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tojipie · 6 months

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I'm a huge fan of your work and I would love to see a dilf!toji fan fiction where you accidentally walk in on him changing and it goes a bit further while megumi's home🙏🙏🙏

part 1 here

shaking crying and throwing up as the kids say

warnings: dilf!toji x reader, nsfw, almost getting caught, age gap

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“think that’s it for tonight.” megumi mumbles, turning the newly painted mound of clay to the side to gauge your shared work.

it goes without saying that you and your closest friend had spent the weeks leading up to the deadline planning, but not actually doing your final sculpting project, leading to an equally desperate and passive aggressive all-nighter.

you both of you were absolutely caked in paint, but the satisfaction of finally being done was well worth it. you stand up for the first time in over 4 hours, hissing at they way your back protests.

your feet tingle as blood rushes down to your legs, the aches in your body becoming more apartment.

“god, what is it— like 11?” you ask, massaging your neck with the back of your hand.

megumi grabs his phone to look at the time, scratching off a smear of dried pain with a scoff.

“it’s 1 am.” he laughs, tucking the device into his pocket with a sigh. “you ubering home or do you want my dad to take you?”

you perk up at the second option, gathering yourself before you respond.

“i mean yeah i feel like that’d be a lot safer.” you say, only half lying. “is he still up?” you knew he was up, in fact you knew if you hadn’t been practically right outside his bedroom for the past 4 hours he’d be texting you right now.

your sculpting partner motions to the kitchen door with a nod of his head, wordlessly gathering his materials up. “go check, i’m going to bed.”

you laugh, gathering your things and padding out into the hall.

“nite gumi.” you tell him, hoping it wasn’t too late in the night for the both of you to get a decent nights sleep.

———

you secretly hope toji is waiting for you as you fix your makeup in the mirror, leaning down to meticulously washing the paint from your hands and arms in an attempt to look presentable.

megumi hadn’t noticed it was you in his father’s bed the last time you snuck over, taking toji’s sly suggestion to “drive his little friend home” as an ill intended joke.

he opted to drive himself to the concert instead, accepting the ridiculous $100 venue parking fee in exchange for his peace of mind.

you, on the other hand, had gotten the opportunity to wail your lungs out as loud as you needed once the house was empty, going round-for-round with the massive wall of muscle that was your best friend’s dad.

and now, here you were in his bathroom, washing up in the sink as quickly as you could before feeding yourself to the lion.

you slip into the dark hallway as quietly as you can manage, cringing at the stale creak of the bathroom door.

the house is barely lit with the dim light from the kitchen gone. you figure megumi had shut it off before going to bed, thinking you and toji had already left.

you feel your way down the corridor of rooms, silently opening the door to your destination before stopping cold in your tracks.

“you should knock ya’know.” a deep voice crones.

you yelp as you’re pulled into his bedroom, the sound muffled by a solid hand over your mouth.

“shhhhh.” toji chuckles, caging you against the door. the older man leans down to mouth at your neck, feeling you up as you catch your breath.

“you have a real volume problem, pretty girl.” he teases.

you laugh, cradling his head as it settles in the curve of your neck. his shirt is half off already, bunched around his shoulders. you must’ve caught him changing.

“what, were you waiting on me?”

“men have needs don’t they?” he says quietly, leaning in to kiss you.

thick hands settle around the curve of your waist just under your breasts and pull you backwards, leading you towards the bed.

“was—fuck—gonna text you.” toji whispers between kisses, palming your chest underneath your shirt. the older man pulls you into his lap from where he sits on the edge of the mattress, rucking your shirt above your head to mouth at the top of your breasts.

“yeah? why didn’t you?”

“knew you’d come find me.”

your cheeks burn at his admission. he was right, as embarrassing as it was you both knew how often you found yourself under him on nights like these.

and whether or not you’d begun hanging out at megumi’s just to see his dad was a question you didn’t want to address, and one that toji already knew the answer to.

you say nothing, opting to palm the man below you through his boxers while he finally undresses his top half. toned abs clench tight as you squeeze his cock through the fabric, guided only by the small sliver of moonlight bleeding from his curtains.

“harder.” he groans, bucking into your hand.

“miss me?”

“always miss you.” toji mumbles, motioning for you to stand so he can strip you of your bottoms.

you’re pulled on top of him as soon as your shorts hit the floor, leaning in to kiss him again. the older man licks into your mouth with fervor, toying with the waistline of your thin panties.

toji breaks the kiss, snapping the elastic against your hip. you flinch at the sharp sting, whimpering into his neck as he grips your ass

“you wear these for me?” he asks.

you nod, letting him slip them off. he gives them a once over, smiling as he reaches to throw them onto the night stand.

“keeping em.” he laughs, pulling himself free from the confines of his bottoms.

he’s throbbing, steadily leaking onto his own thigh with every passing second. you lean down to accept him into your mouth, pausing when he pulls you back up to him.

“just get on top of me.” he begs, grabbing hold of the backs of your thighs and reclining into the pillows.

“need it that bad?” you ask, genuinely curious. you watch as he grabs hold of his cock, lining it up with ease—practically muscle memory.

“wouldn’t need it this bad—oh fuck— if you hadn’t been busy the entire night.” he groans, complaint interrupted by the feeling of you sinking down onto him.

“could fuck me when the sun’s out, you wouldn’t have to wait all day that way.” you suggest, only half serious.

“the only thing stopping me from doing that is work, pretty girl.” toji mumbles. you gasp as he twitches inside you, sinking down all the way to watch what little composure he still has crumble.

your knees protest as you bounce on the older man’s cock, body still sore from the workload you’d dealt with earlier.

“you could’ve just—fuck— came out and said hi.” you add, noticing the way the scar on his lip contorts when he smiles.

“can’t really walk around with a hard-on.” he admits with a sleazy grin, taking one of your breasts into his mouths for good measure.

your shared moans grow louder with every thrust, the sound of skin-on-skin becoming unmistakable.

“fuck is that noise?” a sleepy voice yells from the hallway.

you freeze. pulling away from toji to gauge his reaction.

“fuck, get underneath.” he chuckles, practically pulling you off of his cock with how easily he manhandles you, making space for you to crawl into the sheets.

you’re struck with what feels like another heart attack as a knock at the door pierces the air.

“do you have another girl over?” megumi scoffs pacing behind the doorway.

“you sleepwalking or something?” toji lies, clearly not considering the consequences of getting caught.

you feel him pull the sheets over your head with a soft laugh. warm hands rubbing over your sides through the thin fabric, a sweet attempt at calming you down.

“i’m not stupid.” his son replies, kicking the foot of the door for good measure. “did you even drive my friend home?”

“she ubered, kid.” toji lies again, groping your breast over the thin sheet. you yelp at the sudden contact, earning a teasing “shhhh” from the man above you.

“fucking knew you brought someone over.” megumi sighs, trudging down the hallway with vague threats of “you’re paying for my dorm room next year.” and “can’t keep it down.”

you emerge from the covers, arms snaking around toji’s shoulders with a sigh of relief.

“what’d i tell you about that volume problem?” he laughs, lowering you onto his still hard cock with a breathy groan.

“fuck, did you get wetter or somethin?” he asks, clearly in disbelief.

“course not!” you mouth, stifling a whimper as he begins to thrust.

“i know honey.” he teases, biting the curve of your shoulder to stifle a groan. “i’m just fuckin’ with you.”

#adah’s asks #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji fluff #toji drabbles #toji hcs #toji x reader fluff #toji x fem reader #dilf toji #dilf toji x reader #dilf!toji x reader #jjk #dilf toji x reader fluff #dilf!toji #toji x reader smut #toji x fem reader smut #toji smut

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eilidh-eternal · 2 months

Text

You don't like silence

Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist |

The house is silent, but inside your head a brumous storm swirls, wispy tendrils of fog curling around delicate gray matter.

Your routine—watching Johnny walk Isobel to school, going to work and coming home, just in time to glimpse Johnny leaving to retrieve her—has changed.

You still watch from the window, mug bleeding warmth into cold, stiff joints from between your palms. Peer around the curtains every morning as the pair amble down the pavement together.

A new month brings a steady influx of meetings and end of quarter reporting, projected sales and last minute production tweaks, but your days are no busier than normal. Rarely miss a lunch break. Leave no later than three each afternoon.

Dinner, if you have any, is ready by five.

Even so, restlessness lingers in the midnight moons hanging beneath your eyes, darkens the air around you with somnolent clouds, and you list in the torpid deluge that rains down.

Sleep evades you altogether most nights, and you’ve made a game of picking out patterns in the knockdown. Faces, animals; nebulous, nameless things.

Some nights, when the faces of strangers, burned into your retinas, find their way into the patterns of textured drywall, you listen.

Isobels room must be on the other side of yours, beds sharing a wall. On the nights you manage to make it upstairs, you can hear them both. Isobel’s slow and measured pronunciations. The lilt of Johnny’s voice, filling in the blanks where she pauses on a word she doesn’t yet know.

They’ve finished all of her animal books, which means the imitated roars of big cats and bleats of farmyard animals have morphed into exaggerated accents. Sing-song rhymes about the importance of kindness, accepting differences, and other life lessons told through colorful illustrations and whimsical narratives.

Every now and then, if you’re lucky, she falls asleep within a few pages, and you can pretend that the low, pillowy rumble of Johnny reading is just for you. A gentle coaxing made of velvety words, swaddling your mind, heavy with exhaustion, and cradling it to his chest against the maelstrom you’re spiraling in.

Sometimes she stirs, woken hours later in the placid, milky hours before dawn, just as your eyes begin to droop. Tiny feet patter across the hardwood like rain, muffled in uneven intervals by what must be a rug or runner in the hall, on her way to Johnny’s room or the washroom maybe.

You wonder if it’s full of frilly, feminine things, her room. Pinks and purples, dolls and plushies. Does she have princesses or ballerinas on her bedding? Do posters and drawings line her walls or does floral, pasted wallpaper?

She likes Mulan, you remember. A warrior. Fighter. Soldier. Like Johnny.

Probably not so frilly, then.

Perhaps they could make a fighter out of you. Press you into the mold of their little family–strengthened by loss and galvanized with love–and breathe life into clay limbs. Carve a soldier from the malleable earth. Shape you into something useful.

Now, most of your nights are spent huddled in the living room, listening to the droning of the television. Throw blankets suck you down into the sofa like quicksand and each breath draws them tighter and tighter around you, filling pockets of air with crushed velvet and fleece. Tonight, you let them swallow you whole. Sink willingly into a latibule of plaid and warm cashmere.

The cold and quiet of your empty home isn’t so bad when you can hear Johnny moving about on the other side of the wall. Isn’t so unbearable when the warm timbre of his voice chases away the numbing fog that muddles your head.

There are nights that he calls you, like he knows. Knows that you're drowning in the silence.

He does that now, after he puts Isobel to bed for the night. Calls to ask about your week. Casts a lifeline into the churning ocean between you, procellous waves lofting you on spuming peaks, and calls your name from the battered, broken shore.

A lighthouse calling to a ship, lost in the mist on a perilous sea.

Last Thursday he asked about the cookies you made with Isobel. Asked if you would be willing to share the recipe with him–teach him–so that he could make them with her for a school event coming up in the spring.

The tenderness with which he speaks of her is a balmy breeze for your gelid heart. Soothes the burn of ice floes in your veins. Melts weeks of tension from aching muscles.

Now, his voice is somber, pensive, as it filters through the lack of insulation between you. “Friday. No, ah havnae told ‘er yet. Jus’ got the call.” He pauses, and you think you hear a muffled sigh. He sounds tired, too, accent thicker than honeyed whiskey rolling off his tongue, dropping consonants in favor of deep, throaty vowels. “Aye, ah ken. She’ll be happy tae see ye though.”

He’s on the phone, talking about Isobel. They must have family visiting soon, or a family friend if Isobel knows them well enough to be excited.

You wonder what the MacTavish family is like, if they’re a rowdy bunch. If they’re a large, extended family. Johnny seems like the kind of man who comes from a close knit community, one where you grow up down the street from your cousins and spend summers terrorizing small towns together.

“I’ll talk tae ‘er in the mornin’. Ah- No.” There’s a pause again, and even with layers of sheetrock separating you, you can feel the weight of his silence. “No, Mam. She’s… ah worry. Leavin’ ‘er like this. Piss poor timin’.”

He’s leaving? Without Isobel?

It’s muffled through the wall, and you feel like you can’t have heard that correctly. He mentioned the army, but you had thought, with a child at home, that his work wouldn't be the sort that requires travel.

Ice floes turn to glaciers in your chest, frozen spikes threatening to pierce brittle, fragile muscle, and the clouds swirling overhead descend upon you.

Lost in the mist, and he’s leaving.

He’s leaving, and he’s taking the sun with him.

“Ye cannae keep it from the lassie forever, John. Ye havnae even told 'er what ye do?”

Christ, this woman…

“She knows ‘bout the army,” he defends. “Cannae say much more.”

Fenella MacTavish clucks her disapproval. “Ye’re heids full of mince.” Dishes clatter and a cupboard closes a bit too forcefully on the other end of the line.

Johnny runs a hand through the disheveled strands of his hair, overdue for a trim, well outside of regulation length. “Mam—”

“Dinnae ‘Mam’ me,” she cuts in. “John Alexander MacTavish, ye tell that lass what she’s gettin’ herself intae—or I will.”

“Mam,” he tries again, voice pitched low, “Not yet. Cannae send ‘er off, naw like I do wi’ Bell. It’s safe enough here.” You’re safe with him here. “Dinnae like knowin’ she’s alone—Christ, I can hardly stand tae have the wall between us when I ken she’s hurtin’—but there isnae anythin’ I can do that’s naw already been done. Kate’s made sure of that.”

Fenella huffs and he can’t quite make out the garbled muttering on his end, but he has a fair idea of what his mother is blathering about beneath her breath. “Kirsten—have ye gone tae see 'er?” she finally asks, mercifully shifting the conversation out of your direction. “Has Isobel?”

“No,” he admits, and guilt twists in barbed coils through his chest.

He’s been meaning to, to drive up for the weekend and take her to visit her mothers grave, now that she’s older. Stay with her gran and look through the old albums. She's only ever seen the few photos they have at home, hanging in the hall near the kitchen.

Sometimes she asks about her. If she liked the things she likes. The way rain freezes on the tall grasses and tree branches in the winter, making glass gardens of trellises and window boxes. Extra whipped cream and blueberries for her pancakes.

If she would have walked with them to school in the mornings. Take her to the park down the block in the summer. Hiking in the fall, looking for wisps darting about beneath the fallen abscission.

Isobel is so much like her mother there are days Johnny swears it’s her refusing to eat the dinner he’s made. That it’s her complaining about cold weather and overcast skies in the heart of winter, bemoaning how long they have until spring revives the land. Swears it’s her voice that wakes him in the middle of the night. Her ghost, standing in the dimly lit doorway of his bedroom, a blanket pulled ‘round her shoulders and a teddy dangling from her hand.

“I’ll take ‘er, then.” Johnny can hear the grief that tempers his mothers voice, turning anguish to steely resolve. “I’ll come by tomorrow evening, let ‘er have a few hours with ye at home before ye say yer goodbyes.”

“Thank ye, Mam,” he says on a strained exhale, lungs rattling with fragments of his own grief. It slices into old wounds until pockets of air become sanguineous aquifers, bubbling up in his throat and leaving a sour, metallic taste on his tongue.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she reminds him. “Ye tell yer lass. Dinnae leave ‘er in the dark like ye did Kirsten.”

The line goes silent and Johnny sinks back into the old corduroy sofa, pushed up against the wall beside a shelf overflowing with picture books in the living room, and a ragged sigh unfurls from his chest.

The television across from him is dark, turned off when he took Isobel upstairs for bed, but he can hear an old rerun of Taskmaster playing softly behind him.

He listens, every night, for you. For the sound of your fridge, opening and closing. The soft ‘clink’ of porcelain against granite. The oven timer or the microwave.

