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tumbleweed-writes · 20 days

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Death and the Lady: Chibs Telford X Reader. Chapter Ten

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NSFW WARNING 18+ Only. Smut as well as Descriptions of past SA.

Chapter Ten: Reverence

Y/N would be lying if she tried to claim that she didn’t find herself clinging to Chibs a little tighter than usual as she rode on the back of his bike, which was saying something considering she’d found that she usually held on to him quite tightly.

As much as she’d found that she still very much enjoyed being on the back of a bike; the act still filled the lowest point of her belly with a sense of dread, her mind unable to shake the knowledge that a love of Harleys had forever ruined her elder brother’s life.

As much as she might enjoy being on the back of a bike; there was still that reminder lingering in the back of her mind that bikes and recklessness had taken the brother she knew and loved away forever. Although he was still here physically, he would never be the same man ever again.

It seemed that Chibs did not mind her tight grip onto his body as he occasionally reached down to gently caress her hand each time they had to stop at a stop light. It felt as though he was making an attempt to give her some small sign of silent reassurance though she was unsure if he was reassuring her about being on his bike or all that had happened tonight. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

This night had gone far from how she’d hoped. She had been expecting a night where she might be more than a little bored watching a bare-knuckle boxing match and at least attempting to feign the appearance of having a good time in an effort to please Chibs. She’d been determined to be a good sport and attempt to get along with Chibs’ brothers, support the Prospect, and show Chibs that she was willing to attempt to be a part of his world.

She’d not been anticipating a flash from her past; not the one she’d gotten at least.

Sure, being in an environment where several Sons might be present had given her some expectation that she might find herself being silently reminded of a few more shameful behaviors from her past.

She’d not anticipated that her past would slap her in the face like this though.

Coming face to face with Gunner had been the last thing she’d ever wanted to experience.

She was horrified to realize that the outlaw biker still had a way of making her feel all too small.

She didn’t understand how he could still make her feel so worthless and so frightened even after almost a decade apart.

Before she’d fallen into Gunner’s bed and been fed whatever substances he’d been willing to provide her; she’d had a willful spirit. The Sons clubhouse had provided an outlet for that headstrong spirit. She’d felt embraced for all her foolhardiness, for a short while at least, thanks to Jax’s insistence that she be allowed there.

She’d been so determined to chase even bigger highs and even more dangerous situations though. Jax had been unable to keep her from falling further and further into chaos. She had pushed back against his attempts to coax her from Gunner. She’d been so determined to dive face first into everything Gunner offered without even looking.

Gunner had been so willing to provide those highs and show her that danger despite Jax’s disapproval. She’d lost her ability to be so headstrong under Gunner’s gaze. Sure, she’d had her moments of working up her nerve to mouth off to him. He had not been the type to tolerate her smart mouth though. He always had a way of making it clear to her that he was stronger and larger than her.

As awful as it made her feel; she almost regretted not allowing Chibs to continue on with the fight Gunner was trying to goad him into. She could admit that it would have felt nice to see someone knock Gunner down a peg after all the times he’d tried to knock her down.

The realization that Chibs would risk getting quite beaten up himself had pushed her to stop the impending fist fight though. She adored the Scot too much to let him earn any black eyes or split lips over her.

She was hit with an almost amusing realization. Though she’d expressed to Old Charlie that she was certain her father would disapprove of Chibs as a romantic partner for her…a small part of her was sure her father might have approved just the slightest over Chibs’ quick act of wanting to fight to defend her honor. He’d tried to protect her; a small part of her had to wonder if her father might have approved of the act of trying to protect her though her father had never been big on physical altercations.

Facing Gunner tonight had unnerved her.

Facing her former bed partner and drug buddy had made her feel far too much like that scared, burnt out, and damaged twenty year old girl calling her father from a phone booth almost a decade before.

As hard as she tried she couldn’t shake the conversation she’d had with Old Charlie a few days before; the talk about how she was so certain her father must have felt ashamed of her at some point during those wild years of her youth spent with SAMCRO.

She didn’t see how he couldn’t possibly have felt at least some minimal amount of embarrassment when he thought of who she’d been back then. She thought back to all those times he’d bailed her out of the local jail for some stupid incident she’d pulled. She remembered all the community service, the alcohol education programs, and the fines she’d endured for her misbehavior.

She remembered all those worried glances he’d sent her way when she’d come home far too late the next day after a night out sunglasses on her eyes and rough love bites obvious along her neck. She remembered how everyone around town had seen the sight of her riding around Charming on different Son’s bikes.

She knew her father had been aware of the obvious signs she’d been engaging in far more illicit substances than underage drinking and a few joints.

She was well aware of all the whispers around town about the funeral director’s poor wayward daughter who’d fallen into a wild crowd with the local biker gang. She was certain her father must have caught some looks of pity over his poor troublesome daughter.

She imagined she’d been far from the daughter her father had hoped for. They’d always been so close after all. After all that had happened with her brother though, she’d made an attempt to yank from the bond she’d shared with her father.

She’d resented her father. A cruel voice in the back of her mind had been convinced that maybe if her father had not pushed her brother over mortuary school then Daniel never would have gotten in that wreck that night. She resented her brother for being so reckless that he’d gotten into motorcycles to begin with. She resented the funeral business and how it had made her such an outcast among her peers. She resented the pride her father held over their stupid family legacy and the wretched responsibility he claimed the Y/L/N family had over being keepers of Charming’s dead. She had wanted to scream that it was not a legacy she wanted.

In her resentment and her rebellion she’d shamed her father. She had shamed their legacy.

Y/N found herself thinking back to Old Charlie’s words; his insistence that her father had only been worried but never ashamed.

Even if that was true she could not shake the overwhelming guilt of what she must have put Lloyd Y/L/N through. Her father had already essentially lost the son he’d loved and then his only remaining child had seemed so determined to throw her life away. She had been chasing one high after another never satisfied. It was as though she’d continuously touched the flame and acted shocked as it burned her over and over and over again. She never learned her lesson.

She had been self destructive in the truest extent of the word.

She knew that people often romanticized self destruction and chaos. They saw the high of the parties and the drugs and even the sex. They ignored the misery and the pain or at the very least they tried to make it somehow seem like some noble way to give a middle finger to polite society. In her opinion though, self destruction was not poetic. For her the act of self destruction had been a selfish act. She’d been so caught up in her own misery that she’d been unable to see that she was making everyone around her just as miserable.

She found that her mind was a jumbled mess of fear over coming face to face with Gunner and a sense of shame over her past misdeeds. She was not looking forward to making Chibs aware of any of those misdeeds.

Chibs found that his own mind was a mess. He found himself once again reaching down to caress Y/N’s hand as they came to another stop light.

He ran his thumb along her soft skin attempting to soothe both her anxieties over all that had happened tonight as well as the sense of rage he still felt rolling through his veins.

If Y/N had not coaxed him away from Gunner, Chibs was certain he’d have beaten the man’s face into the dirt below them. He was surprised that she had managed to push through that rage within him. She’d been able to push past his anger and soothe him just enough to make him back down.

He was certain if she’d not pleaded with him to let it go though, he would have let loose all of his anger on Gunner. He hadn’t been lying to the man. Chibs cared more about what Y/N wanted than what he wanted. He was putting her needs above his desires. If she had needed to get far from the fairgrounds and Gunner then Chibs was going to make it happen even if he’d much rather have knocked Gunner out.

He felt sick to his stomach thinking of all that Gunner had to say about Y/N. The crude comments about her body and her promiscuity as a former Friday Night Girl made him feel nothing but blind red rage. He felt even more ill and enraged when he stopped to consider that Gunner had obviously harmed Y/N judging by the sight of her wrist. That sick feeling had only grown when he stopped to consider that this wasn’t the first time the Son had harmed her judging by Gunner’s comment about knowing how Y/N needed plenty of reminders of her place.

Chibs was well aware of Gunner’s reputation among the Sons. The recently patched in Tacoma Son had a nasty reputation. Gunner had originally prospected and been patched into the Colorado branch of the Sons over a decade before. The Denver, Colorado Sons had not seemed keen to keep Gunner around though. Gunner had gone nomad for a long while, though Gunner claimed it was his own choice, Chibs had suspected that SAMDEN had not wanted to put up with the troublesome man any longer. The patch over into Tacoma was a recent development. Chibs was surprised that the Tacoma charter had taken on the burden that was Gunner.

To put it frankly, Gunner was an asshole.

Chibs of course knew that this statement wasn’t saying much. He was certain that quite a few of the men he shared a patch with, himself included, could be described as assholes and much worse, more slanderous terms.

Gunner had earned a notoriety of being a real piece of work though. He had a big mouth and was happy to pick fights with anyone. It didn’t seem to matter much if he shared a patch with his sparring partners. He seemed to enjoy pressing people’s buttons. He took some sick enjoyment in upsetting people. The Son seemed to take pride in fighting with just about anyone from those he shared a patch with to those outside of the club. He seemed particularly proud of his propensity for beating croweaters, strippers, and sex workers. He bragged about knocking sense into sweetbutts who got a little too mouthy or just doing it because he found it amusing.

Gunner made it no secret that for him, there was a paper-thin fine blurred line between violence and sex. He was vocal about how he enjoyed causing pain for his bed partners. From the few things Chibs had been unfortunate enough to overhear, it seemed that Gunner enjoyed being as sadistic as possible to the women he charmed into his bed. Chibs had always gotten the sense that there was a possibility Gunner’s sexual partners weren’t always prepared for the violence. It was a realization that disturbed him.

Chibs had always felt as though Gunner was absolute pond scum. Chibs knew he’d done a lot of crooked things in his own life. He was aware that he was not on any moral high ground. Chibs had killed and caused his own share of pain in the name of both the cause in Belfast and his devotion to the Sons.

Chibs knew he might be called a bastard by many, but he was nowhere near the same level of evil as Gunner.

The idea of Gunner having shared a bed with the woman he adored, made Chibs feel a sense of unease he couldn’t shake.

He kept thinking back to the look in Y/N’s eyes at the fairground as she stared up at Gunner. Chibs remembered the way she’d gravitated towards himself the second she’d spotted him make his way through the fairgrounds as though she’d subconsciously sought out his protection. Chibs thought back to how she’d seemed so relieved as he had stepped in front of her blocking Gunner’s view of her.

Everything within Chibs was screaming out to protect Y/N. He’d wanted so badly to beat Gunner to a bloody pulp in order to protect or at the very least defend the honor of Y/N.

If it wasn’t for her insistence that he let it go and take her home he was certain he would have beat the man until his knuckles were split and bloodied. He was sure he would have gotten just as bruised and beaten in the process but it would have been well worth it.

He knew of course that beating Gunner would have done him no favors in the long run.

There was a certain protocol to follow when it came to disagreements between brothers. Fist fighting was allowed; but it was usually frowned upon. When two brothers had a disagreement in the Sons it was expected that they might meet in the ring if the clubhouse in question had a designated ring that was. Either way the fight should be agreed upon and planned. It was expected that the brothers would sort out the disagreement with a physical altercation essentially punching the aggression out. It was expected that once that aggression was fought out then the brothers would make up and all would be forgiven.

Chibs was certain that if he exchanged blows with Gunner, that there would be no forgiveness in the end. This was not a forgive and forget situation.

Chibs had the realization that Y/N had done him a favor in dragging him away from the fight. A fight between charters was not ideal; especially with SAMCRO’s current shaky financial situation dealing with the gun supply to the Irish.

Fighting between two members of SAMCRO and SAMTAC would not be favorable.

Chibs knew Clay would have his head if he lost his cool and beat the shit out of SAMTAC’s newest patched over member.

Still though, Chibs couldn’t help but to feel a slight sense of disappointment that he’d not been able to beat Gunner within an inch of his life.

He pushed back this desire, putting a lid on his anger, as Y/N and he finally arrived at her home, the long walk up to Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home seeming all the more daunting.

Y/N stared up at the home finding the large Victorian home an equal mix of comforting and intimidating. She knew it sounded so strange but she often felt as though the house did not actually belong to her. It felt more as though she belonged to the house.

So many generations of her family had lived and died in the home. It felt more like a breathing living entity than a structure. If houses had souls she had to wonder and fear what her house’s soul would look like.

It felt as though she was destined to always be a part of the house. Even when she was away in New York, deep down inside she knew that she would always belong to this house. She was born here and she would die here.

She often found herself going back and forth between finding the concept soothing to finding it overwhelming and frightening.

She kept these thoughts to herself, sure it would make her seem unbalanced if she were to ever voice them outloud.

She fished her keys from her purse Chibs and she wordlessly making their way upstairs after locking the front entrance behind them.

Chibs frowned astonished to be met with a sliding wooden door not long after they made the long trek up the L-shaped stairs that took them from the funeral home portion of the home to Y/N’s living quarters.

She spoke her voice softly, explaining the large sliding door. “An addition from my grandmother sometime in the 1960s. I think she got sick of curious mourners being able to wander upstairs. Pretty sure her last straw was an Irish Wake my grandfather put together…she found some drunk mourner puking in her kitchen sink and she demanded my grandfather build some sort of physical separation from business to home.”

“Aye, sounds bout righ’ fer an Irish wake.” Chibs remarked knowing he’d attended quite a few during his days in Belfast and had probably puked in a few less polite places than a sink.

She slid the door open allowing Chibs to follow along behind her before she shut it behind them.

Chibs studied his surroundings as she flipped on a light switch. He was not surprised to find that upstairs was just as filled with as many pieces of old looking furniture as downstairs.

However the upstairs quarters seemed far more…cluttered…to put it politely. The walls felt busy with oil paintings and framed photographs. He remembered her commenting on how her ancestors had been obsessed with having portraits done. The floors were not without fine looking persian rugs. Knick knacks lined a wall of bookshelves along with more than enough books.

Chibs eyed some of the book titles knowing he shouldn’t be shocked by the content: Death in Medieval Europe, The Art and Science of Embalming, American Afterlife, The Art of Funeral Directing, Traditions of Death and Burial, Death and Burial in Ancient Egypt, Funeral Customs Around the World, Death and Dying in Ancient Times, Funerals of the Famous, and several other titles all dedicated to the business Y/N’s family had long been in.

