TSLOSL

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10  of an Animal Kingdom x Sons of Anarchy Story

After a week the tension around the house had eased enough that people finally stopped hovering like they were waiting for a war to break out.

Clay stood near the fence with his arms crossed while Andrew and Colten were outside by the swing set.

Watching them together did something dangerous to my heart.

Colten’s laugh carried across the yard while Andrew pushed him gently on the swing.

“Higher!” Colten squealed.

“Not too high, buddy.”

“Liiiittle higher!”

Andrew laughed softly and pushed him a little more. “That’s all you’re gettin’ outta me.”

Inside the house, the mood wasn’t nearly as peaceful.

Tig was pacing around my kitchen like an angry guard dog while Gemma, Chibs, and I sat at the table.

“I’m tellin’ you right now,” Tig snapped, “I don’t trust this guy.”

I rolled my eyes immediately.

“Tig—”

“No, sweetheart, I’m serious. We should make him disappear before this turns into some kinda problem.”

I stood so fast my chair scraped loudly across the floor.

“Hey, asshat,” I snapped. “Look outside right now.”

Tig blinked.

I pointed toward the backyard window where Andrew was crouched beside Colten, explaining something about dinosaurs while my son swung his legs excitedly.

“Does that look like a problem to you?”

Nobody answered.

“That little boy is with his father for the first time in his life,” I continued more softly. “It’s not Andrew’s fault he grew up with a horrible mother.”

Gemma’s expression darkened at the mention of Smurf.

“Please,” I whispered. “Just… give him a chance.”

The room finally fell quiet.

I made my way outside to throw some burgers on the grill, and Colten suddenly came sprinting toward the house.

“Mommy!” he yelled.

Andrew caught the back of his shirt before he got too close to the grill, which was heating up.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there.”

“I wanna see!”

“You can see from back here.” Andrew lifted him easily onto his hip. “Grills are hot, buddy. Burn you real bad if you get too close.”

Colten’s eyes widened. “Like dragon fire?”

Andrew grinned. “Exactly like dragon fire.”

“Ohhh.”

I smiled despite myself.

Andrew glanced toward me as he adjusted Colten against his side.

“I got the grill if you want.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Clay noticed the exchange from the corner of his eye. He looked at Andrew for a long moment before giving a small nod of his head.

It wasn’t acceptance.

But it also wasn’t rejection.

And for Clay, that was huge.

“Well then I’m gonna go make the pasta salad.” I said handing over the plate of burgers.

“Okay!” Colten chirped before immediately holding his arms up toward me. “Kiss?”

I laughed softly and kissed the top of his head.

“There’s my boy.”

Then, before I could stop myself, my hand brushed lightly across Andrew’s arm.

The contact lingered for half a second too long.

His eyes met mine instantly.

God.

I escaped back inside before I could think too hard about it.

By the time I got the pasta boiling, almost everybody had cleared out except Chibs.

Honestly, I wasn’t mad about it. Chibbs knew I could handle myself, and I would never put Colten in harm's way; he knew I never fell out of love with Andrew. 

He pulled his kutte off and tossed it over the chair before grabbing a knife and helping cut vegetables beside me as he lived there.

“You’re choppin’ those tomatoes like they offended ya,” he muttered.

I snorted softly.

“Sorry.”

“You alright, lass?”

I glanced out the kitchen window automatically.

Andrew was standing beside the grill with Colten balanced against his hip while Clay talked to him quietly.

My son looked happier than I’d ever seen him.

“Yeah,” I admitted softly. “I think I am.”

Chibs looked at me carefully for a second before nudging the bowl of cucumbers toward me.

“I got this handled,” he said gently. “Go outside with your boys.”

Your boys.

My heart fluttered embarrassingly hard at that.

I tried not to smile while wiping my hands off.

Before heading back outside, I slipped into my bedroom and called work.

My boss answered almost immediately.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I just… something personal came up with Colten. I was wondering if I could take the rest of the week off.”

There wasn’t even hesitation.

“You never call out. Take whatever time you need.”

Relief hit me instantly.

“Thank you.”

When I finally stepped back outside, Colten came running toward me so fast he almost tripped over his own shoes.

“Mommy!”

I laughed and caught him before he face-planted into the patio.

“Easy!”

He made his way towards Andrew, who scooped him and held him on his hip. 

“Dad say burgers gotta rest before you eat ’em!”

I blinked.

“He does, huh?”

“Uh huh!” Colten nodded seriously. “An’ if you squish ’em all the juice comes out!”

Andrew looked ridiculously proud of himself.

I rolled my eyes. “Great. Now he’s a grill expert.”

“I am!” Colten argued immediately.

Andrew laughed while kissing the side of his head.

“And we both like shark shows,” Colten added excitedly. “An’ lion ones. An’ dinosaur ones. Dad says T-Rex probably had feathers!”

I covered my mouth trying not to laugh.

“You’ve known him an hour, and you’re already filling his head with conspiracy theories.”

“It’s science,” Andrew defended.

“Dino science,” Colten corrected proudly.

I’d never seen him this excited around anyone before.

Not ever.

I reached for Colten so Andrew could flip the burgers easier, but Andrew swerved away slightly with a grin.

“Nah, I got him.”

Colten wrapped both arms around Andrew’s neck immediately.

“Yep. I stayin’ here.”

Something in my chest melted completely.

I stepped closer instead, my hand sliding gently around Andrew’s back while he cooked.

It felt natural.

Too natural.

Like we’d done this a thousand times before, instead of none at all.

Dinner somehow felt normal.

That was the strangest part.

I carried the burgers inside while Andrew followed behind with Colten still attached to him like a baby koala.

The second we entered the kitchen, Colten gasped dramatically.

“Oh no!”

Everybody looked at him.

“We gotta wash our hands!”

Chibs burst out laughing.

“Well damn, little man. You right.”

Andrew set Colten on the counter beside the sink and helped him wash his hands carefully.

“Soap first.”

“I knowwww.”

“Front and back.”

“I knowwwww.”

“Dry ’em good.”

“I KNOW.”

I laughed quietly while setting plates down.

We all sat around the table together afterward while I helped cut Colten’s burger into smaller pieces.

Andrew stayed close enough that our knees brushed under the table every couple minutes.

Neither of us moved away.

Most of dinner was small talk.

Careful.

Testing.

Then Chibs casually mentioned, “Been lookin’ after this one since her dad passed.”

Andrew immediately looked at me.

“I didn’t know that.”

I kept my eyes on my plate.

“We’ll talk later.”

—

After Chibs finally left, the house grew quiet.

Comfortably quiet.

I cleaned the kitchen while Andrew hovered nearby like he didn’t want to be more than five feet away from me.

“You know I can help, right?”

“You grilled. I got dishes.”

“That’s not fair.”

I smiled faintly. “Life’s hard.”

His laugh was soft behind me.

Then came bedtime.

Bath.

Tiny dinosaur pajamas.

Teeth brushing.

Eye drops.

“Nooo, one more part.”

“You said that already.”

He looked up at me with his glossy blue eyes. He knew I could never say no to him. 

I sighed dramatically. “Fine. One.”

“Yay!”

Colten curled up against my chest while I read from our current book, The Princess Bride.

Andrew sat quietly in the rocking chair across the room, watching us.

Watching everything.

Like he was trying to memorize it.

Every laugh.

Every cuddle.

Every sleepy blink.

I looked up once and caught tears shining in his eyes.

My chest tightened instantly.

Because I knew exactly what he was thinking.

I missed this.

I missed all of this.

By the time Colten finally fell asleep, drooling against my shirt, Andrew looked wrecked emotionally.

I kissed Colten’s forehead carefully before laying him down and pulling the blankets up around him.

Then Andrew followed me quietly back to my room.

—

The bedroom was dark except for the small lamp beside my bed.

The atmosphere between us had softened completely now.

No anger.

No fear.

Just warmth.

Comfort.

I sat cross-legged beside him, talking quietly while he listened as every word mattered.

“I used to stay up half the night in the nursery,” I admitted with a soft laugh. “Especially when he was little.”

Andrew’s eyes stayed fixed on me.

“He hated sleeping, still does only on occasions though.”

“That tracks.”

I smiled.

“The only way he’d calm down sometimes was if I told him stories while I fed him.”

“What kinda stories?”

I looked down at my hands.

“Us.”

Andrew went still.

“I’d tell him how we met. About the beach.” I smiled faintly. “About how much you would’ve loved him if you knew about him.”

The look Andrew gave me nearly stole the air from my lungs.

Like I was something holy.

Like I’d hung every star in the sky myself.

I opened my mouth to say something—

But he beat me to it.

“Don’t even say anything about my staring.”

I burst out laughing instantly.

Andrew laughed too before suddenly grabbing my waist and pulling me into his lap.

My breath caught immediately.

His hands slid gently up my sides, carefully tucking strands of hair behind my ears while he stared up at me.

Completely wrecked by me.

Then he smirked slightly.

“Now you’re the one staring.”

I barely had time to laugh before his lips crashed into mine.

And God—

The kiss was hungry.

Desperate.

Like years of missing each other had finally snapped all at once.

We were making out like teenagers sneaking around for the first time.

Andrew’s back was pressed against the headboard while I sat in his lap, my fingers tangled deep in his curls as his hands held my face like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch me again. The room was dim except for the lamp beside the bed, warm yellow light spilling across the blankets.

It felt safe.

Too safe.

His mouth moved against mine slow and deep, kissing me like he was trying to memorize me all over again. One hand slid down my spine, pulling me tighter against him until I could feel exactly how much he wanted me.

My breath caught.

“Andrew…”

He hummed softly against my mouth, kissing me harder.

God, I missed this.

Missed him.

Missed the way he touched me like I mattered.His mouth moved against mine slow and deep, one hand sliding up my neck while the other stayed firm against my waist, holding me against him like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.

I could barely breathe.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured against my lips.

The confession hit me hard enough that I kissed him harder instead of answering.

My fingers tangled deeper into his curls while his mouth traveled down my jaw slowly, kissing along my neck. A soft shiver rolled through me immediately.

Andrew noticed.

Of course he did.

A quiet smirk brushed against my skin before he kissed the sensitive spot just beneath my ear again.

Then suddenly—

He stopped.

Completely.

I blinked, slightly breathless, while his fingers gently turned my face toward the lamp light.

“What?” I whispered.

Andrew was staring at the side of my neck with narrowed eyes, thumb brushing softly just below my ear.

“That wasn’t there before.”

My stomach flipped.

Oh.

The tattoo.

His fingers traced lightly over the small black crow inked behind my ear, his expression shifting from confusion to curiosity.

“A crow?”

I laughed softly, still slightly dizzy from kissing him.

“Yeah.”

“When did you get this?”

“After I had Colten.”

Andrew’s eyes stayed fixed on it while his thumb brushed carefully along the lines of the tattoo.

“Why a crow?”

I smiled faintly.

“Gemma.”

That surprised him enough he looked up immediately.

“Your mom?”

“The one an only.”

Andrew leaned back slightly against the headboard, one hand still resting against my neck while I stayed curled in his lap.

“She said crows survive anything.” I shrugged lightly. “That they’re smart. Protective. Loyal to their families.”

His eyes softened immediately.

“And loud,” I added with a quiet laugh. “Apparently, that part reminded her of me, too.”

Andrew smiled at that.

Then his expression turned more thoughtful while he looked at the tattoo again.

“In Oceanside…” he said quietly, “crows mean death.”

The room went softer somehow after that.

He wasn’t talking about the tattoo anymore.

Not really.

I touched his face gently.

“In Charming,” I whispered, “they mean survival.”

Andrew stared at me for a long moment like the words physically hit him somewhere deep.

Then slowly, he leaned forward and kissed the tattoo behind my ear.

So soft it almost hurt.

My breath caught immediately.

“You survived all of this.” he murmured against my skin.

The sadness in his voice nearly broke me.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders tighter.

Andrew looked at me like he didn’t know what to do with that. Like nobody had ever tied him to something good before.

Then finally he smiled faintly against my mouth again.

“Well,” he muttered softly, kissing me once more, “still jealous the crow gets to live behind your ear permanently.”

I burst out laughing.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” he murmured against my lips, “you keep kissing me anyway.”

My fingers hooked into the bottom of his shirt, ready to pull it over his head—

Then my phone rang.

Once.

Stopped.

Then rang again.

I froze immediately.

Deran.

That was our code.

Andrew groaned softly against my neck. “Ignore it.”

“I can’t.”

He dropped his forehead dramatically against my shoulder while I reached blindly for my phone off the nightstand.

“Terrible timing,” he muttered.

I snorted softly while answering.

“Hi, Der.”

The second Andrew heard his brother’s name, his entire expression darkened with annoyance.

Which honestly almost made me laugh.

On the other end of the line, Deran sounded stressed.

“Smurf’s losin’ her shit.”

Andrew rolled his eyes instantly and went right back to kissing along my neck while I tried to focus on the call.

Apparently he’d decided multitasking was possible.

“Popes MIA,” Deran continued.

I bit back a smile.

“Well, I don’t know where he is, Der.”

“Bullshit.”

I laughed quietly.

“He took my car, Y/N. I know he’s there.” A pause. “Did Jax kill him yet?”

That made me fully laugh.

Andrew looked up at me from my neck with narrowed eyes.

“Uh… no,” I admitted. “But I almost did.”

Andrew’s face softened immediately.

“I saw him near Colten and just…” I swallowed hard. “I went full mama bear. I only saw danger.”

The sadness in Andrew’s eyes hit me instantly.

“It’s hard not to think everybody wants to hurt us sometimes.”

His expression fell completely.

He kissed my forehead softly before gently taking the phone from my hand.

“Hi, Deran.”

I watched Andrew carefully while he listened to his brother.

Then his jaw tightened.

“No,” he said flatly. “I’m not coming back tonight.”

My eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Andrew glanced at me briefly before looking away.

“Smurf doesn’t care about me,” he muttered bitterly into the phone. “She cares that her dirty worker disappeared.”

Silence.

Then quieter:

“Can we not do this tonight?”

His thumb brushed softly against my thigh.

“I just wanna enjoy my family.”

Family.

The word hit me so hard my chest physically hurt.

Andrew hung up before Deran could argue more and tossed the phone onto the bed.

For a second neither of us spoke.

Then I touched his cheek gently.

“We have connections here,” I said softly. “With Charming PD. Maybe we could figure something out with your parole.”

Andrew studied me quietly for a moment.

Then:

“Speaking of things you never told me…”

Uh oh.

“Why didn’t you ever mention any of this?” He gestured vaguely around us. “The club. Your dad, or any of your family.”

I sighed immediately and tried climbing off his lap.

Absolutely not.

Andrew wrapped his arms tighter around my waist and pulled me right back against him.

“Andrew—”

“Nope. We’re talking now.”

I rolled my eyes but relaxed against him anyway.

“I didn’t tell you because…” I hesitated. “Because I wanted one thing in my life to just be mine.”

He stayed quiet, listening carefully.

“I was always Jax Teller’s little sister.” I laughed softly without humor. “People either hated me because of the club or wanted something from me because of it.”

Andrew frowned.

“It was hard making friends. Hard dating.” My fingers traced patterns lightly on his chest. “Nobody saw me first. They saw my last name.”

His eyes softened immediately.

“So when I met you…” I looked up at him. “I wanted a clean start. I wanted somebody to know me before all the chaos.”

The look he gave me nearly wrecked me.

Like he understood exactly what it felt like to be trapped under a family name.

Then quietly, he said:

“Julia OD’d right before I got out.”

Everything inside me stopped.

“Oh my God.” I grabbed his hands instantly. “Andrew…”

His eyes dropped toward our tangled fingers.

“She’d been struggling for years,” he said quietly. “Guess it finally caught up to her.”

Pain sat heavy in every word.

“J’s living with Smurf now.” His jaw tightened. “She gave him my room.”

My chest ached for him.

“I hate that bitch.”

A small laugh escaped him.

“Yeah,” he muttered softly. “Me too.”

I leaned forward and kissed his forehead gently before wrapping my arms around him.

He held onto me tighter than before.

Like grief had hollowed him out somewhere deep inside.

A little while later, I slipped into the spare room to grab clothes for him.

Deran always left stuff here, and Jax practically treated my house like his second closet anyway.

I grabbed sweatpants and a shirt before heading back toward my room.

“I found—”

The words died in my throat.

Andrew was sitting against the headboard now with Colten asleep against his chest.

One of his hands rubbed slow circles along our son’s back while Colten snored softly into his shirt.

My heart physically hurt at the sight.

Andrew looked up at me carefully.

“I think he was looking for you.”

I smiled instantly.

“I told you,” I whispered while setting the clothes down quietly. “He never sleeps.”

Andrew laughed softly.

“Apparently not.”

He carefully shifted Colten enough to stand before taking the clothes and disappearing into the bathroom.

I climbed into bed beside my sleeping boy and pulled the blankets higher around him, cuddling him against my side.

A minute later Andrew came back wearing Deran’s sweatpants that were slightly too short on him.

I burst out laughing immediately.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You’re stealing your brother’s clothes.”

Andrew looked down at himself.

“I look good.”

“You look ridiculous.”

He climbed into bed anyway.

Then his expression shifted into something more thoughtful.

“Can I ask you something?”

I tilted my head cautiously.

“Depends.”

He hesitated just long enough to make me nervous.

“…Weren’t you on birth control?”

My jaw dropped.

Then I started laughing so hard I nearly woke Colten up.

Andrew smiled sheepishly.

“I’m serious!”

“I was!” I whispered loudly through laughter. “I was finishing finals, I probably missed a few.”

Then I looked at him more carefully.

“…Do you regret him?”

Andrew’s face fell instantly.

“No.”

The answer came so fast it almost startled me.

“Never.” His voice cracked slightly. “Never say that.”

His eyes dropped toward Colten sleeping between us.

“I just…” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t think anybody would ever wanna start a family with me.”

My heart shattered.

“Baz told me before I left that nobody would ever wanna have a kid with me.”

Anger flooded through me immediately.

I grabbed his chin gently and forced him to look at me.

“Hey.”

His eyes stayed lowered.

“Andrew.”

Finally he looked at me.

“Baz is an asshole,” I said firmly. “He doesn’t know how to love anybody properly, including his own family.”

Andrew stayed quiet.

I brushed my fingers gently through his curls.

“I had your baby,” I whispered. “And I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

Emotion wrecked his entire face.

He leaned forward and kissed me softly.

Then he leaned down and kissed Colten’s forehead too.

And watching them there together—

My boys.

Mine.

I felt something settle inside me for the first time in years.

Andrew reached over and switched off the lamp, moonlight spilling softly through the curtains as the room went dark.

Then the three of us curled together beneath the blankets.

And for the first time in my life—

I fell asleep feeling like I finally had a family.

That was the first full night Andrew had slept in a long time.

I knew because for once, he didn’t toss around beside me. Didn’t jolt awake every hour. Didn’t mumble half-finished thoughts in his sleep like he was still trapped somewhere else mentally.

I don’t think I slept much at all because I spent most of the night staring at him.

In the way, one arm stayed wrapped around Colten even while he slept.

Like his body already knew how to protect him naturally.

By morning, I carefully slipped out of bed without waking him.

The house was quiet except for the sound of cartoons humming softly from the living room and coffee brewing in the kitchen.

Tara show up ten minutes earlier, she was leaning against my counter in scrubs, sipping coffee while Abel and Colten color dinosaurs on the coffee table.

“You look smug,” she said when she saw me.

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re in my house before eight in the morning, judging me?”

“Yes.”

I snorted quietly and poured myself coffee.

Abel suddenly gasped dramatically from the living room.

“Colten! RUN!”

Then came patter of tiny footsteps and shrieking laughter.

The boys tore through the living room like tiny tornadoes while cartoons blasted in the background.

“HE CHEATIN’!” Colten yelled.

“I NOT!”

“You ARE!”

“You a stinky liar!”

I laughed into my coffee.

Tara shook her head fondly. “They’ve been awake for an hour, and are already being tearors.”

“How?” I said shaking my head.

“No idea. They’re powered entirely by chaos.”

Right on cue, Abel screamed loudly while the boys chased each other around the coffee table.

And from down the hallway—

I heard the bedroom door slam open.

Heavy footsteps hit the floor hard and fast.

Andrew.

Panic hit me instantly before I even saw him.

He appeared in the hallway shirtless and breathing hard, eyes wide and frantic, while he scanned the house.

Terrified.

Looking for Colten.

The second his eyes landed on the boys running around the living room, relief physically washed over him so hard his shoulders sagged.

It hit me harder than I expected.

Because that wasn’t an annoyance.

That wasn’t irritation at being woken up.

That was pure fear.

Tara noticed it too immediately.

“Oh my God,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, Andrew. I didn’t mean for him to scare you.”

Andrew ran a hand over his face while trying to catch his breath.

“No, it’s okay,” he muttered quietly. “I just…”

Thought something happened.

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Didn’t need to.

I watched his eyes follow Colten automatically while the boys kept screaming and running circles around the couch.

Protective already.

My chest tightened.

Then Tara glanced between the two of us.

Andrew was shirtless, hair messy from sleep, marks from kissing still faint along his neck.

Her eyebrows slowly lifted.

Then wiggled.

I immediately choked on my coffee.

“Tara.”

She burst out laughing while I flipped her off.

Andrew looked completely confused for half a second before realizing what she meant.

Then the smug grin appeared.

God help me.

Before I could threaten either of them, Colten spotted Andrew standing there.

“Dad!”

He launched himself across the room immediately.

Andrew barely had time to brace himself before Colten wrapped around his legs.

“I waked up!”

“I can see that, buddy.”

Colten grabbed his face with both tiny hands and kissed his cheek loudly.

Then immediately dragged Abel over by the arm.

