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lilimalia · 1 year

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ROSE HIP TEA // multiple characters

SPECIAL EVENT // POST !

MALE CHARACTERS [batch I]

SYNOPSIS... Valentine's Deals you say? Well... We do have a special tea brew just for the occasion!

CHARACTERS... diluc, zhongli, ayato, alhaitham (al-haitham), childe, xiao, kazuha,

DISCLAIMERS... fem/afab reader, valentine's special! This is the batch, and batch II will be genshin's most popular females. Xiao's part has a bathing scene, and Kazuha's has a flute playing reader.

BARISTA'S INTEL... I went after the most popular characters so I apologize if your favorite isn't on here... blame google statistics... And also, I may have chosen a song that sounded 100% like Diluc singing it, am I simp? Yes.

CAFE TUNE... Sway // Michael Buble

DILUC RAGNVINDR

The manor shines like jewels across the grassy plains of Mondstadt. Sunrise rays reflecting off it's clear windows. A beautiful morning, only right for such a sweet day.

Waking up, you shift towards your left, the bed creaks under your body, as you search lazily for your husband. Mind still groggy from the morning rising.

"Diluc?..." you call, finding that your side has been left by your husband. Startled, you rise, searching frantically for your lover.

"Diluc?... Did you leave for work again?", disappointment laces your face, your eyes furrowing as you begin to rise. It seems that even on the day of love, your own lover holds no bias.

Throughout the day, the glistening hope you had held that Diluc would come home, began to fade. The day goes by slowly, as you drag your burdens on your shoulders through the city of Monstadt, watching as lovers and friends a like smile and jump for joy as they receive flowers. But, Valentine's Day doesn't have to be lonely... Right? You don't have to depend on Diluc. You've got Klee! The sweetest girl in the world!

Except that Klee is with the Dragonspine Alchemist that Kaeya speaks fondly of...

The day seems to pass slowly, sun to moon, your mind is preoccupied... Your legs carrying you like feathers, threatening to snap at any moment. Sadness carries your body like a leash, leading you through out the day, gloomy under the lack of your lover. Perhaps it had been to much to hope he would put aside work for you... Arriving at the Manor, you open the door,

"Adeline... Could you please prepare a salt bath? It's been a rough day..."

"The maids of all left to celebrate the occasion dove... Are you alright?" Warm hands wrap around your waist, grasping at it slowly as your lifted off your feet. Oh, your wide awake now.

You look down to see Diluc, a soft smile fading onto his lips as he holds you up, large hands firmly gripping at your body as he speaks.

"Happy Valentine's, now, I believe we are due for a 5 star homecooked meal my love."

And a saccharine smile blooms across your face, face lining with wrinkles from your joy, as you grasp his face within your hands. <3

ZHONGLI A.K.A MORAX

The consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor walks across the bustling city of Liyue. Left free from his tasks, his eyes gaze upon the sales of the day.

It seems that many of the shops have opened sales, tempting, and appropriate for that of Valentine's Day. Who was he to deny the offer?

"Greetings Mr. Shitou, if you don't mind, I would like to see the wares you have for today..."

"Ah! Mr. Zhongli, what a pleasure to see you here again! Yes, yes, we do have some lovely jewelry for the day of love sir!"

Shitou opens a case, glittering black it shines in the afternoon sunlight; setting out three pieces of jewelry that shine across the table. Eye-catching to any and every that passes. Studying his selection of choices, Zhongli examines the cut of each jewel, from swiss to dahlia, before his eyes lay upon a particular necklace. Refined it is, a green jade glistening in the rays of sunlight, the gold around it embracing it like a newbord.

"This necklace... The quality is indeed impeccable... I will take it!"

"Lovely choice sir! Would you also like our special packaging just for this Valentines? It'll only cost another 10 mora!"

Of course... Only the finest material for his lover. How could he refuse. Zhongli returns that night, presenting his gift, towards his lover, who only deserves the best of the best.

AYATO KAMISATO

Kamisato Ayato craves nothing more but to be within the soft comforting touch of your body. To find his solace in your own, to wrap his arms around your waist and curl you up into his own body.

But... The duties of a Commissioner do not cease.

His eyes wear tiredly, drained and dragged downwards by the extent of his work.

"Sir Kamisato, your wife has registered a room within the Komore Teahouse and has put it on your tab. She had told the staff to personally deliver this purchase to you..." his right-hand calls calls, poise and proper as a small awkward chuckle lifts from his lips.

Ayato is no fool. He knows your games, and like a fish to bait, he plays along.

"Thank you Thoma, I will... Deal with the message accordingly." The Commisioner chuckles, his eyes darting playfully towards his servant as he watches the blonde fidget from the clear daring intent of the message.

Excusing the poor victim, Ayato lifts from his seat. Body crackling as his bones unstiffen. Free from it's bonds of constriction.

Poise and elegant, the Kamisato greets Taroumarou at the front, closing the door behind him to avoid the gazes of the public.

"Why hello there Taroumarou... Would you happen to know which room [Y/n] ordered herself?"

"Woof woof! Woof!"

"Room 7? Why thank you kind sir." Ayato teases. How he understands the animal, is out of his understanding...

Walking down the hallway, he knocks on the door, before entering in, pleasantly surprised to be greeted by your smile, cheerfully lit in the yellow light of the sectioned off tea room.

"Ayato! Ayato! Come sit, I knew you would come to find me. Lay down, allow me to massage your back and relax. You've been working to hard..." you call, patting your lap with your hand, motioning -also- to the warm cup of tea that sits freshly prepared right in front of you.

Kamisato Ayato smiles sweetly. How lucky he is to have a wife so endearing. And so, on the night of White day, Kamisato Ayato breathes freedom, and he is grateful for your gift of comfort.

ALHAITHAM / AL-HAITHAM

The humid sweet air of Sumeru makes its presence known throughout the tavern. The scent of sweet muddled berries and alcohol combined entices the men and women alike. Like sticky honey, the people swarm like bees.

Sitting across, you gaze lovingly towards the man. The -newly recruited- Acting Grand Sage. Who glares back at you unwavering as the drinks are poured beside you both.

"What is it that you find so peculiar about my face that entices you to constantly glare at me?" Alhaitham speaks, his slim hands grasping over the drinks to pass over to you.

"I'm not glaring! I just think you have very... Distinguished facial features. Frankly, it's quite the worthy trait!" You argue, smiling at the gesture of the drink as you sip on it. The spicy and sweet taste of alcohol rushing over your senses.

"There is nothing interesting about my face... It is simply fresh from constant morning washes."

"Only you would brag so carelessly about clear skin dear Alhaitham..." you mutter, now glaring playfully at the Sage.

Maybe it was the trick of the light, but from your seat, you swore you saw the faintest hue of rosy pink against the tip of his cheeks.

"Tch... If that's all you have to argue about my facial features... Then perhaps I have won this debate by default." He grins, twirling the frosted glass of alcohol in his hand; defined by veins that just barely crawl towards the tips of his fingers. His other hand, placed boredly against his cheek.

Perhaps he was fishing for compliments...

"Well fine! To start, you have beautiful emerald eyes! Perhaps it is an acquired taste... But I find them quite the attractive feature. Furthermore, you also have the coolest gaze, like a fox from the lands of Inazuma... Not only that, but you have the softest looking cheeks!"

Alhaitham pauses.

"...Softest?..."

"Of course! Your cheeks are adorable! Like a little child, I just want to squish them!" You giggle, taking another sip of your beverage.

"[Y/n]... Perhaps the alcohol has gotten to your head..." he states, his voice meekly hinting concern.

"No... I think I'm alright... It's only been an hour..."

"No... I think that's enough for the night. The Akademiya does not heed its progress because of one drunken student..." He responses, pulling your now empty glass away from you as he sets out the mora for the bill. Sliding his body towards yours as he lifts your now weakened state up.

"Come on... I'll walk you home."

"When did you become such a gentlemen?! Are you sure you don't plan to just walk yourself home and leave me stranded?"

The Sage does not respond. Already supporting your body against his own as he steadies himself. Had you not been so drunk... You may have been able to witness the pink hue on the Grand Sage's soft cheeks.

What a shame...

CHILDE / TARTAGLIA / AJAX

The smell of baked apples blossoms out of your mud oven. It's aromatic scent spreading like fire across your home. The cold Sneznhayan air clouded over, protecting your home like a blanket.

The sound of the door creaking draws your attention away, like a bird call.

"Ajax! Is that you?" You call, hastily throwing your mittens to the table as you run towards your husband.

"Hey girlie, what's got you so excited? Miss your great and formidable husband already?" He chuckles, throwing his bow and sword which bounce nimbly of the wooden floors.

You glare at him playfully, nudging his shoulder as you pull him away from the door.

"The house smells good... What did you make? I also got you some fish personally lined in by yours only!" He grins, roughed up hands tugging at a course bag that drags heavy by weight.

You can't see him, back turned to him as you pull out the apple pie but...

You know, he has those sweet Azul eyes, gazing at you like a puppy. Endearment practically pooling out of them... Has he trenches into your shared home. Bag over shoulder, work clothes stained red.

But it doesn't matter. He is with you, by your side, and alive, and that is all that matters to you.

XIAO / ALATUS

The translucent colors of rainbow are etched out in front of him, their life beginning and ending; he thinks.

The night is young, the calls of the wind usher him, but he is unable to answer.

"Xiao... Are you alright? Bubble baths are supposed to be fun... Not a way for you to test your death stare..." You inquire, melodic voice lacing with concern.

His back is too you, and for this he is grateful... Xiao does not know why, but his face burns, not a sharp pain, but a fleeting burn, one that spreads like wildfire across the whole of his complexion.

"I am not "death staring" anything mortal... Dare you accuse the Adepti of such trivial things?!"

"I am no mortal Xiao... And even you know it..." You hum, your voice gaining closer to him, until it is right at his ear...

He does not reply. Scared that his own voice may waver in the heat of the moment. He feels your soft hands rubbing against his body, massaging all his aches and wounds he never knew were there.

For a while... No one says a word, not the trees, not him, and not you.

He likes it better this way, he thinks. The way your body is so close to his, as he watches the bubbles in front of him fade away slowly, popping every second.

He likes it this way, he knows. How you stay your distance, but soothe him, nonetheless. How you begin to hum your signature tranquilizing tune, slowly eases the aches of his Adeptal body out of him.

Xiao does not know love. And he does know humans.

But you aren't human... You are a divinity.

And he will forever love you for it.

KAZUHA KAEDEHARA

Kazuha lays comfortably beside you, back supported against the dark tree trunk.

He listens to the winds, that hum to your tune, as he watches you play the flute. Watching as your nimble fingers flick upwards and back down, sending forth the sound of the hollow wooden instrument.

Your eyes are closed, entranced by the music that you play. Soul and body devoted to your craft. When, unfortunately, the song comes to it's ending.

"So? Any thoughts dear Ronin?"

