#is it so people don't contact you??? Funny how you didn't extend that grace to the person whose twitter you shared to everyone anon.

[newpotatomash]

Just saw this interaction on a blog and I feel like I need to rip off my skin.

[softersinned]

Funny enough, the interruption is a welcome relief—a little reminder that, despite how awful things were, that's no longer how things are. Astoria's lips quirk into a smile and she releases the front of Jax's shirt when the door opens, Half-Sack bursting in with all his overeager enthusiasm, Hale pouring into the space left for him with a feline grace. Half-Sack's stumbling and nervousness is, as per usual, endearing in a way that (funny enough) reminds her of a bashful child. It always warms her, the knowledge that there's still some innocence to be found even here, even despite everything.

It strikes her then, as Jax ushers them all out through Hale's teasing, that this is exactly what she's been missing, that this is exactly what made this place feel so much like home so soon. They are a family, unquestionably and without reservation. It's in the way they interact with each other, even when they don't say a word, like real brothers do, like fathers and sons. Half-Sack might trip over his words whenever he makes eye contact with her but between Jax and Hale he'd never dream of crossing a line. Chibs' obvious and paternal affection for Jax rivals Clay's. Every last one of them loves Abel like he was their own; same with Ellie and Kenny, and if she showed up tomorrow and told them all that Jax or Hale had knocked her up they'd love even the potential there.

It's the kind of unconditional love she's always imagined wasn't real outside of a rare and precious few—the kind of love she suspects her father has for her but doesn't know how to explain, the kind of love that her stepmother extended despite the circumstances of her conception. The possessiveness there is a warm and welcome one: you are mine and I am yours and we are better together. And it's clear then that this was what frightened her, why Stahl's veiled threats were so deeply, desperately terrifying. What if they knew and didn't want to extend something so unconditional to her? More frightening than that: what if they did?

Her eyes settle back on Jax; there's something feline in him, too, unconsciously but perpetually on the hunt. She's still surprised that she's never felt like prey. Good girl gets another laugh out of her, and the moment his hand settles on her hip she's reaching for him again, moving forward to meet him. "You're cheating," she accuses warmly and entirely without displeasure, and she leans into his touch with naked hunger on her face. However she flirts and teases, though, the hunger is for something beyond sex. There's a tremor in her hands again, but this time it's from the relief, overwhelming as it is. It comes over her slowly, but by the time Jax has finished speaking she's leaning into him, face buried in his chest, the shaking in her hands stilled only when she fists both hands tightly in his shirt.

When she tries to speak she can't manage it; she takes in several deep, shuddering breaths before she can, each time pulling Jax closer, somehow. If she tried she could break it down into the terms her first therapist used—a lifelong fear of abandonment has her running from real commitment to anyone, because it's infinitely less painful to assume that she's inherently unworthy of it than to try it and risk that being the case. And all of that is less frightening than finding out that she deserves more, and some people simply didn't care enough to do better.

"I don't know who in the club needs to know, but I'm okay with leaving it to you to determine if anyone does need to be told. I trust you with this." She's assuming Clay. Probably Chibs or Bobby. Maybe Opie, if he needs someone to talk to, though she'd prefer Hale—she'll probably tell Hale anyway. "And if you trust them, I trust them." Once it's out of her mouth, she waits to see if she feels any regret or fear, but none comes. She means it. She shifts back only enough to meet his eyes, her hands releasing his shirt only to settle possessively against his sides and keep him close. "I like being here, too," she says, voice barely above a whisper, and it's been too much honesty all day but this is terrifying in a way she can't quite explain. "And I don't want to put anyone in harm's way, but—fuck, I don't want to leave. I really don't want to leave." Translation: I don't want to leave you.

Even under the best of circumstances, it's complicated. Too complicated. Single dad is one thing; so is career criminal. But the nuances in everything—Abel's recovery, Wendy's recovery, Jax's own pain in watching his son struggle and being able to do nothing about it, the threat against the club, his sense of powerlessness, it's all so much even if everything else is perfect. And it's exactly the sort of thing that would have sent her running but she knew exactly what she was getting into with this, with him, and she doesn't want to run anymore. It makes her feel a little bit dizzy to think about. Part of her wants to ask him where this leaves them, what they are, but she's pretty sure she'd be pushing her luck if she did.

(Besides, what does she even want? She's hoping it's a complicated question but it really isn't. She wants this, him, wants him to stop being so completely okay with it when she ends up in someone else's bed, wants him to stop filling her absences with anyone who isn't her. Wants fewer absences at all. Wants to stay, wants so badly to stay.)