He eyed a few other books mixed among all the death and funeral content: The Art of Vegetable Gardening, FolkTales and Fables From Around the World, the Guide to Successful Homemaking, Seventeenth Century Prose and Poetry, The Book of Home Taxidermy, among a few others.

He was also surprised by the sheer amount of cookbooks. It felt that there was a cookbook for every cuisine imaginable; French, Greek, Italian, and so on.

He followed her as she dropped her purse on a nearby end table beside an old looking rotary phone, a large chunk of amethyst, and what looked like a taxidermy squirrel under a glass dome that may have seen better days at one point.

He spotted a few more taxidermy pieces on the walls making the space seem all the more crowded; deer antlers, a ram of some sort, and a wild boar head.

She spoke over her shoulder clearly spotting the visual overload he was enduring as he tried to take in all the parts of her home. “I know it's a lot to take in…my father could never stand to part with anything. I think he could place sentimental value to just about anything in this place…especially after my mom died. I keep meaning to put some of this in storage, so it’ll feel more like my home than the family museum. I keep looking at paying to have a shed built out back to store this stuff in at least…I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

She paused speaking more to herself than to him. “I have a love-hate relationship with all the clutter. Most of it is family heirlooms but it made growing up here feel overwhelming. Pretty sure the bedroom is the only place that felt like my own as a kid. The house was built onto over the years and my ancestors collected things to fill it with. This house sometimes feels like a mouth with too many teeth.”

Chibs nodded his head wordlessly not helping but to agree with the final part of her statement. While the downstairs portion of the home felt spacious, even with the nice furniture, the upstairs section felt busy and like sensory overload.

She spoke as they reached the living room he eyeing the sofa, the burnt orange mid century design clearly from the 1960s. He spotted a nearby recliner that looked a little newer; a nice leather. He had to wonder if the recliner had belonged to her late father.

The Television sitting across from the sofa felt just as old; an old boxset with a dial to change the channel and bunny eared antenna. He had to wonder if the picture was black and white. He guessed she didn’t watch much TV.

She spoke nodding to him to take a seat. “Do you want a drink? I would offer a soda…but I feel like we need something stronger.”

“I’ll take whatever ya got.” He reassured her as he took a seat on the sofa relieved that it felt far cushier than it looked.

She made her way to the kitchen he sinking down into the sofa, his eyes studying his surroundings all the more.

He could understand what she meant by a mouth with too many teeth. The space felt overcrowded.

He swallowed the lump developing in the back of his throat spotting a framed photo on the wall, it hitting him that he was gazing upon a family portrait. The young woman standing in the photo holding the infant who had to be Y/N looked quite a bit like an adult version of Y/N though her hair color differed.

Y/N spoke as she returned to the room holding a bottle of Bourbon and two heavy looking glasses. She nodded to the photo on the wall. “The first official family photo featuring me. It was taken after my parents brought me home from the hospital…though the hospital visit was just to get me checked out…I was actually born in this house.”

She paused, shaking her head as she sat down beside him depositing the booze and glasses on a coffee table in front of them. “The doctor my mother was seeing at the time told my parents I was going to be late, so there was no worry over me hitting the first due date they set. Pretty sure the guy was hitting the sauce more often than not and wasn’t the most attentive to his patients. There were plans to just take my mother to the hospital and induce labor. I had other plans though. I was born in the kitchen. My poor mother had to birth me on the kitchen tile by the coffee pot, because I was coming too quickly to make it to the hospital. My father had to practically deliver me because the doctor they called up was taking his sweet time. My birth story was my father’s favorite story to tell…When I was a kid I would try to stand in the same spot my mom allegedly gave birth in, and see if I felt any different than I felt in any other area of the house.”

“Did ya?” Chibs dared to ask it taking him a moment to absorb the odd tale. He quickly realized the woman he adored did in fact hail from an eccentric family and it wasn��t just because of the family business.

“No, I never felt any different…much to my disappointment. I won’t lie though, it’s pretty freaking weird eating oatmeal in the same room you know you were born in.” She commented, shaking her head as she opened the bottle of bourbon pouring what was probably considered two too far full glasses.

She let out a soft sigh they sitting in silence for a moment both well aware they needed to broach the subject of what had happened at the fairgrounds but both uncertain of how to even start the conversation.

Chibs cringed as he watched her pick up her glass taking a slow sip from it he was able to spot that her wrist was beginning to bruise.

He reached out his touch feather light to the light reddish tint to her skin knowing that the blood was beginning to pool to that surface, as she placed her glass on the table in front of her. “Shite, Hen. I shoulda been there to protect ya..Fuckin’ prospect had me distracted. Half-nutted muppet was supposed to throw the last damn figh’. He owes us $35,000. I was caugh’ up scoldin him fer his fuck up”.

She spoke the sound of guilt in his voice making a sense of shame of her own wash over her. She wouldn’t have been in danger if she hadn’t had a history with Gunner. Her history with the Son had caught his attention and had resulted in his assault. “You can’t protect me from everything, Filip.”

“Aye, I can fuckin’ try though.” He remarked proving that he had a stubborn streak about as wide as hers.

The comment may have put an affectionate smile on her lips if she wasn’t so emotionally drained from the night. “I don’t think either of us anticipated my past would show up, at least not like this.”

She paused knowing that there was no way of avoiding this conversation. She just had to pray that he’d meant what he said back at the fairgrounds; that this talk would not change how he felt about her.

She let out a soft sigh watching him take a slow sip of his own drink. “I have a lot to tell you about me.”

He sighed, reaching out his hand clasping over hers as he spoke reassuring her of the words he’d said to her back at the fairgrounds. “Aye ya do, I promise ya I ain’ goin’ anywhere no matter what it is.”

She managed to give him a weak smile, not sure if she believed him though the statement was kind.

She gave his hand a light squeeze hoping he would not release her hand as he heard the entire story. She spoke knowing that this was the best place to start. “After my brother…got injured…You remember me mentioning I tried to kick Jax in the balls?”

Chibs smirked, nodding his head remembering that he was amused by the imagery. “Aye I recall that story.”

She sighed nodding her head. “I was angry and I blamed Jackson. He encouraged my brother to get into Harleys…Opie and Jax both did…Jax was the one who helped my brother find the damn bike. It was a piece of shit honestly, but they fixed it up a little…as much as my brother could afford. I loved my brother, he was my only friend growing up…My childhood was…lonely at best. I chose the isolation, or at least that’s what I claimed. The truth is, none of the other kids seemed too interested in befriending the kid who lived in the house their grandparents had their funerals in.”

She shook her head picking up her glass taking another drink with the hand that wasn’t locked in Chibs’ grasp. She spoke as she swallowed her drink cringing at the burn regretting not getting a chaser. “That night that I showed up at the clubhouse, the night after my brother tried to kill me…I wanted to kill Jax. Of course, I was barely 18 and probably barely 110 pounds soaking wet back then. I wasn’t going to do much damage to him. By some miracle he didn’t kick me out of the clubhouse…I think he felt sorry for me. He knew why I was there. News about my brother spread fast. I guess Jackson felt guilty in a way…remembered he’d talked my brother into the bike. He felt responsible for what happened to my brother…that sense of responsibility just shifted to watching over the drunk 18 year old girl trying to hit him outside a biker clubhouse.”

She paused, taking another sip as she continued. “He smoked a joint with me that night…after he let me scream at him about how much I hated him and wanted him dead. I got so high that I think I fell asleep on his shoulder…I didn’t smoke pot much back then. Despite my big mouth I was shockingly quite the good girl growing up. The only trouble I got in during high school was running my mouth…I mean I was a pest to Skeeter when he was living here in this house apprenticing under my father…and I tended to be willful even back then…impulsive, but I kept clean.”

Chibs smirked somewhat at the comment about her being a good girl. In any other situation he may have joked that teenage him would have enjoyed corrupting teenage her.

He kept his lips sealed though knowing now wasn’t the time for that joke.

She spoke, shaking her head ever so slightly. “After that night Jax kept inviting me back to the clubhouse…I think he could sense I was struggling…needed someone to talk to, even if I was still pissed off at him. We’d usually share a joint and he’d let me vent. I think I reminded him of himself in some ways, especially when I vented about the legacy I was expected to follow in my family…I think he felt the same about his own legacy. I think he was going through other shit too…Tara, his first love…she ditched Charming less than five years before and he was trying to distract himself. Taking care of me was a distraction…We were just friends at first…but booze and pot kind of aided into it becoming more of a friends with benefits situation.”

She paused, spotting the tension in Chibs’ jaw at the information. She swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking again trying to at least provide a hint of reassurance that this was not a love scenario. “Neither of us had any delusions about what we were doing. We weren’t interested in dating. The sex was never really an act of love. We didn’t see it as anything serious. We cared for one another just not in a romantic sense. We fought plenty enough for any romantic relationship to have been ruinous. I thought he was arrogant and bossy and he thought I was impulsive and irresponsible…both were true. Sex was a distraction.”

She paused again, a soft sigh leaving her spilling more of the truth. “Jackson wasn’t even my first. I’d already lost the big V card a few years prior to some guy who was visiting his family over the Summer…He snuck over to my place at like two am one night and I let him take my V card out near the old pet cemetery…Pretty sure he freaked out and disappeared once he spotted a tombstone…that experience was more of me wanting to get rid of the whole virgin status. Kid was a year older than me and the experience was full of disappointment. I think I remember thinking that if this was sex then I didn’t get the appeal because the guy came in ten seconds flat. I won’t lie and pretend that Jax didn’t at least show me the appeal of sex…Jax was just a means of distraction for me though. I didn’t have any delusions about his feelings towards me. Usually we’d just drink, smoke, and fuck. There was no sense that it was anything more than a distraction for us both. It went on for about a year where I showed up and we proceeded to take part in this weird ritual we’d built. He was definitely fucking other women and I was so interested in other guys.”

She spoke not daring to gaze in Chibs’ direction again. How did you explain to the guy who you were falling for that you’d fucked someone he was so close to in the past?

“The more time I spent at the club the more I fell into the chaos. It was like that thing we talked about on our second date…that world, SAMCRO, it lets you escape misery if you let yourself sink into chaos. I started to pull from Jax and spent more time indulging in what the clubhouse had to offer. Jax allowed it, he kept a close eye on me of course…Like I said, I think he felt responsible for me. I proved to be stubborn about his watchful eyes. I figured out that I was capable of charming other guys into bed…mostly nomads and maybe a few visiting non patched in guys who hit up the parties. Jax didn’t really approve, but like I said, we weren’t a couple and had zero interest in being one. I built an odd reputation around the clubhouse. I was young and willing to try just about anything…on my own terms at least. I wasn’t a croweater…Jax shut down any talk from anyone that I was just another croweater. I turned down more than a few guys and if they had shit to say about it they had to answer to Jax. Like I said, that weird screwed up sense of responsibility he felt for me. Most of the local patched in Sons knew just who my dad was and they were a little freaked out by the idea that my father had access to a cremator. So, between that and Jax, most of the local patched Sons didn’t try it with me…Tig tried once or twice, but I heard enough about some of his strange interests in the bedroom that I wasn’t interested. Even drunk, I wasn’t into it. I got into a lot of trouble due to my association with Jax and the club. I have a record that I’m not entirely proud of. It’s all light stuff; drunk and disorderly, disorderly conduct, reckless driving, a couple of DUIs. I paid plenty of fines and had to do some community service…pretty sure I attended a couple of alcohol awareness courses.”

She felt her throat grow tight staring down at the drink in her hand as she explained further. “The summer between my nineteenth and twentieth birthday Gunner showed up at the clubhouse for the first time. He was a nomad and I was indulging pretty hard still. I drank more than I ever did and I was getting bored with the pot. I was looking for a bigger high. I was getting weary of the usual Friday night party and Gunner offered me something more interesting. He always had plenty of narcotics and usually some acid…Usually he’d share whatever he had in whatever dorm he was crashing in. I know it was super frowned upon…the harder stuff. I always tried to reason with myself that at least it wasn’t heroin or meth or anything like that. He was happy to give me the Valium and the occasional codeine. It was a bigger high than the pot and the booze and I felt like my brain shut up for once. The shared pills came with expectations though. He was pretty damn rough the first time I let him fuck me. I thought I could take it though. I was high enough that I managed to shake off the roughness. He spent a few weeks staying in the Sons clubhouse that first month we met…and the routine continued with pills and sex that got increasingly rough. When he went back on the road I managed to talk myself into thinking it wasn’t as bad as I perceived it.”

She sighed her stomach knotting up as she willed herself to continue. “I almost forgot about him until he came back through for a longer stay. Jax didn’t approve of all the time Gunner and I were spending together. Didn’t help that Gunner and I proved to be pretty toxic when we both had too much to drink. I had a big mouth and he was more of an asshole than usual when we drank. Pretty sure I got arrested for getting into a physical altercation with him at a gas station during his second visit to Charming. Even with the arrest we got more attached to each other. The pills helped form that attachment. I was so determined to self-destruct and he…I don’t know what he was looking for with me. The sex got more…intense. He stopped caring about consent when it came to certain acts…Pretty sure to his ears no meant more. He didn’t seem to care if he hurt me. He pushed me into a few things I wasn’t comfortable with…anal that he didn’t prep me for properly…hitting and biting…the threesome with a croweater that felt so uncomfortable and not at all something I wanted to repeat…when I expressed my discomfort it was ignored. My comfort level was never something he paid much mind to. He was nice enough between the bedroom activities. I let myself believe that I was overreacting.”

She noticed Chibs’ grip on her hand grew tighter but she still refused to look into his eyes; she was terrified of what she would see in those eyes she’d found so lovely. She feared she’d see disgust.

