜 💜 💜 💜 💜

The house smelled like butter, cheese, and something vaguely cinnamon-sweet.

Tig Trager leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, arms folded across his chest, watching his girl move around in her oversized hoodie and sleep shorts, muttering under her breath as she arranged another tray.

He had no idea what half the stuff on the counter was—some Pinterest-y looking dessert in little jars, bowls of popcorn with different seasonings, something suspiciously shaped like mini tacos—but she looked happy, and he liked watching her like this. Soft. Domestic. Unaware that he was two seconds away from dragging her over the counter just for fun.

She caught him staring.

“Tig. I told you not to eat anything until it’s all done.”

“I didn’t eat anything.”

“You stole one of the peanut butter pretzel things.”

“I tested it.” He walked in, flicking one off the tray and catching it in his mouth. “It passed. Five stars. Make a hundred more.”

She rolled her eyes, smacking his shoulder with a dish towel, but her smile gave her away.

It was supposed to be date night. A real one. He’d promised he’d take her somewhere nice. Get cleaned up. Be normal, for once. Instead, she’d offered to make some snacks beforehand, and somehow that turned into an all-day cooking spree.

When she bent over to pull something out of the oven, Tig came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said against her neck.

“That’s always dangerous.”

He grinned. “What if we didn’t go out?”

She turned her head, blinking at him.

He gestured with his chin toward the counter. “You’ve made a snack buffet for six people. The house smells like a food truck festival. You’re in your tiny shorts. And I really don’t feel like pretending I give a shit about anyone else tonight. So what if we stay here? You, me, snacks, movies. No pants. Just…” he leaned in closer, murmuring, “...you in my lap while I feed you all this junk until you fall asleep drooling on my chest. Sound good?”

She laughed, soft and surprised, biting her lip to try and hide how easily he melted her.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know you love me. You made me three kinds of popcorn.”

She let out a huff of a laugh and leaned back into his chest. “Fine. But you have to pick the movie.”

He looked deeply serious for a moment. “Muppets Take Manhattan.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I never joke about Kermit.”

—

An hour later, the coffee table was completely covered. Popcorn. Mini sliders. Gummy worms. Nachos. Something she called ‘puppy chow’ that Tig thought was a joke until he tasted it and nearly proposed again.

She was perched sideways in his lap, legs draped over the couch, head resting against his shoulder. Tig had one arm slung low around her waist and the other holding a bowl of candy, feeding her pieces one by one while Kermit had a mental breakdown on-screen.

“You’re a menace,” she murmured between bites, chewing a chocolate-covered raisin.

“You’re warm,” he said, dipping his face into her neck. “You smell like vanilla and cheese. I’m never letting you leave again.”

She hummed, eyes fluttering. “Is this your master plan? Trap me with snacks and Muppets?”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

She twisted just enough to kiss him—slow and lazy, sweet like sugar and cinnamon. Tig sighed into it, deep and content, one hand curling gently around her thigh. When she pulled back, her lips were glossy with gloss and sugar dust, and his eyes had gone soft.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice low and scratchy, “sometimes I forget what peace feels like. And then I have nights like this.”

Her eyes flickered, full of love and softness and something fragile.

He brushed a thumb across her cheek. “You’re my calm, babe. My anchor.”

She smiled like it hurt a little.

“I love you, Tig.”

“I know,” he whispered, holding her a little tighter. “I love you too, sweetheart. Even when you make me watch frogs with trauma.”

She laughed against his chest, and the sound of it sank into him like a balm. The chaos of the world faded, muffled under the hum of the TV and the warmth of her body in his arms.

And Tig Trager—mad dog, wild card, broken thing that he was—found a quiet little heaven in the mess of movie night snacks and her soft breathing.

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The things that tongue could do 😝

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Two lines, one truth

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7k (it's a small one)

Summary: You and Rhett are childhood best friends, both crushing hard on one another but too afraid to admit to one another, one night tension breaks and now they have to face the concequenses

Warnings: pregnancy, suggestive stuff, Rhett is hurting big time, such a big softie for Reader, Reader is an overthinker, veterinarian stuff

Author's note: So, this is my first fic ever. I hope you like it :) Sorry for any spelling mistakes, let me know if you find one

You hadn’t meant to get pregnant—not on purpose.