A practical offer deserves a practical answer. "A gun," she says honestly, after a moment. "I need a gun. Like I said, I don't want anyone else to have to clean up my mess. It's my problem to solve, and I'm not taking advantage of anybody else. But to do that, I need a gun, and I need to learn how to shoot. And I've never used one before so I have no idea where to start." Her lips curl up in a playful smile of her own to match his. "What do you think, sweetheart? You want your girl a little deadlier?" She sobers just a bit, tugs him close enough that there's no space left between them, closes her eyes as she leans her forehead against his chest again. "And you don't have to say yes, I won't be upset if you aren't up for it, but—would you mind if I stayed here for a few days? Just until things settle. I just—" Hard to admit, but it's true, and it needs to be said. "I don't want to be alone."

     it’s an old rule, based in all the wrong ideals of testosterone and repressed emotions, but women and children were always off limits.  no matter the violence, no matter the reason, it all stayed far away from them.  didn’t matter if they knew how to shoot like his mother did.  didn’t matter if they knew how to protect themselves.  club business didn’t damage those who weren’t members of the club.  jax always held it close to his heart.  from a personal perspective, that rule extended to anyone outside the club that held a place in his heart.  so, as astrid ( astoria? ) tells her story it’s hard to stay quiet.  after she takes a step back to put distance between them again, jax sees the way she’s trying to curl in on herself.  this isn’t someone proud of what they’d done.  this speaks to years of trauma and damage, which angers him to an extremely violent level.

     good thing all this started halfway across the world.  if any of these assholes were closer jax would’ve gone on the road to end them himself.  he hoped the rage etched into his features wasn’t translating into any anger at her.  all he can focus on is the idea of using a teenager, a small teenager, to do your fucking dirty work for you because you’re too god damn incapable of making a living for yourself.  he’d set them on fire and roast marshmallows over their screaming bodies.

     at one point he needs to run his palms down over his face.  something to do with his hands.  jax wanted to reach out and bring astrid back in but he also knew that some things just needed to get out.  there were times when his own emotions were so volatile he didn’t want anyone touching him as he was vomiting them onto the floor.  last thing he wanted was to interrupt her story or make her feel self conscious for telling it so, he shoved his hands down into his pockets and let his fingers skim over the cool metal of the zippo.  the smooth, cool sensation helped him keep focus rather than run away with his rage.  if this were a club matter she wouldn’t even need to finish the story because they’d be riding out to make things right.  unfortunately, it sounded like this whole thing was going to need more finesse they as a group usually facilitated.

     he can’t decide whether or not the mother deserved to go, too.  astrid said he was allowed to ask any questions he had but these would stay with him.  did she know what happened to her daughter?  did she even give a shit?  people like wendy cared but didn’t necessarily have the circumstances that allowed for staying a parent.  based on everything he’d just heard jax is inclined to think her mother didn’t give a shit which told him all he really needed to know about the majority of her family.

     his lips part so he can, at the very least, answer that last question for her but as soon as he does the backdoor of the kitchen flies open.  half-sack runs through like a confused bat out of hell.  “ hi, “ he waves,dazed as he ever is when looking at either gemma or astrid.  hale steps in behind, filling the frame in a much more lithe way then opie tends to.  at times jax is certain the taller man is part cat.  his fingertips wedge above the door frame so he can lean forward without his feet passing the threshold.  with his eyes focused on the prospect it takes an extra second for him to see astoria standing there.  the blonde shakes his head and nods his chin back at the third biker.

     “ we didn’t have to break the door or nothin’.  window, “ half-sack shakes his head.  “ we didn’t have to break the window.  it’s all good. “

     “ thanks, man. “

     purse and keys are held up in offering.  it’s like he’s suddenly starting to wonder if he’d walked into the middle of a fight.  jax can see the wheels turning behind those eyes.  “ i’m just gonna- “

     “ let’s go, limp dick, “ hale finally enters the kitchen to grab the other by the back of his kutte.  right before a tug pulls him back the purse and keys are set at the edge of the table.  jax started following the other two men step by step with the intention of locking a door that should’ve been locked to begin with.

     “ tell her to call me when you’re done, “ hale yells from outside the house.  “ so we can gossip about what an asshole you are.  love you.  mwah. “

     the door lightly slammed on the kissing noise followed by a low click that was accentuated by jax’s sigh.

     “ some days i worry about being a father and then i remember i’ve been a dad all along, “ he shakes his head.  whatever his frustration, however, it was the relief he’d needed to calm the fuck down.  focus on the important thing standing right in front of him.

     jax plants himself right back in front of astrid.  his posture is relaxed and his head tilted to observe everything he can.  “ good girl, “ the blonde whispers in reference to part of the story that didn’t need to be elaborated on.  one hand reaches out to experimentally land on her hip.  “ nothing’s changed, red, i can promise you that.  you ran to protect yourself.  if stahl’s desperate enough to use it then we’ll deal with it later. but, i want you here.  i like you in my shirts.  i like you in my bed. “  a gentle squeeze on her hip is punctuated by a playful grin.  “ thank you for telling me.  it means a lot.  and, if there’s anything i can do, anything at all.  i want to do it. “