She sighed knowing she had to get into the last event, the one that had pushed her off the path she’d been determined to go down. “The last straw happened a few months before my twenty-first birthday…Gunner was in town again. I tried Oxy that he gave me…I didn’t like it. It felt too strong…pretty sure he let me take too much. Things proceeded per usual. I think he was in a bad mood that night though…He was rougher than usual. I felt out of it for a while. As it proceeded, the high started to lift and I was filled with this sense of dread…it was a panic attack, I think. I realized I didn’t want to be there underneath him and I didn’t want him inside of me. I was still hazy but I was aware enough to try to tell him to stop. I don’t know if he just didn’t hear me or didn’t care…I think it was the latter. He choked me…he wrapped his hands around my throat and squeezed down. I started to feel my vision tunnel and I remember thinking I was going to die. I almost blacked out before he let go…and finished. I laid there afterwards while he fell asleep and I remember I was so afraid that I couldn’t move…I was petrified, just locked in this overwhelming sense of dread. The choking…it brought up traumas I hadn’t dealt with.”

Chibs felt bile rise in the back of his throat at the description, his mind flashing to exactly why the choking had been traumatic; her brother trying to choke her in anger just years prior to this incident she was describing.

He was disturbed by her comments about Gunner not caring about consent. He wanted to point out to her what that meant…what his ignoring consent had meant about anything he’d done to her.

He parted his lips to speak but she didn’t give him a chance speaking again continuing the story. “I woke up before him the next morning…barely made it to the bathroom before I puked…My entire body and my throat hurt so much and the vomit just made it all the worse. Prick didn’t even notice I got out of bed or didn’t care…I remember looking into the bathroom mirror and it was like I really saw myself for the first time in years. I realized I didn’t want to die anymore. I somehow managed to get dressed and literally walked for I don’t even know how long…I found a phone booth and called my dad…Told him I was tired and I wanted help.”

She paused her eyes watering somewhat as she continued though she made an attempt to wipe them placing her glass down on the coffee table. “It was the most humiliating moment of my life…my father pulling up in the hearse and finding me sitting on the sidewalk bruised, looking like hell, a cigarette hanging out of my mouth. I looked like I’d seen death. I’m amazed he didn’t walk down to the clubhouse and put a bullet in between Gunner’s eyes…and probably Jax’s too while he was at it. My father loved me deeply and I practically worshiped him, even with all the shit I put him through. He was a gentle soul even with as large of a man as he was. Seeing that someone had hurt me in that way��I’m shocked he didn’t put aside his gentle heart and get one of the hunting rifles he had out. I think Old Charlie talked him out of it. Made him realize the focus needed to be on taking care of me and then on me getting the hell out of Charming…giving me a chance to start over. My dad dipped into savings we didn’t have and sent me out east at my request. We didn’t talk about that day again…not until a few months before he died. He told me it was one of the worst days of his life because he had to see just what pain I’d gone through…but it was also the moment he knew he could breathe again…I was at my rock bottom and I was going to get better. I spent so long scaring him to death, and me admitting I was just as scared meant that I was going to be okay.”

She was stunned as Chibs finally spoke his hand squeezing hers so tight it was almost painful. She could pick up on a weepy tone to his voice much like the tone he’d picked up when he described his past in Belfast to her. “Oh, Hen…Christ, Love.”

She dared to turn to face him both relieved and surprised she saw no disgust nor any pity. He stared at her his eyes misty but filled with reverence for her. He spoke a storm beginning to brew behind those eyes she’d found such a pleasant shade of brown. She’d realized his eyes made her think of the rich soil in her greenhouse. It was a shade she associated with warmth and life. "If I'd known ya back then...oh, Hen."

He spoke his words anything but warm. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill the prick.”

She shook her head a heavy sigh leaving her knowing that although she wouldn’t mind Gunner meeting karma she didn’t want that karma to come from Chibs. “No, I don’t want that.”

He furrowed his brow fast to speak again. “He practically fuckin’ raped ya, Lass, more than once from what it sounds like…that’s what it was ain’ it? Ya tol’ him to stop and he ignored ya. What do ya call it? How am I suppose’ to not kill him knownin’ all the times he hurt ya.”

She sighed knowing she’d already talked through the question about what her experiences with Gunner meant.

She took a deep breath, her voice soft. “I know what him not caring about my consent in most of our interactions together means. I’m well aware of it. I’ve had the therapy…and while I would love nothing more than to know that someone put a bullet through his skull…I would rather not have you go on trial for murder over a piece of garbage like him.”

Chibs sighed, tempted to tell her he’d gotten away with murder before…more than once with the cause and in service of SAMCRO. He held in the comment his voice tense. “I could do it. We could both do it, Hen…You got the means to get rid of his body.”

She shook her head giving his hand a soft squeeze as she spoke. “And say you do kill him…then all sorts of shit lands on SAMCRO’s lap. Pretty sure even your brothers talk…they will know all about the altercation at the fairgrounds. They’ve probably already heard about it. Let’s say you go off and kill the bastard and you’re even super subtle about it. SAMCRO and SAMTAC will still put a missing Son together with the last interaction he’d had with another Son over me. Pretty sure those guys you share a patch with are smart enough to connect the dots and realize that the member of one charter killed a member of another charter. I don’t know much about how SAMCRO operates, but I have a feeling that loyalty and falling in line with the good of the club is pretty smiled upon. I don’t think you going off and killing someone from the Tacoma charter over something that happened almost a decade ago is going to be swept under the rug. I have a feeling you going off and making that choice all by yourself is going to be seen as you being reckless in your brothers eyes…pretty sure reckless shit like that is seen as a threat to the club. Something like the Sons of Anarchy can’t survive when threats are allowed to exist.”

He glared down at his barely touched glass of bourbon not helping but to equally hate and adore how smart she was. She was once again proving she could work her way through any rage he felt. She was once again proving to be a voice of reason.

He knew she had a point and a surprising amount of insight as to just how his world within the club operated. The act he wanted to carry out on Gunner was the reason a sign hung in the Chapel at the clubhouse brains before bullets. He hated that she had a point.

He let out a shaky breath, his voice tight. “I want him dead. I don’ care how long ago this shite happened.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the action soothing him just the slightest. “I’ve wanted him dead for a while, Baby. Like I said though, it’s a risk I refuse to let you take. You mean way too much to me for me to let you take that risk.”

He let out a shaky sigh, his determination to go out and kill Gunner in cold blood slipping by the second.

He spoke mentally coming to compromise. “If he ever even thinks bout approachin’ you ever again…I’ll fuckin break his hands and his legs…make it so he can’t ride.”

She sighed knowing that this threat of violence wasn’t entirely welcome as far her fears of him placing himself as being seen as a threat to SAMCRO went. She held back the desire to point this out though knowing she had to compromise as well. “Okay, that’s fair.”

She reached out stroking his ever messy hair, his hand remaining locked in hers, his breathing uneven as he tried to calm himself.

She continued to press soft kisses to his cheek, her voice reassuring. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“Yer fuckin’ wrist tells a different story.” He responded, his stomach turning realizing that the hurt wrist was far from the worst injury she’d endured.

“I’ll heal. I’m pretty resilient. It’s a talent of mine.” She reassured him, pressing another kiss to his cheek.

He sighed closing his eyes, letting her press soft kisses against his cheek, her fingers trailing through his hair, as he continued to will himself to let go of the rage he felt.

She spoke after a long moment of silence daring to bring up the reassurance he’d given her before they’d gone down this road. “Have you changed how you feel about me? Knowing what you know?”

“Never gonna change how I feel bout ya.” He stated zero hesitation on his lips the comment soothing her fears so easily.

She dared to press the issue needing to know. “Even with the information about Jax?”

He sighed, rolling the question around in his brain. To be honest, he’d anticipated this information being a possibility. He had noticed enough through their interactions with one another to guess that there was a history there.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled by the history, but a voice in the back of his brain was quick to point out that it was exactly that history.

He spoke a small sigh escaping his lips. “Pretty sure ya ain’ interested in gettin back together with him.”

“I was never together with him, Filip. We had a very dysfunctional bond and we were both distracting each other from our own shit. Trust me though, it’s not a bond I’m looking to rekindle. We were never a couple. He may have looked out for me while I was going through my self-destructive phase at the clubhouse. He was far from being in a romantic relationship with me though. He never took me on an actual date. He didn’t hold my hand. He didn’t take me to get snow cones. We had zero interest in becoming anything more than a convenient fuck and a way to cope with our own issues. Christ, if we’d ever become an item we would have been disastrous…like the Titanic sinking level disaster.”

He nodded his head, giving her hand a squeeze he quick to reassure her. “I know. I’m the only one takin’ ya to get snow cones and holdin’ yer hand.”

She gave him a tight half smile shaking her head as she spoke. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you any of this. What do you tell the guy you’re super into that you’ve fucked a few of the guys he shares a brotherhood with?”

He gave her hand another squeeze, the words coming to him so easily. “Aye, pretty sure the lad yer into is into ya ‘nough that he doesn’t see much of a poin’ in gettin’ jealous over shite that happened almos’ a decade ago when he didn’t even know ya. We all got our indiscretions, Lass.”

He paused a small playful smirk crossing his features. “I’m also pretty sure the lad knows yer not interested in any of his brothers. Think he’s realized yer only interested in gettin’ a good thorough Glaswegian humpin’”

She scrunched her nose up at the comment though it didn’t fail to pull a giggle out of her, the sound beautiful to his ears after how dreadful the night had gone. “A thorough one huh?”

“Aye, I’m no’ one to disappoint, Hen.” He reassured her his lips pressing to hers the kiss soft.

She returned the kiss not shocked as it grew impassioned with little time. It was a trend she’d noticed with their latest kisses. It was far too easy to get lost in the feel of his lips against hers.

They closed their eyes, easily getting lost in one another the roller coaster of emotions of the night spilling out through their lips. They both found themselves chasing a feeling of security and adoration after the events of tonight.

She pressed a hand to his cheek, his hands sliding placing at her sides pulling her closer to him.

She couldn’t help but to get the sense that he was pouring all of his reassurances about what he’d heard tonight and his promises to continue to adore her and protect her in the kisses.

His mouth coaxed hers open with no effort, his tongue sliding across hers; she was always happy to allow him to dominate the kisses. He was far too great of a kisser to not fully allow him to take the reins. She had found that even with as headstrong as she was, she was perfectly happy to let him take control.

His hands roamed her body, apparently unsatisfied with staying stationary at her waist. She placed a hand on the back of his head, messing his short hair, her other hand stroking his jawline.

She let out a soft moan as he took a chance turning them just enough to rest against the sofa he found a place hovering over her.

She parted her thighs, an approving groan leaving his lips against the kisses as he found his place between her parted thighs.

She moaned a hot wash of lust sliding over her like a caress as he began to rock against her clearly intentending on giving her a preview of that Glaswegian humping he was teasing her about.

The fabric of the denim of their jeans felt far too thick at the moment and she was overwhelmed with the desire to rid them both of the offending fabric. It was a sin to have such a thick fabric between the perfect friction she knew they were capable of building.

She gasped her hands sliding underneath his kutte caressing his back through his shirt. She couldn’t help but to feel frustrated by how many layers he seemed to wear. He could do with far less of them in her opinion, especially at this moment.

She was surprised as he moved his lips from hers pressing them down her jawline down to her neck. He nipped at the delicate skin quick to follow the love bites with soft kisses and gentle swipes of his tongue.

She whimpered disappointed as he pulled back from her, his eyes no longer dark with anger but a distinct hint of lust and longing. He spoke an idea entering his mind. “Do you trust me, Hen?”

The words came to her so suddenly she was surprised that she didn't have to take a moment to consider what he was asking her. It seemed that none of the voices in the back of her head that usually taunted her about what she was falling into with SAMCRO were present at the moment. “Yes.”

He moved from her, she frowning a little confused as he stood up, his hand reaching out to hers.

She expected him to pull her up from the sofa to join him but instead pulled her only into a sitting position.

He got her to turn in her seat before he stepped between her legs. She frowned even more confused as he got down on his knees in front of her. He pressed his lips to hers not giving her long to contemplate what his plan was.

She returned the kiss with enthusiasm, a low disappointed whine leaving her as his lips parted from hers. He spoke a low chuckle leaving him the comment more to himself than to her. “Greedy, Love.”

He pressed his lips down her neck not giving her long to focus on the comment, his lips pressing soft sucking kisses into her skin. She had a feeling if he hadn’t already given her a successful hickey then he was going to do it quite soon.

He placed his hands on her sides, slowly sliding them under her top. His hands caressing her warm skin making her shiver ever so slightly at the contrast of his warm hands and the cold of his biker rings. His hands were rough from working in the garage at TM Auto, and his other activities with the Sons most likely, but his touch remained soft and full of reverence.

She gasped as he began to pull the top up, his lips parting from her neck, his voice gentle waiting for her response to proceed with pulling her top up too high. “This okay, Hen?”

She nodded her head he fast to speak again. “I need words, Love.”

She felt her heart flutter with adoration when she realized what he was doing; waiting for her to give him the go ahead.

He recalled her previous comment about Gunner not exactly respecting consent. It was so obvious that he was making it clear that nothing he planned on doing with her tonight was going to be done without enthusiastic consent from her.

She found the words it hitting her she was right to tell him she trusted him. “Yes, please.”

He pulled the shirt up and over her head a low appreciative groan leaving his lips as the sight of her lace covered breasts. The bra was soft pink and sweet looking just like the pink of the converse he’d spotted on her feet more than once and the soft pink of her nails he’d noticed that first day the Sons had visited her downstairs at the Funeral Home.

He was tempted to unfasten the bra and reveal what lay under the delicate looking lace, but held back quickly deciding he wanted to take his time with her and what he had planned for them both.

He spoke the words soft. “Fuckin perfect breasts, Hen.”

She felt a soft gasp leave her knowing it was not the first time a man had made an attempt to comment on her assets, but she was quite certain no man had ever sounded so certain of his praise.

She had a distinct feeling that Chibs Telford wasn’t just feeding her empty bedroom talk.