The two red lines stared up at you, loud and mocking on the white stick you clutched in your trembling hand. You could barely breathe, let alone think straight. They weren’t just lines. They were a sentence—a verdict. One you hadn’t seen coming when you’d finally crossed the line with Rhett Abbott.

Your childhood best friend.

Rhett, with his sharp jaw and weather-worn hands, was rugged and ice-cold on the outside. He rarely smiled, hardly laughed. But when you knew him—really knew him—he could be soft. Sweet, even. Thoughtful in the smallest, most meaningful ways. The kind of soft that had you falling in love with him long before you were brave enough to admit it.

And now? Now you were pregnant.

Pregnant—with Rhett’s baby.

You sighed loudly, wiping a stray strand of hair out of your face, before double-checking the stick again, trying to process how the hell you were going to explain this. To him. To yourself. To everyone.

It had only been three weeks since it happened. Since he fell off that bull at the local rodeo, hard enough to have the arena gasping, hard enough for everybody to be holding their breath, hard enough to nearly crack his skull. You remember the sickening thud, the way you ran towards him, towards the people tending to him, pushing through bodies of people exactly in your way, mumbling half-apologies towards no one in particular.

You took him home—because that’s what best friends did. You cleaned the blood from his hair, iced the swelling on his temple, bandaged him up. You sat next to him for hours, watching the rise and fall of his chest, fingers twitching slightly as if you could will him into wellness.

When he woke up, he was a little disoriented, not understanding the blank space in his head between being launched off the bull and getting to your home.

“I’m sorry, you were hellbent on not going to the hospital, so I took you here.” You mumbled, putting another cold pack on his head. He hissed lowly, chuckling, “Sounds ‘bout right, thank you though. For takin’ care of me.”

You shrugged, a light blush creeping onto your cheeks, “You know me, always taking care of the hurt.”

Rhett chuckled again, “Yeah, but ‘m not a horse.”

You laughed, “No, that you’re not.” And when you looked at him again, you found him already looking at you. Something unreadable in his eyes.

And then… the tension broke.

Had it always been there? Maybe, building for years.

His lips found yours—soft, yet urgent. A kiss laced with years of unsaid words and stolen glances. One thing led to another. His skin burned against yours, his breath hot in your ear, his hands tracing every inch of you like he was memorizing a map he’d only just discovered. That night, you lost yourselves into each other. And somewhere between the moans and gasped-out names, somewhere between his whispered, “Give it to me, baby,” and your shuddering cries, you knew. Something changed.

But the next morning, he was gone.

He’d left you a note, stuck to your nightstand with a glass of water:

Hope you’re not too sore from last night. Drink up, pretty girl. x—Rhett

You had smiled then, curled up in his old t-shirt, your whole body aching in the best way possible. You thought it was the start of something.

Maybe it still is.

But life got busy. You barely saw each other in the weeks that followed. With you working as a veterinarian, you were constantly working—emergency calls to fix a cow’s twisted stomach, stitching up a dog torn by barbed wire, foaling season kicking off early. And Rhett? Rhett was swallowed by ranch duties, his father piling on work on work now that Rhett was back on his feet. There wasn’t even time for your usual late-night phone calls, much less for a conversation like this.

Now, sitting on the edge of your bathtub, with the test clutched in your hand, all you could think was:

He doesn’t know.

And worse…

I don’t know what he’ll say.

You told yourself that you’d tell him.

At first, that’s what you repeated in your head like a prayer.

You’d tell Rhett when the moment was right. When the dust settled. When you could string two coherent thoughts together without shaking.

But the days blurred into one another.

You busied yourself with farm calls, worked yourself into exhaustion. And when Rhett finally called, you let it go to voicemail. When he dropped by the clinic with coffee, chocolate cake and that crooked smile of his, you claimed you had to run. You saw the confusion flash across his face, the way his brow twitched just slightly before he nodded and let you go—always letting you go. You turned away, breath shaky—not noticing his penetrating gaze, scanning you, before leaving the building.

The space between the two of you grew. It wasn’t loud, not at first.

It was quiet.

