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

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

PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

18+ Only. Crude sexual language.

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Chapter Twelve: Lamb

The door to the deputy sheriff’s office in Charming’s local P.D., was yanked open so hard that it could almost be considered a miracle it did not fracture the drywall against the doorknob as it slammed against the wall.

Deputy David Hale stared down at Agent June Stahl, his eyes dark and narrow the words flying from his lips. “You had my guys pull records on Tara Knowles and Y/N Y/L/N?”

Stahl gazed up at the infuriated deputy, her voice calm and cool showing no regard for his anger, she not even caring enough to address the question. “Did you enjoy your lunch break?”

Hale glared down at the ATF agent spotting the files spread out across the desk, his stomach turning at the clear sight of old mugshots featuring both Tara and Y/N along with police reports.

He didn’t understand what angle Stahl was working here. If she was interested in ol ladies then surely Gemma Teller Morrow would be a better choice.

Tara and Y/N weren’t exactly on the same level as the Queen of SAMCRO. What could they possibly provide Stahl to build a RICO case against SAMCRO?

Both Tara and Y/N having questionable taste in romantic partners didn’t exactly mean they were involved in gun running.

Deputy Hale slammed the door shut behind him not wanting any nearby ears to pick up on the conversation he was about to have with Stahl. He knew he’d already attracted a few gazes from both ATF agents and his fellow department coworkers by bursting in here clearly pissed off.

He spoke his voice harsh, as he glared down at her, the agent looking all too comfortable sitting at his desk. “They have nothing to do with this investigation.”

“Oh, David. How willfully naive. They have so much to do with this investigation. You aren’t seeing the possibility behind these two.” Stahl remarked an amused smirk crossing her lips at how worked up the good deputy seemed to be over the mention of these two women.

It seemed that she had struck a nerve in him, and she was unable to avoid the temptation to strike again.

Hale let out a scoff at the comment addressing his first concern. “Tara Knowles left Charming and SAMCRO behind. She might have had a wild past, but she’s cleaned up her act. She went out to Chicago and got a medical degree. She’s not opening beers for outlaws anymore.”

“Oh, we both know that’s not entirely true. All these photos Agent Kohn provided seem to indicate that Dr. Knowles is starting to get a little close and personal with one very patched in Jackson Teller. Those two have a history judging by these police reports. Arrests in the nineties for public intoxication, disorderly conduct, and possession of stolen property, all in the company of one Jackson Teller.”

“They dated back when we were teenagers. We all did stupid things as teens. She left town at nineteen and left Teller and the MC behind. She’s been gone for over a decade now. She only came back because her dad died and she got a job opportunity out here.” Hale snapped Agent Stahl rolling her eyes at the comment.

“She was out in Chicago, David. She was top of the class from the looks of it. Brilliant young woman with the accolades to back it up, just how many job opportunities must those brains and accomplishments have brought in for her? With her background she could take a job anywhere in the country at any hospital of her choice. Why’d she pick Charming? I can’t imagine it's just homesickness that led her back here. She could have stayed out in Chicago and made a hell of a lot more money than Saint Thomas is probably offering her. Why pick Saint Thomas and Charming? I think we both are well aware of Agent Kohn’s real reason for coming out to Charming. Agent Kohn is one sick puppy and I can’t imagine Tara was too keen on sticking around up in Chicago with him hanging around. Tara’s ex boyfriend becomes her stalker and she comes back to a town where her first love has a dangerous reputation. You don’t think that’s a little convenient? '' Stahl pointed out Hale gritting his jaw unwilling to admit that the answer to just why she’d come back home lay in Jax Teller.

He spoke, still refusing to admit that Tara could possibly have any possible information to build a RICO case. “I’m sure Jackson Teller’s boy being premature has made Tara and he take some walks down memory lane, but Tara is no ol lady. She’s not getting any pillow talk about gun running from anyone in SAMCRO. Agent Kohn has been taken care of. He’s heading back to Chicago to answer to his superiors. Tara Knowles isn’t looking to seek protection from Teller.”

Stahl raised a brow at the comments, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke. “That may be the case, but you do have to be a little curious about the similarities between Dr. Knowles and Miss. Y/L/N. Both young women with troubled criminally prone backgrounds who left town only to come back after losing their fathers. Both women have been seen in the company of at least one patched in member of SAMCRO. In fact, both women share some similarities in their rap sheets. Looks like they have both been arrested in the company of one Jackson Teller. I do have to wonder if Dr. Knowles knows that Jax found a new Bonnie to his Clyde in her absence.”

Hale let out a huff at this, his voice holding an edge of irritation as he glared down at Stahl. “Y/N had some difficult years in her late teens and early twenties. Jackson and she shared a bond given her brother’s accident.”