He pressed his lips to hers moving them eagerly down her chin and down the expanse of her throat. He pressed soft adoring kisses to her skin, she closing her eyes sinking back into the sensation.

The rough scratch of his facial hair tickled against her skin. His lips were slightly chapped. But the kisses were so gentle. It felt as though he was certain if he kissed her too hard she might shatter underneath him.

He pressed his lips down to the cleavage he’d so shamelessly admired more times than he could count. His kisses remained adoring and sweet working more soft noises from her.

He groaned against the plush feel of her cleavage and the scratch of the lace covering the breasts he’d been so fast to compliment.

The more base part of his brain wanted to rip the bra right off her. He wanted to bury his face between her breasts. He wanted to suckle her nipples, making the little buds harden to a point. He wanted to suck love bites into the delicate skin of her breasts. He wanted to unfasten his belt and yank his jeans and boxers down. He wanted to slide his quickly waking cock between the valley of her breasts before cumming down into her open mouth or better yet along her skin marking her with his seed.

He shoved the thought from his mind though it did not fail to work a moan from him. He silently shoved back his hormones telling himself that tonight would not be about his pleasure.

There would be plenty of time for him to reach his own gratification with her body. Tonight was going to be about her. He was determined to worship her the way she deserved.

She giggled as he buried his head against her breasts, rubbing his face against them, a low hum leaving him. The action of motorboating her was unexpected but did make the act of what he seemed to be leading up to feel playful and light.

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt something this light and adoring with any other man.

He pulled his head reluctantly from her breasts pressing his lips down further sliding them along her torso.

She sighed, sinking further into the touch still unable to get over how gentle the kisses to her skin remained. She giggled as his body moved at a somewhat awkward angle, bumping into the coffee table behind him, the glasses of bourbon sloshing a little. He spoke a low noise of frustration leaving him. “Bleedin’ table.”

His frustration with the odd angle didn’t last long before he spoke, his hands sliding along the button of her jeans. His voice remained soft, his breath warm against her skin, he toying with the button to her jeans. “We okay to lose these, Hen? Talk to me, Love.”

She found her voice nodding her head frantically. “Yes, we’re okay.”

He moved slowly unbuttoning the jeans and lowering the zipper. She lifted her hips up obediently as he placed his hands at the hem of her jeans pulling the dark denim down her body.

The jeans slid down her legs, he tossing them aside. She felt all too exposed in front of him and suddenly wished she’d chosen a more flattering pair of panties than the simple lilac cotton panties she’d worn.

She didn’t have too long to worry that the choice wasn’t the most seductive as Chibs spoke his voice once again so full of awe. “Gorgeous, Hen. Mos’ perfect sigh’ I’ve ever seen, Mo ghràidh.”

She didn’t have long to question the unfamiliar words he’d ended the comment with his lips pressing to her thighs, his facial hair tickling her skin enough to work a giggle from her lips, the action putting a smile on his lips.

He worked slowly pressing his lips to the soft skin of her thighs, not minding the awkward angle he had to bend his body in to perform this action with her sitting on the sofa.

He had a feeling any odd cricks he might develop in his neck would be well worth it.

He pressed his lips to both thighs before delicately pressing them along her hips. She gasped as he pressed his lips against her center. He pressed soft kisses through the cotton fabric, a moan leaving him as he realized just how damp the panties had grown.

He spoke his voice an appreciative growl. “I barely even touched ya an’ yer already so wet fer me, Hen.”

She moaned the comment making her cheeks flush from more than arousal. She couldn't find it in her to be too embarrassed at her body’s reaction to him. She spoke making her wants clear. “Take my panties off, Filip.”

He moaned his cock throbbing against the confines of his jeans at the demand. It was beyond a clear enthusiastic consent he’d been requesting from her from the moment they’d started this.

He obeyed his fingers sliding under the fabric she lifted her hips once again helping him slide the fabric from her body.

He moaned, tossing the fabric aside he focused less on them and more focused on what lay below them.

He groaned at the sight of her his cock throbbing all the more persistently. He spoke his voice a low moan. “Fuckin’ beautiful sigh’. Never seen somethin’ so perfect.”

She felt her cheeks flush all the darker knowing in the past when a guy she particularly liked had her this exposed she would be tempted to press her legs together and hide herself from his gaze.

Chibs hands on her thighs showed her though that he had little intention of even allowing her to think of hiding her center from him.

She was relieved that she’d recently thought to take care of her bikini line though she did it at home. She might occasionally get her legs waxed professionally, but the idea of allowing anyone to professionally wax such a sensitive area of her body made her feel beyond awkward.

So, she groomed herself using a razor made for the process to shave her bikini line and the occasional wax strip. She took care of everything in a warm bath carefully taking care of the act of grooming. She kept things neat and trimmed, not ever having been one to want to wax off everything completely.

She’d had a few boyfriends in the past comment on any sign of pubic hair with disgust as though somehow hair on her body was any more disgusting than hair on their body.

She was relieved that Chibs did not seem to mind the fact that she didn’t care to go for a brazilian wax. The look of lust in his eyes told her that he was not one to turn his nose up at the slightest hint of pubic hair.

He moved at the best angle for this, encouraging her to slide her body down the sofa and place her legs over his shoulders putting him at a closer angle to her soaked center.

He spoke his voice low and need filled. “Let me eat this pussy, Hen. Wanna make ya feel so good.”

She nodded her head the words that left her a soft gasp. “Please, Filip.”

The permission was all the inspiration he needed for him to bury his face against her center. He ran his tongue slowly through her wet folds, running them from her perineum up to her clit.

He gently lapped at her, taking his time clearly enjoying himself. He was overtaken about how absolutely soaked she felt.

It was a massive ego boost to realize that he was drawing this reaction from her. He’d dreamed about how wet she could get for him from the moment he’d first realized he wanted her. He was quite certain if he didn’t have his mouth currently occupied he’d exclaim how lucky he felt in this moment to have her and how badly he’d been dreaming of it.

He’d never imagined that day he’d first met her at the crematorium that he’d have the privilege of eating her pussy. He’d hoped he would have the opportunity to romance her and had dreamed of what that might entail. Reality made his dreams pale in comparison though.

He could admit that he was currently overtaken with the thought that this was as close to heaven as he ever might get. He was certain he could die happy here with his face buried against her wet center knowing he was the one pleasing her.

He was also capable of admitting that he had always loved giving oral though it was not a privilege he had with many of his bedroom partners.

He’d never been fond of going down on the croweaters without some form or protection. He was less than inclined to do anything sexual with them without protection. Dental dams could often be frustrating to deal with though so he rarely went down on the women who were all too happy to bed any member of SAMCRO. It was because they were so willing to bed any member of SAMCRO, that Chibs found himself unwilling to engage with anything sexual with them without a condom or dental dam. He was not about to risk getting an STD in exchange for some quick pleasure.

Given his lack of opportunity to eat pussy, he was almost worried he’d lost his touch. Judging by Y/N’s reaction though, he felt confident in saying he still had it.

She placed a hand over one of the hands he had pressed to her thigh gently caressing it.

He moved his hand placing it over hers linking their fingers together as continued to lap at her with enthusiasm.

She pressed a hand to the back of his head, her fingers digging into his scalp, the action working a low growl from him, the noise vibrating against her center.

She whined as he used his free hand to gently press between his mouth and her center. He found the hood over her clit pushing it back gently, his tongue sliding over the sensitive bud the action causing a high pitched whine to leave her, her thighs shaking at the action.

He alternated between lapping at her center flattening his tongue , suckling the lips of her labia and gently suckling at her clit. He found a rhythm that made her gasp and tremble against him. He spent a good long while repeating the routine more soft moans and whines of his name leaving her the sound spurring him on.

She felt his name slide from her lips, the noise feeling more like a prayer as she soaked up his ministrations.

She was quite sure that no one had ever eaten her out with this much skill nor this much enthusiasm. She was almost certain that even if he lacked the skill that the enthusiasm would make up for it all on its own. She was pleased to find that ability and eagerness seemed to be hand in hand when it came to his talents in this act.

Being in this moment with him easily made how horrible tonight had been easily started to fade so far from her mind. The only thing she could focus on was the man pleasing her and how she was sure she could never be without him.

When he’d first shown her a hint of interest she’d been so certain she wanted him to get lost. Now, she was sure she never wanted to lose him. She was sure she would do whatever it took to keep him by her side. The realization that she’d do anything for him did not frighten her. It seemed so obvious that she’d do anything for him. It felt like a simple fact. It was as though she was explaining that the sky was up and she needed oxygen to survive.

He kept his gaze locked on her as he pleased her, staring up at her body taking in how stunning she was; her skin flushed, her lips parted, her head fallen back. She was by far the most stunning woman he’d ever laid eyes on and somehow she was here with him of all people. He was determined to keep her here by his side. He’d do anything for her. He knew he’d proven that by his declaration that he’d kill for her tonight.

She gasped as he began to focus all the more on her clit, the bud growing more swollen the more her arousal spiked. The words slid from her she unable to stop herself. “Feels too fucking good, Baby, please. Please, Baby.”

Chibs groaned against her, the praise making his cock throb so violently it was almost painful. He was tempted to reach down and at least unfasten his belt and jeans to give him some relief. He reminded himself that tonight was for her though. He would ignore his aching erection if it meant focusing on pleasing her.

He kept up his attention on her clit realizing that if he kept it up she would reach her end sooner than later.

She gasped her back arching as her end became closer and closer within grasp. His name worked from her lips, the praise leaving her. “So fucking good Filip. Too good to me, Baby.”

He moaned against her wanting to exclaim that it was her who was too good to him. He wanted to exclaim that she was probably too good for a man like him and he was thankful and in awe she wanted him. His desire to push her over the edge kept him from voicing this though his attention remained on her clit.

He gently suckled at the bundle of nerves, the action making a low curse leave her, her back arching all the more.

She spoke her voice a soft gasp voicing her impending fall. “So close, Please, Filip.”

Her hand grasped on to his all the tighter her nails digging into his skin, her thighs beginning to quiver the end so close now.

A low tingle of pleasure began to develop in her rising and building within her, her body growing tense. Her fingers grasped onto the back of his head tugging at his short hair, the action working a hiss from him though he didn’t allow it to distract him.

Her body twitched her thighs locking around his head as she felt herself slide over the edge, the orgasm hitting her hard. Cries of his name left her lips along with the pet name she’d given him tonight Baby.

He groaned, working her through her orgasm eagerly lapping at her wet center a pleased noise leaving him at the knowledge that he’d pleased her this much. A smug voice in the back of his head exclaimed that this was all for him.

He kept his tongue flattened gently running it through her center as her body grew slack as she came down from her fall.

She whined her body jerking against the action. It was clear she had become oversensitive and the act was going from being pleasurable to feeling overwhelming.

He reluctantly parted from her center gazing up at her as he wiped the dampness of her arousal from his lips and facial hair.

He pressed his lips to her stomach moving them up her body not minding how clammy her skin had grown under his treatment.

She seemed to be pulled from her post-orgasmic haze as his lips pressed to hers, she finding the taste of herself on his lips strange but not entirely unappealing.

She moved her hand down his chest sliding it down his torso slowly as they continued to kiss.

He groaned as she slid her hand over the obvious bulge in his jeans giving his erection a light squeeze.

He was tempted to allow her to proceed. He was tempted to let her please him the way he’d pleased her just moments ago.

He resisted though reluctantly pulling from her grasp. He spoke his voice reassuring as he noticed her frown, she fearing she’d made some misstep. “I wan’ tha’ more than ya know Mo ghràidh. Tonigh’ ain’ bout me though, Hen. What I jus’ did was all fer ya, Hen. Tonigh’ is jus’ fer ya, Lass. It’s bout me showin’ ya jus’ how ya deserve to be treated.”

She was certain her heart might overflow with adoration at the words. She was tempted to insist that she wanted to give him pleasure. Tonight was about her but she wanted to make him feel good too.

She kept the words within though certain he meant business. It seemed he had no intention of worrying about getting himself off tonight. She felt her heart swell at the last part of his statement. He wanted to show her how she deserved to be treated.

She pressed her lips to his the kiss chaste considering what they’d just done. She spoke her voice soft. “My sweet man.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, unable to stop herself from saying it. “You have given me more than I deserve.”

“Nah, no’ enough.” He insisted making her heart swell for him all the more.

She pressed another kiss to his cheek, the words that left her pleading. “Stay with me tonight. Sleep here with me.”

He pressed his lips to hers as he spoke knowing she didn’t need to plead with him for him to give in to the offer. “Aye, Hen. Don’ wanna rest my head anywhere else.”

He wrapped his arms around her holding her against him feeling the rage he’d felt tonight fade too far for him to grasp.

He closed his eyes holding her tight promising himself he’d find more ways to show her what she deserved. He wanted to do what it took to be worthy of her trust and her desire to have him sleep by her side.

He let his mind marinate over the details she’d given him about her past, a promise crossing his mind. No one would ever mistreat her again. He made a silent promise to himself that she would never know that pain again. She would never have a reason to fall into chaos to escape pain. No one would ever harm her as long as he was around.

He would do whatever it took to keep her safe by his side. He would do what it took to make sure that he deserved to be by her side.

#chibs telford #sons of anarchy #chibs #chibs sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs telford x reader #chibs telford fanfiction #death and the lady #chapter ten #chibs telford smut

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tumbleweed-writes · 14 days

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Death and the Lady: Chapter Eleven: Chibs Telford X Reader

TAG LIST:

@youngadult9016 @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming @redwoodmaya

PREVIOUS CHAPTER FOUND HERE

TW: Description of Decay, Smut. 18+

CHAPTER ELEVEN: REASSURANCES

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She was barefoot in the cemetery; the ground cold, damp, and mushy below her feet. She frowned at the realization that she had no shoes on in a place where it very much seemed as though she should be wearing shoes.

Being barefoot outdoors, especially in such a public place in the dark, seemed to be just asking for a foot injury. She was certain this was a tetanus shot waiting to happen. She didn’t even go barefoot in her own yard. Why was she without shoes right now of all times?