He prefers the former. Knows, after these last few weeks, that you cook when you’re in a good mood. Usually go to bed soon after. The sound of the microwave precedes long, muted evenings and little sound from your side of the wall. He won’t hear the stairs creak beneath your sluggish feet until the wee hours of the morning. If at all.

He listens in the mornings, too, while he makes Isobel’s breakfast. Makes sure he can hear you doing the same. Smiles to himself when he glimpses movement in the window beside your door, a miniscule swaying of the curtain, and he holds Isobel’s hand a little tighter as they navigate lingering ice patches on the pavement.

The phone call with his mother, making arrangements for Isobel, masked the sound of your movements earlier, and his fingers twitch against his leather phone case.

When your side of the wall is quiet, he knows a storm is brewing; that you’re sitting in the eye of it, waiting for the walls to close in around you.

He doesn’t know if you’ve eaten tonight. Can’t hear anything beyond the muffled television and occasional creak of the sofa beneath your shifting weight.

So he calls.

One… two… three… four… “Hi, Johnny.” Soft and breathy. Like the air the words are spoken on has borrowed from the softness of your lips as it spills into the receiver.

This is the way you sound when you’re tired, he’s learned, all soft and rounded syllables. Too exhausted, even for your own nervous habits. You don’t have the bandwidth to explain every little thing like you normally would; don’t bother with rationalizing your actions aloud.

“Hi, bonnie. What’s cookin’?” It’s cheesy as hell, but it earns a huff of a laugh from you and it tempers the jagged edge of his worry—a knife, lodged between his ribs.

“I, uh… I had leftovers. Takeaway, from a work thing.” He’s never seen you with takeaway. Always canvas bags full of groceries and the occasional frozen box dinner.

How empty is your fridge? When was the last time you went to the grocer?

“Didnae take ye for the ‘easy’ type. Ye always make me work for it.”

“Work for it?” He can picture the pinch of your brows. The way your lips quirk to the side when you’re confused.

“Aye, got me makin’ puppy eyes an’ beggin’ for yer scraps.” You laugh again, more of a scoff, but it eases some of his worry all the same.

“When have I ever made you beg, Johnny?” He’s been begging any higher power that will listen to see you smile again, and he’d give anything to see the smirk he knows is dancing at the corner of your mouth right now.

“Could do it tomorrow,” he blurts before he can think better of it. “Come over. Show me that recipe again.”

Don’t make him tell you he’s leaving over the phone.

“I thought… you said the charity event is at the end of March, right?”

“Aye, but I think I’ll need a few lessons ‘fore my bakin’s fit for auction.”

He needs to know—needs to see—that you’re well before he goes.

“And you want to start tomorrow?”

“Why not?” He’d have you baking in his kitchen now if it weren’t for the late hour.

There’s a stretch of silence, interrupted only by the faint crackling of static and the sound of your breathing. “Do you have flour? Sugar? Anything to bake with?” you ask, and he answers with a proud ‘yes’. “Okay… okay. I can come over after work tomorrow.”

“I’ll ‘ave Bell home early then. She’ll want tae help.” Your amused sigh echoes across the line, followed by the faint rustling of fabric and then the soft pattering of stocking-clad feet over hardwood, fourth and fifth step creaking softly as you climb the stairs. “Off tae bed?”

Another sigh–on the tail-end of a yawn, he realizes. “Yeah. Well, trying. Don’t get a lot of sleep these days,” you admit, and though he’s successfully abated the storm of your thoughts, he wishes he could disperse it entirely.

Be the shelter you seek, at the very least.

He’d nestle you in the warmth of his bed, tucked close and sleeping soundly in the cage of his arms. Anchor you to him with a leg hooked between yours, whispering adulation against the howling, taunting winds.

He would make himself a rock to let your tempestuous thoughts batter and besiege. Weathered and whittled down to pebbles on a beach, he’d roll in the undertow alongside you. And when he is but sand on the ocean floor, still, he would drift and settle wherever the storm of you takes him.

“I used tae read for my sister when we were weans. She’d wake, spooked from a dream, and come tae my room in the middle of the night.”

“You have a sister?” A door clicks closed and blankets whisper over sheets as you settle in for the night. “What’s she like?”

“A lot like our Mam. Headstrong. Stubborn.”

“Are you the oldest?” You sound further away. Muffled. Like you’ve got the blankets pulled up to your nose and the phone beside you on the pillow.

“I am,” he lilts.

“She gets it from you, then,” you murmur, and his chest tightens.

“She got a fair number of things from me, I’d wager.”

He continues on, speaking just above a low, gravelly whisper. Reminiscing his early years and the trouble the two of them got up to. Thick as thieves and wild as the kellas cats roaming the highlands.

Your interjections dwindle, turn to soft hums and slow, even breaths. Sleeping.

He listens for a few more minutes to the soft, sweet sounds you make, little chuffs and sleepy hums, the susurrations of shifting sheets and nightclothes, and he whispers into the darkness, “Goodnight, sweet girl.”

Work passes you by in a blur, meeting after meeting chipping away at the hours and minutes ticking by on the analog clock perched on your desk.

The drive home is uneventful and it feels as though you’ve passed through a wormhole somewhere along the way. Can’t quite remember making the turn into your neighborhood from the main road.

Normally, Johnny would be leaving to retrieve Isobel from school right now, but as you gather your things and step out of the car you hear your name being called from several houses down.

Braids bounce and red wellies squeak as Isobel darts ahead of Johnny, weaving around patches of ice to get to you, and you step up onto the pavement just in time to keep her from running into the road.

She barrels into you, wrapping her arms around your leg and smooshing her face against your slacks. “Ye’re back!” she squeals, fingers curling into the fabric.

She’s leaving.

Your hand settles atop her head, soft wisps of curls tickling the pads of your fingers where they’ve escaped their plaits. “Where did I go?” you ask, and she tips her head back to look up at you.

“Bubby said ye were busy with work. Sometimes he gets busy too, and I have to stay with my gran.”

They’re both leaving.

Johnny’s caught up with her, lingering a few steps away near the walkway leading to your door. When you look to where he stands, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, windbreaker bunched up around his forearms where a tattoo peeks out, the corners of his eyes glimmer.

A smile curves the corners of his mouth, and it’s an odd mixture of grief and happiness that flickers there in the crook of his lips and set of his brow, sloped upwards and creased in the middle. His hair is longer than you remember, scruffy sides and tufts of mohawk curling at the ends, loose strands tousled around his face.

Wind blows at your back and a single tear tracks down the sharp plane of his cheek, disappearing in the dark shadow of stubble that lines his jaw.

“I have been busy with work,” you confirm, peering down at Isobel once more. “But I didn’t leave.”

You’re staying, and they’re leaving.

The wind picks up and she presses closer, shielding herself from the cold behind your frame. “Let’s get ye inside and put yer book bag away. Then we can catch up over cookies an’ milk,” Johnny says as he closes the distance between you.

“Cookies?!” Her excitement carries on the wind, and his smile sharpens, bright and hopeful, but the whetted edge of sorrow undercuts the warmth.

“Aye, but we’ll have to make ‘em ourselves.” He brushes a stray lock from her eyes, fingers brushing against yours where his hand settles beside it on her crown, and dread blooms low in your stomach where warmth should.

She ducks away from you both, bolting towards their front stoop, and you’re left with both of your hands hovering in the air, his half curled over yours, staring after her.

You pull away first, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I just need to sort this–” You gesture to the tote full of binders and your laptop. “–and I'll be right over.”

He fishes his keys from his pocket and takes a step back, towards Isobel. “We’ll be waitin’,” he says with a wink, and turns to take her inside.

There's flour in your hair and matching handprints on your slacks, and neither Johnny nor Isobel have fared much better. You’re all a mess, and the cookies you’ve made are tantamount to your disheveled state–lumpy, dry masses of something more closely resembling a biscuit.

“Dunno what ah did wrong,” Johnny muses, breaking one in half and inspecting the crumbly texture.

You sit beside him at the kitchen table, watching Isobel dunk half a cookie into a glass of milk. “It’s the butter and flour. The ratio is imbalanced–not enough fat.” She doesn’t seem to mind, stuffing the entire piece in her mouth and readying the next, fingers covered in crumbs that fall in her milk.

Johnny shifts beside you, sliding out of his chair and taking a bite out of his cookie as he moves towards the fridge. “Still tastes good,” he says around a mouthful and pours two more glasses, placing one down in front of you when he returns. “But I’ll need another demonstration when I’m back, I think.”

You take a cookie from the plate in the middle of the table, breaking off a chunk to dunk in your milk, and ignore the mirrored sensation in your chest. You knew this was coming. You know he’s leaving.

“When you’re back? From where?” you probe. No need to dance around the subject.

He shifts again, uncharacteristically nervous, and speaks softly. “Have to leave for a little while, for work,” he explains. Your cookie turns pliant between your fingers and you bite off the softened corner, chewing slowly while you listen. “Willnae know where they’re sendin’ me to until the briefin’.”

“When are you leaving?” You stare down at the crumbs swirling in your glass.

“Tomorrow morning.”

The foreknowledge of his impending departure doesn’t make the break any cleaner. The fracturing feeling in your chest widens into fissures and chasms, jagged edges crumbling, tumbling down into the festering darkness.

When you lift your gaze you find that he’s been watching you–studying you–and his hand has crept across the table, close enough you can feel the warmth of him. “How long?” It comes out wobbly. Unsteady.

You’re drifting out to sea again.

“Few weeks. Maybe a month.” Your chest feels like it’s caving in.

There’s a knock at the door. A canary in a coal mine, warning come too late.

“Gran!” Isobel’s chair nearly topples as she pushes back from the table, racing from the kitchen to the front door.

Johnny’s hand covers yours, long, callused fingers curling around your clenched fist and squeezing. “I’ll be back before ye know it,” he murmurs, smoothing a strand of hair away from your face and tracing the curve of your jaw as he stands.

He only goes as far as the kitchen doorway. Your heart’s already somewhere in the North Sea.

“Hi, Mam.” He’s greeted by an older female voice and pulled into a hug by a woman a whole head shorter than him. Isobel hovers nearby, bouncing excitedly from foot to foot, and tugs at the older woman’s–her grandmother’s–cable knit sweater.

“Gran, come meet our friend!” she says, and tugs again until she lets go of Johnny.

You stand from the table on wobbly legs, fighting to balance your listing emotions and put on a warm smile as Johnny’s mother slides past him into the kitchen.

The resemblance between the three of them is uncanny. Johnny shares his mothers dark coloring, rich hair and warm skinned, and they all have the same eyes–steely hues of grey-blue, spiraling outwards from inky pupils like storm cells.

“So, this is the lassie next door ye willnae stop glaverin’ on about?” she asks no one in particular as she openly appraises you.

“Mam–” Johnny begins, a simmering warning, but she holds up a hand to silence him.

They carry themselves in a similar manner, in the set of their shoulders and broad stance. She may not stand as tall as he does but she’s no less imposing, and it’s an effort not to squirm under her scrutiny.

Seconds feel like hours as she looks you up and down, cataloging the flour on your pants and in your hair, glancing to her left where Johnny stands in a state of equal disarray, and a knowing look flickers like lightning in her storm cloud eyes.

“It’s good tae finally put a face wi’ a name,” she says, smiling, and pulls you into a hug, too. “Call me Fenella, or Fen, whichever ye like.”

You return the gesture hesitantly, looking over her shoulder to Johnny for guidance and finding none. He simply smiles back at you from where he leans against the doorway, something unreadable in his expression lingering beneath it.

“It’s nice to meet you too… I- I’d love to stay, but should probably be heading home. I have an early morning and wouldn’t want to intrude on your visit,” you say by way of excuse.

“Ah’m naw stayin’ long, dear,” she explains, finally pulling away. Isobel returns to her side, pressing her shoulder to her thigh, and Fenella’s hand settles on the crown of her head. “Here tae take the wean for a stay wi’ her gran.”

“Is yer bag ready, leannan? D’ya have all yer books for school?” Johnny asks from where he stands, hands having found their way into his pockets again. His shoulders droop, broad frame deflating before your eyes. Leaving her behind, even with his mother, takes a toll on him.

Isobel leans around her gran to say, “I’ave all my books. And Mr. Ghost.”

“Goan an’ get yer things then, Bell,” Fenella ushers her out of the kitchen, climbing the stairs behind her to her room.

You watch until they disappear above the half open staircase, but Johnny has been watching you. Watching you navigate the shoal of your emotions, razor sharp rock scraping against a flimsy hull.

“C’mere, lass,” he entreats, one arm outstretched towards you, and your feet move of their own accord, carrying you forward until his hand settles on your shoulder, momentarily moored in the eddy of a tide pool. “Didnae mean to tell ye in the middle of… this.” He gestures above him to the sound of footsteps overhead. “Only got the call yesterday.”

With your hands folded at your front, you stare down at them, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. “It’s okay. I understand—”

“No, lass, it isnae okay,” he interrupts, hand gliding up your shoulder, your neck, and coming to rest on your cheek. He lifts your gaze back up to his and he’s wearing that nameless emotion, staring down at you with a pained expression.

This hurts him as much as it hurts you.

“The job I do, it isnae always… predictable. Dinnae get much warning when I’m called in for assignments. I should have warned ye…” his thumb traces soothing arcs over your cheek, but it does nothing for the gaping hole in your chest. “I’m sorry… I should have—”

“It’s okay, Johnny. Really.” The lie feels like rubbing salt into a wound, burns the back of your throat like you’re speaking around a lump made of sandpaper, and your voice comes out scratchy and raw.

His hand lingers on your cheek, eyes darting from yours to your nose, lips, cheeks, brow. Memorizing.

“Let me walk ye home?” You nod, unsure if you can speak around the cordolium lodged in your throat, and his hand moves from your cheek to your waist, guiding you through the razor rock and churning tide to the front door.

His arm remains firmly around you, fingers digging into your softness as he escorts you across the meager expanse of your lawn.

There’s an SUV, still running, parked in front of both houses and left to keep warm while Isobel gathers her things. She and Fenella step out into the brisk evening air just as you and Johnny reach the top of your stairs, and Isobel waves to you as they descend. Your arm feels leaden as you lift your hand into the air, waving back to her.

“She‘ll miss ye. Talks about ye all the time,” Johnny says beside you, unwilling to let you go just yet. “I’ll be missin’ ye too,” he admits, and you thought you’d found the bottom of the pit in your stomach. Thought you were already lying at the bottom of it.

You were wrong.

The well of your affection for them feels bottomless. The floor crumbles, residual tremors of the quaking in your chest, and you’re falling, falling, falling…Even with his arm around your waist.

You fell in love with the man in front of you. Fell in love with the darling little girl climbing into her grandmother's car. You’re already in love with Fenella and her dedication to her family.

You’ve been falling this whole time, no safety net in sight.

“I- …” Your voice cracks, and you try again. “I’ll miss you, too. Both of you.”

You’re falling, and they’re leaving.

There’s little warning, just a tug of your blouse, before you’re being folded into his arms. A wide palm cradles your head to his chest, fingers threading through your hair, and he presses his cheek to your crown.

“Won’t be able to use my phone a lot, but I’ll call when I can.” He murmurs his promise into your hair. “If… if I’m not here an’ somethin’ happens… I gave my Mum yer number. Saved hers in yer phone when I gave ye mine.” He pauses. Sucks in a shuddering breath before he continues. “Whatever it is, she’ll help.”

You nod your understanding and he pulls back just enough to see your face, guides your head to look up at him and says, “Promise me. Promise that ye’ll go to her if ye need anythin’,” with a desperation you’ve never heard from him.

So you make another promise. Let your eyes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours and ghosts his lips across the chilled skin of your brow.

And then he leaves.

Isobel is sorted, buckled into her car seat and saying her goodbye’s to Johnny, and Fenella MacTavish stands beside the driver’s side door, watching.

She’s said this goodbye a hundred times. Sent him off to god knows where to fight a war she’s never heard of. It never gets easier.

Isobel’s door closes, and her son turns to her with pain in his eyes. “I hate leaving ‘er.”