"None at all my dove... Your music is as enchanting as ever..." He murmurs sweetly, reaching out to pull your hand into his own, curling the tips of his fingers around yours.

"You flatter me to much Kazuha... Surely there was some sort of noticeable mistake?" You mutter, glancing at him and then your captured hand.

"None at all... None at all." He says, reaching out.

His hands clasps against your cheeks, the fresh spring Sakura petals falling around you and him. He smiles, like nothing else matters.

As if you are his world. And him, yours.

And perhaps that is true... As you nuzzle yourself into his grasp, laying your face against his rough hands, scattered with scars, but still your home.

And your forever world.

SPECIAL BREWS...

Room 7 // a reference to Japan's beliefs of the lucky number 7, which is tied to prosperity and Buddhist tales

Apple Pie // snow white reference, and a symbolic way to represent the red color commonly seen for Valentine's day and love

White Day // the more commonly celebrated holiday in Japan instead of Valentines. the day traditionally is a holiday towards the female partners of the relationship gifting their lovers a present and appreciating them (like [Y/n's] gift of comfort to Ayato)

BARISTA'S INQUIREMENT... Late Valentine's Day post because I was out on a date but!! Hope you enjoyed, have constructive criticism? Please do tell! I haven't written fluff in a long while... Also I may or may have not been biased towards Al-haitham's part...

word count. varying

Tag List Form !

©-FUTURIST... Please do not plagiarize, themes are edited by me, reblogs allowed, do not repost on any other platform!!

Banner credits: @ERIIMYON on twitter

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tumbleweed-writes · 26 days

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

PREVIOUS CHAPTER FOUND HERE

TAG LIST: @youngadult9016 @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming @redwoodmaya

Chapter Eight: Be There

The annual Taste of Charming Festival was a yearly tradition in Charming. It had been going on for over ten years now. It was a fundraiser meant to raise money for the local school district. Local businesses and community services around town set up food stands and tables to sell crafts and other goods. There were performances by local bands, games and activities were set up for kids and families, and the big end of the night event was a fireworks show.

Overall, most of the residents of Charming found it to be a pleasant event where they could come together and even drum up sales for local businesses; all for a good cause of course.

Y/N had never cared much for the event. Her father was always the one who insisted on attending every single year. He’d joked that it was a great opportunity to network with future clientele; as dark as the joke might have seemed. He had said it time and time again; make yourself a part of the community and you will make the town undertaker seem less frightening. He’d always told Y/N to be good to the residents of Charming and they will remember that kindness and turn to their family in times of loss.

He’d always been able to fit in with the community despite his career. He’d never allowed the locals to make him into an outcast. He’d been just fine making nice with the community.

Y/N had never personally cared much for making nice with the community. In her opinion, the community had never quite embraced her with open arms. So, why would she care to be a part of the community?

She was well aware of her fellow residents’ perception of her. They saw her as being disconcerting and strange. Her presence made them nervous and reminded them of their own mortality. Locals knew all about her crazy brother and her poor dead father and poor dead sweet mother. They knew about her wild streak with the MC and her sudden disappearance almost a decade before. The locals knew she was back and running the family business seemingly with a cleaned up act, but she could see that perfectly well that she was still not viewed as a welcome member of the community.

Even as a grown woman, who put so much care into caring for the deceased of Charming ,Y/N knew she was still seen by the residents of Charming as an outsider. It wasn’t a new feeling for her. She’d felt like an outsider her entire life.

She knew it was terribly anti-social of her; but this was not at all how she’d prefer to spend her Saturday. To be honest, she’d much rather be anywhere than here fraternizing with the locals. The idea of eating a corn dog and making polite small talk with every idiot in Charming didn’t exactly appeal to her.

She knew of course that this mindset, that some would quickly call elitist, was born out of a sense that she’d never quite belonged with her peers. She'd been rejected by her peers more often than not.

She could at least admit that she had learned to never really put forward the effort to fit in, so she guessed one could argue she had no one to blame but herself.

Even as a child she’d struggled to really fit in with her peers. She’d not really felt much of a desire to fit in to be perfectly honest. She’d always been more comfortable on her own. She had not really seen having friends as a necessity.

She’d always much preferred the comfort of her home and all that came with it. Even as a child she would have much preferred to spend time in the home’s greenhouse growing tomatoes and onions, reading one of the many books her family had collected over the years, cooking new recipes, attempting to sneak a peek at her father’s work at the funeral home, or wandering the family pet cemetery.

Her father had tried to curb her tendency to be a loner. He’d worried about her ability and frank unwillingness to socialize with her peers. He’d worried about her comfortable acceptance of solitude and what it meant for her future relationships.

She knew he’d worried she would spend her life as the town recluse, never finding love and never having a family of her own.

As a child Y/N’s father had tried to encourage his daughter to socialize. He’d tried to place Y/N in a local Girl Scout troop, but she’d grown bored of selling cookies and sewing potholders quickly. It had only lasted a few months before she’d begun flat out refusing to leave her room when it was time for any troop meetings.

He’d tried to reach out to her classmates' parents to set up sleepovers with Y/N and her schoolmates growing up, but her classmates had been less than keen on the idea of spending the night in the local funeral home. Y/N had of course argued that she didn’t want to spend time with any of the girls with her class anyhow as she found most of their interests and conversations to be dull. She’d be lying though of course if she tried to pretend that she hadn’t been hurt by her classmates' rejection of her. She’d never admit it but she’d been hurt that the other girls in her grade had not invited her to trade stickers or play with Barbies. So, it had been much easier to insist that she found them boring and lame anyhow instead of admitting that their rejection had hurt.

Her father had even attempted to sign her up for art classes and sports teams at the community recreation center, but Y/N had been ever resistant. She’d had very little interest in taking ceramics classes and playing softball with the local kids.

Y/N had learned to never mind being alone. She’d always felt that perhaps loneliness was just the human condition. Being alone was a natural part of life. Y/N had always felt that she could easily argue that everyone was basically born alone and everyone would most likely die alone.

In her opinion, people should be more comfortable with the concept of solitude. Alone was something people would often find themselves being, even if they didn’t want to admit it. She’d always argued that she was not a recluse but was simply comfortable with the peace of her own company.

Deep down she could admit, at least to herself, that she’d always just felt anxious around the living. She knew what to expect from the dead who were put to rest in her family’s funeral home. The dead were predictable. The living were full of surprises and far too often disappointments. Being around the living scared the shit out of her.

Perhaps that was why she’d always leaned so hard into her odd childhood and her career. She knew her job intimidated and frightened others. If she felt uncomfortable or anxious all she had to do was talk about embalming techniques or rates of decay and people would feel even more anxious than she did.

Embracing loneliness in Charming was nothing new to Y/N. When she’d lived up in New York she’d thrown herself into work and when she wasn’t working she spent her days alone walking in the park, tending to her plants in her apartment, or visiting a thrift store.

She’d had very little company in the means of friends and romantic partners. The few industry friends she’d had she didn’t see outside of work. It had felt that friends outside of the industry saw her only as an oddity.

She’d quickly realized that most non-funeral home employed friends would always want to quickly introduce Y/N by pointing out just what her job was and the fact that she’d been raised in a funeral home.

It made her feel like some kind of spectacle; just kept around for the morbid sense of entertainment she brought to others.

Her past experience with her peers was enough to make her lean into solitude.

If it was completely up to her she would much rather be at home right now perhaps even working.

She’d hated to admit though that her father perhaps had a point. Being the owner of Charming’s most prominent funeral home meant that one had to be viewed as a trusted part of the community. When the time came for Charming to bury their dead Y/N knew she wanted to be the first one the locals thought to contact.

So, she’d found herself wandering the festival trying her best to paste a smile on her face and pretend that she wasn’t hating every last second of this.

She was regretting not taking Skeeter’s offer to attend the festival with her. She’d turned down his offers well aware that her coworker was just as disinterested in making nice with the locals.

A part of her had to wonder if his feelings towards socializing with the locals was perhaps why Skeeter and she’d shared such a close bond. They were both accustomed to being outsiders in their community.

She had only been at the festival for a couple of hours now and she was quickly growing tired of it all.

Y/N tried her best to put a smile on her face and pretend that she didn’t notice the vendor, who was selling cotton candy, was clearly trying to take a peek down her dress and admire her cleavage as she paid for the treat.

It was something Y/N had long ago realized about some of the male population of Charming, and males in general in her experience. Men would happily admire her body but the second she opened her mouth they ran.

She let out a soft sigh knowing that she’d only found one man who didn’t seem to want to run when she opened her mouth, and that man had been out of town for over a week now.

Y/N had tried not to sound as defeated as she’d felt when Chibs had broken the news to her over the phone that he would be going up north on club business a little over a week ago. The bad news had been broken only a few days after that second date they’d had and she was disappointed to realize that the third date she’d promised him was being delayed.

Of course, the trip had not stopped the daily phone calls even if those phone calls seemed to be far shorter than she’d prefer.

She was relieved that they’d at least had the conversation about her expectation of monogamy on that last date; though she’d had the feeling that this trip up north was not entirely a traditional club run. He’d not seemed keen to share the reasoning behind his sudden trip “up north” but she’d had a feeling it was not entirely for anything even close to being a law abiding activity.

Y/N had found that her last date with Chibs had given her much to consider. She’d not been expecting anything Chibs had shared with her.

Those irksome little voices in the back of her head still insisted that she was an absolute fool for not running screaming at anything Chibs had told her. His past was a lot to take in.

It wasn’t just the past ties to the True IRA that made her feel a sense of unease; it was the entire concept that he was still legally married.

Her brain screamed at her that Chibs was throwing red flags left and right and she was going to suffer due to her reluctance to pay those flags any mind.

It had felt as though her heart screamed much louder than her brain though. Her heart told her that Chibs had at least been honest with her about his past. Didn’t honesty kind of make the red flag a little duller? It would be more of a red flag had he tried to hide his past from her or hide who he was.

She had to trust that he’d been honest with her about who he was and what exactly she was in his life. She had to try to trust that he’d be honest about what a life with him might entail.

It sounded ridiculous; the honest criminal.

Y/N snapped her purse shut, taking her cotton candy and quickly walking away from her vendor admirer.

A voice in the back of her brain piped up that the cute little dress she’d worn today was not intended for this vendor to admire.

The black sundress had been chosen for a certain Scotsman who may or may not make it back to Charming in time to watch the fireworks with her. It was cute on her in her opinion; black with little red cherries printed along the fabric. It reached right above her knees and showed off her legs. The thin straps and sweetheart neckline showed her cleavage.

She had thought Chibs might appreciate the dress and how it showed off her better assets.

Chibs had not wanted to make any promises that he’d be back in town in time to meet her for the fireworks show. He’d only given her the promise that he would try his very best. She could admit though that she’d been willing to put the effort into her clothing choice today just in case Chibs did happen to make it back in time.