She didn’t have much time to focus on this realization nor this question though, the strong grip on her hand and the Scotsman ahead of her pulling her forward. His movement seemed far too quick for her; his legs were much longer than her own which meant that he moved forward at longer strides than she felt capable of. She was almost certain if he moved any faster she’d trip over her own feet��especially in the wet ground. Her lack of shoes seemed to give her no traction in the damp bit of mud mixed with grass below her feet.

She thought to protest the swiftness in which he was pulling her forward, but had not a chance as he spoke, not even turning back to glance her way. “Jus’ a wee bit further. We’re close now.”

“Where are we going?” She dared to ask confusion washing over her as she struggled to keep up with his pace. She wanted to stop and force him to face her. She wanted to demand that he explain what was going on. She was sure if she stopped though he’d risk yanking her forward and making her fall to the ground with as quick as he was moving.

“You’ll see. We jus’ got a wee bit further to go. Trus’ me, we’re almos’ there.” Chibs replied his answer far too vague.

She parted her lips, tempted to prod him for more information. However, she remained silent; something about the pace in which he was moving and the demanding pull of her body behind him telling her he was the one calling the shots at the moment.

She stared down at her clothing, a greater sense of bewilderment washing over her. The knee length white nightgown she wore was not at all what she’d been expecting. The nightgown was sleeveless and sat loosely on her body; the fabric almost flowing as she moved. The delicate straps and the thin cotton of the gown seemed as though it would do so little to warm her in the cold night air.

She was certain she owned a nightgown similar to this one. She owned quite a few nightgowns; most of them vintage pieces she’d acquired at thrift shops during her years in New York and a few vintage pieces that had once belonged to ancestors of hers. She had quite a few of her ancestors' old clothing sitting in a closet in one of the spare bedrooms. She’d always had a love for vintage pieces. Even if she didn’t wear some of the more delicate vintage pieces in her closet she still had an admiration for them.

She preferred nightgowns when she slept, but didn’t quite understand why she was wearing a nightgown in the middle of a cemetery. This was never something she would wear outdoors, especially in such a public place.

Chibs was dressed as he usually always was; jeans, a dark top, and his leather kutte. She could barely make out the reaper on his back in the dim light of the night.

She glanced around her at her surroundings as Chibs continued to pull her forward. She didn’t recognize anything around her and she had a feeling it wasn’t just because it was so dark out.

She could barely make out her surroundings from far away, but up close she could spot a few distinctive features. The cemetery felt old. The grass felt overgrown as though the grounds had not been maintained in a long while. She spotted none of the usual sightings of a cemetery; no flowers left out by mourners, no maintained trees and carefully landscaped plants, no sign of care.

To her, cemeteries had always felt peaceful. She’d always been able to find some beauty in them. She wasn’t sure if it was just that she spent so much time in cemeteries due to her job, but she’d always been able to appreciate them.

This place held no beauty though. It felt almost lifeless; like a caricature of a cemetery that one might view in some old black and white horror film.

The tombstones around her felt grand; towering obelisk monuments, old magnificent crypts, and worn gravestones whose inscriptions had long since faded. Everything seemed so gray and dreary.

She was sure that she couldn’t possibly be in any part of Charming’s local cemetery, not even the older sections.

She was certain if she was in Charming’s cemetery then she’d recognize her surroundings. She’d been all over the property with her job. She knew every section of that cemetery by heart. She remembered the name of the first person buried in that cemetery and how many available plots remained in each section.

This cemetery was nothing like the one in Charming, To be honest, it resembled a few of the older cemeteries she’d been to during her time out in New York when she’d first begun to work as a funeral director. She’d had to go upstate once or twice for a burial and a few of the cemeteries there had been filled with tombstones that dated back to the original colonies when the USA was still under British rule.

She peered up at the night sky, the realization hitting her that it must be cloudy as the moon was barely visible. She could barely see a sliver of moon behind the dark clouds. The stars were not visible at all, the lack of moon and stars made her surroundings devoid of any natural lighting.

She frowned as she felt a light drip of wetness against her skin as the dark clouds above her started to release just a hint of rain.

She parted her lips to mention the rain to Chibs and request that they seek shelter indoors in order to avoid being caught in an incoming storm, but the comment died on her lips as she heard a distinct rustle of movement behind her.

She turned struggling to glance behind her as Chibs continued on his path, yanking her behind him. She peered through the dark of the night straining her eyes struggling to see just what was responsible for the noise, but spotting nothing.

The noise sounded out again close enough for her to recognize it as the shuffle of feet somewhere out in the pitch black of night. She couldn't shake the sense that she was being watched like prey by someone or something that was just waiting for a chance to pounce.

She spoke, her voice faint and fearful. “Filip, there’s something out there. I think it’s following us.”

She earned no response, turning back to face the man who’d just moments ago been dragging her along her stomach dropping as she realized he was nowhere in sight.

She turned searching her surroundings for him seeing only the dark of the night and the shape of the tombstones around her, her voice growing frantic. “Filip? Where are you? Filip?”

She was met with silence, her arms wrapping around herself both trying to protect herself from the cold night chill and the sudden realization that she was alone in a strange place with something clearly stalking her out in the darkness.

She called out again her heart slamming in her chest she moving forward hoping she’d just gotten separated from him and would catch up to the Scotsman soon. “Filip? Where are you?”

She heard the shuffle of movement behind her, the sound close enough that she was sure she could reach out and touch whatever was responsible for it if she were to turn around and face it.

She turned to face it praying against odds it was Chibs. Bile rose in her throat at the sight in front of her.

She recognized the man. It was one of the deceased men she’d allowed SAMCRO to borrow. He was mostly recognizable by the suit he’d been dressed in for his funeral…the suit he’d not been buried in as his body had been loaned out to the Sons prior to the funeral. Instead bags of concrete had been buried in his place…bags she’d placed in weighing them out carefully to imitate the feeling of an occupied closed casket. The unoccupied casket had not been found until later the bags of concrete missing compliments of SAMCRO. Not a soul other than the Sons and she knew this man had never occupied that grave.

Decomposition had begun to set in to the man’s features. The man’s skin had taken a somewhat green tone and begun to split as bloat had set in; gasses from his decaying organs clearly releasing. She was confused by the sight as she had embalmed him, puncturing his organs with a trocar. There should be no gasses remaining in his organs. How were there still gasses to make him bloat? Black purge leaked from his orifices and insect life had begun to settle in. She could spot flies buzzing around him and maggots wriggling in a few pockets of his split skin. One of his eyes had gone a milky white and the other had rotted away completely leaving him with an open empty black socket.

Despite the advanced rate of decay the man managed to shamble forward his hands reaching out towards her his nails black a few of the nails having already fallen off his fingers.

She snapped out of her shock and disgust moving backwards barely escaping his grasp. She turned struggling to move forward the muddy ground below her and her lack of shoes caused her to slide and struggle as she attempted her escape.

She heard another rustle of movement to her left, another body appearing to start a slow shamble in her direction.

She recognized this body easily. It was the very first deceased she’d been solely responsible for burying back in New York.

The young woman looked exactly the way she’d looked when Y/N had first stared down at her on that embalming table years ago before she’d gotten started on trying to make her look presentable for the modest funeral her family had paid for.

She could remember how young the woman had looked laying there lifeless on the embalming table. They’d been close in age and Y/N remembered thinking that they could have gone to school together at one point. Y/N could also remember thinking to herself that it could have easily been her on that embalming table had she remained in Charming with Gunner and SAMCRO. The thought had been a sobering one especially for her first official solo embalming job.

The dead woman was just as thin as Y/N remembered her being, the drug addiction she’d struggled from in life making her almost skeletal. Her skin held no sign of color to it. The skin was pallid aside from the pooling of purple where blood had settled on her right side. She’d been lying on her right side when she passed and once the heart had stopped pumping blood it had all settled to the lowest point in the body. Livor mortis truly was a fascinating thing, or at least Y/N had always thought it was interesting to consider. The dead woman’s long fair hair was stringy and greasy lying limply against her scalp. She wore the same stained yellowed white sundress Y/N could remember cataloging when her body had first been rolled into the funeral home back in New York. Her long nails were dirty and chipped bits of red polish still remained on them.

Her eyes were a pale shade of blue, any sign of life behind them long gone. Those lifeless eyes were fixed on Y/N and as strange as it sounded Y/N was almost certain she could spot a sense of hatred in them despite the lack of light behind the dead woman’s eyes.

Y/N continued to move forward struggling in the wet ground as the rain above her fell harder making the mud feel sticky and thick below her. Her nightgown was drenched quickly, the fabric feeling heavy on her form as she tried her hardest to escape.

She fell to the ground, the slickness of the mud far too difficult to maneuver through at such a quick frantic pace. She cried out the deceased pursuing her, growing closer and closer by the second.

She felt a strong pair of hands grip her upper arms, her heart lifting hoping it was Chibs. Perhaps he’d returned to rescue her.

Her blood ran cold as she was roughly pulled back upright meeting the eyes of who she’d foolishly hoped would be her savior.

Gunner smirked down at her his grip on her arms growing harsh as he spoke a sense of glee in his voice. “Hey, Girl. Did you miss me?”

He turned her around to face the deceased who were still shambling towards her his voice was cruel but so amused. “Here she is, guys. Come get her.”

She cried out begging to the dead to leave her be and spare her. “No, please, no. Stay away from me, please. I’m sorry, please don’t.”

A familiar voice sounded out among her panicked cries, the Scottish brogue soothing and gentle. “Hey, Hen. Yer havin’ a bad dream, Lass. Come on, wake up.”

The voice continued, sounding out over the horror in front of her and her cries of panic and pleas for forgiveness. “Come on, Love. It’s okay. Ya can wake up now, Hen. Yer safe. I’ve got ya.”

Awareness kicked in rapidly; she shot up in bed, her breathing labored. She gazed around the dark of her room, her heart slamming in her chest.

She struggled to comprehend that none of the horror she’d just experienced had all been manufactured in her mind. She struggled to accept that she was in fact safe and sound in her bedroom, her concerned boyfriend staring up at her through the darkness of her room.

Chibs felt her shoot up out of his embrace. He reached out blindly in the unfamiliar room, it taking him a moment to find the lamp on the nightstand at the side of her bed he’d fallen into the night before.

He finally located the switch turning the light on giving the room a dull pleasant glow in an otherwise stressful situation. He sat up alongside her, reaching out hesitantly to place a hand against her lower back. He was almost sure touching her too quickly would send her into an even more frantic state. It seemed as though she was locked in a panic attack whatever she’d dreamed about horrifying her. He was almost certain that touching her too hastily would send her into fight mode.

He rubbed soft soothing circles into her back trying to give her some silent reassurance while she sorted through whatever had just occurred in her sleep.

He’d woken when she’d begun to thrash beside him the murmured words leaving her lips more and more rapidly by the second. No, please, no. I’m sorry. Please don’t. Please no. I’m so sorry. Please no.

She struggled to catch her breath for a moment, it always feeling like this when she woke from one of the nightmares that had become frequent since she’d agreed to help out SAMCRO. She always struggled to pull herself out of that sense that she needed to fight for her life or run screaming. It always took a moment for her to reassure herself that she was safe in her bedroom and not in danger of losing her life and her soul to the dead who pursued her so relentlessly.

The only thing that seemed to be different this time around was that she was not waking up all alone to deal with the aftermath.

Chibs continued to rub her back, uncertain of what to say. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to her but none of them felt quite soothing nor good enough.

He was tempted to bring up his own experience with nightmares. Lord knows he’d had a few of them all about how Jimmy O’ had attacked him back in Belfast. He was tempted to reassure her that he’d experienced the same sense of panic she was currently locked in. He was tempted to promise her that it would all be alright.

He kept his hand pressed to her back, his eyes scanning the room feeling dazed, worried, and exhausted.

He’d not had much of a chance to really take a look around the master bedroom before they’d gone to bed the night before.

He’d been more focused on stripping down to his boxers and undershirt and getting into bed beside the woman he had been imagining having the privilege of sharing a bed with probably from the moment he’d realized that his liking her went far beyond just lust.

He’d folded up his kutte and clothing leaving them on a red velvet living chair in the corner of the room by the closet. He’d placed his gun and his knives between his clothing and the kutte uncertain how Y/N would feel about the weapons being out in plain sight.

The room was larger than he’d anticipated.

The room was a bit cluttered but nothing compared to the rest of the house. The clutter felt more personal than any of the family heirlooms in the other parts of the house. The belongings spread throughout the space made it feel cozy and welcoming. It seemed to reflect the woman who rested here.

The walls were painted a deep navy tone though he had a feeling that may have been her father’s choice given the room had once belonged to him and several ancestors prior.

Chibs took notice of the old vanity table sitting directly across from her side of the bed studying the bottles of perfume set out on it alongside a surprisingly large wooden grandiose looking jewelry box, and a large collection of makeup that was all neatly sorted in an organizer.

A soft looking purple rug sat out in front of the vanity table; it seeming far less intimidating than the exquisite looking persian rugs throughout the rest of the upper portion of the house and downstairs in the funeral home portion of the house.

Her closet appeared large from what he’d seen it looking more like a walk in closet than anything. Two dressers sat in the room and a few items sat spread out over the tops of them; a few small framed photos from Y/N’s childhood. There were a couple of crystals sitting out; a large piece of rose quartz and another amethyst, this one much larger than the one he’d spotted out in the living room.

A few small framed taxidermy butterflies were mounted on the wall alongside a couple of paintings that looked to be antiques. The paintings featured delicate flowers and songbirds.

There were several books on gardening stacked on a dresser showing Y/N had a love for the hobby. He found it kind of amusing. His Hen who worked daily with death and who everyone knew as the town undertaker loved a hobby that was all about nurturing something that most people associated with life.

The queen sized bed held a heavy looking tall ornate headboard made out of dark cherry wood. The headboard was something Y/N had casually mentioned, the night before, that she’d gotten in a thrift shop back when she’d been living in New York. it had been a steal she’d claimed as it was old and obviously had been well cared for.