“Which one?” she intones, and Johnny leans his hip against the B pillar.

“Both of them. The three of ye.”

“Then make sure ye come back tae ‘er–tae all of us,” she advises, and pulls him into one last hug. “I cannae bury another child.”

Next>>>

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fanficimagery · 1 month

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The Nanny

When babysitting your neighbor's kid, trouble seems to find you.

Author's Note: SOA AU - No Tara, Clay, or Gemma. Trigger warning for violence! This was supposed to be up for Valentine's Day, but as you can see... that wasn't the case lmao.

Charming, California is one of those picture perfect little towns where everyone tries to be prim and proper, and act like their shit doesn't stink. And in the short time that you've lived here, you quickly realized that the law-abiding citizens hated the fact that Charming was home to a MC, the Sons of Anarchy.

It doesn't bother you to see them riding down the streets as you're out and about, but you do find it hilarious that a majority of the locals either gasp in outrage upon seeing the bikers or avoid them at all costs. You find the bikers very easy-going, but then again the club president is your neighbor.

Jax Teller had taken it upon himself to introduce himself when you were moving in, carrying boxes for you and flashing a rather charming smile as he pumped you for information about yourself. You knew what he was doing, and it was rather laughable, but you had nothing to hide and were a rather boring person, so you gave the information freely. Between the two of you, he was more interesting as a MC president whereas you stayed home and lived off the money your brothers made. Jax seemed interested in what your brothers did for a living that they were able to provide you with the life you have, but you explained they made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile. You helped them with scheduling, but they still did a majority of the work.

Finding out Jax has a son (Abel) makes your heart warm towards the biker, and then warm up to the club when his brothers visit every now and then. Juice was really just a goofball when he wasn't doing business for the club, Chibs was a secret sweetheart, Tig was a little crazy, Happy was hard to read, but it was Opie who was the most normal of the bunch.

You settle into your home quite nicely, working from your little office when your brothers need help to prevent any scheduling conflicts. Then in your downtime, you either have a book in hand or waste time on your gaming system. Jax and his brothers have been over a couple of times, drinking a beer to wind down or eating whatever leftovers you happen to have after you've already eaten.

This morning, however, you've just finished making breakfast when there's a knock at your front door. With a strip of bacon in hand, you answer the door and are surprised to see Jax and his son Abel standing there.

"What's up, Teller?"

He immediately smiles and your eyes narrow. "I hate to do this on such short notice, but my nanny canceled. Do you think you could watch Abel for the day?"

You glance down at the blonde boy, shrugging. "Is he cool staying with me?"

Jax glances down and nudges his son, but Abel merely asks, "Do you have more bacon?"

You open the door wider as you chuckle. "Sure, kid. You want some eggs and hashbrowns too?"

"Yum."

Abel walks into your house without a care in the world and you meet Jax's amused gaze. "So are there any rules I should abide by? Are you one of those dad's that limits screen time or bans sugar?"

"Nope and nope. No allergies either."

"Cool."

"Thank you. I owe you."

As Jax starts to walk down your porch steps, you say, "I'm a slut for food, Teller. Bribe me with food and I'll say yes to anything."

"Anything?" He peers over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow. You scowl at him.

"Almost anything."

Jax laughs. "Don't cook tonight then. I'll bring some cheeseburgers and fries from this diner that makes pretty good food."

"Alright."

. .

When Jax returns later that night, Chibs and Happy follow after learning he was picking up food from the diner. What surprised them, however, was that while Jax parked in his driveway, he started taking the food to his neighbors house. But Chibs, nor Happy, said a word and followed their president with their own food when he didn't protest.

Jax is poised to knock on the door when he hears, "Don't you- don't you dare do it, kid. If you do it, I will personally wait until you turn seventeen to kick your little ass." The words give Jax pause because what the actual fuck! But then Abel's giggling makes him grin.

"Did she just threaten to kick Abel's ass, Jackie?" Chibs wonders, smirking.

"I think so."

"No, no, no! You blue-shelled me?! You're like two. How do you even know how to play this?!" Jax snorts and finally knocks. The trash talking suddenly ceases before… "It's open! If you're friendly, welcome! If not, I got a little ankle biter in here and I'm not afraid to sic him on you!"

Jax laughs some more and enters the house, walking to where he hears all the commotion. Walking into the living room, he can't help but smile at the sight of YN and Abel sitting side by side on the couch, attention focused on the TV where they're apparently playing Mario Kart.

"You bring the goods, Teller?"

"Burgers and fries as promised."

"You are currently my favorite Teller." Still your attention is on the TV, your trash talking his kid being kept very polite all of a sudden. Jax, Chibs, and Happy have no idea what's going on, but suddenly one of the characters is spinning out because of a banana peel and then Abel's giving a long, suffering sigh as the other character passes the finish line. "Yes!" You jump up, pointing down at Abel. "Sucks to suck, kid. Now come on. Your pop's got the goods."

When you finally look up at Jax, you momentarily freeze when you see Chibs and Happy there as well. "Oh. Hey, guys. Kitchen's this way."

Everyone follows you into the kitchen and you immediately grab drinks from the fridge. When you turn around, Jax is divvying up some food for himself, Abel, and you. You pass out the beers to the men and you have cans of Sprite for yourself and Abel. Then as you take the last remaining available seat since Jax kept Abel on his lap, you thank Jax for the food before digging in.

"So did you have fun today?" Jax asks his son.

"Yeah. I got to color and watch TV and play games."

Jax glances at you and you shrug. "I made do. I would have gone to the store to pick up some stuff for him, but I didn't know if you'd feel comfortable with me taking him anywhere."

"I appreciate that."

"So what about you? Is your nanny good or will you need another favor?"

"Uh, she actually might be out for a few more days."

You nod. "I can do it. Is it cool if I take him to the store with me tomorrow morning? I forgot how much little kids snack throughout the day."

"Yeah. I have an extra car seat you can use and I'll leave you some cash."

"Nah. Don't even worry about it. I'll be snacking with him, so I can front the bill."

But still, cash ends up thrown onto the table from both Chibs and Jax. You have a feeling it'd be useless to argue, so you say nothing.

After dinner, Jax helps you clean up before they all take their leave. He tells Abel to tell you goodbye and your heart absolutely melts when you crouch down, and Abel hugs you.

You visibly melt as you hug the little boy back and then pull back to tweak his nose. "Okay, you're officially my favorite Teller again."

Abel smiles at you as Jax laughs and then you bid everyone goodbye at the door.

Abel ends up preferring your company to that of his nanny, so Jax ends up splitting his son's time between the nanny at his house and you at your own house when you have nothing going on.

On this particular day, after a lunch of sandwich and chips, you and Abel are lounging in a kiddie pool right in the middle of your front yard. You even went as far to put up a canopy to have the pool half in the shade and half in the sun, and are soaking in a sports bra and a pair of black tights that look like shorts.

You're sitting in the shade, sipping on a juice box as Abel stands on the other side playing with water blasters. You hear the rumble of a motorcycle, unsurprised to have Jax checking in.

As the blonde walks up, you smile innocently as he laughs. "Where did the pool come from?"

"The store." You shrug. Abel takes the moment to load up his blaster with lukewarm water and shoots his dad with it. Jax doesn't bother dodging the stream. "We saw a commercial for the waterpark and since we can't go there, I brought the water to us."

Wiping water from his face and using it to slick his hair back, Jax crouches next to the pool and asks, "How much do I owe you?"

"Not a cent, Teller." You sip on your juice, grinning. "I haven't been in one of these since I was a kid. This is for me as much as it's for Abel. He just gave me the excuse of getting one and chilling in it without looking like an idiot."

"Well I don't know about that…"

He trails off and you gasp in mock outrage. As he laughs, you say, "You're lucky I respect the kutte and the fact that you have a phone in your pocket somewhere. If I didn't, I'd drag your butt in here with us."

"Next time." Jax splashes his son and then stands before Abel can shoot him point blank with water. "Am I grabbing dinner tonight?"

"Nah. Abel already made a request. He wants chicken tenders and fries."

"And what the little man wants, he gets?"

"Obviously." You roll your eyes playfully. "Plus, it's an easy meal and I enjoy it too."

"Alright." He chuckles as he starts making his way back towards his motorcycle. "Don't stay in the pool too long."

"Yes, sir." You mockingly salute him, lips twitching when you see him momentarily tense before relaxing once more. "See you later."

. .

It's past Abel's bedtime by the time Jax makes it home, and already he's prepared for his kid to either be bouncing off the walls or very cranky. But as he nears YN's house, he notices that it's mostly dark. All the lights are off with the exception of the porch light and a couple of lamps he can see through the windows that peer into the living room. And the TV, of course.

Instead of knocking, he lets himself right in. It's almost too quiet, but he can hear the TV playing rather low in the living room. Heading there, he walks up to the sofa and can't help but smile at the sight that greets him. YN is laid out across the sofa with Abel on her chest, his back to her front. Both are knocked out cold.

Without second guessing himself, Jax pulls out his phone and snaps a quick photo. Chuckling to himself, he then walks around the sofa as he pockets his phone and crouches down. "Hey. YN," he gently calls out while shaking her shoulder.

It takes a few shakes before you wake, sleepily humming until Jax's voice coaxes you until you're fully awake. Your arms wrap around Abel on instinct and when you notice Jax's smirking presence, you relax. "What time is it?" You mumble.

"A little after ten."

"Really? Fuck. I guess the sun really did kick my ass if I'm this sleepy."

"Yeah." Jax chuckles and then carefully starts to gather Abel in his arms. "Sorry about showing up so late."

"Don't even worry about it." You sit up, rubbing your eyes and yawning. "You know I adore your kid." As you follow Jax to the door, you remind him about going away for a week and not being able to watch Abel, but that you'll have your phone on if Abel wants to talk.

Jax laughs. "I swear, my kid loves you more than me sometimes."

"It's only because I'm a better cook," you muse.

Jax opens his mouth to argue, but ends up shutting it and shrugging. "You're not wrong there."

As Jax then exits your home, you bid him goodnight and watch until he disappears into his home.

When you explained to Jax that your brothers made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile, you weren't lying. Nor did you lie when you also explained you helped them with scheduling for said high profile individuals.

What you chose to leave out, however, was that your family had such a great record with security because no one wanted to fuck with a family who had connections to two different cartels through your dearly departed parents.

However, before you settled into the calm life of personal security, your brothers made a name for yourselves as ruthless hitmen amongst the cartels and you… you were a little unhinged when you were caught up in the moment as one of their torturers. You worked for the cartels when they needed you to, but when you and your brothers wanted to distance yourselves, it was the cartels who helped set up your security business.

The week spent with your brothers is just to visit and catch up with those who all three of you came to see as uncles. It was most definitely not supposed to end up with you being caught off guard by a fist to the face. Someone who didn't know all what you were capable of took advantage of the fact that you were a woman who was close to big names within the cartels. They thought you to be easily taken down and used as leverage, but what they didn't count on was you hiding daggers on your persons. The fight was dirty and bloody, and by the end of it you were spitting mad.

You have the urge to carve into someone that your brothers are trying to quell for once when your phone rings. You pull out your phone mid-pacing, and then freeze upon seeing Jax's name on the screen. But it's not a normal call- it's a video call.

"Fuck."

"What?" Your elder brother asks. "Who is it?"

"It's my neighbor. Most likely his kid Abel since I babysit him most of the time." Your brothers glance at each other and you roll your eyes. "I've told you about them. Now toss me my hoodie. I can't let them see my face like this."

Before the call ends, you answer it but make sure to angle the camera away from the bruised side of your face. "Hey, Jax, give me one sec," you say. Your brother tosses you a hoodie and you quickly pull it on after setting your phone down. Then you take a seat at the kitchen table, turning off a few lights so it's a little darker and you can hide within your hood. Picking up your phone and keeping only half your face on camera, you smile. "Hey, guys, miss me?"

Jax's smile falters, but Abel immediately starts talking, telling you all about his day with his dad. He tells you he misses your food and play time, and you assure him you'll be home soon. You tell him about hanging out with your own family and even make your brothers wave at the camera when you switch it on them. Abel's little voice telling them hi makes you smile and then Jax is telling Abel to go watch some TV before bed.

Left alone with Jax on the phone, his smile vanishes. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" You refuse to meet either of your brothers' gazes as you can feel them staring at you. "Everything's fine."

"Bullshit." Your brothers snort and you huff. Very reluctantly, you pull your hood down and maneuver the camera so it catches your full face. Jax's expression hardens. "Fuck."

"Don't worry. It looks worse than it is."

"What the fuck happened?"

You shrug and quickly glance at your brothers, but they're back to doing their own thing. "Went out drinking with the family and got caught in a brawl. It's been handled."

"So I don't have to gather the boys and kick some ass?"

His words make you huff a laugh. "Nah. I'm pretty sure I put the guy in a hospital."

"You took down a dude?! Now that's hot. I wish I could have seen that."

Uncaring that they're eavesdropping, your brothers burst out laughing and you sigh. You can't help but smile and you end up rolling your eyes when Jax laughs too. "Whatever. How's Abel really doing? Is he driving his official nanny insane yet?"

"Not really. He's just moping around."

"Aww." You coo. "Well I should be home soon. I'll take him to the park or something."

Jax's teasing smile turns genuine. "You know, I've never told you this, but I appreciate everything you do for Abel. You don't have to do anything, but you still treat him like family."

"What can I say? I like kids." You shrug. "And my idiot brothers will never give me any nieces or nephews."

"Hey!" Both your brothers protest.

You grin at them before looking back at Jax on your phone. "I should get going though. We have a meeting with the uncles here in a bit and I need to get ready."

"Alright. No more fights unless I'm there to avenge you. I can't have my favorite girl looking like she's in an abusive relationship."

Snorting, you say, "No promises. Tell Abel goodnight for me and to come up with a plan for what he wants to do when I get back home."

"Will do. See you soon."

As soon as you hang up, your brothers start making teasing kissing noises. "Oh shut the fuck up."

Valentine's Day has never been a day that you really cared for. Sure it was sweet to see teenagers and kids swap gifts and/or cards, or to buy candy half off, but it didn't bother you to have a significant other on this day. But you do remember how good it felt to get a gift as a kid, so you want to make sure Abel has a good day.

With your time spent with Abel, you've come to know that he loves certain fruits and chocolate. So after heading to the store for a quick shopping trip, you return home with strawberries, bananas, and melting chocolate. Then after cleaning the strawberries and chopping up some bananas, you dip them all in the ooey-gooey chocolate before letting them harden while fixing up a white dessert box with edges that say Happy Valentine's Day.

You've just filled the box with chocolate covered fruit when your phone rings and you can't help but smile at the name. You're no stranger to how handsome Jax is, but you know better than to go there with him.

"Hey, Teller, to what do I owe the pleasure of your hot voice?" You immediately answer.

Jax's laughter meets your ear before, "While it's nice to hear you like my voice, I'm actually calling on behalf of Abel."

"Aw. What does my favorite Teller need?"

"You know I'm your favorite Teller, YN." You hum, not denying his words. "But Abel is requesting your appearance here at the shop because he has a very important question to ask you."

"A very important question?" You muse. "What does Abel have to…" You trail off, the amusement in Jax's voice suddenly making something make sense. "His question doesn't happen to coincide with what today is, does it?"

Jax chuckles. "I am not ruining the surprise."

"I swear to God, Jax, if I end up crying I'm going to kick your ass."

"I look forward to it. Now get pretty and get your ass over here. Do not break my kid's heart."

"Never. And I'm always pretty, Teller."

"...yeah. You are." Your eyes widen at his words, but you don't say anything. Jax then clears his throat. "I'll see you soon."

"Y-Yeah. I'll be there in ten."

You can feel yourself blushing as you hang up, but quickly put it out of your mind as you hurry to your room to get dressed. You pull on a black sundress that's covered in sunflowers, the flowy skirt hitting right above your knees. You step into some black wedge sandals and quickly tie your hair up in a messy ponytail. You apply the basic amount of makeup and spritz some perfume around your body.