She would never admit that to Chibs or anyone else though. As far as he or anyone else would know; she just liked this dress and she was absolutely just wearing it for her own enjoyment.

Her annoyance only grew as a familiar voice called out to her. “Y/N, I didn’t expect to see you.”

She turned to spot the Queen of SAMCRO waving her over. She thought about pretending that she could not hear Gemma Teller Morrow or maybe pretending that she had a cell phone call to take all of a sudden.

She unfortunately realized though that there was no avoiding visiting with Gemma…especially if Y/N did have any sort of future with Chibs.

Chibs was part of SAMCRO and Gemma was the Queen of SAMCRO. There was no avoiding the Queen. As much as Y/N was trying to live in denial she knew a life with Chibs would heavily involve SAMCRO.

“Gemma, nice to see you.” Y/N remarked reluctantly making her way over to the table of baked goods Gemma had set up in TM Auto’s name of course. Though the idea of the local MC selling brownies and lemon squares was enough of a humorous thought to put a slight smirk on Y/N’s lips.

Gemma spoke nodding down at the younger woman. “I thought I spotted the hearse in the parking lot.”

Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes, annoyed that she was still stuck driving the old hearse given that her poor Acura was still sitting in the garage at TM Auto. She knew that driving the black circa 1970 Cadillac Hearse had made her stick out all the more as the outsider to the locals today.

She spoke, doing her best to keep her reply polite. “Yep. Luckily my father started it up every once in a while…pretty sure he bought that car pretty soon after he married my mom…didn’t replace it until he got the 2003 model.”

She tried not to cringe at the last part of her statement. The new hearse had been another expense her father had made trying to keep the business up and running. At least she wasn’t drowning in the debt from that particular purchase.

Gemma gave a small smirk in response. “Your Acura would get fixed a hell of a lot quicker if Chibs would let anyone but him touch it.”

Y/N didn’t have time to focus on that piece of information as Gemma spoke again, not missing a chance to dive into the conversation she’d been clearly dying to have. “So, I’ve heard that the one date wasn’t just one date.”

Y/N sighed not at all liking this conversation. She was so not looking forward to a continuation of the same talk she’d already had with Gemma prior to that first date. “It has been a couple of dates thus far.”

“I’m assuming he hasn’t offered you more favors in exchange for another date, has he?” Gemma dared to ask not shying away from pushing Y/N’s buttons just the slightest.

It was clear she was testing the waters; being sure Y/N wasn’t looking to take advantage of Chibs’ apparent affections for her.

Y/N clinched her jaw resisting the urge to say anything she might regret. She had a feeling going off on Gemma would not exactly do her any favors both in her relationship with Chibs and her dealings with SAMCRO. “He hasn’t had to offer me a thing in order to get another date.”

“Good, I’m glad to know it’s moved past being a trade off.” Gemma remarked not saying the silent part out loud glad to see you aren’t whoring yourself out to him for favors.

Y/N was quick to mention the quiet part out loud. “I’ve already stated, it was never that type of a date. Despite the indiscretions of my youth, I’ve never put out in exchange for a favor.”

She cleared her throat knowing that she sounded just the slightest bit defensive though she knew no one could blame her. “I’ve matured a little since my days as a Friday night visitor. I’m not particularly interested in screwing guys in kuttes to cope with my issues anymore.”

“So, I’m taking it you only have interest in one man in a kutte?” Gemma remarked a slight hint of what Y/N was surprised to see just might be approval in her voice.

“I’m interested in him, the fact that he wears a kutte isn’t the motivation behind that interest. I meant what I said in our last conversation. I’ve never had any interest in playing the croweater game. I’m more interested in him than what he is.” Y/N remarked not entirely wanting to admit that the fact that Chibs wore the reaper on his back did make her feel the slightest bit anxious.

Reentering the world of SAMCRO was not something she aspired to do. Her mind still screeched at her that Chibs’ world was one she’d tried so hard to leave behind when she’d left Charming almost a decade prior.

The voice insisted that being with him would lead her right back to being the angry broken young woman she’d been almost ten years ago.

Gemma spoke seemingly able to see the conflict bouncing around behind Y/N’s eyes. “The kutte is part of who he is though. You can’t have him without it.”

She paused only for a moment ready to give Y/N the same talk she’d given to dozens of ol ladies prior. “Love the man, learn to love the club.”

Y/N let out a small huff quickly wanting to argue that she wasn’t quite sure it was love. It was far too soon for love. If anything it was a fondness and an affection for him. She enjoyed being around him. She liked how she felt when she was around him. She enjoyed how easy it felt to open up to him and how at ease he’d seemed to open up with her about his own past. She enjoyed the gentle sense of acceptance and security she felt with him.

Y/N tried not to cringe remembering her conversation with Gemma about how she was not looking to become anyone’s ol lady.

She was uncertain if Chibs even considered her his ol lady? Did she even consider herself one? She was certain that it was most likely far too soon to be throwing around any titles. They’d not even shared a first kiss yet.

Y/N spoke keeping her voice even hoping her words made her opinion on the matter clear. “I know who and what he is. I’m perfectly aware of what having him entails.”

“Good, like I’ve said before, you’ve always been clever. You’re smart enough to know just what to expect from him and to react accordingly.” Gemma remarked that strange sense of approval hanging at the back of her voice.

Gemma spoke again, not shying away from continuing to pry. “How are things going with him?”

Y/N pretended to be interested in the cotton candy she held in her hand twisting the wooden stick between her fingers as she replied. “It’s going well. No complaints on my end; don’t know about his end.

“Good to hear. Haven’t heard a complaint from him. The guys are giving him a lot of crap, but they do love to take the piss out of each other; men.” Gemma remarked with a slight tone of amusement in her voice.

Y/N raised a brow at the statement, once again surprised that the approval sounded genuine. She chose to play nice. “Everything does seem to be either a pissing contest or taking the piss out of one another with men.”

She only earned a hmm of acknowledgement in response from Gemma. Y/N cringed as another familiar face seemed eager to join the conversation.

She gazed up at Sheriff Unser, the man sliding his way into the conversation with ease. “Miss. Y/L/N.”

“Sheriff.” Y/N responded hoping her voice hid any sign of tension. She couldn’t help but to fear that any conversation with the sheriff might dip into something similar to the last interaction she’d had with a member of Charming’s police force.

She was not in the mood to dodge questions about those robbed graves again.

She shifted in place not entirely comfortable around Sheriff Wayne Unser considering the last time she was sure she’d actually spoken to him had been almost ten years prior when he’d been lecturing her in a jail cell after she’d been picked up by a rookie cop at the local convenience store after a night spent at the Sons clubhouse.

She was quite certain from what she could recall from her fuzzy memory she’d been passionately arguing with the sheriff that she was not in fact intoxicated and was quite offended that he would accuse her of such a thing given that she was under the legal drinking age. She was also quite certain she’d called him a fascist though she was not entirely sure she’d known what the word had really fully meant back then. She’d been immature and drunk enough to throw that word around as an insult back then without fully understanding what being a fascist fully entailed.

Needless to say Y/N’s father had been once again unamused to be answering a phone call from Sheriff Unser that his daughter was once again sitting at a jail cell sleeping off her intoxication.

Community service and lectures about underage drinking had been a regular occurrence back then for Y/N.

She had to hope that Sheriff Unser didn’t remember the whole fascist comment after all these years.

She was relieved as he spoke nodding to her. “How’s the funeral business?”

“It’s going well. No complaints from me.” She remarked hoping that the next question wouldn’t be about those empty graves nor the Lodi police department’s investigation about the bodies that had once occupied those graves.

She let out a soft breath hoping relief wasn’t plastered across her features as Unser spoke nodding his head. “I’ve been meaning to come in and see you. Terminal cancer, figured I should plan ahead.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop her thoughts flashing to her own father the thought making her heart twist. Pancreatic cancer had taken his life so quickly. She did her best to keep the grief free from her features.

She did notice the discomfort on Gemma’s face at the mention of Unser’s turn in health.

Y/N kept her voice even adopting a professional tone. “It’s never a bad idea to plan ahead. I would offer the same advice to anyone regardless of their health. You can always reach me at my business line. My door is always open.”

She paused, clearing her throat fast to speak again. “I’m sorry for...I’m sorry to hear the prognosis.”

Unser waved his hand as though he was brushing away the comment. She frowned quickly deciding he’d probably heard the same canned response a dozen times by now.

She didn’t have a chance to continue the conversation as Gemma nodded to an unfamiliar face working the food stand that was usually run by the Charming Police Department. “Who’s he?”

Y/N turned to glance at the man Gemma had noticed she furrowing her brow not recognizing him. He certainly did not seem to be a member of the local police department, given that he was not in uniform like the other men working the stand, but seemed all too chummy to help serve up food and interact with the locals.

There was something about him that made Y/N feel uneasy.

Unser spoke, rolling his eyes slightly. “Agent Kohn, ATF. He’s apparently here following up on a lead on an Interstate weapons case. He’s been buddied up to Deputy Hale for weeks now. Hale has been all too happy to keep me out of the loop.”

Y/N glanced at Gemma, noticing the look of discomfort that flashed through the woman’s eyes only briefly. Y/N sense that an interstate weapons case might just so happen to have something to do with SAMCRO.

Judging by the quick glance Gemma shot her, Y/N was certain it most likely did have something to do with SAMCRO.

Y/N cleared her throat, her stomach turning at the mention of feds and what that might mean for both SAMCRO and Chibs…and possibly her given her involvement doing those favors for SAMCRO.

She continued to twirl her cotton candy in her hand as she spoke hoping she sounded calm and collected. “I’ll be seeing you both around. I think the ladies room is calling my name.”

She turned not acknowledging any response she received.

Sheriff Unser raised a brow at the local undertaker watching her as she walked away. He nodded her direction as he spoke to Gemma. “Strange to see her back in town. She’s not picking up any old habits at the clubhouse is she? I’m not really looking to have the local funeral director sitting in one of my jail cells for being drunk and disorderly.”

Gemma smirked at the question she fast to reply. “At least she’ll be old enough to drink this time around…I don’t think she’s entirely picking up the same habits. Chibs is sweet on her though, pretty sure the feeling is mutual.”

“Chibs?” Unser questioned thinking of the Scottish Son who had come to town not long after Y/N had left Charming.

He wasn’t quite sure he could picture the Scot being sweet on anyone. He found the concept of the frankly rough looking older biker having any sort of affectionate feelings for Charming’s young pretty undertaker to be strange.

He frowned trying to wrap his head around the thought. He had a hard time picturing the elegant funeral director as an ol lady, especially the ol lady of an older Scotsman who had rumored possible ties to a dark history in Belfast. They seemed like an odd pair on paper.

He furrowed his brow further, a memory crossing his mind. “I’m pretty sure the last time I saw her, about ten years ago, she called me a fascist.”

Gemma smirked slightly at the statement. “She always did have a smart mouth. Don’t think she’s grown out of that habit at least.”