Her bedsheets were a soft mint tone and they felt comforting and soothing to his mind. A heavy gray comforter and a handmade colorful quilt covered the bed making it feel cozy and safe.

The houseplants had caught Chibs' attention. There were several of them; all well taken care of sitting throughout the room. Those that needed bright light sat along her window seal and others sat throughout the room in ceramic pots. The plants made the room feel fresh and full of life.

The room felt like a nice escape from the sensory overload in the rest of the living quarters portion of the house and the dreary knowledge of what happened on a daily basis in the downstairs funeral home portion of the house.

Chibs easily realized he could grow accustomed to spending his nights in this room if she allowed him the privilege. It felt far more comforting than his bed in the dorm at the Sons clubhouse or the pathetic bed he kept in a small studio apartment he rented for when he wanted to take a rest away from the noise of the Sons clubhouse.

The gentle rub to Y/N’s back was enough to break her out of the panicked sense of dread she’d been locked in; she was surprised as tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes.

She turned to face Chibs, scooting close to him, her arms wrapping tight around him. She allowed the tears to fall more rapidly. She was too exhausted to bother attempting to wipe them away or hide them the way she usually might when she had to cry in front of someone.

She’d never felt 100 percent comfortable crying around people. She had to wonder if it was just because she’d grown up in an environment where there seemed to be a constant stream of crying mourners coming in and out of the home. She’d always associated crying as something that was only meant to be done in front of others in serious situations like the death of a loved one.

As she’d gone into the funeral business she’d learned to hold back tears even more. It was inappropriate to cry in front of the mourners you were meant to serve. She’d adopted the concept that their grief was not hers so she had zero right to cry. She had learned to keep her emotions locked tight close to her chest. Crying was only done in private and never in front of anyone else.

She’d found that crying in front of anyone just made her feel awkward and embarrassed. Her tendency to compartmentalize her emotions on the job had seeped into her personal life it seemed.

Chibs wrapped his arms around her, rocking her against him, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s all okay now, Hen. I’m here, I’ve got ya.”

She gripped down onto his undershirt, her face burying against his chest wanting to be surrounded by the familiar scent of him. It was a scent that had soothed her to sleep the night before; a hint of cigarettes and the faintest hint of his cologne.

He ran a hand up and down her back continuing to rock her his words soft and soothing reminding her that he had her and that everything was okay in this room.

He found himself repeating the phrases I’ve got you. It’s okay now. It’s over now. You’re okay now. You’re safe.

His soothing managed to calm her enough to stop her tears but she remained locked in his embrace. They both found themselves holding on to one another tightly both seeming to seek reassurance and a sense of peace.

He dared to speak though he already knew the answer to his question. “Nightmare, Hen?”

She nodded her head wordlessly. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, he quick to speak again. “You want ta talk bout it?”

She let out a heavy sigh, a cruel voice in the back of her brain telling her that if he knew about the content of her nightmares he’d write her off as being unstable and therefore a risk to SAMCRO.

She shushed the voice, choosing to give him a brief summary. “You, me, some cemetery…the dead I’ve buried stalking me in the night. You disappeared this time around. Usually you let them drag me away screaming. You actually usually seem pretty thrilled when they drag me away, kind of like you were in on it…almost like it was a trap and you were an accomplice. This time Gunner was there too…he offered me up to them gleefully. One of the bodies I loaned to SAMCRO and the first body I ever embalmed all alone were the dead who were after me this time around.”

He spoke absorbing this information the need to reassure her sliding from his lips. “You know I’d never let anythin’ happen to ya, Lass. I’d sure as hell not let anyone drag ya away from me. As far as Gunner goes. Ya never gotta worry bout him again. We’ve already established I’ll fuckin’ break his legs and arms if he comes near ya ever again.”

He paused, clearing his throat knowing the exact incidents that had been the culprit behind these dreams. He felt an awful sense of guilt claw inside of him digging its nails in making him feel anguished.

He spoke wanting badly to fix this for her even if he was uncertain that what he was offering to her was even possible. “If…if ya doin’ favors fer the club, if it's hurtin’ ya like this. I can get ya out of it…I’m sure Skeeter would be happy to pick up yer end of the deal even if he’s tryin to quit gamblin. As long as we still got a funeral home connection ya shoul’ be in the clear.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure my backing out on my end of the deal and handing the responsibility over to Skeeter will be just fine and dandy with the MC. I won’t be seen as knowing too much and being a risk at all.” She snarked back, unable to hide the venom from her voice.

She cringed parting her lips to apologize for her harshness but she didn’t have a chance as Chibs spoke, sounding surprisingly certain of his words. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt a hair on yer head…not even my club.”

She sighed wishing that taking the solution he was offering was that simple. She could distinctly remember her talk with Clay just last night though.

SAMCRO’s Pres had urged her to keep making both Chibs and the Sons happy. She was certain backing out on her end of the partnership she’d offered to develop with SAMCRO would not make the Sons happy at all. Chibs might forgive her for backing out of the deal she’d made, but the rest of the Sons most likely would not be so understanding.

As much as she trusted Chibs, she was quite certain that even he couldn’t protect her from the wrath nor the suspicions of Clay Morrow. If she backed down and handed over the responsibility of the bargain she’d made with SAMCRO to Skeeter, she’d be written off as a threat to the MC. She knew too much. She would be viewed as a loose end that they could easily snip off.

She was certain that Chibs would be powerless to fully provide her protection if she was viewed as a threat to SAMCRO. Even if he tried to protect her, then who was to say he’d not be given the same treatment; treated as a threat. They would most likely view his attempts to protect her as a sign of weakness and disloyalty to the club.

She spoke her voice soft but determined. “I made a deal with SAMCRO. I intend to keep up my end of the bargain.”

“Even if it’s torturin’ yer mind, Hen?” Chibs countered he scooting back just enough to peer into her eyes.

She let out a soft sigh averting her eyes from his, the words soft. “The nightmares are not happening as frequently as they did at first. The nightmares are probably just picking up because of all of the stress of tonight. I had a nightmare the night after I was practically interrogated by Hale. I think stress and anxiety triggers them. My brain is just a jerk who can’t process guilt and taunts me with things I don’t feel so awesome about…the guilt of what I’ve done along with the fear of being caught.”

She let out a shaky breath feeling safe enough to say the words out loud. “I can accept that what I’ve done means I’m an awful person who deserves hell. I betrayed the profession I swore to uphold the ethics of. I have caused immense pain to the bereaved. I disrespected the dead that were entrusted in my care. I could and should lose my license for what I did. I deserve any suffering that comes my way. I know that. I’ve made my bed and I need to lie in it”

“Ya ain’ an awful person. What ya did fer the club was…” Chibs started to say before she spoke, interrupting him.

“Morally repugnant, abuse of a corpse, an insult to decent society, a sin.”

He spoke again, rolling his eyes somewhat at her comments. “Ethically…questionable. Yer far from bein awful and deservin any torture. The world ain’ that black and white, Hen. Ya gotta realize shite is more of a shade of gray…at least in our world. Jus’ focus on the fact that ya made sure those bodies did get a final rest when SAMCRO was done with em. Ya weren’t responsible fer what we did with em. We didn’t tell ya why we wanted em. What happened after ya agreed to help us, that’s my sin to suffer fer, Lass. I’ll take hell fer ya. Those families will never know the truth. They didn’t blame ya fer the version of events they were given since ya didn’t get sued. They don’ know what ya did. Only SAMCRO does, and we ain’ judgin’ ya. The bereaved and the rest of society know nothin’ bout what really happened, and they never will. What they don’t know won’t hurt em.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple as he spoke again. “ I want ya to think bout what ya did fer those bodies we had ya cremate…ya cared nough to give em a final restin’ spot. Ya buried em with care under that rose bush. Ya made sure they found peace somewhere beautiful to rest, even if ya didn’t know what they’d want. Ya gave em that care in the end. Someone truly morally repugnant wouldn’t bury cremains of lasses she didn’t even know with such care. Someone who was so awful wouldn’ care bout what happened to those cremains. Ya cared though. Yer carin means ya ain’ so bad.”

She sighed, wanting to argue that she was just as responsible as him as she’d agreed to loan out the bodies in the first place even if it had been for much needed money.

The fact that she’d sold her morals for money made her feel even worse. She knew the debts she’d inherited had been crushing her, but she also knew she’d had other options. They’d just not been options she wanted to take. She’d been selfish and greedy. She’d been impulsive and dived face first into danger. She had proven she hadn’t changed as much as she’d claimed she had when she exclaimed she was nothing like the girl she’d been almost a decade before. She was still prone to run towards danger like a moth to the flame. If she was feeling the burn of the flame then she had no one to blame but herself.

She held her tongue though knowing that this was one argument she had zero chance in hell of winning. She knew enough about Chibs to realize that his stubborn streak was equally the width of hers.

She dared to speak, bringing up something that had been troubling her. “What am I supposed to do if anyone ever asks where the money you guys gave me came from? I paid those bills in cash…they were large payments for cash…cash that I just seemed to get out of nowhere. Suppose someone ever looks into my financial records if the police keep looking into those empty graves. What do I do if anyone ever asks me just where I got so much money out of nowhere?”

Chibs sighed, wracking his brain for a reasonable answer. He spoke as an idea crossed his mind, hoping it was a reasonable solution. “Ya tell em ya did some funeral plannin fer Gemma…Tell em she wanted to make funeral plans fer Clay an her…ya know plan ahead of time fer the future. Say she paid ya in cash fer it all. Clay and she got nough investments in all sorts of legit shite. It’d sound reasonable to think ya got paid in cash. Ya can throw some bullshite plans together as evidence ya planned it. Gemma and Clay would cover fer ya and collaborate yer story if anyone ever asked.”

She sighed knowing that counting on Gemma Teller Morrow or Clay Morrow to be an essential alibi for her wasn’t ideal. She had a feeling that it would work in a bind though. They wouldn’t just be protecting her after all. They’d be protecting the misdeed she’d done for the club and therefore protecting the club itself.

She nodded her head, unable to stop herself from voicing her fears. “I always worry that one day what I’ve done for SAMCRO will lead back to me and I’ll lose everything. I love my job, Filip. I’m where I was meant to be, working here. This is essentially what I was born to do. It’s my legacy and I’ve finally gotten to a place in my life where I want to accept it. I’m good at what I do. I can’t lose that. It’ll be like losing part of my identity. I won’t know who I am without my job.”

“Ya ain’ goin’ to lose a thing, Hen. That fuckin’ case in Lodi is cold and the local PD there have given up on it. We’ve been havin’ Juice monitor shite gettin intel from a connection we got outta the San Joaquin county department. They’re able to call in and see what’s goin in all the departments in the county without it soundin’ suspicious. Those empty graves and that staged crime scene are old news in Lodi. Cops there got bigger fish to fry. The case ran cold and leads ran dry. I think yer in the clear.” Chibs reassured her she frowning slightly at the mention of this connection in San Joaquin. She would never cease to be amazed in how long the arms of SAMCRO reached.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, he fast to speak again. “I love how much ya love yer job, Hen. Yer righ’, yer fuckin incredible at yer job. Ya ain’ losin’ yer legacy. Ya ain’ gotta worry about losin that part of yerself, not fer the club and never fer me.”

He pressed another kiss to her temple, his words soft. “Trus’ me Mo ghràidh. I’m not in the habit of lyin’ to pretty lasses.”

“What does that mean…Mo ghràidh?” She dared to ask as she soaked in his reassurances, this not being the first time she’d heard the unfamiliar words leave his lips.

He spoke, managing to pull back just enough from her to press a soft kiss to her lips as he spoke. “Scottish Gaelic, Hen. It means "My love.”

If her heart hadn’t already overflowed with devotion for him at least a dozen times tonight she was certain it would have in this moment. Her lips pressed to his cheek, her voice soft and filled with a sense of fond adoration. “Oh, Filip. How are you this sweet?”

He chuckled, shaking his head at the comment not helping but to lean into the press of her lips to his cheek. “I’m only sweet to ya, Hen. Don’ tell no one. Gotta keep up my reputation, especially with the prospect. Can’t let em know I’m this soft.”

She smiled, wanting to point out that he was far sweeter to more people than he realized. She held it in though, pressing another kiss to his cheek.

Her lips ran across his skin adoringly, Chibs not helping but to sink into the affection. He was certain he’d never grow accustomed to someone kissing him with such tenderness and he knew for a fact he’d never be entirely convinced he deserved such warmth. He was eager to soak it up all the same.

He managed to turn his face, his lips sliding along hers with ease. The kiss easily grew impassioned, his tongue finding no resistance, she parting her lips.

She let out a soft moan as he slid his tongue along hers, easily dominating the kisses she sank into his affections.

She reluctantly parted her lips from his an idea crossing her mind. She smiled at him, her voice soft as she reached out toying with the collar of his undershirt. “So, you said that tonight was all about me…making me feel good?”

“Aye, it was.” He insisted his heart rate picking up, he trying not to get his hopes up on what she might be about to offer him. He was quite certain he’d eagerly take anything she was willing to give him.

She leaned in her lips brushing across his so lightly; the kiss was not nearly enough for him. She smirked as she pulled away, he leaning forward chasing her lips.

She gently shoved him back to rest against the bed, her voice teasing. “So…it’s around three a.m…I could argue that last night was just about me. It’s technically a new day.”

“Aye, it is.” He agreed a heat spreading to the lower region of his body, his heart beating all the quicker.

She laid down beside him, her lips sliding along his cheek down to his neck. “So, can this morning be about you?”

“Aye, Hen. I wouldn’t say no to tha’ offer.” He insisted a low moan leaving him as her lips moved along his pulse point, pressing soft sucking kisses into his skin.

He was certain she might leave a mark behind and he couldn’t help but to love the idea. He knew he’d wear any lovebites from her proudly.

She ran a hand down his torso teasingly her lips focused on his neck, his head falling back soaking up the attention.