“This my best friend, Abel.”

Abel grinned proudly. “We fight dragons.”

Andrew crouched down to their level.

“Oh yeah?”

“And dinos,” Colten added seriously.

“And sharks,” Abel chimed in.

“Wow,” Andrew nodded solemnly. “Sounds dangerous.”

“It is,” Colten whispered dramatically.

I had to bite my lip to stop laughing.

Tara checked the time before groaning softly.

“Okay, tiny terrorists, I gotta go save lives.”

“Nooo,” Abel whined immediately.

“Yes.” She kissed the top of his head. “And you behave for Auntie Y/N.”

Abel looked personally betrayed.

Tara grabbed her bag before pausing beside me quietly.

“Gemma still picking the boys up later?”

I nodded. “Yeah, or we’ll drop them off. Not sure which doesn’t matter.”

“Good. Gives you two time to talk to the Unser.”

Andrew looked over immediately at that.

Tara smiled softly at him.

“I brought clothes over, too. Jax said you can keep anything that fits.”

Andrew blinked slightly.

“Thanks.”

She waved him off casually like it was nothing.

But I could tell it meant something to him.

People doing things for him without expecting something back still confused him.

After Tara left, Andrew showered while I took the boys outside to burn off some energy before lunch.

The backyard was loud with laughter while Colten and Abel fought over whose turn it was on the swings.

“My turn!”

“No MINE.”

“You had a big turn!”

“You had a bigger turn!”

Andrew stepped outside right then, wearing one of Jax’s old black shirts and jeans.

My stomach immediately flipped.

Jesus Christ.

He looked unfairly good.

He came over and sat beside me on the porch steps quietly, watching the boys chase each other around the swing set.

Then I started laughing.

Andrew looked over immediately.

“What?”

I shook my head smiling.

“You smell like me.”

He frowned slightly before smelling his shirt.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, “you don’t exactly keep guy products in your shower.”

I grinned into my coffee.

“I never needed to.” I said and he smiled at me.

Andrew looked over at Abel, climbing up the slide backwards.

“That Jax’s kid?”

“Mhm.”

My smile softened slightly.

“His ex-wife used while she was pregnant with him.”

Andrew’s face fell immediately.

“He had a rough start.” I watched Abel carefully. “Honestly, worse than Colten medically.”

Andrew stayed quiet.

“But him and Colten?” I smiled. “Best friends from hell.”

Right on cue, Abel screamed:

“COLTEN ATE DIRT.”

“I DID NOT.”

“You DID.”

“It was an accident!”

Andrew laughed so hard beside me he had to bend forward slightly.

God.

I missed hearing that sound.

—

By lunchtime we loaded the boys into the truck and headed toward the garage.

Andrew carried Colten while I carried Abel on my hip.

The second we pulled into TM, both boys exploded with excitement.

“UNCLE JAX!”

“CHIBBY!”

Abel launched himself at Jax Teller while Colten immediately attached himself to Chibs Telford like a tiny koala.

“I missed ya, wee man,” Chibs laughed while lifting him up.

“I got cereal today!”

“That so?”

“And cartoons!”

“Livin’ the dream then.”

I laughed while walking toward the office.

“Mom!” I yelled. “Your grandbabies are here!”

The office door flew open so fast it almost slammed the wall.

“My babies!”

Both boys screamed happily.

Andrew stood beside me, watching the chaos unfold with this weird, overwhelmed softness in his eyes.

Then unfortunately—

Tig opened his mouth.

“Mornin’, Pope.”

Everything in Andrew immediately hardened.

“That’s not my name here.”

The garage got quieter instantly.

Andrew stepped slightly closer to Tig.

“My name’s Andrew.”

His voice stayed calm.

Too calm.

“I don’t want my past life around my son.”

Tig tilted his head slightly.

“Oh, so now you care about your son?”

“Tig,” I snapped sharply.

The warning in my voice made several heads turn immediately.

“What did I tell you?”

Tig muttered something under his breath and walked away.

I exhaled slowly before turning toward Andrew.

“You okay?”

His jaw flexed slightly.

“Yeah.”

I touched his arm gently anyway before pushing him toward the truck.

“Go wait for me before somebody says something stupid again.”

Andrew smirked slightly.

“Bossy.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe.”

But before we even made it toward the truck, two crow eaters near the clubhouse door spotted Andrew immediately.

One of them smiled.

“Oh, he’s cute—”

Absolutely not.

I moved before she even finished the sentence.

The girl barely had time to react before I grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her backward hard enough to make her squeal.

The entire lot went dead silent.

I got right in her face.

“You or any of your little crow-eater friends touch him,” I said calmly, “I’ll chop your fucking fingers off and feed them to you.”

Behind me, I heard Chibs yell:

“Jesus Christ, lass!”

Behind me I heard Chibs choke on laughter while Tig completely lost his mind cackling.

“That’s our girl!” Tig yelled.

The girl nodded rapidly.

“O-okay!”

I released her hair immediately and turned around like nothing happened.

Andrew was staring at me with the biggest smile I’d ever seen on his face.

“What?” I asked defensively.

He shook his head slowly.

He was staring at me with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on his face.

“Get in the truck. Nothing to see here.” I smiled back at him. 

“Sure thing, mama bear.” he replied while climbing into the passenger seat smiling like an idiot the entire time.

When we pulled into the sheriff’s station parking lot, I killed the engine and climbed out of the truck without thinking much about it.

Then I realized Andrew wasn’t beside me.

I looked back and found him still sitting in the passenger seat, hands gripping his knees, eyes locked on the building like it might swallow him whole.

The sheriff’s station sat quiet in the afternoon heat, sunlight glaring off the windows. Deputies moved in and out casually, coffee cups in hand, radios crackling softly on their hips.

To me, it was familiar.

To Andrew?

Probably felt like walking into a cage willingly.

I climbed onto the truck’s step bar and leaned down toward the open window.

“You coming?”

Andrew laughed once under his breath, nervous.

“You know this is the first time I’ve willingly walked into a sheriff’s station, right?”

I smiled softly.

“You’re in Charming now. Slightly less terrifying.”

“Slightly?”

“Depends who’s working.”

That got a small grin out of him.

Finally he climbed out, shutting the truck door behind him before following close beside me into the station.

The second we walked inside, Hale looked up from paperwork at the front desk.

His eyes landed on me and immediately narrowed.

“Jesus Teller,” he sighed dramatically. “What problems are you dragging in here now?”

I put a hand against my chest, offended.

“Do you even know how to smile, Hale?”

Behind him, Kunes laughed while filling his coffee mug.

“You have a second?” I asked him 

“Anything for my favorite Teller girl.” He responded 

I pointed at him immediately.

“Oof, don’t let Gemma hear you say that.”

Kunes snorted while motioning us toward his office.

Andrew stayed quiet beside me the entire walk back, shoulders tense enough I could practically feel it radiating off him.

Once the office door closed behind us, I explained everything.

Andrew’s parole. Smurf. The situation in Oceanside. How we were trying to see if there was any way to quietly move him to Charming without setting off alarms.

Kunes listened carefully the entire time, expression growing more serious the longer I talked.

Finally he sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

My stomach dropped immediately.

“There’s not much I can do officially,” he admitted. “Parole transfers like this? They get noticed.”

Andrew’s jaw tightened beside me.

Kunes looked directly at him.

“And even if I pulled strings…” he hesitated carefully, “there’s no guarantee your mother wouldn’t track you here eventually.”

The room went quiet.

Andrew looked defeated.

Not angry.

Not frustrated.

Just tired.

Like someone who’d finally let himself hope for something only to have it ripped away again.

Kunes leaned forward slightly.

“If there was something I could do quietly, I would.” His voice softened. “But I can’t promise protection from someone like Smurf.”

Andrew nodded once.

“I understand.”

But I could hear the disappointment in his voice anyway.

Taglist: @taniamiller, @kollover24,@missmillivanilli, @meowtastick,@ravens-and-writers78,@mxkhxx,@catchmeupimgettingoutofhe,@sarai-ibn-la-ahad, @t4medicroe, @anniejohnson232, @flower445, @ezmina98@unfilteredmoonchild, @nyxmoretti, @happystyless, @cerberus101, @vicky066, @edynmeyer1, @buttercuppy8, @gingersnapped13, @sullyselena, @bsttwice, @southernshorty, @loverofmusic, @youngadult9016, @lvrfilm, @kaylapfarr, @ezmina98, @bombtasticbritt91, @declanoharasmustache, @ghostlytraitortale, @bashfuldiabetic, @desnothere, @nicejulie94, @1dhoe93, @valkana1, @harrystylesfourthnipple924, 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 of an Animal Kingdom x Sons of Anarchy Story

Andrew had been planning his escape for days.

Smurf had been drugging his food—he was sure of it now. The way his thoughts felt sluggish after meals, the way his body felt heavy and disconnected. She wanted him compliant. Wanted him under her control.

He was done.

He waited until she left for one of her meetings, then grabbed his jacket and walked out the front door. He left the phone she'd given him on the kitchen table—let her track that all she wanted.

The car was exactly where Deran said it would be: two blocks over, parked behind an abandoned warehouse. A beat-up Jeep with the keys tucked under the driver's seat.

Andrew slid into the driver's seat and pulled out the phone Deran had left in the glove compartment.

No passcode.

He unlocked it, and the first thing he saw was the photo album.

His hands were shaking as he opened it.

The first picture was of a little boy—maybe three years old—grinning at the camera with a gap-toothed smile. He had auburn curls that caught the sunlight, ocean blue eyes that were unmistakably Andrew, and a pair of small blue glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, Y/N's nose. But everything else—the eyes, the mouth, the shape of his face—was pure him.

His son.

Andrew scrolled through more pictures, his vision blurring with tears. The small boy at the beach, building sandcastles. A little boy with a stuffed dinosaur almost as big as he was. He was laughing, running, playing.

And then he found the NICU pictures. His breath caught.

The baby was so small—impossibly small—surrounded by tubes and wires and machines. But he was lying on Y/N's bare chest, the gown barely covering her breasts, just her and the baby, skin on skin, and the look on her face— God, the look on her face. Pure happiness. Pure love. She was crying in the picture, her hand cradling the baby's tiny head, and Andrew couldn't stop staring at it.

He'd missed this. He'd missed all of it.

His hands were shaking as he set the picture as the phone's screensaver.

Then he started the engine and pulled out onto the road. He was careful—checking his mirrors, taking side streets, making sure no one was following him. Smurf had eyes everywhere, and if she figured out where he was going— No. He couldn't think about that.

He had to get to Charming. He had to find his family.

Andrew’s POV

By the time I rolled into Charming, my back ached from the drive, and my nerves were stretched thin. That's what almost five hours on the road gave a man too much time to think.

The town was smaller than I expected. Quiet. The kind of place where people sat outside hardware stores drinking coffee and somehow knew everything about everyone before noon. Oceanside had always been loud—tourists everywhere, traffic, strangers blending together. But here? Here, I could feel eyes on me the second my truck crawled down Main Street.

Stranger, that’s what I was.

I parked along the strip and stepped out, boots hitting cracked pavement. Across the street was a little diner squeezed between a feed store and a barber shop. A neon OPEN sign flickered in the window. It looked old enough to have been there forever.

A bell chimed overhead when I walked in. The smell of bacon grease and burnt coffee hit me immediately. There were maybe three people inside, all of them old enough to collect Social Security. A waitress behind the counter glanced up at me, then smiled politely.

“Sit wherever you’d like, honey.”

I slid into a booth near the window, keeping my back to the wall out of habit.

The waitress came over with a coffee pot already in hand. Older woman. Gray curls. Reading glasses hanging around her neck.

“What can I get ya?”

“Just coffee.”

“Passing through?”

“Something like that.”

She poured the coffee and gave me a curious look before setting the mug down. There wasn’t much happening in the diner, and apparently I was the afternoon entertainment, because a minute later she sat down across from me with a sigh.

“You ain’t from around here.”

I almost smiled. “That obvious?”

“Honey, in Charming, we know everybody.”

Yeah. I’d already figured that out.

I wrapped my hands around the mug. “Actually looking for someone.”

Her eyebrows lifted immediately. Curiosity lit her up like a damn Christmas tree.

“Oh?”

“Old friend.”

“What’s the name?”

I hesitated for half a second before saying it.

“Y/N.”

The reaction was instant.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said with a grin, “I know that girl very well.”

My stomach tightened.

“And her cute little boy too.”

Cute little boy.

The words hit harder than they should’ve.

I kept my face neutral, even though my pulse had started pounding in my ears.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Good girl. Strong-headed, though.” She pointed her finger at me like she knew exactly what she was talking about. “Gets that from her mama.”

I swallowed hard and leaned back slightly. “We knew each other years ago. Back when she was in school.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“She used to talk about Charming a lot,” I continued carefully. “I’ve been thinking about moving somewhere quieter. Figured I’d come see the place for myself.”

The lie came easier than it should have.

Miss Shirley nodded like she bought every word.

“You lookin’ to surprise her?”

“Something like that.”

“Well…” She leaned closer conspiratorially. “She’s probably either at home or over at the club.”

“The club?”

“The Sons motorcycle club.”

That caught my attention.

I tried not to react, but she noticed anyway.

“You didn’t know?”

“No,” I admitted.

She laughed softly. “Well, now I understand why she probably didn’t mention ’em much.”

I filed that away carefully.

A motorcycle club.

Perfect.

She grabbed a napkin and scribbled down two addresses for me before sliding it across the table.

“That’s the club address.”

I looked down at the handwriting for a long second before folding the napkin carefully and slipping it into my pocket.

“Appreciate it.”

I pulled cash from my wallet and set it on the table.

Her eyes widened. “Honey, this is a hundred-dollar bill.”

“Keep the change.”

“Well aren’t you sweet.”

I stood, giving her a nod before heading toward the door.

But the second I stepped back outside, the air felt heavier somehow.

Like something was waiting for me.

Y/N’s POV

I didn’t have to work that day, which meant I’d gotten dragged into helping around the garage.

Not that I minded.

I was sitting on the concrete floor beside Colten’s sandbox, grease smudged on my hands while I sorted tools for Opie. My son was completely content beside me, making dinosaur noises under his breath while tiny plastic T-Rexes battled in the sand near a row of parked bikes.

I smiled watching him.

“Buddy,” I laughed, “your dinosaurs are louder than the motorcycles.”

“No they not.”

“Yes they are.”

“Nope.”

I nudged his boot with mine, earning a giggle.

That sound owned me completely.

Gemma’s voice suddenly echoed from the office.

“Y/N!”

I looked up.

“There’s a phone call for you.”

I pushed myself to my feet, wiping my hands on a rag as I headed inside.

“Who is it?”

“Miss Shirley.”

I frowned immediately.

The second I picked up the phone, I smiled.

“Hi, Miss Shirley. Your car break down again?”

She laughed warmly. “Not this time, sweetheart.”

Something in her tone made my stomach tighten.

“There was a man in here earlier askin’ about you.”

Every muscle in my body locked up.

My grip tightened on the phone. “What?”

“He said he was an old friend.”

My blood ran cold.

“How long ago?”

“Oh… maybe twenty, thirty minutes.”

Too recent.

Way too recent.

“Did he leave a name?”

“No,” she admitted. “But Lord, he sure was handsome.”

I stopped breathing for a second.

Andrew.

“Alright,” I said quickly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Thank you for tellin’ me.”

“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah.” Lie. “Miss Shirley… if you see him again, can you call Clay or Jax?”

That got her attention.

“…Sure thing, dear.”

“Thank you.”

I hung up slowly.

Gemma was already watching me carefully.

“What happened?”

“There was a guy asking about me at the diner.”

She snorted softly. “Maybe Shirley’s finally losin’ her damn mind.”

I almost answered her.

Then she stepped sideways.

And suddenly I could see out the office window.

Everything inside me stopped.

Andrew was crouched beside Colten’s sandbox outside.

Talking to my son.

I didn’t even remember moving.

“JAX!”

My scream tore through the garage so violently that every head snapped toward me.

Outside, Colten looked up immediately.

“Mommy!”

I ran.

Pure panic ripped through me so hard my vision blurred. I heard boots pounding behind me—Jax, Opie, Chibs—all rushing out after me—but I got there first.

I dropped to my knees beside Colten so fast it hurt.

My hands grabbed his face immediately.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Colten blinked at me, confused. “Yeah”

Gemma was beside me seconds later, checking him over too.

Behind us, chaos exploded.

Jax and Opie grabbed Andrew and slammed him backward away from us hard enough to rattle the fence.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Jax roared.

Andrew barely had time to react before Chibs punched him square in the jaw.

I pulled Colten against my chest; he started crying from all the commotion happening around him. I kissed the top of his head over and over.

“It’s okay,” I whispered shakily. “You’re okay.”

He clung to me; I handed him to Gemma carefully.

“Take him inside.”

Gemma nodded immediately.

“Happy. Juice. Go with them.”

Neither of them argued.

Jax shouted toward the gate, “Half Sack! Close it!”

The sound of metal rolling shut echoed through the yard. Andrew spat blood onto the concrete while the guys held him pinned. If looks could kill, he would’ve been dead already.

I stepped toward him slowly, fury vibrating through every inch of me.

“Let him go.”

“Y/N—”

“I said let him go.”

Reluctantly, they loosened their grip. Jax still got one more punch in before stepping back. Chibs landed another directly into Andrew’s ribs.

“Jesus Christ,” Opie muttered.

I ignored all of them.

I grabbed the bottom of Andrew’s shirt and yanked it upward hard enough to make him stumble. He stared at me while I checked his waistline.

“No gun.”

His voice was rough when he finally spoke.

“You done?”

I looked him dead in the eye.

“Not even close.”

Before anyone could stop me, I grabbed his arm and dragged him toward my truck.

“Y/N,” Jax warned sharply.

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

No. But I nodded anyway. Because my son was safe. And there were things I needed to hear from Andrew without twenty Sons trying to kill him first.

I drove straight to my house and pulled the truck into the garage before shutting the door behind us. I didn’t want anyone seeing him there. Didn’t want half the club barging in before we even had the chance to talk.

For the first time since he showed up in Charming, it was just us. Silence filled the garage while the engine ticked as it cooled. Neither of us moved right away. I climbed out first.

“Come on.”

Andrew followed me inside quietly, blood still smeared along his mouth from where Jax and Chibs had gotten their shots in. His eye was already bruising. I went straight to the freezer and grabbed a bag of frozen peas, tossing it toward him.

“Here.”

He caught it with one hand before pressing it against his face.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, grabbing the bottle of Jack from the top of the fridge. “Least I can do.”

My hands shook slightly while I poured two glasses over ice. I handed him one, then immediately drank half of mine in one swallow. The burn steadied me a little.

Andrew sat at the kitchen bar, watching me carefully while I rounded the counter and sat beside him. I kept my eyes fixed on the whiskey in my glass. I could still feel him staring.

“You’re staring.”

When I finally looked up at him, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite the bruise forming there.

“Yeah,” he said softly before taking a sip. “Kinda my thing.”

I laughed quietly before the sound died just as fast as it came.

The weight between us settled again. Heavy. Familiar. Dangerous. I tightened my grip around the glass.

“Andrew… why are you here?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“I wanna be in your life again.” His voice cracked slightly. “I wanna be in your guys’ life.”

My chest tightened instantly.

“I wanna be a dad to our son.” His eyes locked onto mine desperately. “I’m not missing anything else.”

I looked away before he could see my expression break.

“I already missed so much,” he continued quietly. “I wasn’t there when you needed me most. I didn’t know.” He swallowed hard. “I had no clue, Y/N.”

Tears welled in his eyes.

“And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

The pain in his voice nearly destroyed me.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for every stupid mistake I made.”

I just sat there staring at him. At the man I had loved longer than I wanted to admit. The man I knew I would probably never fully stop loving. Even after everything. Especially after everything. Tears blurred my vision, and suddenly I couldn’t sit there anymore. I stood abruptly and disappeared down the hallway before he could stop me.

I heard him stand halfway like he wanted to follow me but thought better of it.

In my bedroom, I dropped to my knees beside the closet and dug through the bottom shelf until my fingers brushed worn leather. The photo album. I stared at it for a long moment before exhaling shakily and carrying it back to the kitchen.

Andrew sat exactly where I left him, shoulders tense, staring straight ahead like he was afraid to touch anything. The second I touched his arm, he jumped slightly before realizing it was me. His entire body relaxed immediately. I grabbed his hand gently.

“Come here.”

We moved into the living room and sat on the floor beside the coffee table. Andrew quietly set coasters down for our drinks out of pure habit while I drained the rest of my whiskey. I placed the album between us.

For a second, I just stared at it. Then I looked him directly in the eyes.

“His name is Colten,” I whispered. “Colten Cody Teller.”

Andrew’s face crumpled instantly.

“He was born January tenth. Four pounds, three ounces.”

The tears in his eyes spilled over immediately.

I opened the album slowly. The first picture was Colten in the NICU. Tiny. Covered in wires. Andrew sucked in a sharp breath beside me.

“Is… is he okay?”

I nodded slowly.

“He was born two months early.” I swallowed hard. “I had a really stressful pregnancy. My placenta tore, and I started bleeding pretty bad.”

Andrew closed his eyes briefly like the thought physically hurt him.

“They induced early, and he was there later that night.”

I flipped through more pictures. Tiny hospital bracelets. Colten sleeping against my chest. His impossibly small hand wrapped around my finger.

“He spent two months in the NICU,” I whispered. “Worst two months of my life.”

Andrew stared silently at every photo like he was trying to memorize all the moments he’d missed.

“He’s been fighting since the second he got here.”

My voice softened as I smiled faintly at another picture.

“He’s got bad eyesight and a little speech delay. Doctors said that can happen with NICU babies.” I looked over at Andrew. “But speech therapy’s helped a lot.”