Unser huffed at the information, having to hope that he wouldn’t find Y/N in his jail cell anytime soon.

He had a feeling her insults had become a little more sophisticated with age.

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

The fireworks flowered above her in the dark sky, the smell of smoke filling the air as the colorful sparks flew up into the sky creating dazzling patterns of vibrant pinks, greens, purples, and reds.

She’d always loved fireworks. New Years and the Forth of July were always enjoyable holidays for her due to the fact that fireworks were involved. She’d adored playing with sparklers as a kid waving them around and playing with fire literally though it had made her father nervous he having seen enough accidental deaths related to fireworks in his time as an undertaker.

She was thankful she’d been smart enough to bring a light black cardigan with her as the night settled in and the temperature outside cooled.

She sighed softly, able to at least enjoy the show even if she distinctly felt quite alone. It was hard not to feel that way surrounded by happy families and a few couples. For once she was surprised to find that she minded being all alone.

She was beginning to lose hope that Chibs would manage to make it back in time.

She knew she shouldn’t be too disappointed; after all, he’d made her no promises that he would in fact make it.

On the bright side, she was at least relieved to know that the fireworks show signaled the end of the Taste of Charming Festival which meant her social obligation of making nice with the locals was about to end.

It couldn’t come sooner as she felt her social battery beginning to drain by the second.

She made the decision that she could leave now if she wanted. After all, she’d spent most of her day at the festival making polite small talk with vendors and locals alike, thankful that the news of those empty graves seemed to be growing boring to the locals.

She would have completely lost her mind if she’d had to spend her day dodging questions about the empty graves in Charming’s local cemetery and any odd questions about her profession.

Y/N began to turn to see if she could snake her way through the crowd and make it to the parking lot and her hearse.

She felt a pair of hands place at her waist before she even had a chance to move. The familiar voice sounded out. “Made it, Hen.”

She felt her heart lift, unable to stop herself from turning her arms embracing him. She spoke her voice soft, his name sliding from her lips. “Filip.”

Chibs held her against him, his eyes closing for a moment soaking up her touch. He was surprised to find that he’d longed for her in his time away.

The sense of longing for a woman was not new. After all, he’d spent years longing for Fiona.

The longing he felt for Y/N had been unexpected. He couldn’t help but to realize that he was hopelessly screwed when it came to her. Only two dates in and he was already this ensnared by her. He’d found he didn’t quite mind feeling as though he was wrapped up in her web though. He’d found it a pleasant place to be.

When Clay had ordered Chibs to head up north with McKeavy to monitor his meetings regarding the guns he smuggled from Belfast to the US, Chibs had not been entirely enthusiastic.

He’d not argued though and had dutifully followed the orders of his club Pres. That didn’t mean he’d enjoyed himself though. McKeavy was obnoxious at the best of times. So, being stuck on this trip up north with him was not something Chibs had found pleasant. Oregon had felt gloomy and he’d grown sick of shitty food on the road and crappy motel rooms.

The nightly phone calls to Y/N had felt like the only bright spot he’d experienced during his entire trip. Though the phone calls had been far shorter than he’d like, they’d still felt like a nice distraction from the day to day annoyances he’d dealt with during his time with McKeavy.

Talks of the cause, money, guns, and what this meant for SAMCRO’s dealing with the True IRA had given Chibs a massive headache.

He’d done his best to keep an eye on McKeavey and take note of anything he might need to report back to SAMCRO, but Chibs could admit Y/N had always been at the back of his mind. He’d found himself more often than not mentally making loose plans for their next date or wondering just what she might be up to at the moment. He’d wondered if she was working. Was she bored? Was she doing anything interesting at work? Did she miss him as much as he missed her?

He knew that tomorrow morning he would have to go report his findings to SAMCRO but for tonight he’d chosen to go straight to the Taste of Charming Festival and see the woman he’d been missing for over a week now.

He could admit he’d sped like a bat out of hell the closer he’d gotten to Charming’s county line.

Though he’d made no promises to her that he’d make it back into town in time for the firework show, he’d still been determined to make it back.

He felt that warm feeling, that he longed for each time she parted from him, wash over him as she leaned up her lips pressing to his cheek. He couldn’t stop the content sigh from leaving him certain he’d never get enough of soft kisses to his cheek.

He found himself once again feeling reluctant to allow her to pull away as her lips left his skin.

He didn’t have long to mourn the loss though as her hand pressed to where her lips had just been she caressed his skin as she spoke. “How was up north?”

He smirked knowing he’d not exactly given her a location when he’d broken the news to her that he’d be leaving town for a bit. He found himself leaning into her touch as he spoke. “Oregon was fine, lass. Nothin’ like home though.”

She let out a soft sigh, tempted to ask him just what he’d been up to in Oregon and maybe even mention the ATF agent Unser had pointed out earlier, but she kept the questions and concerns inside, deciding that now was not the time nor place for it.

Chibs stared down at her waiting for the questions about his activities in Oregon, but the questions did not come Y/N pressing her lips to the cheek her hand was not currently stroking. “It sounds stupid, but I missed you.”

“Not stupid, I missed ya too, Hen.” He remarked the words sliding from him without hesitation; he meaning them more than she knew.

He glanced down at her outfit having the exact reaction she'd expected. "Did ya pick out this sweet lookin dress all fer me, Hen?"

"Maybe I just like dresses." She commented continuing to caress his cheek the action soothing him even with her denial she'd picked out this dress with him in mind.

He smirked seeing right through the comment. He stared down at her soaking up the moment enjoying her touch hoping she was enjoying his embrace.

He debated if this was the moment to lean in and allow his lips to slide across hers. It did seem like the perfect setting; fireworks going off above them, soaking up being reunited after not seeing one another for over a week now.

Y/N spoke as she pulled from him turning back around to stare back up at the night sky. “Watch the fireworks with me, Filip. You can tell me about your trip later.”

He sighed debating just how much detail he should go into about his trip with her and just what the Sons business involved.

He chose not to focus too hard on the internal debate though obediently giving into her request.

He stood behind her his arms wrapping around her waist, a satisfied sense of warmth washing over him as she leaned back against him, her hand reaching down to place over his arm caressing his skin through the cotton of his shirt sleeve.

He turned his attention to the sky taking in the show enjoying the feeling of her in his arms.

He found that his worries about the club, the IRA, and just what Y/N might make of it all were too far away to grasp at the moment.

He once again found himself debating if he should turn her around and press his lips to hers like he’d been dying to do for what seemed like a long while now.

He’d found that he didn’t quite mind waiting a little longer to feel her lips against his though. He was surprised to find that this moment felt like enough for now.

He had a feeling that anything with her would feel like enough.

The couple remained unaware that a certain Deputy caught sight of their interactions and was none too pleased to see the happy couple locked in an embrace enjoying the fireworks show.

—----------------

.Skeeter did not have a chance to make it to his boss’s office ahead of Deputy David Hale who did not even bother to knock before he opened the door.

The man glared down at Y/N fast to speak, his voice filled with tension and disapproval. “I thought you weren’t falling back into any old habits?”

Y/N let out a huff looking up from her computer monitor and the obituary she’d been proofreading for a family as she spoke her voice holding a hint of sarcasm. “Deputy Hale, please come in.”

Skeeter chose to pop his head in the door, breathing heavily, it apparently taking him some effort to catch up to Deputy Hale when the man was on a rampage. Skeeter was not in the best shape and his larger frame meant that he sometimes moved at a bit more of a sluggish pace especially when compared to someone who was in as good of physical fitness as the deputy. “Y/N, Deputy Hale is here to see you.”

“Yep, got that, Skeet. Thanks.” She remarked, that hint of sarcasm still dripping from her words.

She rolled her eyes pushing her desk chair back as she waved a hand at Skeeter shooing him. “You can go, Skeeter. I think I’m the only one receiving the lecture today.”

Skeeter hesitated, his eyes narrowing, he clearly reluctant to move away from the office door and leave Y/N alone with a pissed off police officer.

She spoke again, sending him a small look of reassurance. “I’m fine, I’ll call you if I need you.”

Her coworker let out a slight huff slowly moving away, shutting the door behind him. Y/N gazed up at the Deputy her voice tired the irritation still evident in her voice. “You should feel thankful I’m alone here. I don’t think any of my clientele would appreciate having their loved one’s funeral planning interrupted by your ranting and raving.”

Deputy Hale scoffed at the comment he fast to speak up, his voice still harsh as he spoke. “Tell me you aren’t involved with SAMCRO?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the question. She stared back at her computer monitor saving the word document she’d been working on as she spoke. “Define involved?”

“Filip Chibs Telford?” Hale snapped the tension in his voice growing by the moment his brow furrowing so tight she was almost sure he’d pop a blood vessel in his temple.

She spoke rolling her eyes, a headache beginning to develop in the base of her skull. “I wasn’t aware my romantic life was any business of the local police department. I wish someone had notified me about it if it is. I’ve had a few bad dates in the past that I certainly could have used you guys help with.”

Hale let out a huff not amused by her method of responding to his line of questioning. “You are aware of his history, are you not?”

Y/N kept her cool gazing up at the deputy, her voice sounding as tired as she felt as she played dumb. “His history as a Glasgowegin mechanic who immigrated from Belfast, Northern Ireland? I didn’t take you for being xenophobic, David. I’m disappointed. If you’ve got something against immigrants you should know that Filip became an American citizen a few years ago. Though I am pretty sure he now holds dual citizenship.”

David snapped at her, not at all amused by her responses nor her accusations that he was xenophobic. “Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N. You know exactly what I’m talking about?”

She continued to play dumb a sigh leaving her. “I do?”

“SAMCRO? Chibs’ past alleged ties to the True IRA?” Hale spat out his hands placing on his hips looking far too smug for her liking as though he thought he’d just dropped a huge bombshell on her by mentioning the True IRA.

She rolled her eyes knowing that comment may have shocked her if Chibs hadn’t already revealed that part of his past to her. “I don’t think I believe a mechanic from Glasgow is exactly hiding that kind of deep dark secret; sounds like rumors from bored gossips with nothing better to do. He’s not a perfect angel, but he’s not that interesting. I always thought you were too sensible to be such a gossip.”

She paused, having no trouble giving out the company line that was always given in response when people had questions about SAMCRO. “The Sons of Anarchy are just a group of mechanics who just so happen to be motorcycle enthusiasts. There’s nothing going on there other than the occasional wild party and a little minor misbehavior. You know how people can get when they’ve had too much to drink. I know I’ve been guilty of running my mouth and getting into a little trouble during my championship drinking days. Pretty sure you arrested me a time or two back when you were a rookie cop and I was a dumb kid indulging a little too hard in wine coolers”

Hale scoffed at this comment he glaring down at her. “Right, Guess you’ve been coached on how to talk about SAMCRO?”

She sighed as she focused on straightening the paperwork on her desk giving the aura of disinterest in this entire conversation.