She ran a hand under his undershirt caressing his warm skin, a small sense of anxiety building ever so slightly within him. He was almost tempted to attempt to suck in his stomach. He knew his midsection was far wider than he’d prefer.

She didn’t seem to notice that he was a little heavier than he’d like her hand caressing his skin, her touch soft and teasing.

He turned his head, her lips pressing to his, the kiss growing deep as her hand ran down his torso far too slowly. Her fingertips passed over his hips gently running along his thigh, a groan leaving him.

She ran her hand back up his thigh, sliding it over his abdomen, a groan leaving him the lower region of his body perking up almost as though it was trying to tempt her into touching him.

Another groan left him as she gave in her hand pressing over his boxer clad member a soft moan leaving her as she spoke. “Can I touch you, Baby? I want to stroke this cock and make you feel so good.”

He eagerly nodded his head, the words becoming jumbled up on his lips he wanting to say a million things.

She spoke teasingly, almost parroting a phrase he’d murmured to her the night before in pursuit of pleasuring her. “I need words, Filip.”

He groaned, nodding his head. “Fuck, Hen. Aye ya can do whatever ya want to me.”

She giggled at the comment the action making his cock twitch. She spoke, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “That’s a dangerous offer to make, Handsome.”

“Never been one to shy away from danger, Lass.” He remarked his heart lifting at the word handsome. It had been so long since anyone had called him such a thing.

He whined as she pulled away all too suddenly. She smirked, shaking her head at the whine that left his lips.

She pressed a reassuring kiss to his cheek, her voice soft. “I need to grab something that’s going to help us out.”

He furrowed his brow as she turned in bed reaching for the drawer in her nightstand. He smirked understanding as she rolled back over holding up a tube of lubricant.

He spoke nodding his head at the tube, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Ya keep lube in yer nightstand, Hen?”

She returned the smirk as she spoke. “Yep, it can be helpful especially when I’m a little too eager to really work myself up and get as wet as I want before I make myself cum with my vibrator.”

He groaned the words making his cock throb. He closed his eyes for a brief moment overcome with imagery of what she was describing. He could so easily imagine her lying back in this bed, a toy buried so deep in her wet center. He could imagine her writhing against the bed as the toy buzzed away moans pouring from her lips.

He spoke daring to open his eyes as he watched her open the tube squirting a healthy amount of lube into her hand. “Fuck, Hen. I think I may need a demonstration some time.”

“You want to hump my vibrator?” She teased a giggle leaving his lips , he shaking his head.

“Nah, think we already established I wanna give ya the humpin round ere. I wouldn’ mind seeing ya play though, Love. Bet it’s a fuckin’ beautiful sight.” He insisted his cock throbbing at the thought.

She spoke knowing just what to say to make him moan. “Last time I did it, we’d just ended a phone call. The sound of your voice was enough to make me want to make myself cum. I think that accent of yours is a kink I didn’t even know I had.”

“Christ, Mo ghràidh.” he moaned, his reaction being exactly what she’d envisioned.

She spoke, a surprisingly dominant tone entering her voice. “Get rid of those boxers for me, Filip.”

He groaned, shoving the bed sheets and comforter down with zero shame as he frantically reached down practically ripping his boxers off his movements a little clumsy.

His boxers were kicked off somewhere off the side of the bed, she gazing down at his cock a soft moan leaving her as she spoke. “Fuck, Filip. You’re way more impressive than I’d hoped.”

He groaned knowing this wasn’t the first time a sexual partner had made a comment about his dick. In the past though, when a croweater thought to comment on his size he’d always assumed it was absolute bullshit. The club sweetbutts tended to just say whatever they thought whichever Son they were with wanted to hear.

Talking about how huge a guy was seemed to be a favorite line among the croweaters no matter what size their bedroom partner might be.

With Y/N though, he had the sense that her words were genuine judging by the sense of lust washing over features.

She stared down at him, her clit distinctly throbbing. She wasn’t lying. He was thicker than she’d hoped for and longer than she’d thought he might be. He was just above average enough to pack the promise that he’d feel good without it being too much.

He wasn’t so huge that she was certain he’d just be painful buried inside of her. She knew some guys were deluded enough to think that the bigger the more pleasurable. She knew though that too big could just be uncomfortable. Some guys seemed to think that a woman’s body was unending but that was not the case at all. She’d found in the past that too big meant less inside and a sense of discomfort. There was a fine line between being thick and long enough to provide a pleasant stretch and being so brutally huge it felt like you were being ripped in half.

She had a feeling that Chibs favored the pleasurable stretch side of the coin.

She pressed her lips to his, the kiss growing deep without any effort. Chibs groaned into the kiss as she wrapped her lube slicked hand around his cock.

She stroked him slowly, his head falling back moans of pleasure spilling from his lips. He rocked against her touch she pulling her hand back a frustrated whine leaving him.

She spoke her voice so teasing. “Stay still and enjoy it, Filip.”

He groaned gripping down onto the bedsheets nodding his head frantically, having to wonder when he’d become so submissive.

There was something incredibly erotic about letting her take control though. It was not something he’d thought he’d be willing to do with any bedroom partner.

He found that he was all too eager to lie back and let her take control for now at least.

She wrapped her hand back around him stroking him so slowly a groan leaving him he resisting the urge to rock against her to increase the pleasure.

She spoke her voice soft and sweet. “So beautiful, Filip. You’re so handsome.”

He spoke his voice thick with lust. “We gotta get ya glasses, Hen. Fuck.”

He paused, shaking his head a giggle leaving him as he spoke again. “Actually nevermin’. Don’t wanna get ya glasses. Ya migh’ see what an ugly bastard I am if yer vision gets better.”

She spoke pressing an adoring kiss to his lips, he moaning against her lips. She spoke as she pulled from the kiss far sooner than he’d hoped. “Shush, you’re not ugly. You’re the sweetest, the bravest, and the most handsome man I know.”

He groaned as she sped up her movements, her voice teasing. “If you weren’t handsome I wouldn’t have worn out the batteries in my vibrator thinking about you.”

He grunted the words leaving him. “Fuckin jack off too much to ya, Love. Livin’ with my hand down my fuckin’ boxers every nigh’ since we met.”

She moaned her clit throbbing at the confession. She spoke, reaching forward with her other hand massaging his balls, the action making his eyes practically roll into the back of his head, a loud moan leaving him.

She spoke pulling her hand from his balls all too soon but he didn’t have time to focus on the loss as she spoke. “What do you imagine, Baby?”

“Takin ya in every position, Love. Makin ya moan my name. Makin ya cum over and over again. Makin ya cream all over this cock. Cummin in that pussy, lettin ya know it’s mine. How tight yer pussy woul’ feel. Yer fuckin tits.” He moaned his eyes gazing down at what she was doing to him wanting to commit the sight to his memory.

It was the hottest thing he was sure he’d seen in a long while; her lube slick hand sliding over his cock, pre cum desperately seeping from his redened tip, her nails that soft pink, her hands so delicate wrapped around his thick length.

She spoke, reaching out with the hand that wasn’t occupied placing it over one of his. She pressed his hand to her breast over the silk of her nightgown “These tits?”

He groaned at the action, his cock throbbing painfully. He massaged her breast over the silk of her nightgown, a moan spilling from him. “Aye, fuckin perfect breasts. Perfect handful. Stared at em too much when we firs met. Couldn’t wipe em from my brain.”

She smiled a soft moan leaving her at the words and the feel of his hand working her breast. No guy had ever managed to make pleasure course through her so rapidly just by touching her breast alone.

She was tempted to lower her nightgown and let him have all the more access, but held back stroking his cock more rapidly, the action making his resolve break his hips rocking.

She did nothing to stop him, allowing him to help her chase his orgasm. She spoke her voice soft and adoring. “Want to make you cum, Handsome. You deserve it. Such a sweet brave man, trying to protect me tonight, promising to keep me safe.”

He groaned, nodding his head frantically, the words spilling from him. “Gonna protect ya with my life, Hen. Always gonna be safe with me.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, her voice sweet. “You’re going to be safe with me too, Filip.”

He groaned the words making his heart ache with adoration. She continued to stroke him, her lips pressing along his neck. “You made me feel so good tonight, Filip. Never had a man eat my pussy so well. Never had anyone make me cum from that alone.”

“Fuck, gotta treat ya how ya deserve.” He grunted the comment making his balls ache hinting that she would soon be successful in getting him to his end.

She spoke continuing to stroke him he chasing the sensation with rapid thrusts helping her please him. “Want to treat you how you deserve too, Handsome.”

He moaned as she nipped at his pulse point his balls throbbing pulling closer to his body the end so deliciously close.

He twisted the bedsheets in his hands unable to form any responses to her words he devolving into moans and groans as she continued to stroke him her lips and tongue soothing the nip to his neck.

He grunted his cock twitching his orgasm hitting him harder than he’d anticipated his head falling back his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head. He felt her name spill from his lips his accent growing thicker praises spilling from him as ropes of cum spilled from him coating her hand and his stomach. “Fuckin’ shite, oh, Hen. My Lass. Fuck, yes. Fuckin’ perfect, makin me cum. Wish it was in ya, fuck.”

She stroked him through his release a moan leaving her lips at the sight of him so lost in pleasure and the evidence of that pleasure spilling onto her hand.

He whined as he came down from his end the light stroke to his oversensitive cock too much.

She reluctantly pulled away he panting towards the ceiling his body shaking and damp with sweat.

He turned his head, meeting her gaze a groan leaving him as she brought her hand up to her lips, her tongue peeking out to taste the release coated along her skin she moaning at the salty taste of him.

He groaned at the action, his hand pulling her fingers from her lips, his lips pressing to hers.

He kissed her deeply, his hand pressing to the back of her head keeping her there. He reluctantly pulled away from her his voice drowsy. “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me if ya keep bein this perfect, Mo ghràidh.”

She giggled at the comment not helping but to tease him. “Good thing I have caskets downstairs huh?”

He rolled his eyes, his hand reaching down to her backside giving it a playful swat. She gasped, jumping slightly at the action. She spoke her voice a mix of scolding and playfulness. “Filip.”

“Don’ bury me yet, Love. Still got life in me.” He remarked his body feeling heavy and relaxed.

She shook her head giving his shoulder a playful nudge. “You better go clean up before you pass out. Buddy. I am not sleeping pressed to you if you’ve got dried Chibs juice on you.”

He snorted at the comment a huff leaving him. “Aye, things I do fer ya.”

She shook her head, reaching out to find a tissue to clean her own hand as she watched him pull from her bed.

She smirked lust washing over her as she admired his backside as he disappeared into the master bathroom shutting the door behind him.

She was pleased to find that his backside was just as much of a gorgeous sight sans clothing.

She relaxed against the bed tossing the tissue into the wastebasket by the bed satisfied her hand was clean enough.

Chibs cleaned himself up as thoroughly as he could, losing his undershirt as it hit him; he'd definitely spilled his release far enough to hit the article of clothing.

He left the room not ashamed to be completely nude not helping but to look forward to any hint of lust that might be on her features at the sight of him totally bare.

He was only somewhat disappointed to find her fast asleep as he reentered the bedroom. He felt a sense of comfort hit him at the sight hoping that she would find a more restful sleep than she had moments ago.

He found his boxers within the bed sliding them back on before he slid back into bed beside her.

He scooted close to her his arms wrapping around her torso, his head resting close to hers. He spoke a surprising statement leaving his lips as sleep began to sink in. “I love ya, Hen.”

He was too exhausted and far too satisfied with what they’d just done to consider the statement that had left him too hard.

His heart screamed though that he was certain of his words. He loved her.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chibs rolled his eyes at the low whistle that left Juice’s lips at the clear love bites pressed into Chibs’ neck. Y/N had not been subtle about her choice in placement of hickies and he knew he had not entirely been subtle in his choices either.

Juice leaned in examining the darkened marks visible under the collar of Chibs’ black shirt and his kutte. “Y/N did that?”

“Ya shoul’ see her neck.” Chibs commented knowing he would not go into any greater detail than that.

He sat back at the bar satisfied enough with the little bit of bragging he’d done. He knew he’d never share any of the details about Y/N. He was quite sure she’d embalm him alive if he got too vocal about their bedroom activities. He figured he could get away with bragging about his own sexual prowess though.

“If she didn’t scare the shit out of me, I’d ask if she has any sisters or cousins.” Juice commented Chibs smirking at the words as he sat back at the bar in the Sons’ clubhouse.

He spoke, raising a brow. “My lass scares ya? Sweet wee thing like her scares ya?”

“She told me where the blood goes in an embalming, dude. Shit is spooky,” Juice shuddered remembering the conversation that had happened at the fairground the night before.

Chibs smirked, eager to respond, making Juice shudder all the more. “Aye into the sewer.”

Juice groaned, shaking his head. “Shit, I do not want to be a fly on the wall in you twos private conversations.”

Chibs smirked all the more tempted to prod Juice all the more but held back as Jax Teller entered the clubhouse.

Chibs sighed pulling from the bar knowing a serious talk was needed between his vice pres. and he.

He spoke nodding his head. “Jackie Boy, can we talk?”

Jax nodded off towards his Chapel having the feeling Chibs wanted to talk about something that he didn’t want Juice’s ears lingering around to hear.

The Scot followed Jax into the room, the doors shutting behind them giving them a sense of privacy.

They both sat at the reaper table in their usual spots, Chibs letting out a sigh knowing he had to jump into this right away. “Gunner ran into Y/N at the fairgrounds last night.”

“Shit, fucking asshole. How’s she doing?” Jax dared to ask his jaw tensing at the news. He’d been dreading this possibility the moment Y/N had become once again entangled with SAMCRO.

Chibs shook his head, his fists clenching. “As alrigh’ as she can be. Fuckin terrified her seein him.”

Jax cringed at the comment he daring to speak. “I’m guessing this wasn’t just him being his usual shithead self in front of a woman. From your reaction, I’m guessing she filled you in on the background with him?”

“Aye.” Chibs snapped, taking a deep breath, his eyes crossing over the sign proudly displayed on the chapel wall. Brains Before Bullets.