Andrew wiped at his face roughly.

“He’s got your eyes, hair,lips, he’s basically your carbon copy..”

That broke him completely. Tears slid freely down his face while he stared at the pages.

Then quietly—so quietly I almost didn’t hear it—he asked:

“Is he normal?”

I frowned immediately.

Andrew kept his eyes on the album.

“He’s not like me… is he?”

My heart shattered. Without thinking, I reached over and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at me.

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

His eyes widened slightly.

“There never was.”

My thumb brushed tears from his cheek.

“You grew up in a horrible environment with no love and no stability. That doesn’t make you broken.”

His breathing shook.

“And yes,” I whispered firmly, “our son is perfect.”

The second I pulled him into my arms, he broke. Completely. Years of guilt and grief came pouring out of him all at once while I held him against my chest, rubbing my hand slowly up and down his back.I let him cry. I think he needed someone to let him.

After a while, I laughed softly through my own tears.

“You know, he reminds me of you.”

Andrew looked up slightly, confused.

“How?”

“He’s obsessed with animal documentaries,” I smiled. “And dinosaurs right now.”

A watery laugh escaped him.

“And he hates sleep.”

That earned a real laugh. Small. Broken. But real. I stood slowly and held my hands out toward him.

“Come on.”

Andrew took them immediately. I led him down the hallway, but halfway there, he stopped suddenly. I turned to find him staring at the pictures scattered along the hallway.

More specifically, one picture. Me sitting in his lap beside a beach fire years ago. His lips pressed against my temple while I smiled at whoever took the photo. Deran. I remembered him laughing after snapping it. Andrew stared at the frame like he couldn’t believe it was still there. squeezed his hand gently.

“He’s always known about you.”

Andrew looked at me slowly.

“I was never gonna deny him knowing his father.”

Emotion flickered across his face so intensely it almost made him look hurt. Still holding his hand, I led him the rest of the way to Colten’s room.

The second he stepped inside, he froze. The room was pure Colten. Dinosaurs were scattered everywhere. Tiny shoes were kicked under the bed. Stacks of books. Toy trucks.

A little pair of extra glasses folded neatly on the nightstand beside a framed beach picture of me, Deran, Craig, and Colten, soaked in ocean water with surfboards beside us.

Andrew slowly sank down onto the floor beside Colten’s bed like his legs had stopped working. He just looked around quietly, taking everything in. Every milestone. Every memory. Every moment he’d missed.

I turned slightly to leave, but his hand wrapped around my thigh quickly. Like he was afraid I’d disappear. I leaned down and kissed the top of his head softly.

“I’ll be right back.”

He finally let go.

I changed into shorts and an oversized shirt before grabbing my phone and calling Chibs Telford. He answered immediately.

“You okay, lass?”

“We’re okay.”

Silence.

Then cautiously:

“Where are ya?”

I took a deep breath.

“You’re not gonna like this request…”

Twenty minutes later, headlights flooded through my front windows.I sighed the second I saw how many bikes pulled up.

“I said I didn’t want the whole damn club here,” I muttered while opening the door.

Gemma stormed past me immediately.

“Tough shit. Where is he?”

“Mo—”

“No.”

She turned on me so fast I stopped talking. Her eyes were furious. Protective. Terrified.

“He hurts you again, I swear to God—”

“Mom.” My voice cracked enough to finally get her attention. “Please.”

That stopped her.

“He’s here on his own.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes, it does.”

She stared at me for a long moment.

Finally, I said quietly:

“Colten deserves to meet his dad.”

Gemma looked like she hated every word I just said. But eventually she nodded once. Barely.

“He’s in Colten’s room,” I told her carefully. “Say what you need to say, then it’s just Chibs and me here. Nobody else.”

Reluctantly, she agreed.

I stepped outside while she went down the hallway. Colten was already overwhelmed by the yelling and bikes. I lifted him into my arms, adjusting his little glasses while wiping tears off his cheeks.

“It’s okay, baby.”

“I don’t like yelling,” he sniffled.

“I know, mommies, sorry.”

I kissed his forehead repeatedly until he calmed slightly.

Gemma came back outside a few minutes later, looking murderous.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I know.”

But I carried Colten anyway and walked back inside with Chibs following behind us. He settled onto the couch silently while I led Colten toward his bedroom. Andrew was sitting in the rocking chair now, flipping slowly through the photo album. The second he heard us enter, he stood carefully.

Slowly. Like he was afraid sudden movement would scare Colten. I sat down on the bed beside my son and brushed hair off his forehead.

“There’s someone really important I want you to meet.”

Colten looked curious immediately. Andrew knelt down in front of us.

For a second, nobody spoke.

Then Colten smiled shyly, his tiny body smushed against mine. Trying to hide the best he could. 

“Hi.”

Andrew’s entire face softened.

“Hey, buddy.”

Colten tilted his head, warming up more towards Andrew. 

“We look the same?”

Andrew looked up at me helplessly.

I nodded once. He looked back at Colten, eyes already filling again.

“We look alike because…” His voice cracked. “Because I’m your dad.”

Silence.

Then:

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

Andrew’s tears finally slipped free again.

“But I’m gonna be around a lot more now.”

Colten stared at him for one long second before suddenly launching himself off the bed and wrapping his arms tightly around Andrew’s neck.

Andrew caught him instantly. Like instinct. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it. I covered my mouth with my hand as tears blurred my vision again.

Because looking at them together— There was no denying it now. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Nothing about this would be easy. But somehow, watching Andrew hold our son for the very first time, I knew we’d figure it out.

For Colten.

A/N: Thank you for all the love and support. Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist. I did complete the story over the weekend, so stay tuned to see how the rest of this story plays out.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8 of an Animal Kingdom x Sons of Anarchy Story

Three Years Later

The ER smelled like antiseptic and exhaustion.

I stripped off my gloves and tossed them in the biohazard bin, my shoulders aching from a twelve-hour shift that had felt more like twenty. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in that particular shade of institutional white that made everyone look half-dead.

"You good?" Tara asked, appearing at my elbow with a clipboard.

I nodded, signing off on my last patient chart. "Yeah. Just ready to get out of here."

"Tell me about it." She stretched, wincing. "We've got three more hours, got any plans?"

"I'm picking up Colton and going home to crash." I managed a tired smile.

"How's he doing?"

"Good. Great, actually." I felt my expression soften the way it always did when I talked about my son.

 "He's obsessed with dinosaurs right now. Won't stop talking about velociraptors." Tara laughed

We walked out together, joined by a few other nurses finishing their shifts. The parking lot was bathed in late afternoon sunlight, warm and golden, and I breathed in the fresh air like I'd been drowning.

"See you tomorrow," Tara called, heading toward her car.

"See you," I replied, waving to the others as they dispersed.

I climbed into my truck, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat, and started the engine. The drive home was familiar, automatic—past the garage, past the club, through the streets I'd come to know like the back of my hand over the past three years.

Three years.

Sometimes it felt like a lifetime. Sometimes it felt like yesterday.

I pulled into my driveway and killed the engine, sitting for a moment in the sudden silence. My body ached. My feet hurt. I smelled like hospital and sweat, and I desperately needed a shower before picking up Colton.

Inside, I stripped off my scrubs and stepped under the hot spray, letting the water wash away the day. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back, and tried not to think about anything at all.

My phone was ringing when I got out.

I wrapped a towel around myself and padded into the bedroom, frowning at the screen.

Missed Call: Deran

And another.

And another.

Five missed calls in the twenty minutes I'd been in the shower.

My stomach dropped.

I hit redial, heart already pounding.

He picked up before the first ring finished.

"Y/N, thank God." Deran's voice was raw, barely controlled. "Craig's been shot. Shoulder wound—it's bad. It's really bad, Y/N."

My stomach dropped. "Where is he?"

"The house. Y/N, he can't go to a hospital—you know Smurf would never allow it—" His breath was shaking. "I need you. Please. I need you right now."

"Okay. Okay, I'm getting my bag. I'm coming. Deran, just keep pressure on it. Do you have gauze? Clean towels? Anything?"

"Yeah, yeah, we've got—" He was struggling to breathe. "Tara. Can you bring Tara? Please, Y/N, I know it's asking a lot, but—"

My hands froze. "Deran—"

"Please. Just bring her. I don't care about anything else right now. Craig's losing a lot of blood, and I don't—I can't—" His voice cracked. "Can you do that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." I was already moving, pulling on clothes—shorts, a raggedy crew neck. My hands were shaking. "I'm leaving now. I'll call Tara. Just—just hold on, okay? Keep talking to him. Keep him awake."

"Okay. Okay, I will."

"I'm coming, Deran. I promise."

I hung up and immediately dialed Tara.

"Hey, what's—"

"I need you," I said, my voice tight. "Craig got shot. Shoulder wound. They can't go to a hospital. Can you come with me? Please?"

There was a pause.

"Yeah," Tara said finally. "Yeah, I'm coming. Where are you?"

"I'll pick you up in ten minutes."

I grabbed my medical bag from the closet—the one I kept stocked for exactly this kind of emergency—and ran out the door.

I picked up Colton first.

He came running out of the daycare center, backpack bouncing, his eyes lighting up behind his little blue glasses when he saw me.

"Mommy!"

"Hi, baby." I scooped him up, kissing his forehead, breathing in the smell of him—soap and sunshine and little boy. God, I needed this. Needed him. "Did you have a good day?"

"We learned 'bout T-rexes!" He was practically vibrating with excitement, his little hands grabbing my face. "Mommy, did you know they got really tiny arms? Like this!" He held up his hands close to his chest, fingers curled.

"I did know that." I buckled him into his car seat, forcing myself to smile even though my hands were shaking. "That's so cool, baby. Hey, how would you like to spend the night with Gramp Chibby?"

Colton's eyes went wide behind his lenses. "Really? Really really?"

"Really really."

"Yes!" He pumped his fist in the air. "Can we watch dinosaur movie?"

"I bet Gramp Chibby will let you watch whatever you want."

"Yay!"

I drove to the club, my mind racing. Craig shot. Deran panicking. And the house—Oceanside—the place I'd sworn I'd never go back to.

The club was busy when I pulled up, bikes lined up outside, the sound of classic rock drifting from the open garage doors. I unbuckled Colton picked him and walked inside..

Chibs was working on a bike, grease-stained and focused, but he looked up when he heard my voice.

"Y/N." His expression shifted immediately, reading something in my face. "What's wrong, lass?"

"I need a favor." I crouched down to put Colton down and said. "Baby, can you go say hi to Uncle Jax for a minute?"

Colton nodded and ran off toward the office, his little legs pumping.

I straightened, meeting Chibs' eyes. "Craig's been shot. I'm going to Oceanside to help. Can you watch Colton tonight? Maybe tomorrow too?"

Chibs didn't hesitate. "Aye. Of course. As long as ye need."

"Thank you." I exhaled, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. "I'll call later to check in."

"Don't worry about it." He squeezed my arm, his grip firm and reassuring. "Go. Do what you need to do. The lad's safe here."

I kissed Colton goodbye—he was already distracted by Jax showing him something on the computer, probably more dinosaur videos—and walked back out to my truck.

Tara was waiting by the curb.

"Ready?" I asked.

"As I'll ever be."

The ride to Oceanside was tense.

Tara made small talk at first, asking about Colton, about work, about anything that wasn't the reason we were driving two hours south. But eventually, the conversation turned.

"Craig's losing a lot of blood," Tara said quietly. "He needs proper antibiotics, sutures, maybe even some fluids depending on how bad it is.” She trailed off. 

I didn't respond. Couldn't. Because the truth was more complicated than that.

After a moment: "How long's Pope in the joint for again?"

My entire body went rigid. I didn't answer at first—couldn't. The words stuck like broken glass in my throat.

 "Deran said at least six, "I finally said, voice careful. Controlled.

"That's rough."

Yeah, I thought bitterly. That's one word for it.

The closer we got to Oceanside, the more the unease grew—a sick, twisting feeling in my gut that I couldn't shake. Like my body knew something my mind hadn't caught up to yet. Like I was driving toward something I wasn't ready for.

I called Deran.

He picked up on the first ring.

"We're a few streets away," I said. "Is the code still the same?"

"Yeah. Yeah, same code." His voice was scattered, struggling. Like he was barely holding it together. "We're in the pool room. Just—just come in. Please hurry."

"Okay. We're coming."

I hung up and pulled up to the gate, punching in the code with shaking hands.

The gate swung open.

I took a huge, deep breath and drove through.

The house looked the same.

White stucco. Palm trees. The kind of house that screamed money and danger in equal measure.

I parked next to Deran's car and killed the engine.

"You okay?" Tara asked.

"No." I grabbed my medical bag. "But let's go anyway."

We walked inside.

The smell hit me first—blood and sweat and fear, thick in the air. I didn't need directions. I just followed the screaming.

The pool room.

Craig was sprawled on the pool table, shirt torn open, shoulder streaming red. Baz stood at his left, looking grim. Deran was behind Craig, hands covered in blood, his face pale and panicked.

And then my eyes caught a movement to the right.

Ocean blue eyes.

Staring directly at me.

I forgot how to breathe.

Three years.

Three fucking years.

Andrew.

He was staring back, his expression unreadable, his body tense like a coiled spring. Like he was seeing a ghost.

"Y/N, thank fuck!" Craig's voice cut through the static in my brain. "These idiots don't know shit—they're going to kill me—thank God, you brought the doc—"

But I was frozen, staring at Andrew.

He was staring back.

No. No, this isn't happening. He's supposed to be in prison. He's supposed to have three more years. Why is he here? Why is he—

Then Craig screamed, and I snapped back to myself.

"Move," I said to everyone. To no one.

I was already pulling on gloves, my mind locking into ER mode. The only way to survive this was not to think. Just work. Just focus on Craig. Just—

I didn't look at Andrew again.

Patching him up took two hours.

Tara and I worked in tandem, our movements precise and practiced. My hands were steady as I cleaned the wound, extracted the bullet fragments, and sutured the torn muscle and tissue. I could feel Andrew's eyes on me the entire time, but I refused to acknowledge it. Refused to let myself think about what it meant that he was here.

Craig passed out about thirty minutes in, which was a mercy.

"We’re good at this," Tara said quietly, handing me another suture.

"We’ve had plenty of practice, so I would sure hope so." My voice was flat, clinical. Detached.

I could see Andrew in my peripheral vision, standing in the shadows. At first, I thought he looked confused—like he was trying to figure out who the fuck Tara was and why Deran was trusting her with Craig's life.

But as I worked—as I gave orders to Deran without hesitation, as I moved with the kind of confidence that only came from years of ER shifts and emergency calls—I saw something shift in his expression.

Recognition, maybe. Or surprise.

I didn't care.

By the time I finished bandaging Craig's shoulder, it was well past midnight.

“Alright, he should be good for now. Tara and I will take turns observing him to make sure he doesn’t spike a fever, and he’s getting all his meds.” I said snapping my gloves off hopping off the table. 

"Thank you," Deran said, his voice thick with emotion. "Y/N, I—"

"It's fine." I cut him off. I couldn't handle gratitude right now. Couldn't handle anything.

I helped Craig off the table—he was groggy, barely conscious—and started guiding him toward his room.

"Alright, big guy, you gotta help me a bit here."

Andrew appeared on the other side of him, taking most of Craig's weight off my shoulders.

"I've got him," he said quietly.

I didn't look at him. Didn't speak. Just let him take Craig's weight and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

We got Craig into bed, and I checked his vitals one more time before stepping back.

"He'll be okay," I said to no one in particular.

Then I walked out.

I collapsed into one of the lounge chairs by the pool, my entire body shaking with exhaustion.

It was 1:30 in the morning. Maybe 2:00. I'd lost track.

I pulled out my phone and dialed home.

Chibs answered on the second ring. " How'd it go, lass?"

"He's stable. He'll be okay." I closed my eyes, leaning back in the chair. "How is he?"

"Still awake, the little terror. He conned me into puttin' on a movie."

I laughed, the sound wet and broken. "Yeah, that sounds like him, my little night owl. Can I talk to him?"

"Aye. Hold on."

There was rustling, and then—

"Mommy!"

"Hi, baby." Tears pricked my eyes immediately. God, I needed to hear his voice. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I not sleepy." His little voice was so earnest, so innocent. "Gramp Chibby put on movie for me."

"Of course he did." I smiled despite everything. "What movie?"

"Dinosaurs! The big one with the—the—" He made a roaring sound. "The T-rex go RAWR and eat the peoples!"

"Oh no! That sounds scary."

"No, Mommy, it not scary. It cool! The T-rex got tiny arms, 'member?"

"I remember, baby. You told me."

"And the—the veloci—velociraptors—" He struggled with the word, and my heart clenched. "They go really fast and they smart and they in packs!"

"Wow. You know so much about dinosaurs."

"Uh-huh! Gramp Chibby say I'm really smart."

"You are really smart. The smartest boy I know."

"Mommy, when you come home?"

My throat tightened. "Tomorrow, baby. Or maybe the day after. But I'll call you again before bed tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay." He paused. "Mommy?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I love you."

I had to press my hand over my mouth to keep from sobbing. "I love you too baby. So, so much. More than all the dinosaurs in the whole world."

He giggled. "That's a lot!"

"It is. Now I need you to try to sleep soon, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Okay, Mommy."

"Good boy. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Bye, Mommy!"

Chibs came back on. "We're good here, lass. Don't worry about a thing."

"Thank you, Chibs. I mean it."

"Anytime. Ye know that."

I hung up and sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in my hands. My son. My beautiful, perfect son. Safe at home with people who loved him.

Deran appeared with two beers, sitting down beside me. He handed me one without a word.

I took a sip, the cold bitterness grounding me.

I could feel Andrew watching from Craig's room. Could feel his eyes on me like a physical weight. I could see the tenseness of his shoulders, the way his jaw was tight. He was wondering who I'd been talking to. 

"He showed up about a week ago," Deran said quietly. "I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't—"

"A WEEK AGO?" My voice rose, and I didn't care who heard, I stood abruptly, turning to face Deran. "And you didn't think to tell ME of all people?"

Before Deran could respond, I heard footsteps behind me.

"You're still here, kid?" Smurf's voice was sharp, cutting. "Thought you made it clear you weren't family."

I turned slowly, and there she was. Standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, that smile on her face that had always made my skin crawl.

"Oh, go fuck yourself, Smurf," I said.

"Excuse me?"

She stepped forward before anyone could react, her hand raised.

The slap echoed across the patio—sharp, brutal, humiliating.

My face snapped to the side with the force of it, and for a moment, I couldn't see anything. Couldn't hear anything. Just felt the sting spreading across my cheek, hot and sharp.

Then both Deran and Tara were racing towards me, but I was already moving—already lunging for her, ready to tear her apart—

"Y/N, no—" Deran's arms wrapped around me, holding me back. "Not worth it. She's not worth it."

They pulled me into Craig's room, shutting the door behind us.

Craig woke up, around 5am.

He blinked groggily, his eyes focusing on me sitting in the chair beside his bed. Tara was asleep on the couch, her breathing soft and even.

"Hey," he said, his voice rough.

"Hey." I smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got shot." He tried to laugh, winced. "Fuck."

"Well, you were shot, idiot. Don't move too much."

"Yes, ma'am." He looked at me for a long moment. "Thank you. For coming. For—" He gestured vaguely at his bandaged shoulder. "For this."

"Of course."

"How's the kid?"

My expression softened immediately. "He's good. He misses you."

"I miss that kid." Craig's smile was genuine and warm. "You got pictures?"

I pulled out my phone and showed him— Colton with his dinosaur toys, Colton grinning at the camera with a big toothy grin and his little glasses.

"He looks just like—" Craig stopped himself.

"I know," I said quietly.

"You're raising a good kid," Craig said. "You're a great mom, Y/N. I mean it."

I leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Get some rest."

I stood and walked out, heading toward the kitchen.

I needed coffee. Or sleep. Or both.

Andrew was waiting in the doorway.

"You have a kid?!"

I stopped short, my entire body going rigid.

"Can we not do this right now?" I could hear the exhaustion in my own voice—bone-deep, soul-deep. "Please, Andrew. Not now."

But he followed me outside by the pool, and I knew that tone. I knew it meant he'd already decided what he believed.

"Was it with that other guy?" His voice cracked with barely controlled rage. "Were you fucking him while you were with me?! Did I mean nothing to you?!"

I turned and slapped him.

The sound of it silenced everything. Even the sound of the pool water seemed to stop.

Andrew's jaw dropped. His hand came to his face, fingers brushing the place where my palm connected.

"There was no other guy," I said, my voice shaking with exhaustion and anger and three years of holding everything inside. "There's never been another guy. Get that through your head, Pope."

I used that name deliberately, like a weapon.

His eyes widened slightly. Nobody called him Pope anymore. Not outside the family.

"You don't— You don’t call me that," he stated.

"You basically called me a slut, so we're even." I was shaking now, but not from fear. From rage. From three years of fighting to stay alive. I tried to walk away, but he grabbed my arm.

"Just—" His voice cracked. "Smurf showed me pictures. You and some guy on a beach. You were comfortable with him, Y/N. You were all over him, hugging, head on his shoulder, sharing food."

I closed my eyes for a moment. Tried to remember how to breathe.

"That was my brother," I said quietly.

His grip loosened slightly

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” he said. 

"Of course, you didn't know. You wouldn't talk to me, Andrew. You wouldn't read my letters. You wouldn't—"

"I never got letters." He grabbed my arms now, and he was shaking. "I never got any fucking letters. I got nothing from you except—" He stopped, swallowed hard. "One visit. Just one. And you never came back."

"That's not true—"

 "I was in solitary and when I came out..." His voice was breaking. "Smurf told me you left. That you went with someone else. That you didn't want me or anything to do with me. You left me."