“Yes, Daniel Y/L/N. It’s a shame what happened to him. Miss. Y/L/N dutifully pays those institutionalization bills to keep him cared for. Looks like he wasn’t on the best path though. He ran around with Harry Opie Winston and Jackson Teller from what I’m gathering from Daniel’s police record. Looks like his first few arrests weren’t anything too grand, arrests in his late teens for possession of marijuana…not enough to get him more than a fine…some drunk and disorderlies around the same time. He was arrested with both Winston and Teller for a drunken brawl out at the Hairy Dog back when he was twenty one. The arresting officer commented that Mr. Y/L/N seemed elated by the violence. Judging by the black eye and the grin on his face in this mugshot, he was in his element. Strange how he never prospected for the MC. Looks like he was as thick as thieves with Teller and Winston before the accident.”

“His father kept him on a tight leash. After that arrest at twenty one he gave him an ultimatum, some tough love to get him on the right path. From my understanding he told him to get his shit together and enroll in community college or lose access to Y/N. His father didn’t want him leading her down that path. Daniel loved his little sister dearly. She worshiped Daniel and their father knew she’d follow him anywhere. His accident was heartbreaking for her. He may as well have died with as hard as she took it. He was more than a brother to her. I'm sure she viewed Daniel as being her best friend.” Hale explained shifting in place his stomach turning at the mention of a young man he’d once considered a friend before Daniel started going down a bad path with Opie and Jax.

“Looks like the ultimatum was in vain. Daniel Y/L/N has his motorcycle accident and that same year Y/N gets arrested in the company of Jackson Teller. She got busted for public intoxication. Scandalous considering she was all of eighteen and Mr. Teller was about twenty three, a little too old to be sniffing around her, but we both know the MC isn't filled morally upstanding guys. Her being barely out of being considered jailbait must have been thrilling for the boys at SAMCRO.” Stahl provided proudly displaying the mugshot.

Hale gazed down at the mugshot of an eighteen year old Y/N, her face still holding baby fat, her hair a faded pink that had gone a peachy tone, a dazed look in her eyes; she was clearly under the influence. He could spot chipped black nail polish on her fingers and a silver stud in her left nostril. The tank top she wore was far too low cut revealing the red lace of a bra. The slight smirk on her red painted lips showed that she felt little shame for her very first arrest.

Stahl spoke again providing more information about Y/N’s arrest record. “She continued to become a frequent flier in your jail cells. Looks like she got picked up a few more times at eighteen and nineteen, drunk and disorderly, driving under the influence, driving under the influence on a suspended license, possession of the tiniest amount of pot which wasn't enough to be an issue if she wasn’t clearly drunk, an arrest for shoplifting a pack of cigarettes and a candy bar where the arresting officer noted she seemed intoxicated. You picked her up more than once for some of these arrests…that must have been awkward for you both. Looks like she got a few slaps on the wrist, some fines, and some court ordered community service along with a few alcohol education courses. Didn’t seem to faze her though as the arrests continued…gotta love a small town police department. Most of this crap would have landed her doing some real time anywhere but Charming.”

“Sheriff Unser respected her father…everyone respected her father for the good he did for the community; caring for the deceased. He was a beloved figure around Charming. People saw him as personable and caring for the bereaved and diligent about caring for the dead. He had a reputation for being charitable to those who couldn’t always afford to bury their dead…made him even more adored around town. People felt sorry for him after Daniel’s accident…people around town felt awful for the man losing his son and having a daughter who wasn’t coping well. Lloyd Y/L/N advocated for his daughter to stay out of the system…Unser felt bad given what happened with Daniel, didn’t want Lloyd to lose another kid…The judge who ordered the community service and alcohol awareness courses felt the same way given Unser’s appeals to give Y/N opportunities to get her life on the right track. I don’t know how he kept her out of any real jail time or any harsher punishments…Unser’s a slick son of a bitch. I’m sure some money passed between Lloyd Y/L/N’s palm and the judge’s at least once. Lloyd Y/L/N was morally upstanding, but when it came to his little girl…he was willing and desperate enough to break his morals…especially given the situation with his son. He couldn't bear to lose Y/N too.” Hale provided, gritting his jaw at the thought of Unser.