Heading downstairs, you throw all your necessities into a purse and then grab Abel's box of chocolate covered fruit before heading out.

The drive to Teller Automotive isn't a very long one, and you're soon parking in the lot. You leave your purse in the car, but you keep your box of fruits in hand. You get several wolf whistles as you cross the parking lot, but you merely laugh off Tig and Chibs' teasing.

Before you can enter the auto garage, Jax walks out, a smirk in place. And then before you can ask him what he's smirking for, your gaze is drawn downward to Abel who walks out behind him… and oh. You fuckin' melt.

Abel's hair is slicked into a faux hawk, a red bow tie is clipped to the very crisp white button shirt that's tucked into a pair of tiny faded jeans. In his hands he's holding a teddy bear that's adorned with a miniature Sons of Anarchy kutte, and a red carnation. The adorableness of it all makes you melt and tear up at how cute he is.

"Oh my goodness. You look so handsome," you tell him.

As you crouch so you're more at his level, you make sure the skirt of your dress still covers everything. Abel blushes as he asks, "Will you be my Valentine?"

"Hell yes I will." Abel smiles as he hands over your gifts, and Jax and the others- who were apparently listening in- whoop in celebration. "And as my Valentine, it's only fair that I give a gift as well. Strawberries and bananas covered in chocolate. Your favorite," you tell him.

Abel is so ecstatic over his gift that he nearly knocks you over as he hugs you. When Chibs ask him what he's got, he's more than happy to run off and show his uncles what you've given him. Jax offers you a hand up and as soon as you're steady on your feet, you notice him looking at you in a certain way.

"What?" You huff a laugh, carefully wiping away your tears that never fully fell.

"You are amazing, you know that?"

"Hardly. Tiny Teller is just adorable as hell." You can feel yourself starting to blush so you glance down at the teddy in your hand. "Where did you find a tiny kutte anyway?"

"It's actually Abel's. The guys had it made for him when he was born and he wanted your teddy to have it."

"I'll take extra care of it then." When you glance back at Jax, you ask, "So does Abel have to stay or can I take my valentine out on a date?" You have no idea what Jax had been thinking, but it's like your words make him snap. From one second to next, he goes from staring at you in awe to gently grasping your face and pulling you into a kiss. You gasp but quickly return the sentiment. And when Jax pulls back, still cupping your face in his hands, you ask, "So me wanting to take your kid out on a date really did it for you, huh?"

Jax barks out a laugh and you smile as he leans in for another quick kiss. "Been wanting to do that for a while actually."

"And you waited until this moment to do it," you muse. "Jokes on you though. You gotta stick around and listen to your boys tease you about this while I take Abel out all on my lonesome." You kiss him for a third time and then step out of his reach to holler, "Little Teller, let's go! It's you and me, buddy. Whatever you wanna do."

As Abel approaches with a lot less fruit, he asks, "Can we eat pizza in the park?"

"We sure can. Now say goodbye to your dad so we can go stuff our faces."

Dating Jax Teller is rather thrilling. You do not care to know what goes on in the club unless it pertains to any woman trying to sleep with him, or when Jax needs someone to vent to. Then, and only then, do you let your opinion be known about what goes on with the MC.

But while you have nothing against the MC, you still prefer to spend a majority of your time with Abel. Sure you'll show up to some parties so all the other women know Jax is off limits, but you're content to do activities with little Teller wherever he wants to be for the day.

You thought it was cute Jax tried to shield you from the violence the club was capable of, but never pressed him for information when you noticed he looked stressed about something. This time, however, you wish you had pressed him for information when he asked you to stay in with Abel.

It's nighttime, and you and Abel are relaxing in front of your TV as you watch some new Pixar film about dragons and their riders. The two of you are dozing off when your front door is kicked in, which then makes you jump into action. But you're not just defending yourself, you have a little boy to think about. So before you can find a proper weapon, you're left standing in front of Abel who is now clinging to your leg as he whimpers in fear.

"Jax Teller chose a pretty one this time."

"Fuck off."

The men all chuckle in front of you. "Take her."

. .

The Sons of Anarchy roll up to a subdivision that's still in development, cautiously dismounting their motorcycles and arming themselves. A new MC had established themselves in a neighboring town, looking to make a name for themselves, and they thought knocking down the Sons a peg or ten was what they ought to do to establish their foothold in the MC world for good.

The encroaching MC took to ambushing the Sons whenever and wherever, and the people of Charming were starting to become afraid of strolling their pristine streets. Even the Sheriff was looking to the Sons to end the conflict, but they could only do so much. Unfortunately, one of the fights involved a chase on motorcycles as the Sons were making a run, and the son of the enemy President took a bullet to the right side of his chest and fell. His injuries then resulted in a coma which set off to this little meeting.

As they creep through the eerily quiet streets of the deserted subdivision, Opie flanks Jax. "I don't like this, brother. Something feels off."

"I agree," Chibs says. "We should have put the club on lockdown before ridin' out."

Jax sighs. "Too late now."

Juice, Happy, and Tig jog up to homes still under construction, trying the doors or looking for any signs that someone's been there. It isn't until they get to the end of the block that they notice one home has been vandalized and they know that's where they're supposed to go.

Every Son cautiously enters the house, nose wrinkling as the state of the house. But in the middle of the living room, there's an odd clearing around a small round table. And on that table sits a folded notecard.

The Sons seem to freeze, but then Jax is marching towards the note. Snatching it up, the words written make him tense as his world starts to tilt. "Fuck. They're going after Abel."

As the note flutters to the floor, the Sons all race after their President as he flees the house.

The note read, [A son for a son.]

On the way to YN's, Jax instructs half the Sons to break off and check on the club, while also making calls to get everyone on an official lockdown. Jax, Opie, Chibs, and Happy race to his neighbor's house.

When they pull up, a few neighbors are peering out their doors looking a bit distraught. Immediately, they know something terrible has happened, and that feeling is only intensified when they spot the broken down door.

Rushing to park in YN's front yard, guns are pulled from the back waistband of their jeans. Jax takes point as he enters the house and his heart drops to his stomach. The house is an absolute mess, furniture and glass broken.

The TV is still playing some cartoon movie and when he walks further in, he curses at the sight of a body laying in a pool of blood.

Happy peers over his shoulder. "Now we know she can hold her own."

"Find them. Now."

. .

Sitting in the bathtub, Abel clings to you as his face hides against the side of your neck. Your face hurts from the numerous punches you took, your lip is split, your arms have multiple lacerations, and there's blood dripping into your eyes. But your worst wound is definitely the bullet wound to the left of your abdomen, and you're grateful that Abel's weight is putting pressure on the towel you had pressed against the wound.

It's been quiet for what seems like forever, but suddenly you hear movement. Shakily raising the gun you'd taken from one of the intruders, you take aim and dare the next motherfucker who enters to be someone intending harm on you or the boy in your lap.

The door gently swings open, but no one is there. Your arm hurts from holding the gun up and then you see someone try to peer around the door jamb. You can only partially see his face, but the voice- you recognize the voice even if you rarely hear it when you're at the club.

"Baby girl?"

"...Hap?"

The stoic man steps fully in the doorway, putting his gun away as you drop yours in the tub. Abel shifts as he whimpers and you wince. "Jax! Upstairs bathroom!"

Abel realizes his uncle's voice and dad's name, so he moves to turn. Happy is quick to lift him, his eyes widening at the blood soaking his clothes. "S'fine. My blood," you tiredly tell him. "I didn't… I didn't let them touch him."

"You did real good." Happy's assurance makes you smile, but you're just so tired. As your eyes slide shut, you hear, "Hey! Don't do that. Stay awake, YN."

"Tryin'…" Pounding footsteps race up the stairs and it isn't long until Jax, Chibs, and Opie are pushing their way into the bathroom as well. Jax takes Abel right away, eyes scanning the room before they land on you. Happy and Opie move to help you out of the tub, but Chibs is quick to point out your bleeding wound. The last words you say are, "Call my brothers," before darkness consumes you."

. .

Jax is pacing the hospital waiting room, blood covering his shirt and hands from where he carried Abel. Chibs had taken Abel back to the club to clean him up and fill in the others about what was going on, but now he's back and filling in the Sheriff about what they had walked in on at YN's house. Thankfully Jax and YN's neighbors liked them, and were honest about hearing gunshots before the Sons had frantically rolled up.

Opie and Happy are the only two sitting patiently, but their attention is drawn to a large group of men entering the room. Two men in particular glance around before making a beeline for Jax, but the others hang back by the door. It's evident these men mean business as they stand guard, their suits standing out among the scrubs, kuttes, and regular clothing of the others sitting in the waiting room.

When Jax notices the newcomers, his shoulders sag at the sight of YN's brothers. But his interest is piqued with the suited thugs behind the brothers, tattoos visible along their hands and neck.

The brothers quickly introduce themselves as Noah and Theo, both of their expressions grim.

"What happened?" Noah asks. He's the elder of the two, his muscled torso covered in a button down with their sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"They were after my kid," Jax immediately tells them, voice low. "She took a bullet for him and she's in surgery right now."

Both brothers' jaws clench.

"Do you know who they are?" Theo asks, tapping away on his phone.

"Yeah. It's another MC. They attacked us on a run and the son of the President took a fall off his bike. He's in a coma, so the President went after my kid in return."

"And your kid was in the care of our sister," Noah realizes.

"Yes."

Noah sighs, running a hand down his face. Then after a few more taps and texts, Theo grins. "Found them."

Jax frowns. "Found who?"

"The people responsible for putting our sister in the hospital."

Jax then tenses. "This is club business, man. We'll handle it."

Both Noah and Theo tense, but end up chuckling. Jax's jaw clenches, but he keeps his anger in check.

Noah says, "If you think it'll remain club business when YN wakes up, then that means my sister hasn't confessed the family secret."

Jax freezes. "What secret?"

"We had to get our start somewhere when our parents died," Theo tells him. "And it just so happened that each of our parents came from very powerful, very wealthy families. We worked our way to the top of the food chain and became rather notorious until we wanted out and settled into the business we currently have."

Noah starts to smirk. "Your club business just became cartel business, my friend. And our uncles are livid that their little girl was attacked."

Jax glances at his boys, but says nothing.

"We'll find them and keep them occupied," Theo says. "When YN is released, she'll be out for blood."

"And she'll get it," Noah muses. "After all, she is quite the little torturer."

When you wake up, you're unsurprised to find Jax by your bedside. You are surprised, however, to learn that he knows about your past thanks to your brothers promising bloodshed. You groan, but then remember Abel. And after assurances that Abel is fine, you relax.

You're anxious to know where you stand with Jax as he explains why you ended up in the hospital. He feels guilty for not telling you what was really going on or putting you on lockdown, along with the club, but you don't blame him for what happened. Dating the President of an MC, you were bound to be pulled into the violence sooner or later, and with your past you knew you could handle it.

When he runs out of steam, it's your turn to start apologizing for not telling him about your life with the cartels. You make sure he knows that you would have never endangered Abel, and if your past had come calling, you would have made sure that they were protected at all costs. Jax assures you he's not mad, but he did wish you would have told him given you knew about the roles some of his brothers played in the club.

But what's done is done, and Jax is more interested in what you plan on doing since your brothers have gone quiet after calling him to inform him that they've got a majority of the MC tucked away in a building that no one can hear the impending mayhem.

"They broke into my home and put a bullet in me just to get to Abel and send a message to you," you say, expression turning thunderous. "The one who shot me doesn't get to walk away. Hell, the ones who fuckin' raised a gun in Abel's direction are lucky that they'll be limping away after I'm done."

"Limping away?"

You slowly smirk at him, lowering your voice. "I'm not gonna draw out my punishment, but my brothers and my uncles' men sure as shit ain't gonna sit back. They're gonna make sure they get the message that they fucked with the wrong people."

Jax huffs a laugh and then ends up staying for as long as the nurses would let him, only leaving when YN's brothers came or he had to go pick up Abel so he'd see that YN was fine for himself.

Then after two and a half days, you're released.

You're still sore, but you've got nothing but vengeance on your mind. When your brothers send you the address of where they're holding several individuals for you to interrogate, you get dressed and head for Teller Automotive.

Some of the guys are surprised to see you up and about, but you wave off their concern as you continue towards the club portion of the shop.

The usual sweetbutts are milling about, cleaning up and most likely getting ready for a party since it is a Friday. You spot Jax and Juice at the bar as Juice taps away on a laptop.

"Boys," you greet as you walk up behind them. "Whatcha workin' on?"

Jax turns in his seat, eyes subtly widening as he stands. "You're out! Why didn't you call me?" He's quick to carefully take you in his arms, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Because if I'd have called you, you'd have taken me home and coddled me."

"Well yeah. You were shot."

"I got shit to take care of, Teller, and I'm not wasting another day."

"Then what are you doing here?"

You shrug. "I just thought that you'd want to see the MC face their consequences."

"Now? You're going to do that now?" He asks, his gaze darting down to your covered abdomen.

"Yep. "My brothers procured a place just on the outskirts of Charming where we won't be interrupted. You in?"

"Well, yeah. Obviously."

"Good. Then gather whoever's in and follow me."

As you sit in your car, you watch Jax as speaks with several of brothers to see who he's going to leave in charge. And after everything is settled, only five follow Jax to their motorcycles- Opie, Happy, Juice, Tig, and Chibs.

You start your car and start to drive, pausing by the gate until Jax and the others start to roll out. You take off, keeping your speed down as you drive through the town. But the moment you get to the road leading out of Charming, you step on the gas and race towards the location your brothers sent to you.

You drive along an empty stretch of road until you turn down a dirt road which is surrounded by empty crop fields that have seen better days. The road leads up to a dilapidated farmhouse, a very rusted horse corral, and behind all that is a barn where several vehicles have parked.

You park and get out, waiting for Jax to find the perfect spot to park their motorcycles. Once they do, you wait until they gather around.

"I know this started off as club business, but now it's cartel business. I can't have you questioning me in there."

"This is your playground," Jax says. "We're just here for a show."

You nod and then turn towards the barn doors, pushing them open with the help of Chibs and Tig when they get stuck. Inside, several men are hanging about on turned over crates or bales of hay, some even sitting at a small wooden table playing cards. Music plays softly in the background, but it's cut off the moment your presence is noticed.

Immediately, every man and woman scramble to their feet as you approach.

In the middle of the barn, there's a line of eight men with burlap sacks over their heads sitting in chairs with their wrists tied down to the armrests and ankles tied to the legs. Walking down the line of men, you snatch the sacks from their heads.

"Wakey, wakey, motherfuckers." Each man is clearly exhausted, agitated, and pissed off.

You save the MC President for last, smirking as he sneers at you. "Stupid bitch." He seethes. "Let us go. Right now."

"Bitch," you muse. "If you're going to insult me, at least call me a cunt. Or whore. Those words have much more of an impact."

"Cunt."

Your fist whips out, striking him across the face so hard that his head jerks to the side. He turns to glare back up at you, spitting blood that lands on your pant leg. "Now, now. If you're going to insult me again, at least be creative about it. Your lack of creativity is sorely disappointing." He roars at you, trying to free his wrists and feet, but you merely laugh and continue to pace in front of his men. "Now I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here and it's quite simple, really." You stop pacing, expression hardening. "You fucked with the wrong woman."

Then like a switch has been flipped, you go back to smiling and pacing, gesturing wildly as you talk. "Normally I wouldn't touch MC business with a ten foot pole, but you fuckers messed up. You broke into my home and went after a child under my care- a child that I hold very near and dear to my heart. So, now your piss poor attempt at taking over territory that doesn't belong to you has now come under cartel jurisdiction, and I will make sure that any stupid motherfuckers who dares to come after the Sons of Anarchy will pay a price."

"Fuck that. We didn't cross any cartel!"