Hale spoke again, another scoff leaving his lips. “I don’t suppose your boyfriend and his associates have anything to do with those empty graves we discussed a while back?”

She gazed up at him, her face unresponsive keeping the same bored tone to her voice she’d tried to maintain throughout this entire conversation. “I don’t know why you would assume they would have anything to do with that unfortunate incident.”

She paused, still keeping her cool as she spoke again hoping the hint of guilt she felt over the favor she’d done for SAMCRO wasn’t apparent in her voice. “What happened with those graves is troubling and disturbing. I do hope that the Lodi Police Department finds the responsible party. Though I’ve heard through the grapevine of Charming gossip that the case had run cold. The families of the deceased were quite distressed over the incident. I’ve helped them transfer the care of their loved ones over to Williams Brothers Funeral Home. I do hope that the deceased will find a peaceful rest this time around.”

She paused again, a soft sigh leaving her as she spoke again unable to resist digging the knife in just a smidge. “Isn’t the grave robbery case out of your jurisdiction Deputy Hale? I thought Lodi had it covered. I’ve already spoken with them and I’m afraid I couldn’t provide them with any more information than what I already gave you. You should probably let their department handle that one. You wouldn’t want to interfere with their investigation.”

She was quite sure that if looks could kill that the look Hale shot her in response to this comment would have killed her on sight.

He spoke a huff leaving his lips. “Two bodies went missing from a warehouse Clay Morrow and SAMCRO own, it happened right around the time Lodi’s forensic team was distracted by that staged crime scene using the two bodies from that grave robbery. You don’t see any connections there Y/N?”

She sat back in her desk chair, her voice not revealing a thing. She spoke up, not caring if she was being somewhat cruel. “I’m afraid I don’t Deputy. I’m not a detective though…Neither are you. I mean you are just the future Sheriff…or I guess not anymore, I heard rumors around town that Sheriff Unser decided not to retire. Guess you’ll have to wait for that promotion. It makes you a bit of vulture to be honest...the man is terminally ill and you're eagerly waiting to scoop up his job.”

Hale gave her another look that she was quite certain could kill as he spoke. “Did you have anything to do with any of those missing bodies?”

The lie slid from Y/N’s lips without hesitation. “No, of course not. I don’t appreciate a baseless accusation when you're standing in my place of business especially when you’ve barged in here uninvited. I went to school for this, Deputy. I took more classes on the ethics of my profession than you can imagine. I do have a license that I worked my ass off for…two of them actually one in New York and one in California. I didn’t work that hard to fuck it all up.”

She spoke again a heavy sigh leaving her feeling more exhausted by the second. “I don’t think Filip or Clay Morrow are going around robbing graves and stealing bodies from warehouses. Sounds a little morbid and more than a little outlandish don’t you think, especially for a bunch of mechanics?”

Hale sent her yet another glare, his voice still tense, sounding as though he knew she was full of shit. “Right.”

She spoke up before he had a chance to push this conversation along. “If that’s all, I do have quite a bit of work to get back to…work you’re keeping me from with whatever this whole interaction has been.”

She paused her voice picking up a hint of harshness of her own. “As I’ve said, Deputy, my romantic life is not of any concern to the local police department and it certainly is of no concern to you.”

She stared back to her computer monitor, not sparing David Hale another glance. “You can see yourself out. I’m sure Skeeter will be happy to escort you from my home.”

Hale sent her a scornful look at this statement, he reluctantly turned to open her office door only to reveal Skeeter who had clearly been leaning against the closed door trying to listen in to the conversation between his boss and the deputy.

Y/N rolled her eyes not shocked he’d been attempting to eavesdrop. She was sure she might get a tiny lecture from Skeeter later as well.

She spoke using her hand to motion to Skeeter, she not looking up from her monitor. “Show the Deputy out, Skeeter. I think our conversation has reached an end.”

She sighed as the door closed behind Skeeter and her unwelcome guest.

She took a few deep breaths before she picked up her cell phone, opening it and sending a quick text message to a number that had become far too familiar.

I need you.

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

Y/N tried her best to keep a the demure polite smile on her lips as she listened to old Mrs. Moore describe exactly what she wanted for her funeral though the information had not changed in the past three times they’d had a similar meeting about these plans.

Mrs. Maude Moore was a little death obsessed. This was saying something considering Y/N herself had been accused of being obsessed with death.

The old woman was nearing her eighties and was quite determined to make sure that her eventual funeral would happen exactly how she’d envisioned it.

To be honest, Y/N had decided that this meeting with Mrs. Moore would not be an official meeting.

She was beginning to feel guilty for charging the old woman for her time over and over and over again.

Instead Y/N had agreed to meet with her through her usual scheduled lunch. She’d chosen to keep her lunch light lying and claiming she had low blood sugar to explain why she was snacking on fruit during a work meeting.

She sighed as Mrs. Moore once again explained that she just had to be buried in the peach dress and not the pink dress her family would try to insist she be buried in.

She took a deep breath as Mrs. Moore spoke once again explaining the reasoning. “The dress matches the roses. I want peach roses; peach tiffany roses. In flower language peach roses symbolize sincerity and warm feelings. I want those feelings represented in my service. I want the casket spray filled with peach tiffany roses and baby's breath. My son will try to insist on lilies but I hate lilies. He knows it, but his father's funeral had lilies and he’s going to try to insist on lilies. I hated his father and I don’t want the lilies. Are you writing this down?”

“Yes, peach tiffany roses, no lilies.” Y/N lied knowing that she had no need to write this down. She had it all written down from the last few times they’d had the same conversation.

Y/N had never been so happy to hear the knock at her office door Skeeter peeking his head in a small smirk crossing his lips until he noticed Mrs. Moore.

He spoke apparently deciding to go with a more boring statement than whatever he’d had planned. “Filip is here to see you.”

Y/N felt her heart lift at the comment. The only response she’d gotten to her text earlier had been a little later than she’d prefer and a promise that he’d be there as soon as he possibly could get to her.

She’d ignored the vagueness and lateness of the response telling herself that club business might have had him tied up.

She had to wonder what Mrs. Moore might make of the intimidating outlaw biker who was about to enter her office.

She quickly decided she didn’t quite have it in her to care as mean as the thought was.

She spoke nodding to Mrs. Moore. “I’m afraid I have to cut our talk short today Mrs. Moore. We can meet to discuss these details later, next week perhaps.”

Mrs. Moore twisted her lips in a scowl not looking pleased to hear that Y/N was ending this talk. She spoke the displeasure clear in her voice. “Same time?”

“Of course, at the same time.” Y/N remarked standing up ready to show the woman out and get her away until she once again arrived to discuss peach roses and her no good son.

Skeeter opened the door revealing that Y/N’s reason for cutting this meeting short was ready and waiting.

She hated to admit that she felt somewhat amused by how pale Mrs. Moore grew as she gazed up at Chibs.

Y/N was sure she could spot a mix of fear of him, and a fear of leaving polite and prim Y/N alone with him, in Mrs. Moore’s eyes.

Y/N spoke nodding to Skeeter. “Skeet, you don’t mind escorting Mrs. Moore to her Buick do you?”

Skeeter sent her a look that clearly read that of course he minded, but he held it in, nodding his head. “No, I don’t mind at all.”

Chibs didn’t approach Y/N until the door closed behind them finally giving them some privacy.

He embraced her, holding her tightly, she taking notice of a certain amount of tension practically vibrating through his body.

She frowned remembering that she’d felt the same tension in his body before that last date they’d had.

He spoke a shaky sigh leaving him a hint of humor at least finding its way into his voice. “I didn’ scare off yer future client did I, Hen?”

Y/N shook her head a small laugh leaving her. “You probably did, but it was a needed scare. This is the fourth time she’s come in this month. She’s a little too obsessive over her future funeral…I’m serious. I keep making Skeeter escort her to her car because I’m almost afraid she’s going to go crawl into one of the caskets we have for display and try it out.”

The comment did manage to work a small chuckle from Chibs’ lips though his grip did not loosen on her body.

She ran her hand up and down his back, her voice soft. “I’m sensing your day has gone about as well as mine.”

“Aye, ya can say that.” Chibs remarked a heavy sigh leaving him he wishing he could have gotten to her sooner.

He’d been a bit tied up when he’d received the text and then he’d had to clean up a mess at the clubhouse.

She pulled back from his embrace taking his hands in hers as she spoke. “Sit with me and talk.”

She made her way over to her desk fully expecting him to pull a chair over to sit beside her as she sat down in her desk chair.

She was surprised as he dropped down to his knees in between her legs, his arms wrapping around her waist. He clearly wanted to be as close as possible to her. He buried his face against her body, a sigh leaving him wanting to surround himself with the scent of her perfume.

It was a lovely mixture of lilies and a few other floral scents. He was also sure there was a hint of citrus there as well. He’d first noticed it after that first date as it had clung to his Kutte. He’d thought he was going crazy at first, almost certain that he was still smelling that floral wreath she’d been holding when he picked her up for their date.

It had quickly hit him though that it was just the slightest hint of her perfume. It was a scent he was growing to love.

She ran a hand up and down his back recovering from her surprise at the apparent need for affection.

They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke. “Deputy Hale paid a visit to me earlier…hence my text. I guess he’s figured out we’re seeing one another. He had plenty to say about that…seemed to treat it like he was warning me about you. He brought up some crap about your supposed ties to the True IRA…in between accusing me of being knowing more than I do about those grave robberies and those missing bodies from SAMCRO’s warehouse.”

The tension only grew in Chibs’ body, he speaking. “What’d ya say, love?”

Y/N spoke reassuring him. “That any rumors about your ties to the True IRA are just that…rumors. I assured him that SAMCRO is just a group of motorcycle enthusiasts who love a good party. I pointed out that I know nothing more than what I already told him…I may have thrown in a few digs of my own about his lack of a promotion as well…maybe.”

Chibs snickered, peeking up at her, a clear sense of pride noticeable in his voice. “Tha’s my lass.”

She shook her head, her hand continuing to stroke his back. She couldn’t deny the warm feeling that washed over her at his approval though.

He let out a heavy sigh, deciding to be honest. “He’s probably feelin’ bold. ATF is in town.”

“I know.” She remarked, spotting the look of surprise on Chibs’ face.

“They paid ya a visit, Hen?” He asked, his stomach knotting up worried that the ATF agent who had hauled Clay away in cuffs this morning had somehow decided to pay Y/N a visit.

He knew the thought made little sense though. Agent June Stahl most likely had zero reason to question Y/N. Y/N was most likely not even on the ATF radar.

She spoke, shaking her head. “I spotted an agent at the Taste of Charming Festival a few days ago…I was talking with Gemma and Unser when I spotted him at the Charming PD’s food stand. Agent Kohn…I think that was the guy's name.”