Stahl shook her head. “Guess it’s good to be friends with Unser. Looks like Unser’s appeals kept her out of too much trouble, but she didn’t get her life on the right track. There’s a few more arrests here at nineteen. This one is interesting; an arrest in the company of one Alexander Tig Trager and one Robert Bobby Elvis Munson at a truck stop right on the edge of Charming city limits. Looks like she was about to turn nineteen and all three were clearly very under the influence. Trager was driving erratically and the officer noted that Y/N was so intoxicated that she fell out of the passengers door when the officer opened it. Local PD couldn’t prove that either man had provided the alcohol for Miss. Y/L/N, so Trager and Munson didn’t get more than a slap on the wrist for being in the company of an intoxicated minor. You do have to admit it's troubling a girl her age was hanging out with two men that age. Rumors around town are that Miss. Y/L/N was a regular at SAMCRO’s clubhouse. Looks like she was a…croweater? Isn’t that the term the Sons use for the club whores?”

The comment made Hale see red, the man speaking his voice harsh. “She kept bad company back then, but she was not playing the croweater game. She was not spreading her legs for every single guy in a kutte.”

Stahl smirked at the comment, quickly addressing it. “Sounds like I struck a nerve there, David. You’re getting a little defensive about Miss. Y/L/N’s promiscuous past? One might think you’re sweet on her.”

She smirked all the more as she spotted the way Hale tensed all the more at the comment. She spotted a flash of indignation in the man’s eyes at the implication that Y/N was a club tart. “You arrested her a few times back then, David? That must have been frustrating for you in more ways than one. I bet you wanted to place her in handcuffs in much different circumstances.”

Hale scoffed at this comment shaking his head, his voice tense he refusing to address the innuendo about handcuffs and Y/N the thought making him a little hot under the collar. “I was close with her brother when we were kids. Having to arrest Y/N was not something I found enjoyable.”

Stahl sighed, backing off the teasing as she pulled out another mugshot. “Looks like she was around nineteen and twenty when things got a little disturbing for Miss Y/L/N. Her partner in crime shifted from Jackson and a few members of SAMCRO and to one Nathaniel Gunner Papadopoulos. Nathaniel or Gunner as he goes by is a Son. Looks like he was a nomad at the time, but nowadays he’s fully patched into the Tacoma charter of the Sons. The first arrests with him follow the same path; public intoxication and drunk and disorderly…then things get dark. There were a few calls out to bars around town where the two had some verbal altercations, there were no arrests for these as they vacated the premises and that satisfied the bar owners. Then there was an arrest outside a gas station for being disorderly in public…Y/N is about nineteen here and Gunner is about twenty six…looks like they got into a verbal altercation once again and Mr. Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N…he was arrested. She was taken in after she tried to argue with the arresting officer and interfere with the arrest of Mr. Papadopoulos. It seems she was frustrated that he was being arrested as she did not want to press charges for the physical assault on her. That was the first arrest for an altercation between the pair where things got physical. Looks like one of the final arrests we have of the pair involved an altercation the two had outside of a diner when Miss. Y/L/N was twenty. You were one of the responding officers from what I see”.

Hale shifted in place, his jaw clenching so tight he looked as though he might crack a tooth. He cringed as Stahl continued. “Chances are you must remember the arrest, but I can refresh your memory. From the police record it looks as though Mr. Popadopoulos and Miss. Y/L/N were under the influence and having a lovers spat in the parking lot of the diner, over the waitress getting a little too friendly with Mr. Papadopoulos, when Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N. She reacted by hitting him back and it devolved into a full on physical altercation. Looks like she got him pretty good judging by the scratch marks across his face and the bruises he’s sporting. He seems to have gotten her better though given the split lip. The arresting officer who you were with noted past bruises on Miss. Y/L/N and indicated suspicion of domestic violence, but Miss. Y/L/N seemed to brush questions about it off as evidence of rough sexual encounters between Mr. Papadopoulos and her. You noted in your notes on the arrest that you tried to urge Miss. Y/L/N to press charges against Mr. Papadopoulos as her reaction could be written off as self defense..but she was not interested. The two spent the night in jail and one of the Sons, looks like one of Gunner's fellow nomads that was visiting the mother charter, bailed Gunner out the next morning…Gunner then bailed Miss. Y/L/N out…how romantic. The mugshots are not pretty”

Hale let out a heavy breath, his body filled with tension as he gazed down at the mugshot in question. Y/N looked far less proud of herself in this photo. Her right eye was swollen, the hint of a black eye starting to develop. Her lip was split courtesy of one of Gunner’s silver chunky biker rings. She was dressed in another tight tank top and it did little to hide the bruises across her skin, some markings old and some quite recent. Her eyes held an almost empty sense to them as though she was running on autopilot most of the time but disconnected from her surroundings. Her body seemed too thin and it felt as though it was from more than aging. He suspected drug use though he could not place the drug in question without testing her. Her hair had faded back to its natural tone and the nose piercing was gone. She was scowling at the camera clearly filled with rage.