"Oh honey," you mockingly coo as you come to a stop in front of the one who spoke. "I am part of the cartel." Turning around, you walk towards a long table and lift the cloth laying atop of it. Beneath the cloth, there's a variety of weapons. You tuck a glock into the back waistband of your jeans and then grasp a dagger in your dominant hand. Then turning to walk back towards the bound men, you smirk. "Now what I want are the assholes who attacked me and dared to point a gun at a child. You give me those men and the rest of you can walk out of here."

Silence.

Dead fuckin' silence.

"Nothing?" You chuckle. "Come on, guys. Give 'em up. I swear it's not worth protecting them. I mean, I can probably figure it out. Eyes are windows to the soul and all that rot. You might have been wearing masks, but I still remember those cowardly glints very well."

"Fuck you! I ain't no coward."

"Bingo!" You shout, pointing the tip of your blade at the culprit. Walking up to the guy, you can't help but laugh as he realizes his mistake and clamps his mouth shut. "One down, one more to go."

"I ain't telling you shit."

"No?" Switching the dagger to your other hand, you pull the glock free from behind your back. You step close to the man, taking aim at his crotch. "Are you sure about that?"

He cruelly smirks. "You're all talk and no-"

BANG!

The guy immediately starts screaming, his buddies struggling in their chairs, and you laugh. When you glance around the room, you see those you consider family chuckling and the Sons cringing in sympathy as they cover their crotches. You walk around so you're standing behind the screaming fool, swapping the dagger and gun in your hands so the dagger is back in your dominant hand. "Going once… going twice…" He continues to scream, and you sigh when no one else speaks up.

And then before anyone can comprehend what you've done, you've dragged the blade across the guy's neck.

As he gurgles on his blood and his friends shout obscenities at you, you walk around so you're standing before them once again.

"That's three of my men you've killed already," the President says. "I think fair's fair."

"I want the last one," you say. "One last guy and you're good to go."

No one says anything, but the President's expression hardens. There's a cold glint in his eye that you're very familiar with, and you know that should he walk out of these barn doors, he'll do anything and everything for revenge. "Samuel. I sent Samuel."

The Samuel in question squawks and you smile beautifully at him over the shoulder before staring at the President once more. "Harsh. Selling out your own guy like that." You saunter up to him, sighing. "But he's the thing; I hate snitches."

Then before the President can blink, you take aim and pull the trigger. The bullet hits him right between the eyebrows.

The struggling, bound men all seem to cease movement and you turn towards them. "Now that that's out of the way…" You walk back towards Samuel, scoffing at his whimpering. "You might get to live today, Sammy, but not without something to remember why messing with the Sons a big no-no."

"And w-what's that?"

You slowly smile. "Open your fist, Samuel. Lay your hand flat against the armrest."

His eyes widen as he whimpers, but he hesitantly does as you've said. Then when his hand is nice and flat, you drive your blade through the back of his hand, pinning it to the arm rest.

As he screams, you sneer at him and then start to make your way towards the Sons. On your way, you hand off your gun before coming to a stop in front of Jax and pasting on a smile as you glance at each Sons. "Who's hungry?"

"Marry me," Happy grumbles.

You laugh at him, winking, and then glance back at Jax. "You're a little psycho," he says.

"Only when the occasion calls for it. But seriously, can we go get food?"

Jax laughs as he sidles up to your side, sliding an arm along the back of your shoulders. "Do burgers sound good?"

"Burgers sound marvelous. I also want a vanilla milkshake."

"Good. We'll go grab some and surprise Abel. He's been itching to go to your house again."

"Ugh. Your kid is so adorable. But maybe let me settle in before you grab him. My abdomen is on fire and if we tell him I'm sick, maybe he won't be so hyperactive."

"Let me see."

Begrudgingly, you lift the hem of your shirt and glance down. Sure enough, you've bled through your bandages. "New plan; No Abel."

"What? But-"

"Nope." Jax squeezes you to his side as you sigh. "You're gonna go home, Chibs will follow to patch you up, and I'll go pick up some food. Abel can go one more day without seeing you."

"Boo."

The Sons chuckle.

"What about us?" Juice asks, gesturing between himself, Tig, and Happy.

"I don't care, Juice. Do whatever you want."

As they head towards their motorcycles, Jax walks you to your car.

"So, are you really okay with this?" You ask. "Okay with me and all that I'm capable of?"

"Yeah." Jax nods. "More than okay, actually. It's good to know that should shit find its way to your doorstep again, you'll handle it."

"Damn right I will." You swing around so you're standing in front of Jax, arms wrapping around his waist as his go around your shoulders. "I will protect Abel with my life again and again. Never doubt that."

"Just Abel?" His eyebrow arches.

"You're a close second," you muse. Leaning up on the tips of your toes, you peck his lips. "Now seriously. Food, Teller. I need food."

"Yeah, yeah." He kisses you again. "Go home and get settled. I'll be there soon."

#jax x reader #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #jax teller #happy lowman #abel teller #mc romance #motorcycle club romance #dark romance

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harlowcomehome · 2 months

Text

Runaway Husband: Part Two!

Read part one first!

Clay and Maggie exchanged worried looks, neither wanting to waver in their loyalty to Jack. Part of you respected the fact that they were keeping their loyalty a focus, but the other part of you was beyond frustrated.

Clay ended up joining Maggie and staying for a few days, making himself comfortable on your pull-out couch.

An overwhelming feeling of sorrow overcame you on your last night together, the four of you had spent the last few days bonding and making memories at home. Emmett felt the sadness too, as he was fussier than normal. His loud cries echoed in the house as you bounced him in your arms, eventually calming him down enough to put him in his baby swing for a nap.

Maggie insisted on cooking as she stood at the stovetop to made dinner, immediate flashbacks of your life with Jack flooded your mind. You remembered all of the times he’d rush home from a late night at the studio and make a grilled cheese for the both of you and how you’d stay up laughing for hours on end when you both couldn’t sleep.

Your eyes filled with tears, you had done so well at suppressing your emotions while Clay and Maggie were around not wanting them to feel caught in the middle more than they already were but tonight was the hardest.

Jack was trying to reach Maggie all evening, frantically calling her no less than 10 times. He had a meeting with his lawyers and was told you would be receiving a subpoena on behalf of his ongoing court case. It was news they tried to approach him with extreme softness, knowing you were a sensitive topic but regardless he didn’t handle it well.

The lawyers he hired looked to him with sympathy, letting him know they exhausted all other avenues and that they would pick back up tomorrow as they were done for the day.

Jack stayed alone in the room to collect himself for a moment. He had tried to shield you from all of this, but you were his fiancé at the time of the embezzlement so nothing was off the table. He had successfully kept the story out of the limelight, but that was no doubt going to change soon and he was overwhelmed with emotions.

Jack wasn’t able to reach Maggie, she was always his sense of comfort and the person he turned to for advice. It was rare for her to miss calls from him but she was more removed from her phone because she was around you and her grandson.

When Jack realized her location was off, he grew increasingly concerned and decided to call his dad for clarification.

Brian wasn’t the best liar and didn’t convince Jack in the slightest that his mom was out of town for a work-related conference. He sighed and quickly decided to call Clay to see if he had any insight into why their mom wasn’t answering his calls.

You watched Clay's phone buzz against the coffee table as dinner was still being made, Jack's contact name and photo appearing immediately.

“Clay- ummm your brother’s calling you” You picked his phone up, handing it to him. Your hands trembled at the possibility of hearing his voice.

Clay nervously answered, stepping outside to take the call. Within minutes he was back inside with a nervous look on his face, he had nonchalantly tossed his phone on the counter and didn’t say a word to either you or Maggie.

You could see that you were putting both Maggie and Clay in a compromising position, and you were worried that this would affect Emmett's relationship with them in the long run.

A wave of impulsion came over you, grabbing his phone and answering it as Jack's contact lit up the screen once more.

“Dude, why the fuck are you hanging up on me? I need you right now” Jack was yelling, his breathing short and shallow.

“Hey, sorry, it’s not Clay” you sighed into the phone wondering if he would recognize your voice immediately.

Maggie and Clay stayed focused on you, Emmett was babbling in his baby swing and you mouthed to Clay to keep an eye on him as you walked outside to sit on your back patio.

Jack felt like the wind got knocked out from underneath him. He was beyond panicked and hearing your voice was not what he was at all expecting.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you mirrored back, truthfully not going into this conversation with any kind of a game plan, as you anxiously picked at your nails.

“Why are you with my family?” he was beyond confused but admittedly happy to hear your voice after all this time.

“Just because we ended things doesn’t mean they have to” You let out an awkward giggle hoping to break some tension.

He laughed too, which gave you an opening.

“We have a lot to talk about but I’d rather do it in person” You didn’t feel like it was morally right to drop the “you have a son” bomb over the phone.

“I agree but I also have to tell you something now” Jack coughed nervously, his throat felt dry knowing he had to say things to you that he had been keeping a secret.

“Go ahead.” You could tell he was nervous by the tone of his voice.

Jack took a seat on his barstool in his house, “The night before we were supposed to get married I found out that someone on my team was stealing money from me.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth instinctively as he continued to speak, mentally putting the pieces together. You wondered why he wasn’t naming this person but you saved your questions.

“I’ve been trying to keep you from the embarrassment of all of this but I was told today by my lawyers that you’re going to be subpoenaed.”

Your breath hitched, “subpoenaed? Why me?” You had wondered if they thought you had anything to do with it.

“My lawyers think it would be beneficial if you were a character witness. The courts just want to know if you had witnessed anything while we were together. They want to know if I was lying about any of my finances or doing anything wrong on my end.” Everything he said sounded like one giant run-on sentence, he was nervous to talk to you and ashamed at how he handed things.

“So I’m supposed to go to court and speak to your character?” You stifled a laugh, you were still angry at how things ended, further proving you were still in love with him.

“I know, I’m sorry” he knew what you were subtly referring to.

“Is your girlfriend going to be there? Did she get subpoenaed too?” You couldn’t help but feel a wave of jealousy come over you, you’d blame it on postpartum hormones if you had to, but you knew that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“Heather? She’s not my girlfriend, we have just been hanging out. It’s just PR to make things look good” he wasn’t supposed to admit it to a single soul but he felt like he owed you that much.

“We will fly home with your brother and mom tomorrow and meet you at her house in the evening so we can talk. Sound good?” You hadn’t even realized you started the sentence off with “we” but Jack did, wondering if it was a slip of the tongue and opting not to point it out.

••••

The flight to Kentucky felt excruciatingly long, Emmett was obviously very young, and that made you a nervous wreck about everything.

You had some baby items delivered to Maggie and Brian’s house that way things were set up when you got there. You didn’t expect Jack to already be waiting inside when you arrived.

He was sitting on the family couch with his head in his hands as you noticed the bassinet you had delivered was already put together and sat in front of him.

“How long has he been here?” You whispered to Brian as he softly took Emmett from your arms.

“Long enough to build that bassinet himself” he whispered back and the family agreed to give you both the room, leaving quickly to another room in the large house.

You stood in front of Jack who had only looked up at you now, his eyes were bloodshot and his hands were trembling. Otherwise, he looked handsome as ever, he had been working out, his arms were practically bursting out of his jacket and his hair and beard were fluffy and full.

“Is that for our baby?” He stood up, forgetting how much taller he was than you making you step back at his loud tone.

“Jack- let me explain.”

“It’s a yes or no question, do we have a child together?” He was closer to you now, unaware of how intimidating he may be. He had done the math in his head and it made sense.

You reached your hand out to push him back, “I’m going to need you to sit down if you want to have this conversation with me.”

He stumbled slightly unaware you’d be pushing him off balance, but he sat down on the same couch cushion he had been sitting on when you arrived. He was looking up at you now as you stood in front of him.

“Yes, that's what I wanted to tell you in person” Before you could continue Jack jumped up, ready to go looking for Emmett but you stopped him by standing in front of him.

“Jack, please! Can you just calm down and not go barging in there and scaring your son when you meet him for the first time?” You wanted to get all the animosity out of the way first.

“We have a son?” His face softened, that was the first bit of information he had gotten from you.

“I’ll start answering your questions when you start answering mine” You handed him some tissues out of a box on the side table in the living room.

Jack quickly wiped his drippy nose, collecting himself to answer anything you wanted to know. “Ask me anything.”

“Why didn’t we get married? Did you realize you didn’t love me? That I was too “boring?” You said that last word with air quotes.

“I’ve never stopped loving you, that’s the truth” he swallowed, keeping his eyes on you as you paced around the living room in front of him. You were wearing a long-sleeved purple body suit and black leggings, and new balances, a comfortable airport outfit but he still thought you looked beautiful.

“You’re still deflecting” You had zero patience for his lack of immediate answers.

“I don’t think you’re boring either” he laughed having to clarify. “The night before our wedding I found out that someone was stealing significant amounts of money from me and I didn’t want to get you involved. It was something I should’ve caught a long time ago but with the album and our wedding I was just distracted and it all came crumbling down so fast.”

You finally sat down, across from him as he spoke about the truth for the first time to you.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? It doesn’t make any sense to me. I was your fiancé, we were going to get married!” Your emotions were getting the better of you, as your voice was raised.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought it would be easier if you didn’t know” and it dawned on you why things had become so complicated. Your mind was racing knowing of one possibility that would absolutely break your heart.

“My sister? Is it my sister?” You started to piece everything that had happened within the last year together now.

Your sister was already working for Jack and was the reason you two had met in the first place, this was her first “big girl job” and you and your family had assumed she was finally getting her life together.

Jack nodded confirming what you suspected, tears rolling down his cheeks.

When Jack called off your engagement, your sister stopped speaking to you and your parents, claiming you ruined all opportunities that came your way and that this would affect the both of you. She wasn’t even aware of your pregnancy, what was meant to be your wedding day was the day you lost both Jack and your older sister.

Your parents were never phased by her absence as she had always had a checkered past, so they never questioned why she disappeared since she had done it so many times before.

“You warned me to keep an eye on her and I just ignored it because she was your sister and I thought my team would catch any inconsistencies. Before the wedding I had them look into everything one last time for the sake of saying I did it but then they found out she was stealing from me and I didn’t know how to tell you…” He started to sob, a weight had been lifted telling you the truth but he felt regretful for missing out on so much. He was attempting to ramble through his tears as you stood up from your seat to approach him, kneeling to hold him as his muscular frame shook in your arms.

Jack loosely wrapped his arms around your body as you slowly stood up and instinctively wrapped yourself around him by sitting on his lap, holding one another through tears.

“I haven’t talked to her since that day. She doesn’t even know about Emmett” You nervously played with a stray curl, making him look up at you.

“His name is Emmett?” A small smile broke across his face, a twinkle in his bloodshot eyes that wasn’t there before appeared.

“Do you want to meet him?” You slowly stood up, embarrassingly realizing you had made it into his lap.

Jack nodded and you both walked down the hallway, lightly knocking on the door as Jack nervously followed behind you.

Maggie carefully handed Emmett to you. Jack made sure he was sitting down before you let him hold Emmett, the family leaving you both alone once again.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” He sniffled as he looked down at his son who was fast asleep after a long day of crying.

“You had already decided you didn’t want to be married, you told me you didn’t love me and that you needed to be with someone on your level. Why would I force you to pick me or raise a family with me for that matter?”

“You know now that wasn’t true right?” He finally looked up from Emmett to look at you. “Did you know that you were pregnant when…?” He didn’t want to finish that sentence and you knew that.

“I didn’t, not until a few weeks later” you shrugged, moving the blanket down from Emmett’s chin.

“He looks just like me” Jack chuckled, looking at you sympathetically “Sorry about that.”

You laughed, feeling the tension slowly dissipate at his comment. “It’s okay, it made me feel close to you.”

Jack smiled, finding comfort in the fact that you said that. “I’m sorry that I made things worse. I thought I was helping by keeping you from it and I didn’t know you were pregnant or that would’ve changed how I reacted.”

“Would it?” You were still hurt, and trying to suppress your need to subtly throw jabs at him.

“Yes, and I’m sorry” he couldn’t manage to say anything else, knowing he didn’t have a rebuttal.

“Anything I can do to make this easier, I will. If I have to go to court for you, I’ll do it. I always would’ve” You wanted that to be clear.