He stopped. Couldn't finish.

I was crying hard now, my hands coming up to his face. "I didn't leave you, Andrew. I left to protect our baby. I left because I was terrified. I left because you weren't there and I needed to survive."

"Our baby," he repeated, like the words didn't make sense. "We have a baby?"

"We have a son," I said, my voice breaking. "And he's three years old, and he doesn't know much about-"

"Well, isn't this touching?"

The voice cut through the air like a blade.

My entire body went rigid. I turned slowly, and there she was—Smurf, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, a smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes.

How long had she been standing there? How much had she heard?

Everything. She'd heard everything.

"Smurf—" Andrew started, but his mother held up a hand.

"No, baby, let me get this straight." Smurf stepped onto the patio, her heels clicking against the stone. "This little whore shows up after three years, plays nurse for Craig, and now she's claiming you knocked her up?" She laughed, cold and sharp. "That's rich."

"How do we even know it's his?" Smurf stepped closer, and I could smell her perfume—expensive and suffocating. "You could've been fucking any guy off the street while Pope was behind bars."

My hands were trembling. My worst fear—my absolute worst nightmare—was happening right in front of me.

Smurf knew. Smurf knew about Colton.

And Smurf would use him.

"I need to leave," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I was already backing toward the door, my mind racing. I needed to get out. Needed to get home. Needed to get to Colton before—

"Oh, you sure do, cause you were never welcomed in the first place." Smurf laughed again. "This is my house, sweetheart. You need to go back to whatever hole you crawled out of."

"Smurf, stop—" Andrew tried, but I was already moving.

I pushed past Smurf and into the house, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. I grabbed my medical bag from the pool room, my hands shaking so badly I nearly dropped it.

Tara was in the hallway, her eyes wide. "Y/N—"

"We're leaving," I said. "Now."

"Wait—" I grabbed her arm, pulling her with me. 

 "Deran needs to give Craig 10 milligrams of oxycodone every six hours for the pain. No more than that or he'll OD. And 500 milligrams of cephalexin twice a day for infection. Make sure he takes the full course even if he feels better." I wrote it and left it with the meds on the table in Craig's room.

I was already moving again, heading for the front door.

Andrew was there, blocking my path, his face pale and desperate.

"Don't leave," he said, and his voice cracked. "Please. I just found out about him. I just found out. Don't go."

"I have to." My voice was shaking. "I have to go be with him. I have to—"

"Stay." He grabbed my hand, and I could feel him trembling. "Please. We can figure this out. We can—"

"No." I pulled my hand free, tears streaming down my face. "You don't understand. She knows now. She knows, Andrew. And I can't—I won't let her get to him. I won't."

"Y/N—"

But I was already gone, pushing past him and out the door. Tara was right behind me.

We got to the truck, and my hands were shaking so badly I could barely get the key in the ignition. When the engine finally roared to life, I threw it into reverse, tires spitting gravel as I backed out of the driveway.

I could see Andrew in the rearview mirror, standing in the doorway, watching me go.

And then I was gone.

I drove in silence, my hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, my entire body shaking.

Tara didn't say anything. Just sat beside me, her presence steady and grounding.

"I'm sorry," I finally said, my voice breaking. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"Don't apologize." Tara's voice was firm. "You did what you had to do. For Craig. For yourself. For your son."

"She knows about him now." My voice was barely a whisper. "Smurf knows about Colton. And she's going to—"

"She's not going to do anything," Tara said. "Because you're not going to let her. You're going to go home, you're going to hold your son, and we’re going to keep him safe. That's what you do. That's what we’ve always done."

I nodded, tears streaming down my face.

The drive back to Charming felt endless.

I barely remembered the last hour of driving.

All I could hear was Andrew’s voice.

All I could see was him standing in that apartment.

The look on his face.

The hurt.

The betrayal.

Mine.

His.

Everything crashing together until I couldn’t breathe.

By the time I pulled up outside Chibs’ house, my chest hurt so badly it felt like something inside me was tearing apart.

His porch light was already on.

The front door opened before I even got my truck fully shut off.

Chibs stepped outside immediately, his expression shifting the second he saw my face.

“Jesus, lass.”

That was all it took.

My lip trembled.

And then I heard it.

A little sleepy voice from inside.

“Mommy?”

I broke.

I didn’t even shut the truck door.

I ran.

Straight through the front door.

And there he was.

Colten stood in the living room in little dinosaur pajamas, glasses crooked on his face, stuffed dinosaur tucked under one arm.

The second he saw me he smiled.

“Mommy!”

I reached him in two steps and scooped him into my arms so fast it startled him.

I held him tight against my chest.

Too tight.

Like if I loosened my grip for even a second he might disappear.

His little heartbeat fluttered against mine.

Warm.

Safe.

Real.

And the sob that left me hurt.

The kind that shakes your whole body.

My face buried against his hair while tears fell hard and fast.

“I got you,” I whispered through broken breaths. “I got you baby—I got you.”

Colten wrapped his little arms around my neck instantly.

“Mommy?”

“I know.”

I kissed his cheek.

His forehead.

His hair.

Over and over.

“I know.”

He pulled back just enough to touch my face.

His tiny fingers wiping tears under my eyes.

“Why sad?”

That almost destroyed me.

“I just missed you.”

He nodded very seriously.

“I missed you too.”

Then hugged me tighter.

Chibs stood nearby watching the whole thing.

Worried.

Really worried.

He stepped closer once I sat down on the couch still holding Colten in my lap.

“Talk to me.”

I couldn’t even look at him at first.

My hands shook while I stroked Colten’s hair.

Then finally the words came.

By the time I finished, Chibs looked furious.

Not at me.

At the situation.

At Andrew.

At the whole damn mess.

“Bloody hell.”

He rubbed both hands down his face.

Then immediately grabbed his phone.

Called Gemma.

“She’s here,” he said sharply. “And she’s shaken.”

Whatever Gemma said had him nodding.

Then:

“Aye. Get everyone.”

He hung up.

Twenty minutes later the house was full.

Gemma came first.

Then Clay.

Jax.

Tig.

Opie.

Bobby.

The whole damn club.

Like someone hit an alarm.

Gemma made it to me first.

The second she saw my face she wrapped both arms around me while I still held Colten.

“Oh sweetheart.”

That nearly made me cry again.

Then Clay.

He crouched right in front of me.

Looked me dead in the eyes.

Then gently squeezed my shoulder.

“Listen to me.”

I nodded shakily.

“You and that little boy are safe.”

His voice was calm.

Steady.

Firm.

“Do you hear me?”

I swallowed.

“Yes.”

“No one touches either of you.”

He glanced around the room.

The entire club behind him.

Watching.

Listening.

“If anybody even thinks about bringing harm to you or Colten…”

Clay’s expression hardened.

“They answer to us.”

Jax nodded immediately.

“All of us.”

Tig leaned against the wall arms crossed.

“Anybody touches you, they’ll wish they hadn’t.”

Opie added quietly:

“No one gets near you without going through us first.”

Fresh tears slid down my face.

Gemma crouched beside me and brushed hair back from my face.

“Until you feel safe again…”

She squeezed my hand.

“You are not alone.”

I frowned slightly.

“What?”

“You’re staying with someone at all times.”

“Mo—”

“No arguing.”

Her tone softened immediately.

“Me, your brother, Clay, Chibs, Happy, or anyone.”

She glanced around.

“There will always be somebody with you.”

Colten perked up.

“Sleepover?”

That somehow made everyone laugh.

Even me.

Just barely.

Gemma smiled at him.

“Yes, baby. Lots of sleepovers.”

He grinned.

Then curled against my chest again.

Chibs brought over a blanket and draped it over both of us.

Clay kissed the top of my head.

“You’re family.”

Simple.

Certain.

And hearing him say it out loud—

With all of them there.

Surrounding us.

Protecting us.

I pulled Colten tighter against me.

Pressed my cheek against his hair.

Felt his heartbeat.

Steady against mine.

I could finally breathe again.

Andrew

I stood in the driveway staring at the empty space where her truck had been until the gravel finally settled.

My hands were shaking so hard I had to curl them into fists.

My chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

I turned and stormed back into the house.

“Deran!”

My voice echoed through the hallway.

Nobody answered fast enough.

“DERAN!”

I found him in Craig’s room adjusting the bandages Y/N had left behind.

He looked up.

And the guilt on his face made red hit my vision.

“Pope—”

“Don’t.”

I crossed the room in three strides and grabbed the front of his shirt.

Hard.

Slamming him into the wall hard enough to shake the pictures hanging beside him.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Craig pushed himself up in bed immediately.

“Pope—”

I ignored him.

My grip tightened.

“What the hell do you know?”

My voice didn’t even sound like mine.

It sounded wrecked.

Raw.

Shaking.

“Where has she been?”

Deran grabbed my wrist.

“Pope—”

“Where are they?”

I slammed him back into the wall again.

Harder.

“My own brother.”

My chest heaved.

“You knew.”

His face stayed pale but steady.

“Pope—”

“You knew.”

Craig swore under his breath.

“Let him go.”

“WHERE?”

My voice cracked.

“Where is he? Where is my son?”

Deran stared right back at me.

“They’re in Charming.”

The room went dead quiet.

I let him go.

Took a step back.

My hands were still shaking.

My whole body felt like it was vibrating.

Deran straightened his shirt.

Jaw tight.

“You knew.”

“Yeah, I've known since day one.”

“Why?”

My voice dropped lower.

Angrier.

More broken.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Deran rubbed a hand over his face.

“Because she asked me not to.”

I laughed.

Short.

Sharp.

No humor in it.

“She asked you not to?”

“She was terrified.”

“She had my kid.”

“She was pregnant and alone!”

Deran’s voice finally rose.

“While you were locked up and Smurf was feeding you bullshit lies.”

My breathing got heavier.

“So she disappeared?”

“She tried.”

That made me freeze.

Deran stepped closer.

“She called.”

I stared at him.

No.

“She wrote.”

My stomach twisted.

“She tried to visit.”

Every word hit like a punch.

“You believed Smurf.”

I couldn’t breathe.

My mind was scrambling backwards.

Trying to remember.

Phone calls I was told never came.

Mail that never showed.

Visits I was told she cancelled.

My chest caved.

“I didn’t know.”

And for the first time since Y/N left—

I actually sounded as wrecked as I felt.

Deran looked furious.

And exhausted.

“Yeah.”

His eyes stayed locked on mine.

“Well now you do.”

He stepped closer.

Voice lower.

Harder.

“And she’s gone again.”

I swallowed.

My throat burning.

“Because Smurf knows now.”

My stomach dropped.

“And Y/N is terrified of what that means.”

I thought about the look on her face.

How pale she’d gone.

How fast she ran.

Like the house was on fire.

Like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

No.

Not from me.

From Smurf.

From what Smurf would do if she got anywhere near our kid.

My kid.

My son.

Three years old.

I sat down hard on the edge of Craig’s bed because my knees suddenly felt useless.

My hands dropped into my lap.

Still shaking.

I stared at the floor.

Trying to picture him.

Three years old.

Blue eyes maybe.

Running.

Laughing.

Calling someone else dad?

No.

“I need to go.”

Craig looked up immediately.

“Pope—”

“I need to go.”

I stood too fast.

Hands in my hair.

Pacing.

“I need to see him.”

And for the first time in years—

For the first time since prison—

I wanted one thing more than air.

I wanted to see my son.

A/N: Sorry for the delay I edit on my laptop at work but the it’s being glitchy so. Here’s the next part, hope you enjoy it. If you’d like to be added to the Taglist please comment so. Again thank you for the love and support! 💋💖

But im curious how long will it be chapter wise? and also please tell me smurf and baz get slapped by gemma 😏👏🏼😂 jk jk you dont have to answer that part i just really dislike them 💀😩

I have no idea how many chapters it will be altogether. I'm just letting it flow through me and vibing with it.

I should have the next part out sometime tomorrow. I was working on something new that I could not get out of my head.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Part 7 of an Animal Kingdom x Sons of Anarchy Story

Y/N thought heartbreak was the hardest thing she’d ever survive. Then she went into labor two months early. As Charming waits anxiously outside the delivery room and Deran risks everything to stand beside her, one tiny baby changes all of their lives forever.

One month later, everything fell apart.

Deran was standing in the kitchen at Smurf’s house when his phone rang.

For the last four weeks, he’d slipped back into the rhythm of Oceanside like muscle memory—running jobs, keeping his head down, pretending none of Charming had changed him. Pretending he didn’t leave pieces of himself behind every time he drove away from Y/N and the baby.

The phone buzzed in his pocket.

He glanced down.

Gemma.

His stomach dropped instantly.

Gemma never called him directly.

Not unless something was wrong.

“Hello?”

“Deran—” Gemma sounded frantic. Breathless. Shaking. “Deran, it’s Y/N—”

The world stopped.

“What happened?” His voice came out sharp and panicked. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s bleeding,” Gemma cried. “She started bleeding and we rushed her to the hospital—they’re saying she has to deliver now—”

“No.” Deran’s grip tightened painfully around the phone. “No, no, this can't be happening.”

“She’s terrified, sweetheart. She keeps crying for Andrew.” Gemma’s voice cracked.

That sentence nearly destroyed him.

The room tilted around him.

“She keeps asking for him,” Gemma whispered. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

Deran forced himself to breathe.

“I’m coming.”

“Okay—we’re at Charming Memorial.”

“I’ll be there.”

The second he hung up, panic swallowed him whole.

The baby. You. Two months early.

Jesus Christ.

“Deran?”

He turned sharply.

Smurf stood in the doorway watching him carefully, cigarette between her fingers, eyes sharp and suspicious.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

His mind raced instantly.

He couldn’t tell her the truth. Couldn’t let her know about me. About the baby. About any of it.

“It’s Adrian,” he lied smoothly. “He got hurt. Bad.”

Smurf’s expression shifted immediately.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” He grabbed his keys quickly. “They just called me. I gotta go.”

“We’ll come with you.” She turned toward the living room immediately. “Baz! Craig!”

“No.”

The word came out too fast.

Too sharp.

Smurf slowly turned back toward him.

“No?”

Deran forced himself to calm down.

“I just…” He swallowed hard. “I need to handle this alone.”

She stared at him silently.

Reading him.

Looking for cracks.

Finally:

“Craig’s going with you.”

Deran’s jaw clenched immediately.

“Smurf—”

“Non-negotiable.”

God, he wanted to scream.

But he couldn’t.

Not yet.

Deran drove.

Craig followed two cars behind the entire way.

Close enough to watch him. Far enough to pretend it wasn’t surveillance.

Meanwhile Deran’s hands shook so badly on the steering wheel he thought he might crash.

You’re crying for Andrew.

The words wouldn’t leave his head.

Finally, he grabbed his phone and dialed Adrian.

“You need to leave town,” Deran said immediately.

“What?”

“Right now.”

“Deran, what the hell—”

“I’ll explain later. Pack a bag and disappear for a couple days.”

Silence.

Then cautiously:

“…Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then go.”

Adrian didn’t argue after that.

Deran hung up and immediately pressed harder on the gas.

—

By the time he reached Charming Memorial, it was after midnight.

The hospital parking lot sat nearly empty under harsh fluorescent lights.

Deran barely got the Jeep into park before Craig pulled in behind him.

The second Craig stepped out—

Deran slammed him against the side of the car and shoved a gun into his ribs.

Craig froze instantly.

“What the fuck—”

“You've known.”

Deran’s voice was ice cold.

Craig’s face drained completely.

“You knew Y/N was pregnant before she left Oceanside.”

“Deran—”

“If one word gets back to Smurf,” he whispered dangerously, “I will bury you myself.”

Craig looked genuinely terrified now.

“I won’t say anything.”

“You’re damn right you won’t.”

Deran shoved him back roughly.

“You’re in this now. Which means you either protect them too…”

His eyes darkened.

“Or you become the problem.”

Craig nodded immediately.

Then both of them ran inside.

Because you needed him.

And nothing else mattered anymore.

The labor room smelled like blood, antiseptic, and fear.

Machines beeped constantly around me while contractions tore through my body hard enough to make me feel like I was splitting apart.

I was barely aware of anything except pain.

Gemma held one of my hands tightly while Tara moved around the room calmly giving instructions.

Jax hovered near the door looking terrified despite trying to hide it.

Then suddenly—

“Y/N!”

Deran.

My head snapped toward the doorway.

The second I saw him, I broke.

“Deran,” I sobbed.

He crossed the room instantly and grabbed my hand.

“I’m here.”

“I’m scared.”

His face nearly crumbled hearing that.

“You’re okay,” he whispered firmly. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“The baby—” Another contraction hit and I screamed. “He’s too early—what if something’s wrong—”

“Hey.” Deran grabbed my face gently. “Look at me.”

I forced myself to focus on him through tears.

“You are the strongest person I know,” he said fiercely. “You hear me? You can do this.”

“I want Andrew.”

The words shattered coming out of me.

“I know.”

His own voice cracked saying it.

“I know, sweetheart.”

Tara looked up briefly.

“Nine centimeters.”

Everything blurred after that.

Pain. Screaming. People talking around me.

Push.

Push again.

Again.

Again.

Then suddenly—

A cry.

Tiny. Weak. Alive.

I collapsed back against the bed sobbing instantly.

“Is he okay?”

Tara already had him.

“He’s breathing,” she said quickly. “But we need to get him to NICU now.”

No.

“No, wait—”

Nurses flooded the room.

My baby disappeared into blankets and wires before I could even fully see him.

“I wanna hold him,” I cried desperately.

“You will,” Tara promised gently. “But we need to help him first.”

Then he was gone.

And I shattered.

Deran wrapped both arms around me while I sobbed into his chest.

“He’s gonna be okay,” he whispered over and over.

But I could hear the fear in his voice too.

The waiting room felt suffocating.

Half the club had shown up by then—Chibs, Opie, Bobby, Tig, Juice—all spread across uncomfortable chairs drinking terrible coffee and waiting for news.

Craig stood awkwardly near the entrance looking wildly out of place.

Tig noticed immediately.

“Who the hell are you?”

Craig shifted nervously.

“I’m with Deran.”

“That’s comforting,” Tig muttered sarcastically.

Then Deran walked out of the hallway looking completely wrecked.

Everyone stood immediately.

“How is she?” Chibs asked.

Deran rubbed a hand over his face.

“She’s okay.” His voice cracked slightly. “The baby’s in NICU.”

Silence swallowed the room.

Then Tig looked back toward Craig again.

“So why’s Smurf’s boy lurking around Y/N? You especially?”

Deran’s entire expression hardened.

“He’s with me.”

But Tig wasn’t done.

“Oh, I get it,” he muttered. “You got a thing for your brother’s girl? You after his sloppy seconds?"

The room went deadly still.

Deran walked toward him slowly.

“Say that again.”

Tig opened his mouth—

And Deran punched him hard enough to break his nose.

Blood hit the floor instantly.

Nobody moved.

Deran stood over him breathing heavily.

“I’m gay.”

The room froze.

Tig blinked up at him, stunned.

“I don’t want Y/N,” Deran continued coldly. “I never wanted Y/N. She’s my family.”

Nobody spoke.

“I’m here because my brother’s too fucked up to see what he’s losing.”

The silence afterward felt enormous.

Then Chibs stood and pulled Deran into a hug.

“You’re a good man.”

And for the first time all night—

Deran finally looked like he might fall apart too.

Three hours later, I woke up.

Everything hurt.

My body felt heavy and numb at the same time, painkillers dulling the sharpest parts of it but not enough to erase the ache deep in my stomach and hips. My head felt foggy, like I was underwater, and for a second I couldn’t remember where I was.

Then the hospital smell hit me.

Antiseptic. Bleach. That cold, sterile scent that clung to everything.

My eyes opened slowly.

Gemma Teller Morrow was sitting beside my bed holding my hand, exhaustion written all over her face.

The second she saw me awake, her expression softened.

“Hey, baby.”

My throat felt raw when I spoke.

“Where’s my baby?”

The tears came immediately.

Gemma squeezed my hand tighter.

“He’s in the NICU,” she said gently. “But he’s stable. Tara says he’s doing really good.”

I tried sitting up instantly.

Pain ripped through my stomach hard enough to make me gasp.

“I need to see him.”

“Easy,” Gemma whispered, helping steady me. “Okay, okay. Let me get Tara.”

A few minutes later, Tara Knowles walked into the room carrying a chart.

The second she saw me trying to climb out of bed, she smiled softly.

“I expected nothing less.”

“I wanna see my son.”

And God, saying son out loud made everything feel real.

Tara nodded immediately.

“Okay. We’ll go slow.”

The walk to the NICU felt endless.

My legs were weak beneath me, my body still trembling from labor while Gemma kept one arm firmly around my waist helping me walk. Behind us, I could hear Deran and Chibs following quietly through the hallway.

Nobody talked much.

The hospital lights were too bright. The halls too quiet.

Every step made my anxiety worse.

Then Tara pushed open the NICU doors.

The room was dim and warm, soft monitor beeps filling the silence while rows of incubators lined the walls holding tiny fragile babies no bigger than dolls.

My heart started pounding instantly.

Tara guided us toward the far corner.

And then I saw him.

I stopped breathing.

Oh my God.

He was so small.

Smaller than I ever imagined possible.

His skin looked red and delicate beneath all the wires and tubes wrapped around him. His tiny chest rose and fell rapidly while machines monitored every single heartbeat.

A ventilator. An IV. Heart monitors.

My knees almost gave out.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

Tara stepped beside me immediately.

“He’s doing really well, Y/N,” she reassured gently. “Better than we expected.”

I couldn’t stop staring at him.

“He’s so little.”

“He is,” Tara admitted softly. “But he’s strong.”