A missed text. A late reply. Avoiding his gaze when you passed each other in town. When you couldn’t avoid him—at a family barbecue, the bonfire on Friday night—you smiled, you joked, but it didn’t feel the same. And worst of all: he noticed.

But Rhett was patient.

Too patient.

Maybe he thought you were ashamed. That you regretted it. The night you gave yourself to him. Maybe he thought he broke something in you, or worse, he hurt you. And so, he gave you space. He didn’t push—not once.

Until he did.

It was a late Friday night when it happened. You were busy in the barn, elbow-deep in one of your beautiful mares Summer, with signs of premature labor. The smell of hay and blood clung to your skin. You were tired. Bone-deep tired. And of course—heavy with guilt. You gave her a loving pat, you helped her birth her foal, checking all vitals—before standing up and dragging yourself to the small medicine room attached to the barn—to rid yourself of the gunk plastered to your skin.

And when you were done, gathering your stuff to go inside your home, you heard it.

The sound of boots.

His boots.

You looked up just in time to see Rhett standing in the doorway of the barn, hands on his hips, jaw tight, eyes storm-dark.

“You plannin’ on avoiding me forever?” he asked, voice low and even.

Your heart stuttered. “Rhett…”

He stepped inside, slow and deliberate, like he was approaching a wild animal. “No. Don’t ‘Rhett’ me. I’ve been callin’. Textin’. Stoppin’ by like a damn idiot. You think I don’t notice you slippin’ away?”

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “I’ve just been—”

“Busy?” He laughed, but it held no humor. “Yeah. I’ve heard that one. ‘Too busy’. Funny, you weren’t too busy that night.”

The words felt like a slap in the face, and you flinched.

His face immediately softened, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just—I don’t get it, darlin’. One minute, you’re curled up in my t-shirt, smilin’ like it meant something. Next minute, you won’t even look me in the eye.”

You looked down at your hands, still stained a little red from the birth. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

He knelt beside you, dirt on his jeans, one hand hovering near yours but not touching. “Then what is it?” Then is voice went small, “You… You regret it? Was it a mistake to you?”

“No,” you said quickly, too quickly. “God, no.”

“Then please, talk to me.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Because I’m going crazy here. You think I didn’t want to stay that morning? I left ‘cause I thought maybe you needed time. I didn’t know what we were after that night, but hell, I thought we’d figure it out together. And now I feel like I’m chasing after a ghost.”

You looked up at him then, really looked. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, with hurt.

And still—still—he looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

A beat.

“Of me?”

“Of everything.” You finally let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I’m pregnant, Rhett.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that seems to pull all the air from the room. He blinked, mouth parting, no sound coming out. You saw the way his chest rose and fell, once, twice.

And then he whispered, “Say that again.”

“I’m pregnant.” You said it slower this time. Clearer. More certain.

He ran a hand through his hair, stumbling back against the hay bale behind him. “Jesus…”

You felt shame crawl up your spine. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know how. I didn’t plan it, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. And I—I didn’t want you to feel trapped. Or obligated. Or—”

“Obligated?” he snapped, suddenly on his feet again. “You think that’s what this is to me? A chore? A mistake?”

“I don’t know what this is!” you cried. “We were best friends, Rhett. Then we slept together. Then you disappeared—”

“I disappeared?” he barked. “You were the one who started disappearin’.  You think I would’ve left if I’d known you were carrying my kid?”

Tears burned your eyes, you throat tightening. “I didn’t want you to stay just because of that.”

Rhett stepped forward, hands shaking. “I wouldn’t. I won’t. I’d stay because I love you. Have since you were ten years old and sucker-punched Cody Barnes for makin’ me cry.”

You choked out a laugh, a sob tangled inside it.

“I love you, and this?” he pointed to your barely noticable bump. “This doesn’t scare me. You do. You and the way you keep pulling back like you expect me to hurt you.”

“I’m just… scared,” you whisper again, helpless.

“Then be scared,” he said, stepping close enough that your noses nearly touched. “But please, be scared with me. Don’t shut me out. I’m all in, baby. I don’t care how hard it gets. You, me, and this little bean you’re carryin’? That’s mine—ours.”

You broke then—a barrier finally giving way, pressing your lips to his, and he caught you with both arms tightening around your back. “I love you, too, cowboy.”