“I didn’t think it was fair of me to ask that of you. I tried everything to keep this out of your life” he sighed and you heard a knock on the door, Clay was wheeling the bassinet into the room for the both of you.

“Thank you” you hummed as he nodded and quickly left. You helped Jack carefully set Emmett down inside of it, his paternal instincts quickly kicking in as he sat on the bed next to the bassinet to keep a close eye.

“It’s not just about you and me anymore. You’re his dad and I want to make sure you’re okay. I’ll do whatever I have to and we can meet with your lawyers tomorrow” You sat on the bed beside him.

“Even if it means testifying against your sister?”

“I don’t have a sister as far as I’m concerned” you spoke to him as blunt as you could about that, wanting him to know you meant it.

“She stole a lot of money, and will likely go to prison for a long time. What if your parents don’t agree with your decision?” Jack was worried you’d change your mind once family weighed in.

“My parents won’t be upset with me, my sister has been causing chaos in their lives since she was a teenager. If anything they’ll just be happy you know about Emmett” You smiled, looking at your baby who was sound asleep.

“I just don’t want to lose you again, or him” Jack was immediately in love, but the reality set in quicker than anticipated.

“You won’t. You might want to call your lawyers first thing tomorrow and let them know you have a son though” you laughed, wondering if that would affect anything.

“I’m just glad I can stop hanging out with Heather” Jack nudged you with his shoulder knowing you were jealous when you mentioned her earlier.

“I like the sound of that” You leaned into him with your shoulder. He turned to you, his hands cupped your face as he went in for a kiss, something he had wanted to do from the moment you walked into the house.

Jack leaned back on the bed, grabbing your thighs and pulling you on top of him as Emmett was still asleep nearby.

“Jack- we can’t” you moaned between kisses, missing the touch of his hands more now than before.

“I just want to kiss you” he pleaded between moans, his kisses growing more and more sloppy as you straddled him, your fingers entangled in his curls.

You had no idea you had fallen asleep until Emmett woke you with his cries. Jack immediately rolled over, shushing you to go back to sleep as he kneeled to look for formula in the diaper bag on the floor.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” You whispered as he took a bottle from your bag, a look of worry came over him that you found endearing.

“I’ll show you” You picked Emmett up and held him against your hip as you walked with Jack to the kitchen, showing him the steps and how to test if the milk was too warm.

“I’m sorry you’ve been doing this all alone” he whispered, knowing he had a lot of things to catch up on. He bent down to quickly kiss you before testing the formula on his wrist.

“I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this alone” you replied, referring to his impending court case.

“I wasn’t alone, I had Heather” he teased, making you roll your eyes as he giggled behind you and back to the bedroom.

“Don’t make me fly back home, you’re still on thin ice” you teased back, earning a scoff from Jack.

“Stop playing, this is your home now” he hummed, taking Emmett from you as he fed him for the first time. He flashed you a big bright smile, letting you know he was serious and you found all the comfort you needed in hearing that.

••••••

A/N: Special thanks to @vanwritesfan-fiction for helping me brainstorm the storyline for this part. I appreciate you so much.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagines #Jack Harlow angst

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megalony · 3 months

Text

It's Yours

This is a new Evan Buckley imagine, based on an anon request. I hope you will all like it. Any feedback is always much appreciated and thank you for all the lovely requests I'm trying to work my way through them.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz

911 Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) breaks up with her abusive boyfriend, and finds a lot more than she bargained for with Evan, the guy at the bar who takes her home.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pushing her glass across the bar, (Y/n) stretched her arms out in font of her and leaned her head forward. Her lips curved into a small, tepid smile and she nodded at the bartender to refill her empty glass. She wanted her fourth drink and she wanted to feel a buzz. Now.

Usually cocktails gave a very strong buzz despite tasting nothing like alcohol and feeling more like orange juice. (Y/n) wasn't feeling anything tonight.

Her fingers curled around the long neck of the cocktail glass and she rolled the glass between her finger and thumb so she could remove the edging of sugar all around the rim of the glass. Once each fleck of sugar was gone, (Y/n) downed the drink all in one go.

She watched the bartender disappear to the other end of the bar and lazily pushed the glass away from her again. He would know to refill it once he came back this way.

When she felt her phone vibrate next to her arm, she twisted her arm to try and reach for it. The cocktails must have started to have an effect as her hand knocked her phone off the edge of the bar rather than reaching to grab it. At least it landed on a carpeted floor. No chance of having a broken screen to finish off a horribly rough night.

(Y/n) leaned down over the side of the bar stool and grabbed her phone, but as she reeled back up again, the back of her head bashed into something.

A gasp burned at the back of her throat and her free hand moved to cradle the back of her head, letting go of the edge of the bar that she had gripped to keep her balance. Before (Y/n) even started to sway or wobble, a hand curled firmly around her elbow and her temple pressed into someone's abdomen.

"I- I'm so sorry!" Words tumbled from the stranger's lips like a waterfall.

The hand that was around her elbow effortlessly took her weight and lifted her back up so she was sitting upright in her seat again like she weighed nothing more than a feather.

No words left (Y/n)'s lips when she looked up.

He was handsome. The striped black and white shirt he wore seemed two sizes too small for him. It made his shoulders bulge out against the material and the short cuffs over his biceps looked like they were digging into his muscle like a turniquet trying to cut off his circulation. He had a broad, hard chest and high-waisted black trousers pulled tight over his hips.

His hair was the colour of brown sugar and formed soft waves that were swept to the back of his head.

Those eyes were the deepest shade of blue (Y/n) had ever seen and they looked glossed over as if they were crafted out of clay and paint that hadn't had chance to dry. His lips were a dark shade of rouge and when he darted his tongue out over his lower lip, (Y/n) found herself taking a sharp breath.

"Are you alright?" Concern pooled in his enlarged pupils and she realised his hand was still holding onto her elbow. While his other hand was clenched tight around a beer bottle that was meshed up into his shirt.

"I'm okay," Her voice came out quiet and weak and (Y/n) internally cringed at her tone. Why did she sound so childish?

She dropped her hand from the back of her head before she trailed her palm over the back of her neck and down between her shoulders. She must have clocked her head into his elbow and spilt his drink. His bottle was half-empty but (Y/n) could see beige droplets coating his hand and down the neck of the bottle. Some of the beer had gone down the back of her cardigan and through to her shirt.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking, uh… can I buy you a drink, to say sorry?"

His hand finally dropped from her elbow and (Y/n) suddenly felt lonesome and cold, but she tried to brush off the feeling.

Evan watched the way her eyes darted down to the bottle in his hand before she looked back up at him. The way she bit her lip made his chest tighten and he could do nothing but watch the way she brushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

"I spilt your drink, I think I owe you a drink." When he motioned towards the vacant stool next to her, (Y/n) wordlessly nodded and turned to face the bar again. She dropped her phone on the counter and waved her hand to grab the bartender's attention. "What'll it be?"

"Whatever you're having."

"Two more please, keep them coming." (Y/n) slid her glass over the counter before she rolled her neck and shivered. She could feel the beer soaking into the back of her top and it made her skin prickle.

Her arms reached down behind her and she shimmied her black cardigan off her shoulders and let it pool on the floor, curved around the legs of the stool. At least her shirt didn't feel like it was soaked in beer, not a lot had spilled on her, thankfully. And the bar was starting to get crowded, all the bodies meshed together pushing into the bar, mulling around for a table and the people dancing in the far corner were creating a lot of heat. The AC didn't seem to be working either which wasn't helping.

Evan felt his breath hitching in his throat when she let her jacket drop down to the floor. It made her hair fan across her shoulders that were exposed to his eyes and he let his eyes wander down her frame despite everything in him telling him not to oogle.

She was wearing a dark navy blue shirt that hung off both her shoulders with thin straps and the bottom of her shirt was tucked into her jeans that cut off just before her ankles. He could see her foot swaying back and forth, rocking and shimmying the small black heels on her feet like she was waving daggers around for protection.

He could feel his teeth sinking into his lip until his eyes trailed down her arms.

Bruises.

She had fresh bruising pooling on her lower left forearm that was closest to him and markings and scratches around her wrist. When Evan trailed his eyes back along her exposed skin, he noticed a deep red scratch along her neck starting just beneath her ear.

When their eyes locked, Evan forced his lips to curve into a smile and he kept hs eyes trained on her face so she wouldn't think he was staring at her oddly.

"I'm Evan, but everyone calls me Buck."

"(Y/n)."

She nodded her head at him and slid a glass his way and her smile made Evan's stomach flip. He could see her sinking her teeth into her lip to stop her smile from becoming too wide as if she thought smiling somehow ruined her features or would push him away.

He took the glass and clinked it against hers before taking a large gulp. "What brings you here?"

(Y/n) tried to pace herself and only drink half her glass instead of throwing the whole drink back in one. She didn't want to embarrass herself or push away the handsome stranger who had decided to talk to her tonight. Her finger moved to swirl around the rim of her glass and she slowly collected the tiny cubes of sugar before she bit down on her finger and let the sugar dissolve on her tongue.

"Bad night… what about you?" It had been a bad night for (Y/n). One of the worser nights she had spent and the only solace she could find was drowning herself in alcohol to try and make the panic dwindle away.

Marcus had no right to speak to her the way he had done tonight.

Every time he threw a fist at her, (Y/n) walked away. He was starting to become dangerous. For the last four or five months, (Y/n) must have walked out on him over seven times already. When he tried to hit her, she left. When he grabbed her and tossed her onto the sofa, she smacked him and walked out, promising herself she wouldn't go back.

It was harder than she thought when he turned up on her doorstep, refusing to leave. It felt easier to let him worm his way back into her life with sordid excuses and feeble promises of never being that cruel or rude or hateful again. She had been with him for two and a half years. It was hard to throw that time away and call it quits.

Especially when no one else seemed to want to be around her and all she could hear in the back of her head was Marcus's voice telling her she couldn't do any better than him. No one else was going to put up with her or want to be around her and if she truly loved him and knew he loved her, she didn't have the right to walk away.

"I've just pulled a triple shift and… I don't know, didn't fancy going home to an empty place, I guess."

Evan hadn't been home in over two days and this afternoon when he finally finished his long shift and was able to go home, something told him not to. He showered and changed at the station, left his jeep in the station car park and made his way into town.

Something told Evan to wander into a bar and have a drink. Going home to an empty apartment wasn't appealing. He and Taylor had broken up; he couldn't be dealing with someone who wasn't willing to put him first and who could so easily break his trust without thinking it was a problem.

And when the rest of the team were going home to their families, Evan suddenly felt lonelier than ever and he wasn't going home to cement that fact in his mind. At least not unless he was drunk and able to cope with his loneliness.

"What do you do?"

"I work for the fire department. You?"

"Oh wow. I'm a book editor, nothing as exciting or strenuous as you I'm afraid." (Y/n) finished the rest of her drink and something within her told her to prepare for Evan to leave. After all, what would a fireman be doing talking to a little book worm like her?

But surprise flooded her face and parted her lips when he pushed their empty glasses across the bar and asked for a round of shots. Was he really going to stay and talk to her? Why was someone like him sitting with someone like her? If he thought he had to stay out of pity (Y/n) would correct him. He didn't have to hang around for her benefit, he could go home with anyone in the whole place or chat up someone else.

He wouldn't want to spend the rest of his night boring himself to death talking to her… would he?

He stayed. (Y/n) wasn't sure how long they had been sat at the bar, but it was long enough for the bartender to switch shifts with someone else and for the music on the dance floor to get even louder to accomodate everyone piling in the bar.

Glasses lined the bar in front of her and Evan and she could tell he was getting tipsy now whereas she finally started to feel that drunken buzz that made her head swim and her muscles to loosen up and feel relaxed.

She loved the way Evan leaned his head on his arm and grinned over at her. He suddenly looked so childish and carefree and overall charming, even after however many drinks they had downed during the evening.

She didn't want to tear her gaze away from him, but she looked to the right when her phone started to vibrate and jump on the bar.

It was Marcus.

Without thinking, (Y/n) double clicked the side button and cut the call. She wasn't giving him the time of day. Not when the call disappeared and she could see flashes of all the texts he had sent since she walked out the door.

'Where are you?' 'Where the fuck did you go?' 'You need to come home. Now. We have to talk.' 'Why do you always do this to me?' '(Y/n) ANSWER ME!'

Blocking his number didn't work. Marcus would just change his number and turn up on her doorstep and make her unblock his phone. He never seemed to let her go and (Y/n) always let him back in.

Not this time. Not after he'd gone so far as to try and grab her neck. If she hadn't of swung her fist out and clamped him round the side of the head, she knew he would of strangled her. It was why her neck now burned with a large scratch and why he had tried to grab her and twist her wrist to prevent her from leaving. She wasn't going back to his place anymore. She wasn't going to let him back into her apartment or let him walk all over her and get controlling again.

They were finished and Marcus had to understand that. He had to know he couldn't have anymore control over (Y/n).

"All good?" Even in his drunken state, Evan noticed the shiver that rolled down (Y/n)'s arms and the way she delicately brushed her fingertips absentmindedly over the mark on her neck.

But when she looked back at him, her lips curved into a smile. A genuine, dazzling curve of her lips that was nothing like how she had tried to smile at the start of the night. He watched her push her phone away and turn on the stool until she was facing him and her knees bumped into his.

"All good," She repeated with a drunken nod of her head.

Evan wasn't sure where the sudden burst of adrenaline came from, but he pushed up so he was sitting straight and he leaned across until he could just about nudge the end of his nose against hers. His left arm stayed slumped on the bar while his right hand reached out to cup her jaw.

He brushed his thumb across her jaw and gently swiped it across her lower lip that he couldn't stop staring at.

He stole all the air from her lungs when he kissed her.

(Y/n) reached her hand out to cup the wrist that was near her chin and she held onto him for dear life, as if letting go would cause her to fall and never land. She felt his tongue prodding at her lips, asking for entrance while his fingers curled around the side of her jaw, but Evan's touch was so much softer and more reaffirming than what she was used to or expecting.

When he pulled back, (Y/n) tipped her forehead against his and heaved to catch her breath back. She could feel his breaths fanning against her lips and his lower lip started to swell from where she had sank her teeth down into it.

There was a hooded look in his eyes and his lips curved up into a widespread grin that felt infectious.

"Wanna get out of here?"

(Y/n) leaned over until her free hand could slide over Evan's knee and shift along his thigh while her lips captured his. She felt his leg jump when she squeezed his upper thigh and leaned closer until she was about to fall off her chair and directly onto his lap. He had stolen the words right out her mouth.

She did want to leave. She wanted to get out of this crowded bar and she wanted him to take her somewhere. Anywhere. As long as he took her with him.

"Definitely."

***

"Can we talk?"

'You're not the one I need to talk to.' Those words hung on the tip of (Y/n)'s tongue but she couldn't bring herself to say them. She couldn't say something that would rile him up and provoke him, that was the last thing she needed right now.

(Y/n) curved her arms around her chest, binding them tight to see if it would do anything to reduce the panic swarming through her chest or make her think of him. Of Evan. If she closed her eyes and squeezed tight enough, it might make her feel like she had him wrapped around her.

She wanted to feel that sense of security he gave her.

Her head tilted back against the brick wall and she dropped her eyes to her feet, not wanting to give Marcus the satisfaction of looking him in the eye.

She had gone almost three months without seeing him or bumping into him. This was the first time she had properly managed to break up with him and stay away from him for good. She didn't go back and ask to smooth things over. She didn't have him banging on her apartment door at one in the morning because he knew she would have to let him in or risk neighbours calling the police.

He hadn't turned up at her place of work- until today, for near on three months.

(Y/n) had finally started to move away from him and move on and she had found someone who she had suddenly become attached to.

Sleeping with Evan the first night she met him hadn't been something (Y/n) planned to do, but it happened nonetheless. Waking up in his bed had been a shock for both of them, but not a bad one.

She left for work the next morning before realising she didn't get Evan's number. When she closed her eyes, she could imagine that second time she saw him.