My vision blurred instantly.

“Just like his mom.”

I reached trembling fingers toward the incubator glass.

“Can I hold him?”

My voice cracked so badly it barely sounded like me.

Tara glanced toward one of the NICU nurses, who smiled warmly.

“We can do skin-to-skin,” she explained softly. “It’s really good for premature babies. Helps regulate breathing, heart rate, temperature…”

“Yes,” I whispered immediately. “Please.”

They helped lower me carefully into a chair beside the incubator while the nurse gently maneuvered all the tubes and wires attached to him.

Then finally—

She placed him against my bare chest.

The second I felt him, I broke.

He was warm. Tiny. Fragile.

But he was mine.

My hands immediately curled protectively around him while tears spilled freely down my face.

“Hi, baby,” I whispered shakily. “Hi.”

His tiny body shifted slightly against me.

“I’m your mama,” I cried softly. “I’m right here.”

One tiny hand flexed against my skin.

And that absolutely destroyed me.

A sob left my chest before I could stop it.

Beside me, Deran wiped quickly at his face while his hand rested gently on my shoulder.

Gemma was openly crying now too.

Even Chibs had turned away pretending to look at something else while he wiped his eyes.

The NICU nurse smiled softly at all of us.

“Does this little cutie have a name yet?”

I looked back down at him.

At his tiny nose. His mouth. The shape of his face already looking so painfully like Andrew’s.

My chest tightened.

“Colten,” I whispered.

The nurse smiled.

“That’s beautiful.”

“Colten Cody Teller.”

Deran’s hand tightened slightly on my shoulder at the middle name.

The nurse wrote it carefully onto the chart.

“That’s a strong name.”

My throat closed painfully.

“Cody is his father’s name,” I whispered.

Even now, saying it hurt.

“Even if…” Tears slid down my face faster. “Even if he doesn’t wanna talk to me anymore. Even if he doesn’t want us…”

My voice cracked completely.

“I still needed him to have part of his dad.”

The room fell quiet after that.

Then softly beside me, Deran said:

“He’s perfect.”

I looked down at my son sleeping against my chest.

Tiny heartbeat fluttering against mine.

And for the first time in months—

I felt something other than grief.

I felt hope.

A/N: Thank you all for letting my imagination become something beautiful, thanking for loving it as well. I love reading your comments. 💕

If you’d like to be tagged please comment so. 🫶🏻

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 6 of an Animal Kingdom x Sons of Anarchy Story

Everyone in Charming already loves the baby. The only person missing is his father. While Andrew Cody spirals deeper into Smurf’s control, Y/N builds a new life inside the world of the Sons of Anarchy—surrounded by bikers, found family, and the brother Andrew left behind. But the truth can only stay buried for so long. Especially when the baby already has Andrew’s eyes.

Four Months Later

The kitchen smelled like heaven.

Cinnamon rolls baking in the oven, fresh coffee brewing on the counter, the sweet tang of fruit salad being assembled in a massive glass bowl. Sunlight poured through the windows, warm and golden, catching on the flour dust still hanging in the air from Gemma's earlier baking frenzy.

I stood at the island, carefully piping blue frosting onto cupcakes, my belly pressing gently against the counter's edge. Six months pregnant, and the bump was impossible to hide now—round and firm, a constant reminder of the little boy growing inside me.

My son.

The thought still made my chest tight with wonder.

"You're getting frosting on your shirt," Donna said, laughing as she reached over with a damp towel.

I looked down. Sure enough, a smear of blue decorated the front of my maternity top. "Story of my life lately," I said, grinning. "I can't see past this thing anymore."

"Wait until month eight," Donna said knowingly, her hands moving efficiently as she arranged sandwich platters. "You'll be bumping into everything. Opie had to start opening doors for me because I kept misjudging the distance."

From across the kitchen, Tara smiled as she sliced vegetables for a veggie tray. "The spatial awareness thing is real. I had a patient who knocked over an entire display at the grocery store."

Gemma snorted from where she stood at the stove, stirring a massive pot of her famous chili. "That's nothing. When I was pregnant with Jax, I got stuck between two parked motorcycles at the clubhouse. JT had to move one just to get me out."

We all laughed, the sound bright and easy, filling the kitchen with warmth.

This was what I'd needed. What I hadn't known I was missing during those dark, lonely months when everything felt like it was falling apart.

Community. Family. Women who understood.

In the other room, I could hear the guys working on the nursery—the buzz of a power drill, Jax's voice calling out measurements, Chibs laughing at something Juice said. They'd been at it since early morning, assembling the crib, mounting shelves, painting an accent wall in soft gray-blue.

Half the club had shown up to help. Not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

Because this baby—my baby—was going to be a club baby.

Protected. Loved. Part of something bigger than just me.

"How's school going?" Tara asked, glancing up from the cutting board. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her expression open and genuinely curious.

"Last semester," I said, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. "I finish in December. Then I take my boards in January, and if all goes well, I'll be a registered nurse by February."

"That's incredible," Tara said warmly. "You're going to be amazing at it."

Gemma made a noncommittal sound, her attention fixed on the chili.

I caught the tension immediately—the way Gemma's shoulders stiffened slightly, the way she didn't look at Tara when she spoke.

Tara noticed too. Her smile faltered just a fraction before she turned back to the vegetables.

It had been like this for weeks now, ever since Tara and Jax had gotten back together. Gemma wasn't thrilled about it—thought Tara had hurt Jax when she left for medical school, thought she'd come back only because it was convenient.

But I didn't see it that way.

I saw the way Tara looked at Jax when she thought no one was watching. Saw the way she'd shown up at my prenatal appointments without being asked, checking in on the baby and me with genuine care. Saw the way she fit into this world even though it wasn't hers, because she loved him enough to try.

That took courage.

And I respected the hell out of her for it.

"Donna, can you grab the—" Gemma started.

"Already got it," Donna said, handing over the container of sour cream before Gemma could finish.

Donna had this way of anticipating what people needed before they asked. Three kids had given her a sixth sense for chaos management. She moved through the kitchen like a conductor, orchestrating the meal prep with calm efficiency while keeping up a steady stream of conversation.

"Ellie asked if she could hold the baby when he's born," Donna said, grinning at me. "I told her she'd have to wait in line behind about twenty bikers."

I laughed. "She can hold him. As long as she's sitting down and supervised."

"She'll be thrilled." Donna's expression softened. "She's been asking about you constantly. Wants to know if you need help picking out baby clothes, if you've chosen a name yet, if—"

A loud crash from the nursery made us all jump.

"We're good!" Jax's voice called out. "Just—uh—don't come in here yet!"

Gemma rolled her eyes. "Jesus Christ. They're going to destroy that room before they finish it."

"They're trying," I said, biting back a smile.

"Trying to give me a heart attack," Gemma muttered.

But I could see the fondness in her eyes. The pride. Her son, her club, all of them working together to build something for my baby.

For her grandson.

The timer on the oven beeped. Gemma pulled out the cinnamon rolls, golden and perfect, the smell intensifying until my mouth watered.

"Those are going to be gone in five minutes once the guys see them," Donna predicted.

"They can wait until the shower," Gemma said firmly. "These are for the guests, not for—"

A knock at the door cut her off.

We all froze.

A knock.

The guys never knocked. They just walked in, loud and unapologetic, tracking dirt and motor oil and the smell of cigarettes through the house.

But someone was knocking.

"I'll get it," I said, wiping my hands on a towel and heading toward the front door.

My belly led the way, the baby shifting slightly as I walked. I'd gotten used to the weight of him, the way he pressed against my ribs when I stood too long, the little kicks and rolls that reminded me he was real.

I reached the door and pulled it open.

And my breath caught.

Deran stood on the porch, grinning like an idiot, holding a bouquet of various wildflowers.

"Surprise," he said.

For a moment, I couldn't move. Couldn't speak.

Just stared at him— my best friend, the person I'd been texting and calling for months but hadn't seen in person since before everything fell apart.

And then the tears came.

Hot and fast, spilling down my cheeks as I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face in his shoulder.

"You're here," I choked out. "You're actually here."

"Of course I'm here," he said, his voice thick with emotion as he hugged me back, careful of my belly. "You think I'd miss this?"

I pulled back just enough to look at him, my hands gripping his arms like I was afraid he'd disappear. "I didn't think—I didn't know if you could—"

"I told you I'd be here for the important stuff," he said, his grin softening into something tender. "And this? This is the most important thing in the world."

He handed me the flowers, and I clutched them to my chest, laughing through the tears.

"You're such an asshole," I said. "You could've told me you were coming."

"And ruin the surprise?" He raised an eyebrow. "Come on. You know me better than that."

Behind me, I heard footsteps. Gemma appeared in the doorway, her expression shifting from confusion to recognition to something warm and welcoming.

"Deran, I take it," she said. 

"Gemma. Nice to meet you," He stepped inside.

Deran shook her hand, charming and easy, but his eyes kept drifting back to me. To my belly.

"Holy shit," he said softly. "You're really pregnant."

I laughed, wiping at my eyes. "No, really? What gave it away?"

"I don't know. Maybe the fact that you look like you swallowed a basketball." He grinned. "Can I—?"

I nodded, and he reached out, placing his hand gently on my belly.

The baby kicked.

Deran's eyes went wide. "Was that—?"

"That's your nephew," I said, my voice breaking again. "Saying hello."

For a moment, Deran just stood there, his hand on my belly, his expression full of wonder.

And then he pulled me into another hug, holding me tight.

"You're going to be an amazing mom." He whispered.

I closed my eyes, breathing him in—the familiar smell of his cologne, the steady warmth of him.

He was here.

After everything—after the fear, the running, the months of hiding and planning and surviving—he was here.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

The club bar had been transformed.

Blue and white streamers hung from the rafters, balloons clustered in every corner, a banner stretched across the back wall reading WELCOME BABY BOY in bold letters. Tables were loaded with food—Gemma's chili, sandwich platters, fruit trays, those perfect cinnamon rolls, and a massive cake shaped like a motorcycle with blue frosting.

It should have been perfect.

And for the first hour, it was.

I sat in the center of it all, surrounded by gifts wrapped in blue paper, my hands resting on my belly as people laughed and talked around me. Donna had organized games—guessing the baby's weight, decorating onesies with fabric markers, a diaper-changing relay race that had Juice and Half-Sack fumbling hilariously with a doll.

Gemma moved through the crowd like a queen, making sure everyone had food, refilling drinks, her pride radiating every time someone congratulated her on becoming a grandmother.

Tara stayed close to Jax, her hand in his, smiling warmly whenever someone asked her medical questions about the pregnancy.

And Deran—Deran was right beside me, grinning at every ridiculous gift (a onesie that said FUTURE BIKER, a tiny leather jacket, a stuffed motorcycle), laughing at the games, his presence grounding me in a way I hadn't realized I needed.

But then I started noticing the looks.

The way Tig's smile didn't quite reach his eyes when Deran handed me a gift to unwrap.

The way Bobby turned away when Deran tried to make conversation, muttering something to Clay instead.

The way Half-Sack avoided eye contact entirely, he suddenly became very interested in his plate of food.

At first, I thought I was imagining it.

But then Chibs leaned over to refill my water, his voice low. "Don't let it get to you, lass. They're just being idiots."

My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

He glanced toward where Tig and Bobby stood near the bar, their expressions hard. "They're not thrilled about Deran being here. Think he's choosing sides."

"Sides?" I repeated, my voice sharper than I intended. "What sides?"

Chibs sighed. "Popes not talking to you, thinkin' ya’ ran off with sum other guy. Some of the guys think Deran showing up here means he's going against his brother."

I stared at him, anger flaring hot and fast in my chest. "That's bullshit."

"I know." Chibs squeezed my shoulder gently. "But you know how they are. Loyalty's everything to them. They don't see the nuance."

I looked across the room at Deran, who was laughing at something Juice said, completely unaware of the tension simmering beneath the surface.

And then I saw it.

Tig walked past Deran to grab another beer, deliberately bumping his shoulder hard enough to make Deran stumble.

"Watch it," Tig muttered, not even looking at him.

Deran's smile faltered. "Sorry, man. Didn't see you."

Tig didn't respond. Just walked away, his jaw tight.

Deran glanced at me, confusion flickering across his face.

I stood up, my hands clenched into fists.

"Y/N—" Gemma started, but I was already moving.

I crossed the room to where Tig stood with Bobby and Clay, my heart pounding.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded.

Tig turned, his expression unreadable. "What was what?"

"Don't play dumb with me." I stepped closer, my voice low and furious. "You've been giving Deran shit since he got here. All of you have."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably. "We're not giving him shit."

"Bullshit." I looked between them, my anger barely contained. "You're pissed because Andrew won't talk to me. And you're taking it out on Deran."

"He's his brother," Tig said flatly. "He should be talking sense into him, not showing up here like everything's fine."

"Like everything's fine?" I repeated, my voice rising. "Deran drove hours to be here for me. He risked everything to show up for his nephew. And you're treating him like he's the enemy?"

"He's not the enemy," Clay said carefully. "But Pope—"

"Isn't here," I snapped. "He made his choice. He decided to believe lies instead of trusting me. He decided to shut me out. That's on him. Not on Deran."

The room had gone quiet.

I could feel everyone watching, but I didn't care.

"Deran is here because he loves me," I continued, my voice shaking. "Because he wants to be part of this baby's life. And if you have a problem with that, then you have a problem with me."

Tig's jaw tightened. "We don't have a problem with you."

"Then stop treating my brother like shit."

For a long moment, no one spoke.

And then Jax stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "She's right."

All eyes turned to him.

"Pope made his choice," Jax said, looking directly at Tig. "And it was the wrong one. But that doesn't mean we punish Deran for showing up. He's family to her. And she's family, so we treat him with respect."

Tig opened his mouth to argue, but Jax cut him off.

"That's not a suggestion."

The weight of his words settled over the room like a blanket.

Tig looked at me, then at Jax, then finally nodded. "Fine."

Bobby muttered something under his breath but didn't argue.

Clay just sighed, shaking his head. "Alright. Let's get back to the party."

The tension broke slowly, people returning to their conversations, the noise level rising again.

But I didn't move.

I stood there, my hands still trembling, my heart racing.

Jax touched my arm gently. "You okay?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

He squeezed my shoulder once, then walked away.

I turned and found Deran standing a few feet behind me, his expression unreadable.

"Come on," I said quietly. "Let's get some air."

We stepped outside into the cool evening, the noise of the party muffled behind the closed door.

I leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly, trying to calm the adrenaline still coursing through me.

Deran stood beside me, hands in his pockets, staring out at the parking lot.

"You didn't have to do that," he said finally.

"Yes, I did."

"They're just protective of you."

"They were being assholes." I looked at him. "And you didn't deserve it."

He smiled faintly. "I've dealt with worse."

"That doesn't make it okay."

For a moment, we just stood there in silence.

Then I asked the question that had been gnawing at me since he showed up.

"How did you even get away? Smurf doesn't let you out of her sight."

Deran's smile faded. He pulled a phone out of his pocket—a cheap burner, the kind you could buy at a gas station.

"Left my real phone at home," he said. "Told her I was doing surveillance on a job. Said I'd be gone a day, maybe two."

My stomach dropped. "Deran—"

"I know." He looked at me, his expression serious. "If she finds out I lied, if she tracks where I really went—"

"She'll lose her shit."

"Yeah." He pocketed the phone again. "But it was worth it."

"Was it?" I asked, my voice breaking. "You could've just called. You didn't have to risk—"

"Yes, I did." He turned to face me fully. "You're my sister. This is my nephew. I wasn't going to miss this because Smurf's a controlling psycho."

Tears stung my eyes. "What if she finds out?"

"She won't." His voice was confident, but I could see the fear beneath it. "I covered my tracks. Used cash for gas, didn't use any cards, told Baz I was scouting a place in San Diego. She has no reason to doubt me."

"Yet."

"Yet," he agreed.

I reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing hard. "Thank you. For being here. For risking this."

He squeezed back. "Always."

We stood there for a long moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us.

Then he grinned, the tension breaking. "Now come on. I want another piece of that cake before Juice eats the whole thing."

I laughed, wiping at my eyes. "Deal."

The fire crackled softly, sending sparks up into the dark sky.

We sat in a loose circle around the fire pit in Jax's backyard—just me, Deran, Jax, Opie, and Chibs. The rest of the club had gone home after helping unload all of the gifts I was given. The party wound down hours ago, leaving behind the quiet intimacy of people who didn't need to fill the silence with noise.

I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, the baby shifting lazily inside me as I stared into the flames.

"You look good," Deran said, his voice soft.

I glanced at him. "How so?"

"Happy. Settled. Like you're exactly where you're supposed to be." He smiled.

I wanted to believe that.

Wanted to feel it as deeply as he seemed to see it.

But the truth was more complicated.

"I miss him," I said quietly.

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

Deran didn't respond right away. Just watched me, his expression unreadable in the firelight.

"I know," he said finally.

I stood up and went to grab an envelope that had been sitting on the kitchen table for two weeks.

Inside were photos—3D ultrasound images printed on glossy paper —showing the baby's face in startling detail.

I came back outside and sat down next to Deran handed it to him.

He took it carefully, holding it up to catch the firelight.

And then he went very still.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

"I know."

"He looks—" Deran's voice cracked. "He looks just like him."

I nodded, tears pricking my eyes.

The baby's features were clear now—the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the strong line of his jaw. And in every detail, I saw Andrew.

"It's like looking at a baby version of Pope," Deran said, his voice thick with emotion. "Same face. Same everything."

"I know," I whispered.

Jax leaned over to look, his expression softening. "Damn. That's wild."

Opie nodded. "Kid's got his dad's face, no question."

Chibs just smiled, quiet and knowing. They'd all seen pictures of Andrew while helping me get settled back in.

Deran stared at the photo for a long time, his thumb brushing over the image.

"Does he know?" he asked finally. "Have you tried to tell him?"

"No." My voice broke. "He won't read my letters. Won't take my calls."

"Smurf got to him," Deran said bitterly. "Poisoned him against you."

"I figured as much."

"He's an idiot."

Deran looked at me, his eyes shining. "He's missing this. All of it. And when he finally pulls his head out of his ass, he's going to regret it for the rest of his life."

I didn't know what to say to that.

Because part of me hoped Deran was right—that Andrew would wake up, realize what he'd lost, and come back.

But another part of me knew it might be too late by then.

"Can I keep this?" Deran asked, holding up the photo.

I nodded. "Yeah, I have copies."

He folded it carefully and tucked it into his wallet, his hands shaking slightly.

"I'm going to show him," he said. "Next time I see him. I'm going to make him look at this and realize what he's throwing away."

"Deran—"

"I mean it." His voice was fierce. "He needs to see this. Needs to see what you're doing. How strong you are. How much this kid already looks like him."

I wanted to believe it would make a difference.

Wanted to believe that seeing proof of his son would break through whatever wall Smurf had built around Andrew's heart.

But I didn't know if it would.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "For being here. For caring."

"He's my nephew," Deran said simply. "And you're my sister, my best friend. Of course I care about you."

The fire popped, sending another shower of sparks into the night.

Jax stood and stretched. "I'm grabbing another beer. Anyone want one?"

"I'm good," Opie said.

"Me too," Chibs added.

Deran shook his head, still staring at the fire.

I pulled the blanket tighter, the baby kicking gently against my ribs, rubbing my hand against where his kicks landed.

And for a moment, surrounded by people who loved me, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—everything would be okay.

Even if Andrew never came back.

Even if I had to do this alone.

I had Deran. I had Gemma. I had the club.

And I had this baby.

That had to be enough.

The next morning, Deran woke to the smell of bacon and coffee—and shouting.

His eyes snapped open, disoriented for a moment by the unfamiliar ceiling, the soft sheets, the pale morning light filtering through curtains he didn't recognize.

Then it came back to him.

Jax's house. Y/N's guest room. The fire last night. The ultrasound photo.

But the shouting—

He was on his feet before he fully processed it, adrenaline spiking, his heart pounding as he stumbled out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

No shirt. No shoes. Just boxers and panic.

"Y/N?" he called, his voice rough with sleep and fear.

The shouting was coming from the nursery.

He burst through the doorway, ready for—he didn't know what. A threat. An intruder. Something is wrong with the baby.

Instead, he found Gemma.

Standing in the middle of the half-finished nursery, hands on her hips, glaring down at Jax and Clay like they were children who'd just tracked mud through the house.

"Are you kidding me?" Gemma's voice was sharp enough to cut glass. "Paint. On the carpet. How the hell did you manage that?"

Jax stood near the window, paintbrush in hand, looking sheepish. "It was an accident."

"An accident?" Gemma pointed at the pale blue splotch on the cream-colored carpet. "That's not an accident. That's carelessness."

Clay, crouched near the baseboard with a rag, muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" Gemma snapped.

"I said we'll clean it up."

"You better."

And then Deran saw her.

Y/N, standing in the corner near the crib, one hand resting on her belly, watching the scene unfold with an expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

She was fine.

Completely fine.

Deran exhaled slowly, his heart rate finally starting to settle.

Y/N caught his eye and smiled, shaking her head slightly as if to say, Welcome to the chaos.

He backed out of the room quietly, running a hand through his hair, feeling ridiculous for panicking.

By the time he made it to the kitchen, his pulse had returned to normal.

The island counter was covered with food—scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, fresh fruit, a pot of coffee still brewing. Gemma must have been up for hours.

Deran slid onto one of the stools, resting his elbows on the counter.

A few minutes later, Y/N appeared, moving slowly, one hand pressed to the small of her back.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." She smiled. "Just sore. The baby's sitting weird today."

She poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat down beside him, exhaling heavily.

"Is your mom always like that?" Deran asked, nodding toward the hallway where Gemma's voice could still be heard lecturing Jax about proper drop cloths.