Chibs sighed those protective tendencies he usually felt over Y/N simmering down slightly now that he knew the ATF had not been harassing her. Though he was not pleased to hear Deputy Hale had been apparently bothering her.

“Aye different agent than the one who paid SAMCRO a visit this mornin’ then.” Chibs remarked.

She widened her eyes, Chibs realizing he had to go into an explanation. He just hoped she could handle it. “How much do ya want to know bout the club, Hen? I won’ share more with ya than ya ever wan’ to hear.”

She debated her options knowing she could live in denial, refusing to let him tell her a thing about whatever SAMCRO was up to. She could pretend that this part of his life was separate from the life they may have together.

She knew her other option was full disclosure. She could let him tell her everything. She could allow him to open up to her as much as he felt fit. She could accept that whatever happened with SAMCRO was a part of his life.

She sighed remembering Gemma’s statement at the Taste of Charming Festival. SAMCRO was part of who Chibs was. She had to accept the kutte on his back if she wanted him.

She came to her decision knowing that there was only one clear path. “There’s no sense keeping things from me…I already know you guys aren’t exactly operating on the legal side of things…neither am I after I did those favors for SAMCRO. Pretty sure I made the choice that I was willing to hear about SAMCRO when I agreed to be the funeral home contact for any club needs. I’ve been around SAMCRO before, Filip. I already had the sense that you guys aren’t just mechanics who love Harleys.”

Chibs sighed knowing she had a point. She was already aware of SAMCRO’s criminal element. She’d agreed to be a part of that element when she offered to do favors for the club through the funeral home. “Aye if it ever becomes too much, let me know, Hen.”

He paused, taking a deep breath before he went into the full story. “Ol’ friend of Piney’s did somethin’ fuckin’ dumb with some AK 47s….guns SAMCRO provided fer a price…Some fuckin’ militia shite…ATF caught wind of it…carted Clay off fer questioning…trashed the clubhouse searchin’ fer more guns. I’ve spent my afternoon tryin to undo the damage to the clubhouse. I ain’ worried bout Clay…we took care of hidin’ any guns from the ATF fer now.”

She sighed taking in the information. She cringed at the mention of guns. She’d been in her line of work long enough to see just what gun violence could do to end a life. During her time in New York she’d had more deceased who died from gunshots than she could count on her fingers.

She could admit that guns had always made her a little nervous. It was a strange thought. She was so comfortable around death but weapons made her feel lightheaded.

She took a deep breath letting the information wash over her debating if this was way too much to handle.

A voice in the back of her head insisted that yes, it was way too much. It screamed that Filip was a criminal and SAMCRO already led her to doing something illegal. It yelled to get away from Chibs before she did something worse.

Another voice pointed out that she was not naive. She knew just who Chibs was when she met him. She knew just what he was. She liked him. She felt safe with him. She felt like she was not such an outcast with him; or at the very least he accepted her as the outcast she was as he wasn’t exactly immune from being an outsider in Charming himself.

She took a deep breath only able to come up with one response. “What can I do? Is there anything I can do?”

Chibs was surprised by the statement. He spoke, his voice tired, a hint of fondness hanging over his words. “Fer the club, love?”

She spoke the answer seemed so clear. “For the club…and for you?”

He gave her a soft smile, the words leaving him. “Fer the club…nothin righ’ now. Fer me…Jus’ be here, Hen. Jus’ stick ‘round. Put up with me. I need ya.”

“I’m here, Filip.” She promised the words so similar to the ones she’d said to him the day he’d told her all bout his past in Belfast and the trauma behind it.

The words washed over Chibs, he felt like he could breathe for the first time all day.

He stared up at her, no longer able to resist what his heart and head had been screaming at him since that first date.

He took her by surprise as he leaned in it only taking her a moment to realize what was happening she leaning in as well.

His lips brushed across hers, the touch feather light and gentle. His arms pulled her closer to him, her hand pressing to his cheek as she responded to the soft kiss.

They both closed their eyes sinking into the kiss giving into what they’d both been dancing around their past two dates, both realizing that they should have done this far sooner.

It didn’t take long for Chibs to become a little more bold once he seemed sure that she was enjoying this and was a happy participant in the action, the kiss growing deeper. The hand that wasn’t pressed to his cheek placed at the back of his head messing his usually unruly hair all the further.

His tongue all too skillfully parted her lips sliding along hers with ease. She felt the soft moan leave her lips not missing the groan of approval that left his own lips. She had to wonder just how he knew how to so easily dominate the kisses making her feel weak in the knees even if she was sitting. She had a feeling she knew just how he’d gotten so good at this.

Something gave her the slightest feeling though that he’d not exactly kissed any of the croweaters who may have entertained him for quite a while now with this much intensity nor affection.

She wasn’t entirely sure how much time passed but she was quite certain of one thing; that no one had ever managed to kiss her quite as proficiently or as passionately as Filip Chibs Telford.

Chibs was certain that he was quite sure no one had ever managed to respond to his kisses with quite this much enthusiasm in longer than he cared to admit.

He was filled with the sudden realization that he would not be entirely capable of keeping his lips from hers from now on. It was going to take some serious effort on his part not to press his lips to hers at least once an hour.

They were reluctant to part from one another but the need for air won out over any need to continue their current activity.

A shared giggle left both of them as their lips parted a sense of giddiness washing over them after the stressful events of their day and the realization that they’d both given in to something they’d both badly wanted.

She dared to open her eyes gazing into Chibs’ she once again feeling thankful he’d thought to push his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head.

She was still certain it was a sin to cover up such a lovely pair of eyes.

He spoke a teasing tone in his voice. “So, did ya enjoy it?”

She felt the laugh leave her she responded with a soft kiss to his lips, this kiss far more chaste that the previous kiss they'd shared. She spoke as she parted from him far too quickly for his liking. “Does that answer the question?”

He chuckled, his arms remaining wrapped tightly around her she resting her head against the nape of his neck as he held her against him all the tighter.

She closed her eyes, soaking up the feeling of relaxing against him her frustrations over Hale and worries over all that Chibs had told her about SAMCRO fading from her mind.

She knew that agreeing to full disclosure about SAMCRO with Chibs was not going to always feel comforting.

She was willing to take on whatever he had to share with her though. She was willing to help him in whatever way he needed.

She knew she’d most likely set herself down this path when she’d agreed to work with SAMCRO that day at the crematorium.

She’d not quite envisioned that the path would involve her lips being pressed to that odd Scottish Son’s, but she could find little reason to complain.

She began to run her hand up and down Chibs’ back again, rubbing soothing circles against his spine as she recalled Gemma’s advice.

Love the man, learn to love the club.

Though she was not entirely sure Chibs nor she would say this was love quite this quickly into the relationship, she knew she had to at least appreciate the sentiment behind the advice.

Even if the thought of falling back into the world of SAMCRO scared the hell out of her and filled her with such a sense of dread, Chibs Telford made it worth it.

She was willing to move through this with him and follow his lead because he was worth the fear.

#chibs telford #chibs sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs telford x reader #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs #soa #sons of anarchy

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coochiequeens · 7 months

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Dear GLAAD, Let me explain this as simply has possible. NO one is trying to outlaw Drag shows. Normal people just don't want child exposed to inappropriate entertainment.

There's no reason for kids to be exposed to this.....

And why the fuck would any parent want their kids around anyone who actively supports a pedophile?

https://thepostmillennial.com/founder-of-uk-drag-queen-story-hour-raises-funds-for-pedophile-drag-performers-funeral

And what parents want to bring their kids to a drag show sponsored by crappy beer? Just leave them home with a babysitter

Do the kids actually enjoy being used as props for parents to show off how cool they are to be woke enough to take their kids to that shift?

"After the performance, one of the drag queens questions a little boy in the audience. He asks the little boy what his favorite part of the show was, and, without hesitation, the little boy shakes his head and says, “Nothing.” This answer is met with laughter from the audience and the drag queen himself."

At least that boy wasn't touched by the performers. Unlike this poor girl

#GLAAD should give up scare tactics #Drag is not for children

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deadpresidents · 5 months

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Burial At Sea: The Odyssey of JFK's Original Casket

It was approximately 1:00 PM when a man called Vernon B. O'Neal of O'Neal's Funeral Home and asked for the best casket that O'Neal had available. The man on the phone, simultaneously calm and tense, needed the coffin quickly and O'Neal had a slight problem. Of the 18 people who worked at O'Neal's Funeral Home, 17 of them were out to lunch. After all, it was a beautiful Friday day for November in Texas.

O'Neal picked out a solid-bronze coffin with white satin lining tagged at a sales price of $3,995 from his storeroom and waited for three more of his employees to return from lunch. The bulky Handley Brittania casket from the Elgin Casket Company weighed over 400 pounds when it was empty and O'Neal certainly couldn't lift it into his Cadillac hearse by himself. Once he had it loaded, he rushed to Parkland Memorial Hospital on the most important delivery of his career.

The man who had ordered the casket, Clint Hill, was a Secret Service agent and less than an hour earlier he had climbed on to the back of a moving limousine to try to get to the subject he was charged to protect. He was unsuccessful. The casket was for the President of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

When the casket arrived at Parkland Hospital, O'Neal was met by agents from the Secret Service and some of President Kennedy's aides. They helped O'Neal push the coffin into the hospital and down a corridor towards Trauma Room One where the President had been officially pronounced dead just minutes earlier. One of the President's aides and the doctor who had just worked on Kennedy tried to distract the President's grieving wife so that she wasn't anguished further by the sight of the coffin that her now-dead husband was about to be placed in.

Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy refused to turn away and begged to be let into the Trauma Room to see her husband once more. The doctor didn't want her to see anything else, but Jackie insisted, telling the doctor "How can I see anything worse than what I've seen?" and pointing out that "His blood is all over me!" The doctor let her in the Trauma Room as O'Neal wheeled the casket inside and she placed her wedding ring on JFK's finger before retreating back to the outer hallway once again.

Vernon O'Neal was horrified when he saw the condition of the President's body. Blood was everywhere and a gaping wound exposed brain matter which was seeping out of John F. Kennedy's head. Not wanting to damage the beautiful and expensive casket that he had picked out for the President, O'Neal and several emergency room nurses went to work. The bottom of the inside of the coffin was lined with a plastic mattress covering and the President's body was wrapped in a bed sheet. The nurses went even further and spent 20 minutes carefully wrapping President Kennedy's head in numerous white bed sheets so that blood didn't seep through and stain the lining of the casket.