* She was being silly. It was probably a one-night stand for him. He most likely didn't give her his number for a reason. He didn't want to see her again or call her or text her. She was just a distant memory that could already have faded from his mind for all (Y/n) knew. She was the bookworm he picked up two weeks ago at a bar. He could have picked her up and brought her home to win a bet.

Would he really have brought her home if he only wanted one night with her? Why not ask to go back to her place instead of his? Why let her see his home and know where he lived and let her stay the night if all he wanted was sex that could be forgotten in the morning?

Why would he-

Her breath caught like a lump in the back of her throat and her arms bound around her chest so her hands could scrunch up in her shirt when her eyes locked on him.

He was home. The last two times (Y/n) had tried to visit and see if he was home, he wasn't in and she could only guess that he was out at work.

She watched the way his hand tightened around the door and his jaw slacked and for a horrible moment, (Y/n) thought he was going to slam the door shut in her face. She thought he was going to roll his eyes or sigh or plainly tell her to leave. But he didn't.

"(Y/n)." Her name fell from his lips like an angel falling from grace and before she could move, Evan was suddenly reaching out for her. "Finally."

Evan's last word caught her by surprise but he didn't give her the chance to question what he meant by that. His arm swooped around her waist and he reeled her inside like she had been stood out in the rain for far too long. Her hands found his shoulders to steady herself before she tripped and she wanted to smile but she couldn't.

His lips devoured hers before she could grin or say hello or ask him how he was.

She let him lean down and plaster his chest up against hers and she almost melted when his hand pressed up against her lower back to keep her close. (Y/n) had been thinking of what to say if he ever opened the door to her when she dropped by.

When she left for work after their night together, he'd asked her to call him and she promised she would. But she walked out the door and picked up Evan's keys by mistake and then realised when she got to work that she didn't even have his number saved in her phone.

She could of slid the keys beneath his apartment door and said no more about it, but she held onto them for the chance that he would be home when she came by. And she needed her keys back. She was using her spare set of keys to get in and out her apartment.

When he pulled back for air, Evan pulled (Y/n) inside and nudged the door shut. He let his temple press down into hers and he couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. He didn't have any way to get hold of her after she left. He didn't have her number, he didn't know where she lived or where she worked. All he had was the bar they met in and that wasn't much help.

He had been praying she would come back to his place and after two weeks, his wishes had finally paid off.

He kept both his hands clamped down on her hips as if needing to make sure she wasn't about to break free from his arms and try to disappear on him again. He could barely register the way she pulled out his keychain from her pocket and jingled it in front of him.

"Thanks," He breathed quietly against her lips as he moved one hand from her waist to grab the keys. He tossed them onto the side unit near the door and leaned down until his hands cupped the back of (Y/n)'s thighs.

He felt the way her hands slid round from his shoulders to cup the back of his neck and she let him lift her up so her legs could hook around his torso.

The feeling of his lips attaching back to hers made (Y/n) feel lightheaded and she dug her nails into the back of his neck to try and ground herself. But it earned a guttural groan to vibrate up through Evan's chest and the sound only made her press her lips down harder onto his. She sunk her teeth into his llip and gave a sharp tug while he turned and started to walk into the apartment.

And she was sure she heard him mutter "I'm getting your number this time," against her lips. *

"Can we talk?" Marcus's voice came out a lot sterner and colder this time and it made (Y/n) grimace as she pulled herself out of a memory and back to the present.

She juggled her bag higher on her shoulder and nodded. Her arms stayed wrapped around her waist for comfort more than anything else and she pushed off the wall and started walking. He could follow her this time. Marcus could follow her head and her instructions and realise they were doing things by her rules.

He wasn't grabbing her and dragging her away, he wasn't picking where they went and he wasn't going to steer the conversation his way.

(Y/n) needed to talk to him. She needed to make sure he understood that the last three months had been the best of her life because she had been away from him. They were broken up this time, for good, and she wasn't going back to him.

She had had two one-night stands and a date with Evan and that was what (Y/n) wanted. She wanted to try and make something with Evan and forget Marcus was ever in her life.

(Y/n) led him round the corner, away from her work and to the nearest cafe. When Marcus tried to reach out to hold her arm, she shook him off and added a safe amount of distance between them so not even their arms could accidentally brush together.

"What do you want to talk about?" Her voice was cold and indifferent and she found a table in the corner of the cafe, out the way of everyone else. It was a strange coincidence that Marcus had found her today. Right when she knew she had to talk to him to make sure things were ironed out between the, before she had to talk to Evan.

She slumped into a seat and dropped her bag beneath the table by her feet while Marcus moved to sit opposite her.

He dragged his hand through his hair, brushing the loose, greasy curls away from his eyes and behind his ears. He pressed both his elbows down into the table and kept one hand curled around the back of his neck like he was holding his head up as if his neck had suddenly been broken.

"Us."

(Y/n) couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes and she let herself sink back into the uncomfortable wooden chair with her arms still crossed over her chest.

"This is the longest you've held out on me. When are you gonna come home?" He always seemed to think referring to his place as home would soften (Y/n) up and make her want to go back with him.

She had moved out of her old apartment and moved in with Marcus after being together a few months. But last year after he grabbed her by her hair in public, (Y/n) moved out. She got her own apartment and left him. It didn't stop Marcus from coming back time and time again and (Y/n) usually went back to him. Their turbulent relationship had been on and off again for over a year now, but (Y/n) always kept her apartment and never went back to living with Marcus.

She would stay with him from time to time, but she never lived with him. It wasn't safe. And she didn't want to be in a relationship with him anymore.

"Being with you isn't my home Marcus, and you know it." She could feel panic rocketing through her chest when Marcus suddenly sat forward and leaned over the table. But whatever he wanted to retaliate with, he swallowed down because a waitress came over to ask for their order.

"Coffee." He grumbled while he clenched his hands together in front of him and pressed his knuckles against his lips.

"Iced tea please," (Y/n) pulled her sleeves down over her hands and dropped her arms so her hands were left on her lap.

"(Y/n), come on. You always come back. We're good together, you're supposed to be with me and you need to come home. I've forgiven you."

(Y/n) face dropped and she sat upright with a scoff. She could feel tears bubbling over in her eyes already and she tried her best to bite them back and control herself. How dare he. Why was he trying to pin this on her? Who could she kid, he always made it seem like it was her fault. If he hit her, she provoked him. If he shouted, it was because she argued with him first. If she left, it was because she was being petty and stupid. Nothing was his fault. Ever.

"You- you've forgiven me… what for? You were the one who attacked me-"

"I didn't attack you, stop exaggerating." He snapped his jaw like a crocodile and slammed his hands down when the waitress brought their drinks over. He made the poor girl jump back and spill some of the iced tea down her hand, but neither of them dared say anything until she walked away.

"I was the one with the bruises! You tried to grab my throat, why the Hell would you need to forgive me when I had every right to leave?"

Anger riled through (Y/n) and she suddenly didn't want her drink anymore. She reached out for the straw and started to prod and poke at the ice cubes clinking together in the tall glass. She had nothing to apologise for.

When Evan asked where the bruises on her arms came from and the scratch on her neck, (Y/n) didn't see the point in hiding it. She found herself being suddenly open and honest with Evan and she wasn't sure why. He made her feel safe. She felt able to tell him that Marcus had a flaring temper that made him aggressive and sometimes, (Y/n) didn't know what set him off.

Evan hastened to tell her she didn't do anything. None of this was her doing and she had no reason to apologise to Marcus now.

"Just come home-"

"No. Marcus… please, listen to me now." (Y/n) pushed her drink to one side and stretched her hands out to plant them on the table. "This has to stop. I don't want to be with you, I'm done with you. With everything, it's finished. So you need to start leaving me alone, for good."

He laughed. He had the nerve to sit there and laugh as if she was telling him a silly joke or as if this was all a game and he thought he was winning.

"Why would you say something so stupid? You do this routine every time we have a fight, (Y/n). You come crawling back, always have and always will-"

"I'm pregnant."

She spoke before she lost her nerve.

(Y/n) had to tell Marcus because she was ninety percent sure that her dates weren't mixed up and that this couldn't be his baby. They used protection whereas (Y/n) knew she didn't when she was with Evan. A rookie mistake, but it made her sure this was Evan's baby and not Marcus's.

But she needed to tell him because she wanted him to stay away from her. If he knew she had moved on and slept with someone else, he would be jealous but he might just stay away from her now. And he would do the math in his head and try to work out for them both and make sure this wasn't his child. (Y/n) couldn't have a baby with him. She couldn't have that attachment to Marcus for the rest of her life or she would never be free of him.

"You're joking me, right?" His lips quirked up to one side and he folded his arms over his chest like he thought this was some sort of test.

"No. I'm about eleven weeks-"

"You can't be."

"What?" Her shoulders dropped and she sighed. If he wanted evidence she would take the test out of her bag and show him the results from her trip to the doctors. That would be enough to prove to him that she was having a baby and he had to give up and leave her alone now.

"I can't have kids (Y/n). I'm infertile, so you can't be pregnant. Stop trying to fuck about and twist everything, if you want me back you don't have to come up with this lame excuse."

He couldn't see the relief in her eyes. Marcus couldn't sense the adrenaline fluttering around in (Y/n)'s stomach as she sank back in her chair and threw her head back. Her eyes fell closed before her head started to swim and she found herself grinning very slightly.

It was Evan's.

If Marcus couldn't have kids, it had to be Evan's baby just like she predicted it would be. Now she thought about it, (Y/n) was sure when she first got with Marcus, she remembered him saying something along the lines of 'you don't have to worry about that' when she asked if he had protection. She paid no mind to it, she didn't give it a second thought.

But he was adamant, he was being serious. (Y/n) could see it in his eyes and it made her happy beyond words. She would never have something that attached her to Marcus for the rest of her life. If she wanted to cut him from her life, she had every right and every chance now. It just left Evan for her to worry about.

"(Y/n)!"

A bolt of pain shot through her knee when Marcus slammed his foot into her leg but she bit down her cry and jolted to look back at him. Her hands fumbled to grab her bag beneath the table and she pulled out the positive pregnancy test so she could slide it across the table.

"How can you-"

"Because it's not yours, Marcus. So you need to stay away from me now, I'm through with you."

He really was slow sometimes. It didn't dawn on him that when they separated, (Y/n) might find someone else or sleep with someone else for a one night stand. He thought she moped around her flat, waiting for him to call or come back and ask her to come home. He thought (Y/n)'s world revolved solely around him and that showed how shallow he really was.

"Well then who the fuck's is it?" His voice suddenly boomed around the cafe and (Y/n) shivered, sinking down in her seat when heads started to turn in their direction.

This was why she wanted to talk in public. She had been planning to call and ask to talk but she wanted to be somewhere with witnesses. (Y/n) was through with being alone in a secluded flat with Marcus and not having any way to prove how he treated her when he lost his temper.

"Who have you been whoring around with? Do you even know his name? Who have you slept with?"

A scream burst past (Y/n)'s lips and her shoulders hunched inwards as she leaned towards the wall on her left when Marcus lashed out. He grabbed her glass of iced tea that was in the middle of the table and launched it her way, narrowly missing her head by half a centimetre.

She could feel the ice cubes hitting her arms before they clattered to the floor and a whole load of the cold tea drenched her neck and her right arm, soaking through her shoulder and into her waist and made her shiver. Glass sprinkled against the wall behind her and (Y/n) stayed deathly still with her eyes closed, waiting for the atmosphere and the glass to settle before she dared move.

Her trembling hands planted down on the table and she tried to stand up, she wanted to leave now.

Marcus was causing a scene and (Y/n) hated being around when he did something like this. She didn't want the attention falling on her and right now, people were getting up from their seats and trying to approach them. She wanted to go home.

"Please don't do this-"

"You think I'm letting you get away with this little stunt? Tell me his name!"

(Y/n) scraped her chair back and stumbled but she couldn't move quick enough before Marcus latched his fingers into her hair and wrenched her towards him. Her nails scratched into his wrist as she screamed, closing her eyes as tightly as she could when he pushed her down to her knees.

She could feel the broken glass and soggy tea soaking into her knees and it felt like blisters had suddenly sweltered onto her skin when the sharp, jagged pieces tore through her leggings and into her skin.

No one dared move closer when one of the waiter's approached and Marcus threw a chair in his direction.

(Y/n) pinned her hands over her head and tried to take deep breaths. Her blood was pounding in her ears and her stomach was churning, but she could just about make out a frightened woman say she was dialling 911.

She didn't have the strength or the energy to try and get up when Marcus leaned back over her again. She kept her eyes tightly closed but she could hear the cafe door opening and the few people inside were starting to rush out onto the street. No one was going to come near Marcus when there was a knife on the table next to him and is eyes kept going back to it.

He would attack anyone who came near.

Her body shuddered and she cried out when Marcus gripped her chin and tilted her head up, shaking her head until she groaned and finally looked up at him.

"What's the fucker's name?" His voice turned oddly calm and serene and it made (Y/n) shiver down to her shoes.

(Y/n) tilted her head to the side to pull out of his grasp and she held her head high when Marcus crouched down in front of her. His elbows rested on his knees and he laced his fingers together between his thighs while he waited somewhat patiently for an answer. His chest was heaving, spit was dribbling down the corner of his chin and his eyes were wild. (Y/n) had never seen such a frightening, rabid look in his eyes before.

She didn't answer. Instead, (Y/n) lifted her head so they were level and spat in his face.

Her head reeled to the right when he slapped her. The back of his hand lashed out against her face and she knew he'd managed to cut her cheek with the sharp edge of his ring. The pain countered out with adrenaline after half a second and all (Y/n) could feel was panic bubbling up in her chest like a pot about to boil over on the stove.

She couldn't remember the last time Marcus had been like this with her in public. He always kept their fights behind closed doors, he knew how to play the situation in public. He knew how to pretend to be clingy or sweet or act a gentleman and then throw his fists when they got home. The news had clearly derranged Marcus today.

"His name."

"Why? Do you want him to give you some pointers?"

When he reeled back to slap her again, (Y/n) thrust her arms out and rammed them into his chest to knock him off balance. The moment he fell onto his back, (Y/n) used the nearest table as leverage to get herself up onto trembling legs. She stumbled over Marcus and aimed for the door while she heard him roar and slam his hands and feet into the floor to try and get up.

A ragged, breathless scream left (Y/n)'s lips when she felt Marcus behind her and she curled her hand around the door and yanked it open. She flung the door open as fast as she could while she ducked down to the right.

Marcus's hand went straight through the glass pane. His fist burst through the glass which imbedded into his forearm and scratched down his wrist. But the window pane didn't completely shatter. (Y/n) had unintentionally trapped Marcus's arm in the door and it was her chance. She crawled through the small open gap in the door and stumbled into the doorway.

Her legs gave way and she slumped down onto her knees, moving to sit down with her back up against the wall as she heaved each breath through bubbling cries.

The sound of sirens overpowered the sound of Marcus screaming as he tried to drag his hand back through the window.

A fire truck pulled up. They must have been the closest emergency service available when that woman called 911. The police had to be on their way soon, they needed to take Marcus into custody and keep him as far away from (Y/n) as possible.

"LAFD, what's the situation here?"

(Y/n) watched the older man climb down from the truck and leave his helmet on the side of the pavement. He had a red label in the centre of his helmet that read Captain. He was in charge. He made his way towards one of the waitresses but when the rest of his crew started to climb down from the truck, (Y/n) felt lightheaded.

Evan.

Oh God. This was his station department. This was the team he told her about, the people he worked with.

Why did he of all people have to come to this call out? What if Marcus said something and Evan caught on? She didn't want to have this conversation with Evan now. He wasn't going to be happy when he learned the girl he slept with was now pregnant. The girl he barely knew. The girl with a troublesome ex hovering in the background.

More tears streamed down (Y/n)'s face when Evan's eyes locked on her and she saw the panic bubbling up inside of them. She saw the panic written across his face and the way he picked up the pace to rush towards her.