Y/N laughed softly. "Pretty much. She runs a tight ship."

"I can see that."

"She means well. She just—" Y/N hesitated. "She wants everything to be perfect for the baby."

"It will be," Deran said quietly.

Y/N looked at him, her expression softening. "You think so?"

"I know so."

Before she could respond, Gemma swept into the kitchen, still muttering under her breath about paint and carelessness and men who didn't know how to use a tarp.

She stopped when she saw Deran sitting shirtless at the counter.

Her eyebrows rose. "Morning."

"Morning," Deran said, suddenly very aware that he was half-naked in front of Y/N's mother.

Gemma didn't seem bothered. She just poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, studying him with the kind of sharp, assessing look that made Deran feel like he was being x-rayed.

"So," Gemma said. "You and Smurf, she treats all her kids the same way. Like they're employees."

It wasn't a question.

Deran nodded. "Basically."

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Whatever she tells us."

Gemma's mouth twitched. "That's a hell of an answer."

"It's the truth."

She took a sip of her coffee, still watching him. "And you keep coming around, my baby. Why?"

Deran glanced at Y/N, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes.

"Because she's my best friend," Deran said simply. "And that's my nephew she's carrying."

"Even though your brother won't acknowledge them?"

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

Deran's jaw tightened. "Pope's an idiot. That doesn't mean I am."

Gemma studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable.

Then she nodded slowly. "Good answer."

She set her coffee down and leaned forward, her voice dropping to something low and dangerous.

"Let me make something very clear," Gemma said. "If Smurf—or anyone else—tries to hurt my daughter or my grandson, I will kill them myself. Slowly. Painfully. And I won't lose a single night's sleep over it."

Deran believed her.

"You’ll have to get line," he said.

"I thought I liked you." Gemma straightened, her expression softening slightly. "Now eat. You look like you haven't had a decent meal in weeks."

Breakfast was surprisingly normal.

Jax and Clay eventually emerged from the nursery, paint-stained and chastened, and joined them at the table. Gemma served up plates piled high with food, and for a little while, it felt almost like a family gathering.

Deran sat beside Y/N, watching the easy way she interacted with Jax and Gemma, the way Clay teased her gently about her nursing exams, the way Gemma fussed over her like she was made of glass.

It was so different from the world he came from.

No tension. No manipulation. No Smurf hovering over every conversation, twisting words into weapons.

Just people who cared about each other.

And for a moment, Deran let himself imagine what it would be like to stay.

To be part of this.

To watch his nephew grow up in a house filled with laughter instead of fear.

But he knew better.

He had to go back.

After breakfast, we all piled into trucks and onto bikes before heading back to the clubhouse to clean up the decorations from the baby shower.

The second I walked inside, the place still smelled faintly like cake frosting, beer, and cigarette smoke. Blue streamers drooped sadly from the rafters now, half falling off the tape holding them up. Crumpled napkins and empty cups littered the tables while wrapping paper still covered part of the floor near the bar.

The aftermath of a party.

Gemma clapped her hands loudly.

“Alright, let’s get this place cleaned up before the guys get here for church.”

Everyone immediately started moving.

Well—everyone except me.

The second I bent down to grab a trash bag, Jax pointed toward a chair.

“Nope. Sit.”

I rolled my eyes instantly. “I’m pregnant, not broken.”

“Sit,” Gemma echoed without even looking at me.

I scoffed dramatically and ignored both of them.

Around me, everyone settled into the cleanup naturally.

Clay and Jax stacked chairs near the wall while Tig hauled trash bags toward the dumpster outside. Chibs was pulling streamers down while muttering about how there was somehow glitter everywhere.

And Deran—

God.

Just watching him there almost hurt.

He moved around the clubhouse like he belonged there already, helping Jax drag tables back into place, joking quietly with Opie while they untangled decorations.

It looked normal.

Too normal.

Like he’d always been part of this life.

And for a little while, everything actually felt okay.

Until suddenly—

Pain ripped through my side so sharply it stole the breath right out of me.

I sucked in a harsh breath and grabbed the edge of the table immediately.

The room tilted slightly.

“Y/N?”

Gemma was beside me instantly.

I pressed one hand against my stomach while trying to breathe through it.

“I—I don’t know,” I whispered tightly. “It just hurts.”

Every head in the room snapped toward me.

Jax already had his phone out.

“I’m calling Tara.”

“I’m fine,” I argued immediately, even though my voice shook.

“You’re not fine,” Gemma snapped.

Deran crossed the room so fast it startled me.

One second he was across the clubhouse.

The next he was crouched beside me, eyes frantic while his hands carefully touched my knee.

“Where?” he asked quickly. “Where does it hurt?”

“My side,” I whispered. “And my back.”

His entire face tightened.

“It’s probably nothing,” I tried again weakly. “Just cramps or something—”

“It’s not nothing,” Gemma interrupted firmly.

I hated how scared everyone suddenly looked.

Especially Deran.

Twenty minutes later, Tara walked through the clubhouse doors carrying her medical bag.

The entire room practically exhaled in relief.

She immediately knelt beside me, calm and steady while everyone else hovered anxiously nearby.

“Okay,” Tara said gently. “Talk to me.”

She checked my pulse while asking questions in that soft doctor voice that somehow always made me feel calmer.

“Any bleeding?”

“No.”

“Dizziness?”

“A little.”

“Headache?”

I nodded slightly.

“Okay.” Tara wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Let me check this.”

The silence while she pumped the cuff up was unbearable.

Nobody moved.

Nobody talked.

I could literally feel Deran staring at me beside the chair.

Finally Tara released the pressure slowly before frowning slightly.

“It’s elevated.”

My stomach dropped.

“How elevated?”

“Not dangerously high,” Tara reassured immediately. “But higher than I’d like.”

I swallowed hard.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Tara said gently, “you need to rest.”

Gemma crossed her arms instantly like she’d won an argument.

“No lifting. No stress. No trying to clean up after everybody.”

Jax rubbed a hand over his face while Gemma shot him a smug look.

Tara squeezed my hand softly.

“I want you taking it easy the next few days, okay?”

I nodded quietly.

“If the pain gets worse, or you start bleeding, or you feel dizzy again—you call me immediately.”

The tears burning behind my eyes embarrassed me instantly.

Probably hormones.

Or fear.

Or both.

Tara’s expression softened.

“You’re gonna be okay,” she promised quietly. “And so is the baby.”

That almost made me cry right there.

“But you have to take care of yourself too.”

Deran drove me home.

The ride was quiet.

Heavy.

I sat curled against the passenger door staring out the window while my hand rested over my stomach protectively.

The farther we got from the clubhouse, the more the silence between us started feeling suffocating.

Finally, Deran spoke.

“I don’t wanna leave.”

I turned toward him slowly.

His hands tightened around the steering wheel.

“I mean it,” he said quietly. “I don’t wanna go back there. I don’t wanna leave you here alone.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“I’m not alone.”

“You know what I mean.”

Yeah.

I did.

I looked back out the window.

“You have to go back.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do,” I snapped softly, finally looking at him again. “Because if you disappear, Smurf’s gonna know something’s wrong.”

Deran’s jaw tightened immediately.

“She’ll start asking questions.”

“She won’t find out.”

“You don’t know that.”

The truck finally rolled into my driveway before he killed the engine.

Then he turned fully toward me.

“I’ll come back.”

Emotion flickered across his face so openly it hurt to look at him.

“I’ll figure something out.”

My eyes filled instantly.

“Deran—”

“I mean it.”

I reached over and grabbed his hand tightly.

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

The word came too fast.

Like he already knew he’d say yes no matter what it was.

I swallowed hard.

“Don’t tell Andrew.”

Deran went completely still.

The silence inside the truck suddenly felt deafening.

“About the baby,” I whispered shakily. “Don’t tell him. Not yet.”

His face twisted immediately.

“Y/N—”

“I need time,” I interrupted softly. “I need to figure out if I even want him involved after everything.”

My voice cracked.

“After everything he’s done. Everything he believed.”

Deran stared at me for a long moment without speaking.

And I knew exactly what he was thinking.

Andrew was still his brother.

No matter how complicated things were.

“No lies,” I whispered. “Just… don’t tell him.”

The muscles in Deran’s jaw flexed.

“You’re asking me to keep this from Pope.”

“I’m asking you to respect my choice.”

Tears slid down my cheeks before I could stop them.

“Please.”

For a second, I honestly thought he might refuse.

Then finally—

“Okay.”

I closed my eyes briefly in relief.

“I won’t tell him.”

“Promise me.”

His fingers tightened around mine.

“I promise.”

The breath I let out shook.

“Thank you.”

Deran pulled me into his arms immediately, holding me tightly against his chest while one hand spread protectively across my stomach.

“I love you,” he whispered into my hair. “And I’m gonna keep both of you safe.”

Fresh tears burned my eyes.

“I know.”

And I did know.

That was the dangerous part.

Because sitting there wrapped in his arms while the truck engine ticked softly outside, I could feel how badly everything was starting to blur together.

Andrew.

Deran.

The baby.

The club.

All of it tangled into one giant mess; none of us were going to walk away clean.

A/N: I'm so thankful for all of you. Thank you for all the love and support. I love reading the comments left for me. Please ask in the comments to be added to the tag list. Lots of love!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 of an Animal Kingdom x Sons of Anarchy Story

Andrew is slipping further into the darkness prison left behind, convinced the woman he loved abandoned him without looking back.

Meanwhile, Y/N is trying to hold herself together while carrying the one thing tying her back to him in ways neither of them are ready for.

Back in Ocean Side. 

The visitation room smelled like industrial cleaner and desperation. Deran sat at one of the bolted-down metal tables, his hands folded in front of him, the letter from Y/N burning a hole in his jacket pocket. Around him, other visitors leaned across tables toward inmates—wives, mothers, children—all of them trying to bridge the impossible distance that prison created.

The door buzzed. Deran looked up.

Pope walked in wearing orange, his hands cuffed in front of him. A guard followed close behind, watching with dead eyes as Pope crossed to the table and sat down.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Deran studied his brother's face—the sharp angles, the cold set of his jaw, the way his eyes had gone flat and empty. This wasn't the man who'd he watched hold Y/N in the kitchen and promised her forever. This wasn't even the man who'd taken the fall for the robbery to protect his brothers.

This was someone else entirely.

Someone Smurf had gotten to.

"You look like shit," Deran said finally, trying for lightness.

Pope didn't smile. "What do you want?"

Straight to it, then. No warmth. No brotherhood.

Deran leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to stay calm. "Can't I just visit my brother?"

"You could," Pope said flatly. "But you don't. So what do you want?"

The words landed like a punch. Deran swallowed hard, fighting the urge to snap back. This wasn't Pope talking—this was Smurf's poison working through him, turning him bitter and cold.

"I came to give you something," Deran said quietly.

Pope's eyes narrowed. "From Smurf?"

"No." Deran reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the letter, setting it on the table between them. "From Y/N."

The change was immediate.

Pope's jaw tightened. His hands, resting on the table, curled into fists. "Don't."

"Pope—"

"I said don't." His voice was low, dangerous. "I don't want to hear her name."

Deran stared at him, disbelief and anger warring in his chest. "Are you serious right now?"

"Dead serious." Pope leaned back, his expression carved from stone. "She's gone. She moved on. I'm done."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"Do I?" Pope's laugh was harsh, bitter. "Because last I heard, she packed up and left without a word. Didn't try to visit again. Didn't call. Didn't write. Just—gone."

"That's not what happened—"

"Then what did happen, Deran?" Pope leaned forward, his voice dropping to something cold and cutting. "Because Smurf told me she saw her with some guy, while I've been rotting in here."

Deran's hands clenched under the table. "And you believed her?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Pope's eyes were hard, unforgiving. "Y/N left. That's a fact. She didn't come back. That's a fact. So yeah, I believed her."

"Jesus Christ." Deran ran a hand through his hair, frustration boiling over. "You really think Y/N would do that to you? After everything?"

"I don't know what she'd do anymore." Pope's voice was flat, emotionless. "I thought I knew. Thought we had something real. But people change. People leave."

"She didn't leave because she wanted to," Deran said, his voice rising. "She left because she was scared. Because Smurf and Baz were—"

"Don't." Pope cut him off, his tone sharp. "Don't make excuses for her."

"I'm not making excuses. I'm telling you the truth."

"The truth?" Pope laughed again, the sound hollow. "The truth is, I took the fall. I'm sitting in here doing time so you and Craig and Baz could walk free. And where is she? Not here. Not waiting for me. So forgive me if I don't buy whatever story you're selling."

Deran stared at him, something breaking in his chest. This was worse than he'd thought. Smurf hadn't just planted lies—she'd twisted the knife, made Pope believe he'd been abandoned when he was at his lowest.

"She wrote you a letter," Deran said quietly, nodding toward the envelope still sitting on the table. "Read it."

Pope didn't move. Didn't even look at it.

"I don't want it."

"Pope—"

"I said I don't want it." His voice was cold, final. "Whatever she has to say, I don't care. She made her choice. I'm making mine."

The guard shifted near the wall, a subtle reminder that time was running out.

Deran leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. "You're making a mistake. You're letting Smurf get in your head, and you're going to lose the best thing that ever happened to you."

"I already lost her." Pope's eyes met his, and for just a second, Deran saw it—the crack in the armor, the pain underneath. "She left me here. Alone. So yeah, I'm done."

"She didn't—"

"Time's up," the guard called.

Pope stood immediately, the cuffs rattling as he moved. He didn't look at the letter. Didn't look at Deran.

"Pope, wait—"

But he was already walking away, his back rigid, his shoulders set.

Deran sat there, staring at the letter still lying on the table, and felt the weight of failure settle over him like a shroud.

He'd tried.

And it hadn't been enough.

The guard approached. "You taking that with you?"

Deran looked down at the envelope—Y/N's handwriting, careful and neat, spelling out Pope's name.

He picked it up slowly, folding it back into his jacket pocket.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm taking it."

Because if Pope wouldn't read it now, maybe—maybe—there'd come a day when he would.

When Smurf's lies finally crumbled.

When the truth broke through.

But as Deran walked out of the visitation room and into the harsh sunlight, he couldn't shake the image of Pope's cold, empty eyes.

The man Y/N loved was still in there somewhere.

Deran just didn't know if he'd ever come back.

I sat in my car for a long time, engine off, windows down to feel a nice breeze, hands trembling as I stared down at the folder in my lap. The ultrasound images were right there on top—that tiny flicker on the screen, that heartbeat.

My baby.

Andrew's baby.

The weight of it pressed against my chest until I could barely breathe. I pulled out my phone with shaking fingers and scrolled through my contacts until I found his name.

Deran.

It rang twice before he picked up.

"Hey," his voice came through warm and familiar, and something inside me cracked wide open.

"Der," I whispered, throat tight. "God, I miss you."

"I miss you too." There was a pause, concern bleeding into his tone. "You okay?"

I let out a shaky breath, wiping at my eyes. "Yeah. I just—I had my first appointment. Everything looks good."

"Good." Relief flooded his voice. "That's good. How are you feeling?"

"Terrified," I admitted. "But... it's real now. I saw the heartbeat."

"Jesus." He exhaled slowly, and I could picture him running a hand through his hair the way he always did when he was processing something heavy.

Silence stretched between us, heavy with everything unsaid.

Then I straightened slightly, gripping the phone tighter. "Der, we should fake your death. So you can come live here."

His tone shifted immediately. "Ummm, you’re losing your mind?"

"Oh, no doubt about it.." I laughed. 

Deran was quiet for a beat. "And what about you? What's your plan?"

I stared down at the ultrasound images, that tiny shape barely visible on the grainy paper.

 "Oh, I'm getting a whole new identity. New name, new social security number, the works. Maybe I'll be a yoga instructor named Sunshine. Or a librarian called Meredith."

"Jesus Christ." But there was the faintest hint of a laugh in his voice. "You're not serious."

"Dead serious. I think I'd be hot as a ginger. Really commit to the bit." I pressed my hand against my mouth, trying to hold back the hysterical edge creeping into my voice.

"Maybe move to Montana. Do people even live in Montana?"

"Stop." His voice was gentle now, understanding.

"You're spiraling."

"I know." The laugh that escaped me was broken, wet.

"I just—I can't think about this too hard or I'll lose it completely."

"I think I'm well past that point." He was quiet for a moment.

"But we're going to figure this out. Both of us. We're getting out."

I closed my eyes, clutching the phone like a lifeline. "Have you... have you seen Andrew yet?"

The pause that followed made my stomach drop.

"Yeah," Deran said finally. "I saw him yesterday."

"And?"

"Somethings off." His voice was careful, like he was choosing his words deliberately. "He knew you left and thought you were with someone else."

My throat tightened. "WHAT?!

"Yeah." Deran exhaled slowly. "I think Smurf did something to him, put those thoughts in his head. He was cold and had nothing to do with me or the letter."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I pressed my hand against my mouth, trying to hold back the sob threatening to break free.

"I’m so sorry, Y/N," Deran continued quietly. "I don’t mean to add more shit to the pile, but you’d tell me if I was you."

Tears blurred my vision. "Der—"

I couldn't speak. Could only sit there with the phone pressed to my ear, the ultrasound images in my lap, and the knowledge that Andrew was slipping back into the darkness I'd pulled him out of.

That I'd left him there, and with someone new. I could never feel the same for anyone like the way I felt for Andrew. 

"You’re doing the right thing," Deran said softly. "You know that, right? Getting away from all this. Protecting the baby."

"I know, it doesn’t feel like it, though," I whispered.

It feels like dying.

When we hung up, I sat there staring at the ultrasound images, heart pounding, mind racing.

Andrew was gone. Not physically—but the man I'd loved, the man who'd held me in the morning light and promised me forever, that man had disappeared back into the hollow shell he'd been before.

And I was carrying his child.

Our child.

The only piece of him I had left.

I don't know how long I sat in the car before I finally forced myself to drive to the garage.

The parking lot was full when I pulled in—rows of motorcycles gleaming in the afternoon sun, the familiar rumble of engines and rough laughter spilling out from the open bays. I grabbed my purse, the ultrasound images tucked safely inside, and made my way toward the entrance.

Inside, the smell hit me immediately—motor oil and gasoline mixing with the warm, sweet scent of fresh bread and cinnamon rolls from mom's baking in the small kitchen in the club. It was such a specific combination.

The garage was busy. Guys working on bikes, tools clanging, music playing from somewhere in the back. A few of them looked up when I walked in, nodding or calling out greetings. I forced a smile, kept moving.

Mom was in her office on the computer, working. She looked up when I walked in, and something in my face must have given me away because she immediately stood up and hugged me.

"Baby," she said softly. "Come on."

We walked next door into the club bar. It was quieter there—dim lighting, worn leather booths, the faint smell of whiskey and cigarette smoke clinging to everything.

She sat me down at one of the tables and disappeared into the small kitchen behind the bar. I heard the clink of dishes, the hum of the microwave, and a few minutes later she returned with a plate of food—grilled cheese and tomato soup, comfort food from childhood.

"Eat," she said, sliding into the booth beside me.

I picked up half of the sandwich, but my hands were shaking. "Mom—"

"I know," she said gently. "Just eat first. Then we'll talk."

I managed a few bites, the warmth of the soup settling my stomach slightly. Mom sat beside me, her hand resting on my back, steady and grounding.

The door opened, and Chibs walked in. He paused when he saw us, his expression softening immediately.

"There she is," he said, his Scottish accent thick and warm. "Wondered when you'd come by."

I tried to smile, but it came out shaky. "Hey, Chibs."

He crossed to the table and slid into the booth across from us, his eyes scanning my face with the kind of careful attention that made me feel seen. "You alright, lass?"

I looked at Mom, then back at Chibs. Then I reached into my purse and pulled out the ultrasound images, setting them on the table between us.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Mom picked them up carefully, passing one to Chibs.

His eyes widened slightly as he studied the grainy black-and-white image. "Is this—?"

"Yeah," I whispered.

A slow smile spread across his face, something tender and aching. "A wee one."

Mom was smiling too, tears shining in her eyes. "Oh, sweetheart," she said softly. 

Chibs reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "This is good news, love. Real good news."

"Is it?" My voice cracked. "Because it doesn't feel good. It feels—"

"Scary," Mom finished gently. "I know. But you're not alone. You've got us."

Chibs nodded, his grip on my hand tightening. "Whatever you need, lass. We're here."

I looked between them—these two people who'd been constants in my life, who'd shown up when my world fell apart, who were showing up now—and felt something loosen in my chest.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Mom pulled me close, pressing a kiss to my temple. "We're going to take care of you. Both of you."

The main door swung open, and Juice walked in, his face lighting up when he saw me.

"Holy shit!" he said, crossing the room in three long strides. "You're back! I didn't know you were coming home—when did you get in? How's school? Are you done for the semester or—?"

"Juice," Mom said, her tone gentle but firm. "Give her some space."

But he was already sliding into the booth beside Chibs, his energy filling the small space. "Nursing school, right? That's so cool. Are you doing clinicals yet? What's your specialty going to be? Pediatrics? ER?"

"I—" I started, but he kept going.

"Man, it's good to see you. The club's been so quiet without you around. Gemma's been worried, you know? We all have. Why didn't you tell us you were coming back? Are you staying long or—?"

His eyes landed on the ultrasound images still sitting on the table.

He froze.

"Is that—?" He picked one up, studying it with wide eyes. "Holy shit. You're pregnant?"

I couldn't speak. Could only nod.

"That's amazing!" He looked up at me, grinning. "Congratulations! Seriously, that's—wow. Do you need anything? Because I'm here, okay? Whatever you need. Rides to appointments, help moving stuff, anything. I'm serious. You just say the word, and I'm there."