After Kennedy's body was placed in the coffin, preparations were made to leave Parkland Hospital and take the President back to Air Force One at Dallas's Love Field so that they could transport him back to Washington, D.C. As the Secret Service and the President's aides (many of whom were longtime, close friends of JFK) wheeled his casket towards the exit, they were stopped by Dr. Earl Rose, the medical examiner for Dallas County, Texas. In 1963, it was not a federal crime to kill the President of the United States. Because of this, there was no federal jurisdiction for John F. Kennedy's murder -- only local. Despite tsxxxshe scale of the crime to the nation, it was technically just another murder in Dallas, Texas on November 22, 1963 (because of the laws at the time, on a purely legal basis, the murder of Dallas police offer J.D. Tippit about 45 minutes after Kennedy's shooting was a far more serious crime than the President's assassination). Because of this, Dr. Rose informed the men escorting the President's body that they needed to leave it in Dallas. Rose noted that he needed to autopsy the body before they took it anywhere. To Dr. Rose, a homicide victim was a homicide victim and he had a job to do.

The Secret Service was incredulous and President Kennedy's loyal aides were even angrier. In the corridor of Parkland Memorial Hospital, things got tense. Rose found himself in a shouting match with the Secret Service and some of Kennedy's aides. Even the doctors at Parkland sided with the Secret Service and pleaded with Rose to release the body so that they could take the President back to Washington. A justice of the peace arrived, with the power to overrule the medical examiner. But he didn't. The justice of the peace said that Kennedy would have to be autopsied in Dallas and ensured the Secret Service that it wouldn't take any more than three hours.

Again, tempers flared and the men in the hallway at Parkland were close to fisticuffs as the medical examiner, Dr. Rose, literally blocked the casket's path with his body in order to keep it inside the hospital. When the President's close aide, Kenny O'Donnell, appealed to the medical examiner and the justice of the peace for compassion for Jackie Kennedy and an exception for this case so that they could return the dead President to Washington and get Jackie out of Texas as quickly as possible, the justice of the peace, Theron Ward, refused.

"It's just another homicide as far as I'm concerned," said the justice of the peace.

O'Donnell lost his temper, "Go fuck yourself! We're leaving. Get the hell out of the way."

With that, the Secret Service and all the President's men pushed forward. The medical examiner, the justice of the peace, and several Dallas policemen were forcibly shoved out of the way by Secret Service agents who were ready to draw their guns, if necessary. Jackie Kennedy was close by, her hand softly guiding the President's bronze casket as it was removed from the hospital and placed in the hearse which raced en route to Love Field and Air Force One.

When the entourage arrived at Air Force One, they found a plane completely encircled by heavily armed Secret Service agents. The plane’s powerful engines were running, ready to lift off at any moment and push Dallas and everything that happened there behind them as quickly as possible. Fearing the unknown and suspecting a possible conspiracy to decapitate the entire government, the shades were drawn down over the windows throughout the aircraft in order to protect against any further possible attacks. On the plane was Lyndon Johnson, soon-to-be sworn in as the 36th President of the United States, and awaiting the arrival of Jackie and the body of the deceased President. The Secret Service and the President's aides struggled with the extraordinarily heavy casket as they maneuvered it up the steps to Air Foce One and into a holding area in the back of the plane cleared out by removing two rows of seats.

Jackie remained with President Kennedy's casket from almost the entire time she boarded Air Force One until it landed at Andrews Air Force Base near Washington. The only exception was prior to the plane taking off from Dallas when she stood -- still wearing her blood-stained pink Chanel dress -- on one side of Lyndon Johnson as he took the oath of office as the new President, his hand resting on JFK's book of Catholic missals, which had been found in JFK's private cabin by aides rummaging for a Bible for the oath-taking ceremony.

For four hours, Air Force One flew in a dark cloud of sadness towards the nation's capital. New President Johnson made numerous phone calls, including calls to the slain President's mother, Rose, and brother, the Attorney General Bobby Kennedy. In flight, LBJ also hastily made preparations for meetings upon landing in Washington. In the back of the plane, a silent vigil was held around John F. Kennedy's casket by Jackie and the President's aides, who were so close to Kennedy that they were often referred to as the "Irish Mafia".

President Kennedy's personal physician, Admiral George Burkley, suggested to Jackie that JFK's body be taken to Bethesda Naval Hospital upon arrival in Washington for the autopsy. Jackie showed great compassion herself on that terrible flight. She insisted that Bill Greer drive the vehicle carrying the President's casket to Bethesda. Greer was grief-stricken and apologetic during the flight because he had been driving JFK's limousine in Dallas and made no attempt to speed up or take evasive maneuvers when shots were first fired. Greer felt partly responsible for President Kennedy's death and Jackie wanted to show her confidence and appreciation in his service to her late husband.

When Air Force One arrived at Andrews Air Force Base after dark on November 22, 1963, Bobby Kennedy rushed on to the plane and directly to Jackie to comfort his sister-in-law, blowing past President Johnson and snubbing LBJ as the new President attempted to offer his condolences to JFK’s devastated brother. The dead President's aides and Secret Service detail rebuffed a military casket team who arrived to remove the President's coffin from the plane. Instead they formed a personal honor guard and handled Kennedy’s casket themselves, awkwardly placing it on to a catering lift and lowering it to the ground so that they could place it in a waiting Navy ambulance from Bethesda. Jackie, with her husband's blood still clearly visible on her bare legs, and Bobby climbed into the back of the ambulance with JFK's casket and drove straight to Bethesda as President Johnson made a statement for the millions of Americans watching the arrival ceremony on live television.

The motorcade transporting the body of President John F. Kennedy from Andrews Air Force Base to Bethesda Naval Hospital for his autopsy arrived right around the same time that President Lyndon Johnson's helicopter landed on the South Lawn of the White House from Andrews so that the new President could take the reins of the government of a nation in shock. As trusted members of his "Irish Mafia" helped to remove Kennedy's casket from the Navy ambulance, Jackie Kennedy and RFK headed upstairs at Bethesda where private suites were set aside for their comfort and friends and family were waiting to help with the comforting.

Across town, the new President prepared to charge into his new duties. During the flight home from Dallas, Lyndon Johnson had summoned Cabinet members, diplomats, Members of Congress, current White House aides, former White House aides, and anybody else who had any inkling of what powered the Executive Branch, to meet him at the White House upon his arrival for consultation, directions, and mutual support. Upon arriving at the White House, Johnson briefly spent a moment by himself in the Oval Office before leaving and walking with aides to the neighboring Old Executive Office Building. LBJ didn't feel right with immediately setting up shop in the Oval Office just hours after President Kennedy's death. Instead, Johnson decided to use his Vice Presidential office in the OEOB for the meetings he planned on holding that night.

Before those meetings began, however, President Johnson took a moment for a brief pause in his frenetic assumption of the Presidency. Requesting a few minutes of privacy, LBJ sat down at his desk in the OEOB and wrote two short letters which became the first pieces of correspondence of the Johnson Administration -- letters which the young recipients couldn't even read yet:

"Dear John--It will be many years before you understand fully what a great man your father was. His loss is a deep personal tragedy for all of us, but I wanted you particularly to know that I share your grief--You can always be proud of him. Affectionately, Lyndon Johnson" "Dearest Caroline--Your father's death has been a great tragedy for the Nation, as well as for you at this time. He was a wise and devoted man. You can always be proud of what he did for his country. Affectionately, Lyndon Johnson"

The casket containing the father of those two young children had been wheeled into the hallways leading to Bethesda Naval Hospital's morgue. Despite the fact that this was being done in a completely secure, private, inner sanctum of the famed military hospital, the casket was that of a man who had started the day as Commander-in-Chief of the United States Military. Out of respect and duty, an honor guard lifted the coffin from a gurney and carried it through the halls and into the brightly-lit, antiseptic autopsy room where doctors prepared to examine the lifeless body of the 35th President of the United States.

When President Kennedy's casket was opened, it became readily apparent that the hard work of Vernon O'Neal and the nurses at Parkland Hospital in Dallas to protect the inside of the expensive coffin was unsuccessful. The makeshift bandage which had been carefully wrapped around Kennedy's head did not prevent seepage after all. Blood soaked through the sheets which made up the "bandage" and the inner lining of Kennedy's ornate casket was obviously damaged. It was a surreal, eerie sight in the autopsy room as John F. Kennedy was removed from his coffin and placed on the stainless steel autopsy table at Bethesda. The 35th President was naked and seemed to be in remarkably good physical condition for a 46-year-old man who was known to suffer from serious health problems. Most shocking for those in the room during the autopsy, however, was the fact that this seemingly young and vital President who had inspired a new generation was now very much dead with a massive gunshot wound to the head that exposed the part of his brain still contained within it and left the top of his skull jaggedly disfigured with missing pieces of bone and flesh. Kennedy's eyes were fixed open, staring vacantly into space with dilated pupils that could no longer envision ambitious goals for his nation. The mouth which formed his famous words, framed his most inspirational messages, and spoke that unmistakable Boston accent now hung open, forever silenced and permanently paralyzed in a final expression which seemed to mirror the mood of the entire country: a combination of shock, pain, horror, and perplexity.

The pathologists who performed John F. Kennedy’s autopsy finished their work shortly after midnight on November 23, 1963. Photographs and drawings were taken of Kennedy’s body during the autopsy, and when the autopsy was finished, morticians from one of the capital’s finest funeral parlors arrived on the scene. A team from Gawler’s Funeral Home entered the autopsy room at Bethesda Naval Hospital to embalm the President and attempt to make him presentable. The casket that brought JFK back to Washington from Dallas would not work. While the casket from O’Neal’s was a beauty from the exterior, the interior was a mess. All of the safeguards attempted by O’Neal and the Parkland nurses in Dallas were not quite enough to protect the inside of the Handley Brittania from the gruesome wound that had killed the President.

The question many might have is why would there be such a need to make John F. Kennedy’s remains presentable when JFK was obviously in no condition to be viewed? Why couldn’t they simply close that beautiful Handley Brittania casket that was purchased in Dallas and bury Kennedy in the container which carried him back to Washington?

At the orders of Jackie Kennedy, aides went to the Library of Congress in the hours after President Kennedy’s body returned to Washington, D.C. and researched the historic, iconic, epic state funeral of Abraham Lincoln – the first American President to be assassinated, almost exactly a century earlier. Kennedy’s funeral preparations would be steeped in tradition and either perfectly replicate or closely mirror the funerals of other fallen American Presidents including Lincoln, James Garfield, William McKinley, Warren G. Harding, and Franklin D. Roosevelt. As information about these past Presidential funerals (along with the funerals of famous Congressional and military leaders throughout United States history) was brought forward, one constant was apparent: in almost every case, the fallen leader was viewed by a grieving public in an open casket display. For many Americans, streaming past the open casket of a former President or American military hero was an opportunity to pay tribute, look upon the face of a fallen hero, and find closure in another storied chapter of American History.

Yet, as much as Jackie wished to replicate Lincoln’s funeral, she was dismayed at the thought of an open casket for John F. Kennedy. Jackie had seen what the assassin’s bullet had done to her husband. As Kennedy’s motorcade raced to Parkland Memorial Hospital in Dallas minutes after the shooting, Jackie wouldn’t allow doctors and Secret Service agents to remove President Kennedy’s body from the limousine until an agent covered Kennedy’s head with his suit jacket, shielded the President from the view of others, and preserved some of the dignity that was so important to the Kennedy image. As the morticians from Gawler’s worked on JFK, Jackie once again expressed her wish that her husband’s coffin would be closed. Bobby Kennedy, however, didn’t think that the decision was up to the family. RFK felt strongly that JFK belonged to the people, too, and that the American people would want their opportunity to say goodbye.