No more space. No more silence. Just you and Rhett. And a future that had once terrified you, but now… maybe it didn’t seem so impossible anymore.

And around seven months later, you and Rhett became parents to a beautiful healthy baby girl, Cece Juliette Abbott.

Banner made by: @uzmacchiato

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jax hates when you’re pissed at him. when you give him the cold shoulder—eyes sharp, words short. he hates even more how often he happens to piss you off. it’s happened so many times now, in fact, that he knows exactly how to handle it. his hands are already on your hips when you roll your eyes the second time and when you open your mouth to bitch at him some more—his mouth is already on yours. tongue swirling around your mouth like it’s his own.

and when you try pushing him away—his hands are wrapped around your wrists by the time you blink, pushing your arms above your head as he pins you against the door.

“you done bein’ a brat?” he breathes, nose brushing yours, breath hot and heavy from the kiss.

you glare. you don’t answer. you won’t give him the satisfaction. he grins—fucking grins—like you not answering is all the answer he needs. “mm. didn’t think so.”

his knee comes up between your thighs, spreading your legs wider against the door. he’s already rutting his hips against yours, slow and deliberate—just enough friction to make your eyes flutter shut for a second before you remember you’re mad.

“you’re such an ass,” you hiss.

“yeah?” he smirks. “but you love this ass. and you’re fuckin’ soaked already, baby. don’t lie.”

you want to slap him. or fuck him. maybe both. especially when he leans in again—voice all low and smug at your ear,

“wanna keep pretendin’ you’re mad? or you gonna be a good girl and let me make it up to you?”

his hand is already sliding under your shirt. you don’t stop him.

you never do.

not when he touches you like this. not when he knows you like this. not when he kisses the apology into your skin instead of saying it out loud—tongue and teeth and hands gripping your thighs like he’s never letting go.

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151- Can totally picture Tig saying this- that thong really brings out your eyes.

title; what’s under it (Tig Trager x fem!reader)

prompts; “that thong really brings out your eyes” — from three hundred assorted dialogue prompts 

warnings; established relationship, tig being tig, allusions to oral (f receiving), so minors do not interact!!! (403 words)

one year masterlist | main masterlist

— thank you for celebrating my one year!!! | submissions are now closed

you weren’t expecting Tig to stop by, he said he was having a late one after all.

so when the front door opened, followed by the bedroom door? you had no chance to change or cover yourself.

his eyes were on you the minute the door opened, a low and approving whistle leaving him as he took in the sight of you on the bed.

“shit baby”

he drawled, making your head whip around in his direction, a nervous laugh fall from your lips at his lustrous gaze.

“oh Tig, you’re here”

even at your words, his eyes never left your body.

in fact, his gaze only seemed to intensify as his eyes raked shamelessly across your body, before settling on the lace that clung to you. 

“yeah, guys finished early”

he told in that breathy tone, the one he used when his mind was elsewhere. 

well, you knew exactly where his mind was, his eyes gave that part away. 

“that thong really brings out your eyes”

at his words, you rolled your eyes. of course that’s where Tig’s mind was. 

“really?”

you turned to face him, hands on the bed behind you as you gave him a knowing look. 

but Tig only hummed in response, eyes gleaming with want and mischief. 

“really baby, colors great”

he took a couple of steps towards you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you. 

“almost as great as what’s under it”

you rolled your eyes again, but couldn’t help the way your lip twitched at the corners. 

Tig leaned in closer, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. one of his hands grabbed at your thigh, pulling it away from the other, while his other hand leaned on the bed behind you as he changed your position. 

his body was against yours as you lay back against the bed, your arms around his neck while Tig smirked against your lips. 

“you’re such a sleaze, you know that?”

he chuckled, shaking his head before pulling your arms from around his neck, his lips pressing to yours once more before he trailed them down your body. 

your breath hitched as Tig settled on his knees between your legs, his hands sliding along your thighs and his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your thong. 

as he pulled the lace down your legs, a low groan fell from his lips. 

“hm yeah baby, i am”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[margooo00]

Is this really Charlie Hunnam going all Magic Mike?? I've heard it was when he filmed Triple Frontier.