"Juice," Chibs said quietly.

But Juice was still talking, his words tumbling over each other. "And the club—man, everyone's going to be so excited. A baby! That's huge. We'll throw you a shower, get the nursery set up, whatever you need. Your family, you know? We take care of family."

The walls were closing in. His voice was too loud, too bright, too much. The smell of the grilled cheese was suddenly overwhelming, mixing with the motor oil and cigarette smoke and the faint sweetness of Mom's perfume.

My stomach turned.

"I—" I stood abruptly, the booth scraping against the floor. "I need air."

"You okay?" Mom asked, concern flashing across her face.

But I was already moving, pushing through the door and into the courtyard behind the garage.

The fresh air hit me, but it wasn't enough. My stomach lurched violently, and I barely made it to the trash can by the back wall before I was throwing up, my body heaving as everything I'd just eaten came back up.

I heard footsteps behind me, voices—low and concerned.

"Shit," someone said. Jax.

I straightened, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and turned to find Jax and Opie standing a few feet away, cigarettes in hand, watching me with identical expressions of concern.

"You good?" Jax asked, his voice careful.

I nodded, even though I wasn't. "Yeah. Just—"

"Morning sickness?" Opie said quietly.

I froze.

He took a drag of his cigarette, his eyes steady on mine. "Donna had it bad with all three kids. Couldn't keep anything down for months."

Jax glanced at Opie, then back at me. "How far along?"

"Eight weeks," I whispered.

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.

Opie stepped closer and rubbed my back."Take it easy, kid.”

I smiled up at him. 

"Deran called me," Jax said. "About Andrew. And the lies Smurf told him."

Tears burned my eyes. "I left him there, and now—"

"You did what you had to do," Opie said firmly. "To protect yourself. To protect the baby."

"But what if—"

"No what-ifs," Jax said. "You made the call. Now you live with it."

I nodded, even though the weight of it felt impossible.

Opie crushed his cigarette under his boot.  "You need anything, you let us know. We've got your back."

"Thank you," I whispered. 

And for just a moment, standing there, realizing all of these people didn’t question or even think before saying that if I needed anything, they’d be there for the baby and me. Maybe I would be okay, and I let myself believe it.

A/N: Thank you so much for all of your support with this series! I really do appreciate it. I am in love with writing this for you guys. Please comment if you'd like to be added to the tag list. Part 6 should be over very shortly; until then 🥰

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 4 of an Animal Kingdom x Sons of Anarchy Story

Now she’s back in Charming, sleeping in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by memories she can’t outrun and a secret growing bigger every day. Every sleepless night drags her back to Andrew—to the quiet mornings in his arms, the promises whispered against her skin, and the future they were supposed to have.But some promises break long before love does.When a doctor’s appointment confirms the truth she’s been terrified to face, everything changes. Because this isn’t just heartbreak anymore.

The house was quiet by the time I finished unpacking.

Midnight had come and gone hours ago, but sleep felt like a foreign concept—something other people did, people whose minds didn't replay the same memories on an endless loop.

My room at Gemma and Clay's house finally looked halfway lived in. Boxes emptied and broken down, clothes folded into drawers that smelled faintly of cedar and someone else's life. I'd stacked the framed photos carefully on the dresser, but I still couldn't bring myself to hang them. Couldn't commit to the permanence of nail holes in the wall.

None of it felt real.

Like maybe if I didn't unpack completely, didn't settle in too much, I could still wake up back in Oceanside. Back in that sun-drenched bedroom with Andrew's arm heavy around my waist and his breath warm against my neck.

The thought alone made my chest ache—a physical pain that had nothing to do with my heart and everything to do with the gaping hole where it used to be.

I rubbed at my eyes, exhaustion making them burn, and padded down the hallway toward the kitchen. The old hardwood floors creaked beneath my socks, each groan of the wood familiar in a way that should have been comforting. I'd grown up in this house, knew every squeaky board and stubborn door.

Instead, the familiarity just reminded me how long I'd been gone. How much had changed. How much I'd changed.

The kitchen light glowed softly over the counters, a warm yellow that felt too cheerful for three in the morning. I filled the kettle in silence, watching the water stream from the tap.

A few minutes later, I wrapped both hands around a warm mug of chamomile tea—Gemma's attempt at helping me sleep, bless her—and grabbed a sleeve of crackers before heading outside to the back porch.

The night air hit cool against my skin, raising goosebumps on my arms. I should have grabbed a sweatshirt, but I couldn't bring myself to go back inside. Out here, at least, the silence felt intentional instead of suffocating.

Crickets chirped somewhere in the yard, their song punctuated by the distant rumble of motorcycles from the road beyond the trees. Club business, probably. Some things never changed.

The porch swing creaked as I sat down, the sound loud in the quiet. I curled one leg beneath myself and reached for the blanket Gemma had left draped over the railing earlier—soft fleece that smelled like lavender detergent.

I stared out into the darkness, sipping my tea and trying to focus on the present. The weight of the mug in my hands. The gentle sway of the swing. The cool night air on my face.

But my mind had other ideas.

It always did lately.

And like a tide I couldn't fight, my thoughts drifted back to him.

Morning sunlight spilled through the bedroom windows in golden streams, painting everything warm—the white sheets tangled around our legs, the bare skin of Andrew's shoulder, the messy dark curls falling across his forehead.

His arm was heavy around my waist, his chest pressed against my back, and I was floating in that perfect space between sleep and waking where everything felt soft and possible.

I smiled when his fingers began tracing lazy patterns against my stomach—circles and figure-eights and shapes that might have been letters.

"You awake?" I murmured, voice still rough with sleep.

"Maybe." His voice was even rougher, all gravel and warmth.

I laughed softly. "Liar."

He buried his face against the back of my neck with a low groan, and I felt his lips curve into a smile against my skin. "Don't wanna get up."

"You say that every morning."

"Yeah, well." His lips brushed my shoulder, feather-light. "Every morning I mean it."

I rolled over to face him, and God—he was beautiful like this. Sleep-soft and unguarded, blue eyes still hazy, that rare gentle expression he only ever let me see. The one that made my chest feel too full and too empty all at once.

Andrew studied me quietly for a moment, then reached up to brush his knuckles against my cheek. The touch was so tender it made my throat tight.

"What?" I whispered.

"You're staring."

"You're pretty."

His mouth twitched, fighting a smile. "You're weird."

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest in mock offense. "Wow. So romantic."

That earned me a quiet laugh—the real one, not the sardonic huff he gave most people. He pulled me closer until our foreheads touched, until I could count the flecks of gray in his blue eyes, until there was no space left between us.

"I love you," he murmured, and the words were so soft I almost missed them.

Almost.

But I didn't. I never did.

Even after months together, even after hearing them whispered against my skin and gasped into my mouth and murmured into my hair, those three words still hit me like the first time. Still made my heart stutter and my breath catch and my eyes sting with the weight of feeling too much.

I smiled against his mouth when he kissed me—slow and sweet and perfect.

"I love you too," I whispered back.

“But we should go shower so you’re not late for your meeting with Smurf,” I say reluctantly. 

Steam billowed around us, thick and suffocating, cloaking the bathroom in a haze of heat and anticipation. The water rained down relentlessly, hot and relentless, slicking our skin and heightening every sensation.

Andrew pressed his body against mine, our skin slick with water and soap. His chest was broad and firm, and I could feel the heat radiating from him as he leaned into me. His hands were everywhere—one palm flat on my stomach, holding me close, while the other slid down my side, fingers tracing the curve of my waist before curling around my hip.

"You're staring again," I whispered, voice trembling with desire. My eyes sought his in the mist, hungry and longing.

His gaze held mine, dark and molten, filled with raw need. "Can you blame me?" he rasped, voice thick with want.

My cheeks flushed as my body responded instinctively. I shifted slightly, water streaming over my shoulders, making my skin ache with anticipation. His hands moved to grip my hips, fingers squeezing just enough to make me gasp. Then he pulled me against him, our bodies flush, heat radiating between us.

"You know," he murmured, lips brushing my skin, "you make it impossible to want to leave."

I let out a soft, breathless laugh, leaning into him. "We're supposed to be showering," I teased, voice husky.

Without breaking contact, he turned me around slowly, his lips never leaving my skin, until I was facing him. His eyes burned into mine as he reached out to brush a damp strand of hair from my face, then trailed his fingers down my chest, over my ribs, and finally settled on the swell of my hips.

"God, I want you," he whispered, voice thick with longing.

"Then have me." Our lips collided, this time more urgent, more possessive, as if he needed to claim me completely.

Our mouths moved together in a heated, desperate kiss, tongues dueling, breaths mingling. His hands cupped my ass, pulling me against him as he pressed his pelvis into mine, letting me feel just how much he wanted me.

He lifted me effortlessly, wrapping my legs around his waist, pressing me against the cool tiles. His lips found my breasts, teasing and licking, while his hands held me steady. I arched into him, gasping as he sucked softly on my nipple, teeth grazing just enough to make me ache with need.

My fingers dug into his shoulders, nails leaving crescent marks on his wet skin as his mouth worked magic on my sensitive flesh. Each pull of his lips, each graze of his teeth, sent jolts of electricity straight to my core, making me throb with desperate need.

"Andrew," I gasped, my voice breaking on his name. "Please..."

He lifted his head, eyes dark with lust as they locked onto mine. "Please what?" he murmured, his breath hot against my damp skin. "Tell me what you need."

"You," I breathed. "I need you inside me. Now."

A low growl rumbled from his chest as he adjusted his grip on me, one hand sliding between us. His fingers found my entrance, already slick with more than just water, and he groaned at the discovery.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he rasped, circling my clit with his thumb while two fingers slid inside me with ease. I cried out, head falling back against the tiles as he worked me open, curling his fingers to stroke that perfect spot that made my vision blur.

"That's it," he encouraged, pumping his fingers slowly, torturously. "Let me hear you."

I was beyond words, beyond thought, lost in the sensation of his fingers filling me, his thumb working my clit in maddening circles. The water cascaded over us, adding to the overwhelming sensory overload. My hips rocked against his hand, chasing more friction, more pressure, more of everything.

But it wasn't enough. I needed all of him.

"Andrew, please," I whimpered, tugging at his hair. "I need your cock. I need you to fuck me."

He withdrew his fingers, and I whimpered at the loss. But then I felt the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance, and my breath caught in anticipation.

"Look at me," he commanded, voice rough with restraint.

My eyes snapped to his, and in that moment of connection, he thrust up into me in one smooth, powerful stroke. I cried out, my body stretching to accommodate his size, the fullness almost overwhelming. He held still for a moment, letting me adjust, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding back.

"God, you feel incredible," he groaned. "So tight, so perfect."

Then he began to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a rhythm that was both punishing and perfect. Each thrust drove me harder against the tiles, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat building between us. The sound of our bodies coming together echoed off the bathroom walls, mixing with our gasps and moans and the relentless pounding of the shower.

I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, changing the angle so he hit that spot deep inside that made stars explode behind my eyelids. "Yes! Right there, don't stop!"

He didn't. His hips pistoned faster, harder, driving into me with single-minded focus. One hand gripped my ass, holding me steady, while the other slid between us to find my clit again, rubbing tight circles that had me spiraling toward the edge.

"That's it, baby," he panted against my neck. "Come for me. I want to feel you come on my cock."

The combination of his words, his fingers on my clit, and the relentless pounding of his cock was too much. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in my core until it finally snapped. I came with a scream, my body convulsing around him, waves of pleasure crashing over me so intensely I could barely breathe.

"Fuck, yes," Andrew groaned, his rhythm faltering as my inner walls clenched around him. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come."

He thrust into me a few more times, chasing his own release, and then I felt him stiffen, his cock pulsing inside me as he came with a guttural moan. He buried his face in my neck, his breath hot and ragged against my skin as he emptied himself inside me.

We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us trembling and gasping for air, the water still streaming over us. Slowly, carefully, he lowered me back to my feet, keeping his arms around me as my legs wobbled.

"You okay?" he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead.

I nodded, still too breathless to speak, and leaned into him. His arms tightened around me, holding me close as the water washed over us, washing away the evidence of our passion but not the lingering heat between us.

"We should probably actually shower now," I finally managed, voice hoarse.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Probably. But I make no promises about keeping my hands to myself."

I smiled against his skin. "I wouldn't want you to."

The kitchen smelled like coffee and butter, morning sunlight streaming through the windows in golden bands that painted everything warm. I'd thrown on one of Andrew's t-shirts—an old, soft thing that hung to mid-thigh—and nothing else, my damp hair twisted up in a messy knot as I moved around the kitchen.

I could feel his eyes on me.

Andrew sat at the small breakfast table, coffee mug cradled in both hands, watching me with an intensity that made my skin flush. He'd pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants but nothing else, his hair still damp and curling at the ends, and the way he looked at me—like I was something precious and devastating all at once—made my breath catch.

"You're staring," I said without turning around, cracking eggs into a bowl.

"Can't help it." His voice was rough, still sleep-worn. "You're beautiful."

I smiled, whisking the eggs with more force than necessary. "You say that a lot."

"Because it's true a lot."

The chair scraped against the floor, and then I felt him behind me—the heat of his body, the solid presence of him. His hands found my waist, sliding beneath the hem of his shirt to rest against bare skin.

"Andrew," I warned, though there was no heat in it. "I'm trying to cook."

"I know." His lips brushed the curve of my shoulder, and I shivered. "Keep cooking."

His hands stayed on my waist as I poured the eggs into the pan, thumbs tracing lazy circles against my hipbones. I tried to focus on the sizzle of butter, the way the eggs began to set at the edges, but it was impossible with Andrew pressed against my back, his mouth trailing soft kisses up the side of my neck.

"You're impossible," I murmured, tilting my head to give him better access.

"You love it."

I did. God help me, I did.

His hands slid higher, palms warm against my ribs, and I had to grip the spatula tighter to keep from turning around and forgetting about breakfast entirely.

"If you keep that up," I said, voice unsteady, "these eggs are going to burn."

"Then I'll order something." But his hands stilled, settling back on my waist as he rested his chin on my shoulder. "What are you making?"

"Scrambled eggs. Toast. Nothing fancy."

"It's perfect."

I plated the eggs, added the toast that had just popped up, and turned in his arms to face him. His eyes were soft, that blue-gray that reminded me of the ocean on calm days, and the smile on his face was the real one—the one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"Here," I said, holding up a forkful of eggs. "Taste."

He leaned forward and took the bite, never breaking eye contact, and the intimacy of it—of feeding him, of standing in our kitchen in nothing but his shirt while morning light painted us both gold—made my chest tight.

"Good?" I asked.

"Perfect," he repeated, but he wasn't looking at the eggs anymore.

I set the plate on the counter behind me, and his hands immediately tightened on my waist, pulling me flush against him. "I could get used to this," he murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"To what? My shit cooking?" I laughed

"Your cooking is far from shitty." His hand swept up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. " But no, I could get used to waking up with you. Watching you move around our kitchen in my shirt. Having breakfast together." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "I want this every morning for the rest of my life."

My breath caught. "Andrew—"

"I mean it." His forehead pressed against mine, and I could feel the tremor in his hands, the weight of what he was saying. "I want you. Every morning, every night, every moment in between. I want to wake up next to you when we're old and gray. I want to watch you make eggs when we're too tired to go out. I want—" He broke off, swallowing hard. "I want forever with you."

Tears stung my eyes, hot and sudden. "You have me," I whispered. "You've always had me."

His kiss was soft and devastating, tasting like coffee and promise. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright, almost fierce with the intensity of his emotion.

"I love you," he said, and it sounded like a vow. "I love you so fucking much it scares me sometimes."

I reached up to frame his face with both hands, memorizing the feel of his stubble against my palms, the way his eyes searched mine like I held all the answers to questions he'd never asked.

"I love you too," I said. "More than I knew I could love anyone."

He lifted me onto the counter, stepping between my legs, and wrapped his arms around me like he could keep the world at bay through sheer force of will. I buried my face in his neck, breathing him in—soap and skin and something uniquely Andrew—and let myself believe it.

Let myself believe in forever.

In morning light and scrambled eggs, the weight of his arms around me.

In a future where every day started like this, wrapped up in each other, safe and whole and home.

"Stay with me," he murmured against my hair, and I didn't know if he meant in this moment or in all the moments to come.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promised.

And I meant it.

God, I meant it with everything I had.

"You with me, kid?"

The voice came from directly behind me—low, rough, cutting through the silence like a blade.

“JESUS CHRIST!” I screamed, dropping my mug.

"Whoa, whoa. It's just me."

Clay stepped into the dim light spilling from the kitchen window, hands raised, face creased with concern and guilt. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

While catching my breath, my hands trembled slightly as I pressed them against my chest, trying to slow my racing heart, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Fuck," I gasped, voice breaking. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I can see that. Sorry, kid." He moved slowly, carefully, like I was something fragile that might shatter further. "Just got home, saw the screen door open. Thought I'd check on you."

I nodded, still trembling, still trying to pull myself back together. The tears I'd been crying dried on my cheeks.

Clay crouched down, picking up the larger pieces of the broken mug before settling onto the swing beside me. The wood creaked under his weight. He didn't say anything for a long moment. Just sat there, solid and steady, while I tried to remember how to be a person again.

"You okay?" he asked finally.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"You're not," he said quietly. "And that's okay."

I wiped roughly at my face, hating that he'd seen me like this. Hating that I couldn't hold it together.

Clay was quiet for another beat. Then: "Gemma used to do this. After JT died."

I looked at him, surprised.

"She'd sit out here in the middle of the night," he continued, voice soft with memory. "Couldn't sleep. Couldn't be inside. Just... sat here wrapped in one of his old flannels, staring at nothing." He glanced at me. "Took her a long time to come back from that kind of grief."

My throat tightened.

"I'm not saying it's the same," Clay said. "But I'm saying... you're with us, kid. You're not alone in this. Whatever you're carrying, whatever you left behind—you don't have to carry it by yourself."

The tears came harder then, and this time I didn't try to stop them.

Clay didn't move. Didn't try to fix it. Just sat beside me in the darkness, steady and patient, while I fell apart.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains when I finally woke, warm and golden against my eyelids.

I don’t remember falling asleep; I must have drifted off on Clay's shoulder. He must have carried me back to my room and covered me with a blanket. 

My eyes felt swollen and raw as I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. The water was hot but not scalding, nothing like the steam-filled mornings with Andrew that still haunted me. I washed quickly, mechanically, trying not to think about how different everything felt now.

Getting dressed took longer than it should have. I stood in front of the closet for too long, staring at clothes that didn't quite fit right anymore—too tight across my chest, too snug around my waist. Small changes. Barely noticeable.

But I noticed.

By the time I made it downstairs, Gemma was already in the kitchen, sunlight spilling across the counters while she filled the kettle.

She looked up when I walked in, her expression softening immediately. "Morning, sweetheart."

"Morning."

My voice came out rougher than I intended.

Gemma didn't comment. Just pulled down two mugs and set about making tea while I slid onto one of the barstools, resting my elbows on the counter.

The smell of the tea—chamomile and honey—settled my stomach slightly. I hadn't realized how nauseous I'd been feeling until the scent hit me.

"You sleep okay?" Gemma asked gently, setting a mug in front of me.

"A little."

She studied me for a moment, then glanced pointedly at the mug. "No coffee this morning?"

I wrapped both hands around the warm ceramic, staring down into the pale liquid. "Not yet."

"Not yet?"

I hesitated. Then: "I have a doctor's appointment today. To confirm... everything."

Gemma's expression shifted—understanding, concern, love all tangled together. She reached across the counter and covered my hand with hers. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," I admitted. "Nauseous. Emotional." I laughed weakly. "So, you know. Normal."

"And scared?"

My throat tightened. "Terrified."

Gemma was quiet for a moment, then stood and moved around the counter to pull me into a hug. I buried my face against her shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume—lavender and vanilla, the same as always.

"You're not alone in this," she murmured, echoing Clay's words from hours earlier. "Whatever happens, you have us. You have me."

I nodded against her shoulder, letting myself be held.

"And for what it's worth," Gemma added, pulling back just enough to look at me, "I think you're going to be an amazing mom."

The tears came then, but this time they felt different.

Less like grief.

More like hope.

The drive to the doctor's office felt longer than it should have.

My hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly, knuckles white, stomach twisted into knots that had nothing to do with morning sickness. Every red light felt like an eternity. Every turn brought me closer to confirmation—to making this real in a way that couldn't be undone.

By the time I pulled into the parking lot, my heart was hammering against my ribs.

I sat in the car for a full minute after turning off the engine, staring at the building's glass doors, trying to steady my breathing.

You can do this.

Inside, the waiting room smelled like antiseptic and lavender air freshener. I checked in at the front desk, gave my name, filled out paperwork with trembling hands. The receptionist smiled warmly and told me someone would call me back shortly.

I'd barely settled into one of the chairs when the door opened and a nurse called my name.

The exam room was small and sterile—white walls, medical posters about prenatal vitamins, a padded table covered in crinkly paper. I changed into the gown they gave me and sat waiting, heart still racing, hands folded in my lap.

Then the door opened.

And my stomach dropped.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Knowles—" She paused mid-sentence, clipboard in hand, eyes widening slightly in recognition.

Tara.

Jax's ex-girlfriend.

Of course it was.

For a second, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt thick with unspoken history—hers with Jax, mine with Andrew, all the tangled connections that made Charming feel impossibly small sometimes.

Then Tara recovered, her expression smoothing into something professional and warm. "It's good to see you," she said carefully. "I didn't realize you were back in town."

"Just recently," I managed, voice tight.

She nodded, glancing down at the chart. "Well, let's take a look and see what we're working with, okay?"

I nodded mutely.