Following his assassination in 1865, Abraham Lincoln’s remains embarked on an epic, 20-day-long train trip that retraced the route he took to Washington in 1861 prior to his Inauguration. In major cities throughout the Northeast and Upper Midwest, hundreds of thousands of Americans turned out to pay their respects to their “martyred” President. Embalming was a relatively newly-mastered American art at the time of Lincoln’s death – a technique which had been much-improved upon and much-practiced during the Civil War when young men frequently died far from home and families looked to preserve their fallen loved ones so that they could have one last look at them before they were laid to rest.

However, even today, embalming can’t guarantee perfect preservation for an extended amount of time. In 1865, there were definitely some worries about Lincoln’s extended, national funeral. After all, the warm weather of spring had started throughout the United States and Lincoln would be honored with open casket viewings by Americans in well over a dozen cities between Washington, D.C. and Springfield, Illinois in the twenty days after his death. Some people worried whether it was appropriate to view Lincoln’s corpse at all considering the fact that he had died from a gunshot wound to the head. Lincoln’s wound was far less devastating visually than Kennedy’s. The bullet that killed Lincoln had entered his brain, but did not exit Lincoln’s skull. The only damage visible was a black eye from bruising of the facial bones close to where John Wilkes Booth’s bullet had lodged in Lincoln’s brain. Undertakers accompanied Lincoln’s body on the funeral train back to Springfield and as time passed, they certainly became necessary. Lincoln’s face blackened considerably by the time his remains reached Springfield – partly from the facial bruising, partly from the dirt and dust of twenty days exposure to the elements, but also partly due to the beginning stages of decomposition. At some cities, the undertakers who accompanied Lincoln home would brush his face with chalk to make him more presentable to the citizens who came to pay their respects. In a few cities, it also became necessary to surround Lincoln’s casket with fragrant flowers and spray the area with heavy perfumes for reasons that I’m sure aren’t too difficult to surmise.

John F. Kennedy was not going to be viewed by the public for twenty days in over a dozen cities throughout the country and the funeral industry had made even larger strides in the century since Lincoln’s death. However, JFK was severely disfigured by the bullet that killed him. Unlike in Lincoln’s case, the bullet that tore through Kennedy’s skull and brain also exited his head, causing major damage that would be difficult for even the most-skilled mortician to disguise. The team from Gawler’s were perhaps the best in the business, but it wasn’t simply a matter of brushing some chalk or cosmetic makeup on Kennedy’s face to cover up some bruising or minor discoloration. Entire pieces of JFK’s skull were missing and parts of the President’s head needed to be synthetically reconstructed. The morticians also had to pack his skull with cotton and Plaster of Paris in the place of his brain -- parts of which were removed during the autopsy and other parts of which were in countless places including (but not limited to) the fabric of his wife’s Pink Chanel dress, the windshields of the motorcycle cops escorting his motorcade in Dallas, the backseat and trunk of his limousine, and all over Dealey Plaza in Dallas.

The mortuary team from Gawler’s took over three hours to work on President Kennedy, clean him up, dress him (in a bluish-gray pinstriped suit with a white shirt, black shoes, and blue tie with dots), place him in a brand-new casket and put a rosary in the hands of the nation’s only Catholic President. A little after 4:00 AM, President Kennedy, his widow and Bobby Kennedy arrived at the White House after a solemn motorcade through the darkened streets of Washington. In the first nod to Lincoln’s funeral, JFK’s flag-draped casket was carried by an honor guard into the East Room of the White House and placed on a replica of the black catafalque that Lincoln’s coffin once rested on. After Kennedy’s casket was situated in the East Room, Jackie Kennedy and Bobby Kennedy entered the room and asked that the lid be opened. Both Jackie and Bobby were exhausted and emotionally drained, and Jackie was still wearing the Pink Chanel dress that she had cradled her dying husband’s head in. The front of her dress was smeared with the dried blood and brain matter of the President. As ghastly as the sight was, Jackie continually refused to change, noting that she wanted everyone to see what “they” did to her husband. As the casket lid was opened, Jackie snipped a lock of her husband’s hair with scissors and turned to Bobby, saying, “It isn’t Jack” – once again alluding to her wish that the casket remain closed.

Jackie left the East Room and headed upstairs to the White House Residence to finally change her clothes and attempt to sleep. In the East Room, Bobby remained near his brother’s coffin with a couple of friends, close aides, and Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara. The stoic RFK – always much tougher than his older brother – was a wreck by this point, after attempting to stay strong and supportive throughout the night for his stunned sister-in-law. Bobby had not yet looked at JFK’s remains. To finally make the decision about whether or not JFK would have an open casket, RFK took a look at his brother’s face. When he saw Jack in the coffin, RFK immediately agreed with Jackie’s feelings, “She’s right. Close it.” While the team from Gawler’s had done an admirable job of repairing the massive trauma to the President’s head, JFK was virtually unrecognizable as the man he once was. To those who saw his body as the casket was briefly open in the East Room early that morning, it was apparent that the American people wouldn’t want to remember their fallen President in that way – as if he were a wax museum knock-off of the real John F. Kennedy. The funeral ceremonies over the next few days would all be closed casket and the nation would remember JFK as the young, lively, inspirational President that he had been for so many Americans.

••• Since the assassination of John F. Kennedy in 1963, there have been so many unanswered questions and theories and allegations. Many are the result of sloppy work on behalf of the government in the hours following the shooting, during the autopsy, after the autopsy, and in the failure to protect the suspected assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald, as he was being transferred to a new facility to face charges of murdering President Kennedy and Dallas Police Office J.D. Tippit. Evidence has been lost or misplaced, and some records remain sealed until 2017 – 54 years after the assassination and 100 years after JFK’s birth.

There is one aspect of this story that received some closure, however, and that is what happened to JFK’s original casket – the expensive Handley Brittania coffin that Clint Hill ordered from Vernon O’Neal’s Funeral Home in Dallas in the hectic minutes after President Kennedy was pronounced dead.

After JFK’s autopsy at Bethesda Naval Hospital and the hard work by the mortuary team from Gawler’s Funeral Home to make him presentable, President Kennedy couldn’t be placed back in the beautiful but bloodstained bronze coffin that had carried him home from Texas. Gawler’s had brought with them to Bethesda another elegant casket fit for a President – a $3,160 Marsellus 710 coffin that was crafted from “hand-rubbed, five-hundred-year-old African mahogany”. It was that flag-draped casket from Gawler’s that John F. Kennedy, Jr. saluted and Americans saw being laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery.

The history of Vernon O’Neal’s casket did not end that night at Bethesda when President Kennedy was transferred to a different coffin. Gawler’s Funeral Home took possession of JFK’s original casket after they placed him in the undamaged casket that their mortuary team had brought to Bethesda Naval Hospital following Kennedy’s autopsy. Whether it was as a morbid souvenir or simply due to confusion about what to do with it, Gawler’s stored JFK’s original coffin in a warehouse in Washington, D.C. In January 1964, less than two months after JFK’s burial, Vernon O’Neal submitted a bill to the federal government for $3,995 for the casket that Secret Service Agent Clint Hill ordered in Dallas and JFK was transported to Washington in.

The government felt that O’Neal’s bill was “excessive”, particularly since he had merely delivered the casket to Parkland Hospital in Dallas and had not performed any other funeral services such as embalming, chapel services or transportation of mourners. O’Neal lowered the price by $500, but the government still had an issue with the $3,495 price tag. What Vernon O’Neal actually wanted was the casket itself. O’Neal had received offers of $100,000 by parties interested in collecting and displaying the casket as a unique relic of the slain President. For the Kennedy Family – still reeling from the assassination and its aftermath – the last thing they wanted was a spectacle surrounding a bloodstained coffin that JFK had spent just a few hours in. At the family’s urging, the federal government paid O’Neal (he received $3,160 for his services on November 22, 1963) and the General Services Administration took possession of the object in 1965.

In September 1965, the House of Representatives passed a bill which required the government to preserve any objects related to the Kennedy Assassination which might contain evidentiary value. Several days later, Representative Earle Cabell from Texas sent a letter to Attorney General Nicholas Katzenbach (who had replaced Bobby Kennedy at the Justice Department a year earlier). In his letter, Congressman Cabell suggested that the casket had no value for anyone other than “the morbidly curious”. Since the Kennedy Family “did not see fit to use this particular casket in the ultimate interment of the body”, Cabell felt that it was “surplus” material owned and controlled by the federal government. To shut down those who might be “morbidly curious”, Cabell recommended that the casket “be declared the proper property of the USA and, as such and in keeping with the best interest of the country, be destroyed.”

The Kennedy Family agreed with Congressman Cabell’s sentiments and Attorney General Katzenbach ensured everyone that the casket had no evidentiary value, no good reason for display or storage, and that it was the property that the government had the right to dispose of in whichever way it sought fit. On February 18, 1966, several members of the Air Force picked the casket up from a secure building at the National Archives just a few blocks from the White House. The casket was placed in an Air Force truck and transported to Andrews Air Force Base – the very place that the casket had originally landed in Washington with President Kennedy inside of it less than three years earlier. At Andrews, the Air Force team from the 93rd Air Terminal Squadron loaded the coffin on to a C130 transport plane.

To dispose of the casket, the Air Force had decided to take it to a place that JFK had once considered being buried: the Atlantic Ocean. Kennedy loved the sea and was said to have considered being buried at sea when he died. Of course, we know that Kennedy was buried at Arlington National Cemetery instead, but for many reasons, the Atlantic Ocean was the perfect place for the disposal of the casket that had brought him back to Washington following his assassination.

The Air Force wanted to ensure the integrity of the casket and not allow it to become a souvenir by someone who happened to come across it floating in the ocean or washing up on the shore. The C130 flew about 100 miles east of Washington, D.C. and descended to about 500 feet above the water. Before taking off, the Air Force had drilled over 40 holes into the casket and filled it with three 80-pound sandbags. It was also secured inside of a wooden crate and sealed shut in a manner so that it wouldn’t break apart upon hitting the water.

At approximately 10:00 AM, the C130’s tail hatch was opened and the casket was pushed out of the aircraft. Parachutes softened its fall and the coffin began to sink instantly. The airplane circled the drop zone for about 20 minutes to make sure that the coffin didn’t resurface, but they had no reason to worry. The Air Force had chosen an area of the Atlantic that saw very little air or sea traffic, and the casket settled in about 9,000 feet of water. The Kennedy Family was relieved that they no longer had to worry about a bloody casket going on display somewhere for the “morbidly curious”.

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