Jax shook his head, a heavy sigh leaving him, he pulling a cigarette from his kutte pocket lighting it. “Shit was awful. They were this destructive force together. I tried my best to keep him away from her and to talk her out of being stuck to him…but you know how stubborn she is. She was even worse at nineteen.”

“She told me everything.” Chibs blurted out reaching into his own kutte pulling out a cigarette of his own.

Chibs spoke again gripping down onto his cigarette so tight it almost snapped in half. “He fuckin violated er more than once back then. Did ya fuckin know bout that?”

Jax grimaced, shaking his head. “I knew the sex was rough. Gunner loves to brag. If I’d known she…If I ever knew he forced himself on her, I swear I would have killed him.”

Chibs was tempted to say the words What about now? Would you kill him now? I would.

He kept the statement in not having a chance to say the words as Jax spoke. “Shit back then was a blur, Chibs. She was a mess…shit with her brother. I think she was in self destruction mode. She was so young…she loved her brother and he loved the hell out of her. He complained about how much she followed him around, but if anyone else said a word he’d beat their face in. The accident took him from her mentally at least. I felt like I owed it to her and him to let her work shit out. I enabled her. I’ll own up to that. I felt guilty. Ope and I are the ones who encouraged her brother to get that Harley, more me than Opie. After the accident, I blamed myself as much as she blamed me. In my own fucked up way I thought letting her work out her pain in the clubhouse was the right move. If I had been able to predict Gunner, then I would have told her to get the fuck out of my face that very first night she showed up blaming me for her brother’s accident.”

Chibs spoke, taking a long drag of his cigarette, the words harsh. “I want to fuckin kill Gunner. I know I can’t. Shite would bite me in the arse.”

Jax sighed nodding his head in agreement. A member of one charter murdering a member of another charter would likely result in a Mayhem vote towards the killer.

If Chibs killed Gunner and it was found out, Chibs would most likely be killed in retaliation.

Chibs spoke venting out loud talking more to himself than to Jax. “What kind of fuckin man am I if I let him live knowin he violated the woman I love? I don’ care how long ago it was or how fuckin determined she was to destroy herself. I know he hurt her and I know he’d do it again if he was given the chance.”

Jax widened his eyes not missing the word love.

He chose not to address it quick to speak trying to break Chibs out of his vocal inner dialogue. “Then we don’t let him ever be alone with her. Anytime he shows up in Charming, we’re going to make sure those two never cross paths…not without you or me around. The rest of SAMCRO will look out for her too. Her being a business association of the club protects her alone…you being with her guarantees it.”

Chibs let out a shaky breath, his words tense. “I can’t promise I won’t beat the shite out of him on sigh’ if he’s even in the same room with her Jackie. I see him an all I see is red. All I can think bout is him violatin’ her…He bruised her damn wrist at the fairground…if he was willin to do tha’ in public…If I didn’t know wha’ he did to her in private…I’d shudder at imagining it.”

He gazed down at the lit cigarette in his hand remembering his statement to her when she told him about Gunner. If he’d known her back then…he had not finished the sentence yet he knew what he’d say.

His heart screamed he would have protected her had he known her back then. She would have been cherished by him. He would have appreciated her and shown her how to channel her pain without harming herself. He would have fallen for her.

A more sensible part of him knew he was damaged by his past so thoroughly when he first arrived in Charming. That sensible part of his mind told him he would have been so lost in his own misery he might not have had it in him to take on hers. He would have been in no shape to play protector. Perhaps they would have destroyed one another due to their own fear and anguish. Perhaps they would have just used one another to avoid facing their misery. Perhaps they could have been toxic for one another.

His heart battled that thought though the over romantic organ insistent she would have been good for soothing his misery and he would have been good to her. He would have worshipped her making it known mistreatment of her would be met with violence against anyone who laid a finger on her. They would have not destroyed one another the way his mind insisted but instead would have healed each other.

Being by her side now felt so healing. He felt lighter than he’d felt in years. She didn’t make him feel like the dirty damaged outlaw. He felt like Filip who loved deeply and protected those he trusted.

Jax was fast to speak, providing reassurance. “If it comes down to that, you’ll have my support. I think you’ll be justified to knock him out for what happened at the fairground alone. You throwing any punch his way is going to be seen as you defending your ol’ lady.”

The comment about Y/N being his ol lady only brought a small sense of warmth to him, his anguish and rage towards Gunner casting a shadow over what should be such a delightful statement.

“Aye, I’ll defend her. I’d kill fer her Jax. I offered to kill the prick las’ nigh’ and ya know what she said?” Chibs blurted out, taking another drag from his cigarette.

He spoke again before Jax had a chance to reply. “She tol’ me that me killin him would bite me in the arse. She fuckin’ knew how that shite would go down with the club, without even havin to be told. She jus’ knew how our world works.I hate tha’ she’s righ’. She’s too damn clever…makes too much sense even when I’m pissed off.”

Jax shook his head fast to speak. “She’s always been clever.”

Chibs cringed knowing he needed to say the words. He wouldn’t be able to push it from his mind until he cleared the air. “She mentioned her past with ya.”

Jax cringed at the comment knowing that it the conversation was unavoidable. He’d known it would come up the second Chibs started to get close with the local undertaker.

Jax spoke knowing he had to lie it out on the table. “We had fun…when we weren’t arguing…which was most of the time. We argued about everything. I was a prick and she was mouthy. She was angry and I was nursing a broken heart. It wasn’t love, you don’t have to worry about that. We were a good distraction for each other. I never meant for it to go in that direction. At first I just wanted to let her vent about her brother. She seemed like she needed a friend or at least someone who let her talk without judging her. I think we were both caught up in our own problems…our grief over her brother, our mixed feelings about our legacies, and other bullshit. We worked shit out on each other. The sex was good, but we weren’t committed to anything deeper than just fucking each other. I wasn’t looking to make her anything more than a friend who I occasionally hooked up with and she wasn’t looking to be my ol lady. I’m sure my mom would have loved her to be my ol lady…but I wasn’t interested. I’m still not. Trust me, brother. I know she’s yours. I have zero interest in pursuing anything with her and I know the feelings are mutual on her end.”

Chibs let out a shaky breath, his heart lifting at the words I know she’s yours.

He couldn’t ignore the possessive little voice that piped up in the back of his head. Yes she is.

Jax spoke again, a sigh leaving him. “She leaving Charming was what she needed. She was going to wind up dead if she stayed here…especially with Gunner. I worried about her getting so deep back into SAMCRO. She doing okay?”

“I’m takin care of her. I ain’ goin to let nothin happen to her.” Chibs insisted not wanting to spill his guts about her nightmares or the sense of guilt she felt over what she’d done for the club.

That was not his secret to share. Sharing that would be a betrayal of her trust in him.

He spoke needing to say the words he knowing that what he'd said to her the night before as she slept was not just his orgasm talking. His heart screamed that he meant it. “I love her."

He cleared his throat he fast to speak again. "I'm crazy bout er, Jackie Boy. I will make sure she never has the need to leave Charming ever again.”

Jax nodded his head, Chibs almost certain he spotted a hint of relief in the younger man’s eyes.

He spoke a heavy sigh leaving him. “I know she’s not my biggest fan…but I do still care about her as a friend. I know she’s in good hands with you. I’ll do what I can to help you any way I can when it comes to Gunner.”

Chibs let out a sigh of relief nodding his head. “Aye, I appreciate that.”

He stared back up the sign on the chapel wall. Brains Before Bullets.

He knew just putting a bullet in Gunner’s skull was not the answer.

He would have to be smarter than that.

==============================================================

If anyone had told Y/N just a year ago that she would find herself walking arm and arm with a member of SAMCRO down Main Street, sharing a bag of candy, she might fear she had encountered someone who was quite delusional.

Here she was though walking with Chibs arm linked with hers a bag of chocolates in her hand they shared them as they strolled past shop windows.

Chibs spoke, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “I use ta steal chocolates from the petrol station when I was a wee lad…that and dirty magazines when I firs realized jus how appealin lasses were.”

She chuckled at the comment, it taking her off guard. “You had sticky fingers?”

“Aye, Christ. If my poor Ma had known she’d have skinned me alive.” Chibs commented a chuckle leaving his lips.

“I imagine so, especially with the titty mags.” She remarked a shaking laugh spilling from his lips.

He spoke, shaking his head. “Aye woulda been drug down to the local Priest by my Ma. Woulda been given so many Hail Marys I woulda had to have been raised in a confession booth.”

She replied to this comment giving his hip a playful nudge as they walked. “So I’m taking it you weren’t a good Catholic boy?”

“I tried…I maybe lied a wee bit in confession sometimes though. Figured some shite is better off between me and God alone…Father Anderson didn’ need to be part of that conversation.” Chibs admitted knowing he probably was considered to be a poor catholic as an adult. He’d not been to confession since he’d lived in Belfast.

He spoke a small sigh leaving him. “My poor Ma…both er kids went astray. She was a good Catholic lass. Cait was less bad than me. She was a wee bit more obedient. Her son though…he’s all his Uncle Filip.”

“You have a nephew?” Y/N dared to ask not helping but to soak up every story Chibs told her about his immediate family though she’d always got the sense it brought up a hint of sorrow in him.

“Aye, Padriac. He adored me growin up. I used to visit Cait and him…make the trip out with some cash and we’d have a wee party, good food and drinks. His da…my sister’s ex, fuckin bastard was a wee bit too much like our Da. Cared more bout the bottle than his family until he disappeared. My Da was older than my Ma when they got together…too damn old to be messin round with a lass er age. My Ma was sweet as can be, loyal heart and tender. She was a saint. She was stern with me and Cait when we needed it but she had a soft soul. She put up with too much from my prick of a Da, and when he left no one missed him. He was a fuckin brute. We were glad to see him leave. Our Ma died a few years after Padriac was born…Cait and I were the only family each other had. After I patched into SAMBEL I visited more. Padriac followed in my footsteps ya know? Prospected fer SAMBEL. Pretty sure he’s been patched in now. He’s bout twenty seven now. He was a teenager last I saw him but he was a handsome lad. Got those Telford genes, tall and dark headed. He’s got that Telford mischievous spirit. He’s a good lad. I love him to death and miss him more than ya know. Made me proud when I heard through the grapevine that he patched in to SAMBEL jus like me.” Chibs recalled, she not helping but to adore the fondness in his voice as he spoke about both his sister and his nephew.

She picked up on the comment about his father and his mother. She guessed that explained some of the sorrow that she sensed when he discussed his mother.

She spoke not helping but to tease him. “So, from what I’m hearing…there’s a younger Telford out there? Crap, I could have gotten a younger model.”

He let out a huff giving her backside a swat not caring if they were in public a laugh leaving her along with a slight squeal.

She buried her face against his arm, a little embarrassed as her squeal caught the attention of a passing man.

Chibs smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist, his voice low, a hint of husk in his voice. “Ya weren’t complainin bout my age when I ate yer pussy the other nigh? Think ya were too busy cummin on my tongue to say much of anythin legible.”

She felt her cheeks flush all the darker as she gazed up at him, his lips pressing to hers he tasting like chocolate and a sense of adoration.

She spoke her voice soft as he pulled from the kiss. “Don’t have any complaints about the older model I got.”

She paused, unable to stop herself. “I have always liked antiques.”

He snorted at the comment, giving her backside another swat, choosing to keep his arm wrapped around her waist as they continued to make their way down main street.

They were unaware of the eyes watching them from within a nearby diner.

Agent June Stahl watched the Scottish Son and the mysterious young woman with avid interest.

She’d not been expecting to spot a Son walking down Main Street when she stopped for a bite to eat the Charming Police Station feeling far too stuffy and Deputy Hale feeling far too suffocating.

She watched the pair as they stopped in front of a shop window the Scot leaning down to say something that the young woman found humorous judging by how her head fell back she clearly giggling. Stahl studied the pair as the Son’s lips pressed to his companion’s they making it clear they did not shy away from PDA. It was an odd sight; the rough looking forty something year old biker and the young elegant looking woman wearing a black dress that could only be described as prim.

She had a feeling judging by their interactions and the way the Scot was staring down at her with devotion that she was no croweater. She looked a little too polished to be a biker groupie. No, the way the Scotsman was staring at his companion screamed ol lady.

She spoke as her waitress refilled her cup of coffee. “Who is that young woman over there? The girl in the black dress across the street?”

The much older waitress who wore a name tag stating her name was Pearl rose a brow, she looking hesitant to speak up about anyone walking hand and hand with a member of SAMCRO.

Stahl resisted the urge to roll her eyes, having taken notice of the residents' hesitance to say much about SAMCRO. The MC had a hold on most of the residents of the town.

Pearl apparently decided her need to gossip was more tempting than the need to stay mum about SAMCRO. “That’s Y/N Y/L/N. She owns Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home. Her dad died a few months back. She inherited the family business. It’s a good thing she took over since she is the only available heir to do so. She has a brother but the poor dear hasn’t been the same since his motorcycle accident about a decade ago. He’s out in some institution in Lodi allegedly. Poor dear just isn’t right in the head, such a shame. Y/N came back to town for her father’s funeral and stayed. She was living out somewhere else for a while…out east somewhere. I don’t like to gossip but she had a wild streak about a decade ago…got into a lot of trouble, gave her poor dad a time. She seems to have cleaned her act up though…not her taste in men it looks like, but she’s grown up a lot…to be honest, she’s always been a peculiar girl…never quite fit in and didn’t seem to even try to, but she’s running the funeral home now. She seems good at her job at least even with as strange as she’s always been. She made the funeral home look real nice.”

Stahl raised a brow at the information. A funeral director who just happened to be walking down main street with a known criminal?

Stahl frowned, tempted to point out that this Y/N didn’t seem to have cleaned up her act too much if she was buddying up to a member of SAMCRO.

She held in the comment though making a mental note of this young woman.

If she had a wild streak there might be a police record there. Stahl was interested to find that she might just have another SAMCRO ol lady to look into.

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