Tara moved through the exam with practiced efficiency—questions about my last period, symptoms, medical history. Her hands were steady as she prepared the ultrasound machine, squeezing gel onto the wand.

"You're just gonna feel some pressure and cold gel," she warned.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, the screen flickered to life.

At first, I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing—grainy black and white shapes, shadows and light. Then Tara adjusted the angle, and suddenly there it was.

A tiny flicker.

"There's the heartbeat," Tara said softly.

My breath caught.

It was real.

Not just nausea and missed periods and positive tests. Not just fear and uncertainty and sleepless nights.

A heartbeat.

A life.

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the screen, unable to look away.

Tara let me have the moment, quiet and patient, before she spoke again. "Everything looks good. You're measuring about eight weeks along, which puts your due date around—" She did some quick math. "Early March."

I nodded, still unable to speak.

Tara printed out a few images from the ultrasound and handed them to me before sitting back slightly, her expression gentle but professional. "Have you told the father yet?"

My throat tightened. "No. Not yet."

"Is he... in the picture?"

I hesitated. "It's complicated."

Tara's expression softened with understanding—like maybe she knew exactly what complicated looked like. "Well, whenever you're ready. But you should know you don't have to do this alone. There are resources, support groups—"

"I have my family," I said quickly. "And the club. I'm staying with Gemma right now."

"Good." She smiled. "That's good."

We went over the basics after that—prenatal vitamins, what to avoid, and warning signs to watch for. When I asked about caffeine, Tara's smile turned slightly sympathetic.

"You can have a small cup of coffee if you need it. Just try to keep it under two hundred milligrams a day. So one regular cup, maybe a little less if it's strong."

I nodded, relief flooding through me. "Thank you."

Tara handed me a folder full of paperwork—appointment schedules, educational pamphlets, the ultrasound images tucked carefully inside.

"Take care of yourself," she said as I stood to leave. "And if you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

I left the office clutching the folder against my chest, the ultrasound images burning a hole through the paper.

It was real now.

I’m literally so thankful to anyone who reads or likes or reblogs any of this series.

Literally makes my day seeing people interact with my posts. 💕🫶🏻

I’m also very grossly obsessed with this man. It’s an addiction at this point. lol

Part 3 of an Animal Kingdom x Sons of Anarchy Story

After weeks of silence from Andrew 'Pope' Cody and a positive pregnancy test changing everything, Y/N Teller makes the heartbreaking decision to leave Oceanside behind and return home to Charming. But while her family rallies around her, someone else is watching from the shadows — and making sure Pope never learns the truth about why she left.

Part 1 Part 2

I sat on the bathroom floor with my knees pulled to my chest, staring at the test in my shaking hand while tears blurred my vision.

Positive.

I laughed once, broken and breathless, before covering my mouth with my hand.

“Oh my God…”

Andrew didn’t know.

Andrew couldn’t know.

Because Andrew hadn’t reached out to me in over two months.

The thought alone made my chest cave in on itself.

My hands trembled as I grabbed my phone off the counter and scrolled to my mom’s contact.

The second she answered, I broke.

“Mom…”

Instant panic filled her voice. “Y/N? Baby, what’s wrong?”

I tried to answer, but all that came out was a sob.

“Hey, hey, breathe for me,” Gemma said quickly, her tone softening instantly. “Talk to me. Are you hurt?”

“No,” I cried. “I-I just—Mom, I don’t know what to do.”

There was rustling on the other end of the line.

Car keys.

A purse zipper.

Movement.

“I’m getting in the car right now.”

“Mom—”

“Nope. I’m coming to you.” Her voice stayed calm and steady in that way only Gemma Teller could manage during complete chaos. 

“You don’t gotta explain anything over the phone, sweetheart. I’ll be there soon.”

That only made me cry harder.

—

Three hours later, the second my front door opened, I was in her arms.

“Oh, baby,” Gemma whispered, holding me tight against her chest. “What happened?”

I couldn’t even look at her when I handed her the pregnancy test.

For the first time in my life, Gemma Teller looked completely speechless.

Her eyes lifted slowly to mine.

“Oh…” 

She pulled me back into her arms before I could completely fall apart again.

“Okay,” she whispered, rubbing my back gently. “Okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“I can’t do this alone.”

“You’re not alone.”

The certainty in her voice cracked something inside me.

I cried into her shoulder while she held me on the couch, as she used to when I was little and scraped my knees.

Finally, after a while, she pulled back just enough to look at me.

“What do you wanna do next?” she asked carefully.

No pressure.

No judgment.

Just love.

And somehow that made this harder.

“I wanna come home,” I whispered. “I can’t stay here anymore.”

Gemma nodded immediately as she’d already decided before I even said it.

“Okay.”

“I kept waiting for him to write back,” I admitted shakily. “Or call. Or something. But it’s just… silence.”

Her expression softened painfully.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“I don’t think I can survive this place without him.”

“You won’t have to.”

—

The next morning, Mom called Jax.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in one of Andrew’s hoodies, when I heard her voice from the other room.

“No, I’m not tellin’ you over the phone,” she snapped. “Just get down here.”

A pause.

“Because your sister needs you, Jackson.”

Another pause.

Then softer—

“She just wants to come home.”

—

Jax showed up the next day with Chibs, Tig, and Happy, helping load the moving truck.

The second I saw my brother climb out of the truck, I burst into tears again.

“Jesus Christ,” Jax muttered, immediately pulling me into his arms. “Come here.”

“I’m sorry,” I cried against his kutte.

“Hey. None of that.” He kissed the top of my head. “You got nothin’ to apologize for.”

I pulled back just enough to glare weakly at him. “You brought the whole club?”

“Told ‘em to leave the cuts at home as you asked,” he said. “They’re just helpin’ your stubborn ass move.”

Happy gave me a small nod from beside the truck.

Tig smiled softly. “Good to see you, sweetheart. Need me make someone disappear?” I let out wet laugh. Seeing all of them show up for me almost made me cry again.

—

A few hours later, after most of the truck was packed, Jax dragged me out to get food.

“You haven’t eaten all day,” he said firmly.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Tough shit.” he said as we climbed into my car. 

We ended up at some tiny fry shack by the water.

Jax carried the drinks while I held the paper tray of fries, and we walked down toward the beach.

The sun was starting to set, turning the ocean gold.

For a while, neither of us said anything.

Just waves crashing.

Seagulls screaming overhead.

The smell of saltwater and grease in the air.

Then suddenly everything came pouring out of me.

“Smurf hates me,” I whispered.

Jax looked over immediately.

“She told me I wasn’t family,” I continued, voice cracking. “Baz kept making comments, and Craig barely looked at me and Andrew just—”

I stopped myself before I completely lost it.

Jax stayed quiet.

So I kept going.

“I wrote,called, and tried to visit him every day, Jax.” Tears slid down my cheeks again. “Every single day. And he never answered me. Just pure radio silence.”

His jaw tightened.

“The only person who’s been decent to me is Deran.”

Jax looked furious now, but not at me.

“He took the fall for all of them,” I cried. “And now I’m pregnant, and he doesn’t even know.”

That broke him.

I saw it happen in real time.

My big brother pulled me into his arms so fast I almost dropped the fries.

“Hey,” he whispered roughly, holding the back of my head against his chest. “You’re gonna be okay.”

I shook my head.

“Yes, you are,” he said firmly. “You hear me? You got me. You got Mom. You got the club. You are not alone in this.”

I cried harder.

Jax kissed the top of my head.

“We’re gonna take care of you back home, baby girl.”

But thats not everything

As Jax held me against him on the beach, neither of us noticed the white Jag parked farther up the road.

Or the woman sitting inside it.

Watching.

Smurf lowered the camera slowly after taking another picture of me wrapped in my brother’s arms.

Click.

Another when Jax kissed the top of my head.

Click.

Another when I laughed weakly through my tears at something he whispered to me.

From the angle she took them, it looked intimate.

Like I’d already replaced Andrew.

Exactly what she wanted.

—

The prison smelled like bleach and concrete.

Andrew barely looked up when the guard opened the his cell door.

“You got one,” the guy muttered.

Andrew sat down on the down at the table small visitation room, bruises still dark beneath his eye. The cut above his eyebrow looked fresh. His lip was split where the guards had roughed him up after solitary.

Smurf walked in carrying an envelope.

Andrew frowned immediately. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Smurf sat down calmly across from him. “Checking on you baby.”

“I’m not in the mood, Smurf.”

“No,” she said softly. “You’re probably not.”

Something in her tone made Andrew finally look at her fully.

“What happened?”

Smurf slid the envelope across the metal table.

“She left.”

Andrew stared at her. “What?”

“She packed up your house and her apartment and left.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Guess she didn’t wanna wait for you, baby.”

Pope shook his head immediately. “No.”

Smurf sighed dramatically as this conversation exhausted her.

“I tried to talk her out of it.”

“Stop lying.”

“She said she couldn’t do this anymore.” Smurf tilted her head slightly. “Said she couldn’t love someone sitting in prison.”

Andrew’s breathing changed instantly.

“No,” he repeated, quieter this time.

Smurf opened the envelope and slid the photographs across the table.

Pope looked down.

Y/N laughing on the beach.

Y/N hugging another man.

Y/N walking beside him with fries in her hands.

Y/N leaning into him during sunset.

Andrew’s stomach dropped.

“Who the fuck is that?” he asked hoarsely.

Smurf shrugged lightly. “Don’t know. But she seemed pretty comfortable with him.”

Pope’s fingers tightened around the pictures hard enough to crumple the edges.

“That’s not—” His voice broke slightly. “She wouldn’t—”

“She already did.”

The room went silent.

Andrew kept staring at the photos as if he looked long enough, they’d change into something else.

His chest hurt.

Because part of him wanted to believe Smurf was lying.

But another part of him remembered every missed letter.

Every missed visit.

Every silent day in solitary.

And now this.

A shaky breath left him as tears burned unexpectedly behind his eyes.

Smurf reached across the table, touching his hand gently.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

Andrew pulled his hand away immediately.

But he didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t yell.

Didn’t fight.

He just stared at the pictures silently while tears slid down his bruised face.

—

Outside the visitation room, Smurf approached one of the guards.

She slipped a thick envelope into his hand casually.

“If a girl named Y/N Teller tries contacting him again,” she said smoothly, “I want it handled.”

The guard looked inside the envelope briefly before nodding once.

“Not a problem.”

—

My last night in Oceanside felt wrong.

Like the entire city already knew, I didn’t belong there anymore.

Jax stayed close beside me as we walked into Deran’s bar.

Deran looked up from behind the counter immediately.

“There she is.”

I smiled weakly.

Jax stayed near me while Deran came around the bar and pulled me into a hug.

“You okay?”

“No,” I admitted honestly.

Deran sighed softly. “Yeah. I figured.”

We sat down at one of the empty tables while the bar stayed mostly empty around us.

That was when I finally told him everything.

About Charming.

About SAMCRO.

About my dad being John Teller.

About Gemma.

About Jax.

And finally—

“I’m pregnant.”

Deran froze.

“What?”

I laughed nervously through my tears. “Yeah.”

For a second, he just stared at me.

Then unexpectedly—

A huge smile spread across his face.

“Holy shit,” he laughed breathlessly. “Pope’s gonna be a dad?”

Tears filled my eyes again instantly.

Deran’s expression softened immediately. “Hey, hey… that’s a good thing.”

“I don’t even know if he still wants me.”

“He does.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Deran said firmly. “That man’s been losing his mind over you since the day he met you.”

Jax studied him carefully from across the table.

Then finally—

“Thanks,” Jax said quietly.

Deran looked over. “For what?”

“For taking care of my sister while my dumbass was four hours upstate handling club business.”

Deran nodded once. “Always, she’s the most family I’ve ever had.” My eyes teared up. 

That was when the front door slammed open.

Craig stumbled inside, coked up to the gods and talking loudly.

“Well, well,” he laughed when he spotted me. “Guess Pope got replaced quick.”

Jax stood instantly.

“What the fuck did you say?” Before Jax could even move around the table, Deran had already slammed Craig to the floor. 

“Shut your damn mouth!” Deran shouted.

Craig shoved him back. “I’m just sayin’—”

“That’s her brother, you idiot!”

Craig blinked.

“What?”

“She ain’t movin’ on,” Deran snapped. “She’s leaving because you, Smurf, and Baz treated her like shit!”

Silence filled the bar.

Craig looked between all of us slowly as realization finally started sinking in.

“Oh…”

I wiped angrily at my tears.

“I loved him,” I whispered brokenly. “I still love him.”

Craig looked genuinely sick, suddenly.

“Y/N…”

“Get your head outta Smurf’s ass for five minutes and think for yourself,” Deran growled.

Craig looked ashamed now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

And somehow that made me cry harder.

Craig walked over slowly before awkwardly pulling me into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

I nodded weakly against his shoulder.

When it was finally time to leave, I pulled a folded letter from my hoodie pocket and handed it to Deran.

“If you ever see him…” My voice cracked. “Can you give him this?”

Deran took it carefully.

“Yeah,” he promised softly. “I will.”

I hugged him tightly one last time before kissing his cheek.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

—

Then just like that—

I was gone.

I looked back one final time through the rearview mirror as Jax drove us out of Oceanside.

Deran stood outside the bar watching us leave, my letter still in his hand.

I rested my hand against my stomach quietly.

Terrified.

Heartbroken.

But somehow still hopeful.

Part 2 of an Animal Kingdom x Sons of Anarchy Story

He sacrificed his freedom for his family. She sacrificed everything waiting for him.

Set in the aftermath of a failed robbery, this story follows Y/N as she navigates the brutal silence left behind when Andrew Pope Cody is sent to prison. Between unanswered letters, cruel family loyalty, and a secret pregnancy, she begins to realize loving Pope was never going to be simple—but leaving him behind might be impossible.

Part 1

Deran showed up at my apartment three days after the job.

I knew the second I saw his face. The way he couldn't meet my eyes, the tension in his shoulders—I knew before he even opened his mouth.

"Pope's been arrested," he said quietly.

The world tilted sideways.

"What?" My voice came out strangled, barely a whisper.

"The bank job went sideways. Cops were waiting. Pope—" Deran ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at me. "He took the fall."

"What do you mean he took the fall?" I grabbed his arm, my fingers digging in. "Deran, what the fuck does that mean?"

"He confessed. Said it was all him. Baz walked, Craig walked—Pope's the only one they got."

I couldn't breathe. The room was spinning, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.

"No," I whispered. "No, that's not—why would he do that?"

Deran finally looked at me, and the pity in his eyes made me want to scream.

"You needed to talk to Smurf."

I stormed into Smurf's house an hour later, fury and terror warring in my chest.

Baz was sprawled on the couch like he didn't have a care in the world. Like, Andrew wasn't sitting in a cell because of him.

"Why?" I demanded, my voice shaking. "Why did Andrew take the fall for you?"

Baz barely glanced up. "He made his choice."

"His choice?" I laughed, bitter and broken. "You mean you let him throw his life away so you could walk free?"

"He did what was best for the family," Smurf said from the doorway, arms crossed, expression cold as ice.

"The family?" I turned on her, rage burning through my veins. "What about me? What about what he wanted?"

"If he wanted you," Smurf said, her smile cruel, "he would've chosen you. But he didn't."

"He did it for Katherine and Lena," Baz said flatly. "My wife, my kid. Pope knew what would happen if I went down. So he took the hit."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Andrew had sacrificed himself—his freedom, his future, us—to protect Baz's family.

"You let him," I whispered, staring at Baz. "You let him do it."

Baz shrugged. "Like I said. His choice."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain tearing through me. But Smurf was watching me with those cold, calculating eyes, and I knew—I knew she was waiting for me to break.

So I didn't.

I turned and walked out, my hands shaking, my vision blurred with tears.

I almost turned around the first time I went to the prison.

The building looked colder in person. Concrete walls. Fences lined with razor wire. Guards standing around like statues with tired eyes and coffee-stained uniforms. Nothing about it felt real.

Not compared to the Andrew I knew.

Not compared to the man who used to lean against my car at midnight with grease on his hands and that crooked grin that always made me weak. Even when my car broke down and I could’ve fixed it myself—I’d worked on bikes and engines my whole life—I still let Andrew play hero anyway.

“Next.”

The woman’s voice behind the glass snapped me out of the memory.

I stepped forward, rubbing my damp palms against my jeans.

“Name?” she asked without looking up.

“Y/N Teller.”

“Who’re you here for?”

My throat tightened. “Andrew Pope.”

That got her attention.

Her eyes lifted to mine for the first time before she typed something into the computer.

“Pope Cody?”

I nodded once.

The guard hummed quietly, like suddenly she understood something she hadn’t before. Then she handed me a visitor badge.

“Take a seat. They’ll call you.”

I sat alone in the waiting room, my knee bouncing anxiously while the clock ticked louder than it should’ve.

Every second felt endless.

—

Ten minutes later, someone finally called my name.

I stood so fast my chair scraped against the floor.

But the guard walking toward me didn’t look apologetic.

“Visit’s canceled.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Inmate lost visitation privileges.”

The words didn’t fully register.

“Why?”

He shrugged like it meant nothing. “Incident.”

A sick feeling curled in my stomach. “Is he okay?”

No answer.

“Can I at least know if he’s hurt?”

The guard barely looked at me. “Come back another day.”

And that was it.

Just like that.

—

So I came back the next morning.

Same check-in desk.

Same cold walls.

Same answer.

“No visitation.”

The day after that?

“No visitation.”

Again.

And again.

By the fifth day, the guards recognized me the second I walked through the door.

One older officer actually sighed when he saw me approaching the desk.

“You’re wasting your time, sweetheart.”

I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat. “Can you just tell him I came?”

The guard hesitated.

Then quieter this time—

“He knows.”

That should’ve made me feel better.

Instead, it made my chest ache.

Because if Andrew knew I kept showing up, then he also knew I was leaving alone every single time.

—

By the seventh day, rain had soaked through my hoodie before I even made it inside.

The younger guard behind the desk looked almost uncomfortable when he saw me.

“You here for Pope again?”

I nodded tiredly.

He checked the computer anyway, even though we both already knew the answer.

Still restricted.

Still solitary.

Still no visitors.

Still no answers.

I stared at the counter for a second before quietly asking, “Can you at least tell him I’m still coming?”

The guard looked at me for a long moment.

Then he nodded once.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’ll tell him.”

But something about the look on his face made my stomach twist.

Like maybe Andrew already knew.

Like maybe knowing was the reason he kept fighting.

Then Smurf decided to sell Andrew's house.

"It's just sitting there," she said when I showed up, furious. "We need the cash."

"No," I said firmly. "You're not selling it."

Craig raised an eyebrow. "And what are you gonna do about it?"

"I'll rent it from you."

The room went silent.

Smurf's eyes narrowed. "With what money? You barely make anything at the bar."

"I have money," I said, meeting her gaze. "My mom makes sure I have what I need for school and rent. I can afford it."

Baz leaned forward, suspicion flickering across his face. "Your family? You never mentioned family money before."

"You never asked." I kept my voice steady, even though my heart was racing. "My mom's been supporting me since I moved here. I can pay rent on Andrew's house. Just don't sell it."

Smurf studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable.

"Fine," she said finally. "But you miss one payment, and it's gone."

Smurf sold it before you could sign the title paperwork to have your name transferred over on the lease. 

A month  later, Deran brought me to a family dinner.

I didn't want to go. But he insisted, said it would be good for me to get out of my apartment, to stop drowning in my own thoughts.

The second I walked in, I knew it was a mistake.

Smurf's eyes went cold. "What is she doing here?"

"I invited her," Deran said evenly.

"She's not family."

The words hit like a slap. I stood there, frozen, as everyone stared at me.

"Deran," I said quietly. "Maybe I should go."

"No," he said firmly, pulling out a chair for me. "You're staying."

Dinner was excruciating. Smurf ignored me. Baz made snide comments. Craig looked uncomfortable. Only Deran treated me like I belonged.

Halfway through, nausea rolled through me in a wave so intense I had to grip the edge of the table.

"You okay?" Deran asked quietly.

"I—" I swallowed hard, my stomach churning. "I need the bathroom."

I barely made it before I was sick, retching into the toilet, my whole body shaking.

When I came out, Deran was waiting.

"I'm taking you home," he said.

"I'm fine—"

"You're not fine. Come on."

At home, I collapsed onto my bed in one of Andrew’s old shirts, exhausted and miserable.

And then I realized.

I was late.

My hands shook as I dug through the bathroom cabinet, found the pregnancy test I'd bought weeks ago on a paranoid whim.

Two minutes later, I stared at the two pink lines, my world tilting on its axis.

Positive.

I sank onto the bathroom floor, my back against the tub, and let the reality crash over me.

Andrew was in prison. He wouldn't see me, wouldn't write to me, wouldn't call me. 

And I was pregnant with his child.

I pressed my hands to my face and sobbed—for Andrew, for me, for the baby I was carrying alone.

I didn't know how I was going to survive this.

But I had to.

Because now, I wasn't just surviving for me anymore.

Part 1 of Animal Kingdom x Sons of Anarchy Story

I came to Oceanside to escape my father's ghost and the blood-soaked legacy of the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club. I wanted to be someone new, a nursing student, a normal girl, anything but John Teller's daughter. Then I met Andrew Cody.

I first saw Andrew on the quad at Oceanside, leaning against a sun-bleached wall with a book in

his hands—something about architecture, I think. Not what I expected from a guy who looked

like he could break someone in half without breaking a sweat.

"You always read outside?" I asked, surprising myself with my own boldness.

He looked up, and those eyes—Christ, those eyes—locked onto mine.

"You always talk to strangers?"

"Only the interesting ones." He outstretched his hand,

"Pope." She scoffed,

"Got a real name, 'Pope'?"

The corner of his mouth lifted,