"We're not finished-"

"No!" (Y/n) scraped her palms against the floor until they started to give her cuts and scratches. She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled out into the street as Marcus freed his arm from the door and flung it wide open to try and grab her again.

Her body started to flag but (Y/n) ran, flinging her arm out at the captain who tried to grab her to calm her down. She wasn't aiming for him.

"S-stop him! Make h-him stop- please!" Words flew past her lips in a fluster as she made a beeline for Evan.

Her hands scratched deeply into his bicep and she used his arm as leverage to swing herself around and move behind him. Her face pressed between his shoulder blades and her hands scrunched up around his arm. Evan could feel how badly she was shaking when she started to make him jitter back and forth on the spot. He reached his left arm behind him and clamped his hand down on (Y/n)'s hip to keep her safe and secured behind him like he was a human shield.

It didn't take much for him to gather that this had to be her ex.

"Get back." The words seethed past Evan's lips while he reached his right hand out and slammed his palm into the man's chest. He gave him a forceful shove backwards while he walked back into (Y/n) and nudged her to move a few paces away. He needed to keep a safe distance between them all.

"Sir- that's enough. Stand over here so you can be assessed or we'll have to restrain you."

Bobby and Eddie grabbed one of Marcus's arms each and dragged him towards the doorway of the cafe. They slumped him down onto the floor with one of Bobby's hands pinned into his chest while Eddie held his damaged arm to try and take a look. They had the right to restrain him if he was going to try and attack someone in public.

The police were on their way to this scene now anyway, he would be arrested once he was patched up and given the all clear.

A deep sigh burned past Evan's lips before he released his hand from (Y/n)'s hip and turned around to face her. He could see the shaking rattling through her body and tears were streaming down her face although she did look a little calmer now than when they first pulled up.

"Are you alright… did he hurt you?"

(Y/n) rubbed her hands together, trying to flick off the grit and gravel stuck to her palms. She had a few little cuts on her hands but nothing substancial.

She stayed quiet when Evan held her wrists and pulled her hands up so he could inspect them for himself. But when he tilted his head to the side and looked down, his shoulders sagged and he bit down on the corner of his lip. Her knees were bleeding. Shards of glass were poking out through her leggings and blood was trickling down towards her ankles.

"Let's sit down, I'll take a look at that for you," He motioned down towards her knees but he turned to look over his shoulder when (Y/n) shuddered. Her eyes were focused on the scene behind him.

"Sir-"

"Marcus!"

"Alright. Marcus, let's put it this way. You try again to attack her, we restrain you and you'll be arrested. What is this argument about?" Bobby was getting tired. He was tired of trying to push Marcus down and make him stay sat down on the floor in front of the cafe.

He must realise that he and the other girl needed to be checked over and he couldn't try to keep attacking her in public like this. They had to be kept separate for their own sakes and he needed to let Eddie treat his arm that was cut up and still had shards of glass imbedded in it.

"Ask her! Ask her whose it is." Marcus flung his right arm out towards (Y/n) who visibly flinched and took a step back. "Go on. Whose bastard child is it, 'cos it sure as Hell ain't mine!"

A groan tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips before she brought her hands up to smother her face.

Why wouldn't he stop? Couldn't he for once, just leave her alone and stop causing a mess of everything? It didn't make things any easier that Evan was here and (Y/n) knew for certain that he had just heard what Marcus had said. He wasn't stupid. He could put two and two together and make four. He was going to find out and this wasn't how (Y/n) wanted to have this conversation with him.

It wasn't fair.

Panic radiated through (Y/n)'s system when she dared to move her hands down to cover her mouth and nose, allowing her eyes to be visible.

Evan had gone deathly pale. His hands were held halfway out between them like he wanted to reach for her but didn't know what to do or how he was supposed to act now. His eyes had gone suddenly blank even though his pupils had blown wide and his jaw slacked but he still didn't say anything.

Turning on her heels, (Y/n) stumbled away and moved as close to the fire truck as she could. She needed to be away from them all. She didn't want Evan to stand and look at her like that and she didn't want to be anywhere near Marcus. She didn't want to hear his threats or see those horrible, beady eyes glaring daggers into her. Being around him made her a target because he wasn't calming down at all.

Her body jumped when familiar hands clamped down on her arms and stopped her before she could walk any further.

Her back slumped down into a familiar chest and (Y/n) stayed still and silent, allowing Evan to gently turn her to the right. He moved her over until she could sit down on the step at the back of the fire truck.

(Y/n) rubbed her hands up and down her thighs while Evan stood in front of her, his knees almost touching hers with how close he stood. He had one hand on his hip and the other was dragging slowly through his hair until the waves were disgruntled and flopping about on his head.

"What did he mean? Is- are you- God, are you pregnant?"

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and kept her head tilted down, but she managed to lift her gaze just enough to look up at Evan through her lashes. She couldn't find any words. All the air was stuck in the back of her throat creating a blockage that was making her lungs quiver and tense in her chest. The only right answer was yes but (Y/n) couldn't bring herself to say it so she simply nodded her head.

"Is it mine?" His voice suddenly turned soft like he was melting before her and it made (Y/n)'s eyes narrow on him.

He wasn't shouting at her. He wasn't riling up, getting ready to start a fight with her or argue or say how much of a shitty situation this was. He wasn't even frowning at her. He was just… looking at her. Staring down with those soft blue eyes and those ruby red lips that were pressed together in a thin line.

"It's yours. I, I wasn't gonna tell you like this I swear." (Y/n) found her voice but it was meek and fast-paced until she was tripping over her words. And her hands were digging into her thighs to try and calm herself sown.

A quiet hum vibrated past Evan's lips before he moved to crouch down in front of her. His eyes trailed back along her knees that he would have to assess soon and try to patch them up. He moved his hands to her thighs and carefully parted them so he could kneel between her legs, feeling her trembling knees dig comfortably into his waist.

"Are you mad?"

"Mad?" Evan couldn't stop his lips from quirking up into a lopsided smile and he squeezed her thigh until she gathered the strength to move her hand and cup his wrist. "Why would I be mad? This might not be the ideal situation, but it's not a bad one either."

(Y/n) had played on Evan's mind since the moment they met. He couldn't think of anything or anyone else except her. She was the only thing playing on Evan's mind and he felt intoxicated by her; addicted to her.

This wasn't how he would have chosen for things to play out, this wasn't the perfect order for things to go. But this was the situation they found themselves in and they would have to make the most of it and see where it led them. Evan had always wanted kids, he knew that from the off. And now it seemed fate had decided this was the moment he started to have kids and something told him this was a good thing. Something told Evan that this was going to work out just fine.

"Really?" (Y/n) leaned forward until she was close enough to cup Evan's face in her hands. Her thumb brushed across his cheek and she leaned her forehead against his when a brighter smile broke out on his face.

"Yeah… I guess we've just done things in a different order to everyone else, huh?"

(Y/n) could barely comprehend his words when his lips pressed against hers. Maybe things were going to work out after all.

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #imagine #911 imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #bucky x reader

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dancingbirdie · 7 months

Text

Continuation of my series "The Planets Bend Between Us" where I imagine how Astarion's aversion to intimacy and physical touch lessens as his relationship with Tav progresses.

Read Part 1 here, Part 2 here, and Part 3 here!

Also find the series on Ao3 here.

Comments, reactions, and feedback always appreciated!

The Light In Us Both

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings/Tags: Tooth-rotting fluff, vampire bites, blood drinking, non-sexual intimacy, no smut

Astarion was nearly convinced that bindings would be necessary to keep Tav still this evening. His lovely little wildling continued to fidget beneath him, giggling under her breath and squirming each time he drew close to her neck in an attempt to feed.

They had been in the Underdark for over a week now. Viable options for “food” were scarce for him, and so Tav had graciously allowed him to drink from her each night in order to maintain his vigor.

While she insisted she didn’t mind, that it wasn’t an encumbrance, he couldn’t help but notice the looks of disapproval and worry from other members of their party. It was difficult to ignore. They didn’t dare speak their misgivings aloud, though, for fear of Tav’s fierce rebuke that would inevitably follow.

Astarion loved the duality of his ferocious little darling. She was hot-tempered, demanding and fiery with nearly everyone and everything she came across. Everyone else in the party treated her as the de facto leader. She had even managed to earn the respect of Lae’zel.

But with Astarion, she was as harmless as a newborn kitten. She joked with him. Teased. Flirted. She was pliant, like clay in his hands. One knowing look from him, and he could watch as she instantly calmed. He wasn’t sure how he’d come to tame such a hellcat, but it gave him immense pleasure, and pride, to be the only person who could call forth that side of her. Him. Astarion.

But tonight, however, he was just about at his wit’s end with her. Tav could not remain still despite his insistences. He even went so far as to describe the embarrassment they’d both share if they had to wake Shadowheart up at this time of night to repair Tav’s lacerated throat because she couldn’t stop squirming.

Nothing seemed to work.

“You know, darling, this little exercise of ours is made much more easy when you hold still,” Astarion whispered, a little exasperated, in her ear.

Tav giggled. His breath against the shell of her ear tickled. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll try to behave.”

“Mm, see that you do.”

He nuzzled at her neck, inhaling her sweet scent, prolonging the temptation of her blood just a moment longer. His hand ghosted up her waist to rest against her lower ribs. He opened his mouth, lips lightly brushing her skin. His fangs were a hair’s breadth away from sinking into her when, suddenly, a fit of laughter bubbled from her between her lips.

He pulled back to glare at her, squeezing her waist in reproach. At his expression, she broke out in peals of laughter. He made to sit up, obviously affronted, but her hand clutched his nightshirt tighter, preventing him.

“Tsk. You daft thing,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Honestly, have the Myconid spores gone to your head?”

She continued to chuckle. “Astarion, I’m sorry, but I’m ticklish.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your hand. On my ribs. It tickled,” she explained. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’ve never had this issue before,” he replied, dubious.

“Because normally you’re holding onto my arm. Or my shoulder,” she quipped, her laughter finally quieting.

“I see,” he murmured, mulling over her words, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ve upset you,” Tav responded soberly, finally taking stock of the fact that Astarion hadn’t found the situation nearly as humorous as she had. “I really am sorry. I’ll keep still this time. Promise. Just maybe don’t touch me around the ribs.”

He observed her quietly a moment more. Tav couldn’t decipher what thoughts were percolating behind his expression. But then his lips curved into a sly smile.

“So, to be clear, what you’re saying is, that if I touch you here,” he began casually, his hand tracing light swirls across her ribs. The skin of her arms and neck immediately broke out into gooseflesh. She mashed her lips together to keep from giggling once more, squirming slightly under Astarion’s touch.

“...it’s especially ticklish for you?” he finished, looking up at her in mock innocence.

Tav could sense a game was afoot. And she hated losing. Clenching her teeth together, willing herself to keep still, she managed a slight nod.

“I see,” Astarion said seriously. “And what about if I do this?” he asked before leaning down to blow lightly against the shell of her delicately pointed ear.

Tav squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on anything else besides the urge to laugh and sidle away from him.

“Oh my,” he intoned. “Seems like that’s dangerous territory as well.”

Tav opened her eyes, taking in the full devilish grin that graced Astarion’s mouth. He was enjoying this. She glared at him.

“All right, all right,” he placated. “But purely for my own edification,” he continued. “Is this off limits as well?”

And before she could jerk away, he began tickling her outright. Swinging a leg over her hips to pin her down, his hands were everywhere across her ribs, her soft stomach, and under her arms.

Tav shrieked with laughter, too distracted by Astarion’s onslaught to keep her voice down. Her hands chased his, attempting to grab them, but he was far too quick. She switched tactics then, bucking her hips in an effort to knock him off of her. But, try as she might, he stayed firmly situated atop her. Above the din of her own noise, she made out his own peals of laughter.

He sounded utterly carefree. Playful. Filled with joy.

“I give! I give!” she squealed finally.

“COULD YOU TWO PLEASE KEEP IT DOWN?!” they heard Shadowheart suddenly shout from across the camp. “SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO REST.”

Grumbles of assent from around the camp floated up after her.

“SORRY,” Tav shouted with equal fervor, grinning like mad at Astarion. “I’LL TRY SUFFERING IN SILENCE IN THE FUTURE.”

“MUCH APPRECIATED,” Shadowheart returned.

Astarion rolled his eyes and sighed. “Killjoys, all of them.”

Tav chuckled. Still smiling up at him, she raised her hands in mock surrender.

“You win, Astarion,” she whispered.

He huffed a laugh as he clasped her hands between his. He bent over to kiss the tops of her fingers lovingly before lifting off of her and lying back down at her side.

“And what should be my reward, for winning so spectacularly?” he returned quietly, resting a palm against her cheek.

Tav turned her face to kiss his palm before arching her neck, giving him a meaningful smile.

“I promise to hold still this time,” she teased.

Astarion chuckled, slipping his hand down her cheek, her jaw, her collarbone. He stopped at her shoulder, clutching it lightly. He lifted himself up so that he could position his mouth precisely against the column of her neck.

But before he bit down, he pressed a kiss against her neck. It was reverent. Worshipful almost. Tav fought back a shiver, holding good on her promise to remain still.

When his fangs finally sank into her skin, it was with a gentleness far greater than Astarion had ever shown before. Tav felt only the slightest prick of pain before the icy numbness began to spread under her skin. For the first time since she’d agreed to let him feed on her, the act felt like something other than a means to satiate him. It felt akin to the intimacy she had felt when they had been together that first time, in the moonlit forest following their victory party with the tieflings. They were joined together, even if it wasn’t in the same way as then.

She hummed contentedly as he continued to drink her in. One hand against his scalp, she combed her fingers through his hair with the devotion of a supplicant. Her other arm lifted to wrap around his waist, rubbing his lower back in slow, measured strokes.

He groaned softly at the feeling of her embrace. Whether she had meant it to be or not, her caresses were a subtle reminder to withdraw before he took too much of her. Extracting his fangs from her neck, Astarion licked softly at the blood welling from the two puncture marks he’d left in her skin.

Taking her blood was the nearest thing to a religious experience he had ever had. She tasted holy. As if one drop alone could absolve him of all his past sins.

“Finished already?” she asked. Her vocal cords vibrated against his lips. A delightful thrum.

“Mm, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop if I go any longer,” he murmured against her skin.

She hummed again in acknowledgement.

“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever known,” he whispered, planting one last kiss on her neck before rolling off of her.

“Only for you,” she replied, turning onto her side to face him. She placed her hand gently over his heart. “My star.”

He stilled in surprise. “Wh-what did you call me?”

“My star,” she intoned. Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “That’s what your name means, you know. Star.”

Astarion just stared at her, too shocked to speak. Her words had shaken something loose in the back of his mind. Something from long ago. A memory perhaps. Or a memory of a memory. It was so dusty, it was hard to tell.

Someone else had called him “my star” once. Her face was blurry in his mind’s eye, but she seemed beautiful. Regal, even. And her voice - it was a faint echo, but it sounded so sincere.

“I’m sorry.”

He heard Tav’s voice drawing him back from the recesses of his mind. He blinked once, twice, before refocusing on the woman in his arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to upset you by calling you that.”

“No… you didn’t. Not at all,” he assured. “I… I think you caused me to remember something… My… my mother used to call me ‘my star,’ I think.”

“You remembered your mother?” Tav asked, hopeful.

“Barely. It was like peering through fog. But yes… I think I did,” he paused, reflecting.

Tav remained silent, giving him time to process what he had recalled.

Finally after a few moments, he squeezed her waist and grinned. Her breath caught in her throat at his expression.

It was open. Boyish. Happy.

Quick as a flash, he leaned forward to press a light kiss against her lips. It was chaste. The kind of kiss a man would give the woman he was courting. It was over before she knew it, but still, it felt wonderful. Like another wall had fallen down around his heart. She felt honored to witness it.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, clutching her close to him as they settled down to sleep. “Thank you.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x mc #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #astarion bg3 #dancingbirdiewrites #astarion x f!reader #bg3 astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #astarion baldurs gate #tav x astarion #soft astarion #astarion fluff

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