Hale spoke the words leaving him before he could stop them “I tried to get her to press charges against the bastard. I tried to convince her that he was taking her down a bad path. He had her under some kind of spell or something I don’t know…She left town a few months after that last arrest. Rumors around town said that she was seen using a phone booth near main street looking worse for wear. Her father picked her up and got her out of town.”

Hale took a deep breath, his words harsh he tearing his eyes from the mugshot. “Y/N’s past has no bearing on anything. She has straightened herself out. She’s taken over her father’s business and has stayed on the straightened arrow. She’s grown up.”

“Maybe so…those empty graves that were found back in the cemetery months ago do seem fishy though…given the bodies that disappeared from the Sons warehouse right around the time those bodies from the empty graves were found out in Lodi. Those empty graves were filled by Miss. Y/L/N’s funeral home. Lodi cops seem to have lost steam for the case…and they were satisfied with Miss. Y/L/N’s statements about the incident. Does seem interesting that she comes back to town and just so happens to get involved with a member of SAMCRO right around the time that this whole grave robbing and disappearing bodies situation happens. How convenient for SAMCRO.”

Hale cleared his throat knowing he had his own suspicions about Y/N’s involvement, but he could admit he was choosing to live in denial over the reality of the situation.

He would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t think of Y/N and didn’t feel some sense of fondness for her.

In some way he still remembered her as the talkative little girl who followed her brother and he around when they were kids.

He thought of her as the lonely child who according to his younger sister never could fit in with their peers.

He'd always felt a sense of care for Y/N none the less. He could remember her being vibrant and brave. She was at times a little too fierce and so unapologetic that it bordered on being rude. He could remember finding the quality somewhat admirable though; her willingness to be so brazen.

As she’d grown she’d seemed determined to follow her brother’s path in the company she kept. Hale had been displeased by her rebellion. He had hoped that her brother's accident would scare her straight but it seemed to push her into a life of chaos. She'd clung to the men who her brother had once run amuck with.

Jackson Teller had seemed willing to take Y/N under his wing and lead her to destruction.

Hale would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t feel slightly disturbed as he stood aside and watched Y/N grow into an attractive young woman who seemed to be all too comfortable around the local outlaw MC. He’d maybe gone out of his way back then to try to coax her into understanding that she was down a bad path. He'd been a rookie cop back then and had been all too aware of Y/N's bad behavior. He'd tried to reason with her using his past friendship with her brother to coax her into getting on the right path. When Gunner had gotten involved with her that coaxing had increased but Y/N had practically spit in Hale’s face at his attempts to rescue her from her situation.

He’d been grateful when she'd left town. He'd hoped that she was getting her head on straight. When she came back to town Hale had hopes that she’d grown up in her time away. He’d been relieved when it seemed she’d turned over a new leaf.

Hale could admit that he'd been hopeful that she was done with bad boys in kuttes.

He could also admit that he'd felt a sense of attraction for the young woman who had returned to run her father's funeral home. She seemed a far cry from the angry young woman who used to run around with the MC.

He had been stunned to realize that he no longer viewed her as his old childhood friend's rebellious baby sister. She had grown into an elegant young woman who was dedicated to a respectful career.

He had hopes that perhaps her taste in men had matured as well along with the more sophisticated appearance she'd adopted.

He’d maybe even tried to ask her to dinner or coffee once or twice but she’d rejected the offers. He’d told himself not to take offense to her rejection. He'd decided that perhaps Y/N was going through a difficult time, losing her father and being back in a town she probably was not thrilled to be in.

He had told himself to bide his time and be patient. He had hopes that perhaps she would settle into town and then maybe be more inclined to give him at least one date.

He had hopes that perhaps he could shoot his shot with her again, but had his hopes dashed when she clearly became involved with SAMCRO once again.

When he’d realized she’d chosen Filip Chibs Telford of all men, Hale had been disgusted. The older Scotsman seemed so wrong for her, and she seemed blind to this fact.

It was kind of insulting realizing she'd turned Hale down and chosen Chibs Telford. Though, Hale had a feeling he'd be insulted if she'd chosen any Son after rejecting him more than once.

It was as though Stahl could read his mind because she spoke all too giddy to pull out another file from the stack. “It seems Miss. Y/L/N still favors a bad boy in a kutte and she still likes her men older. Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man. He has past rumored ties to the True IRA. He’s been arrested a few times in Belfast, but nothing could ever stick. His wife though…he’s still very much married by the way…is True IRA Royalty. Fiona Larkin is third generation True IRA. She got Telford involved in the cause. They were childhood sweethearts from what I know. The two were living as a married couple for a few years before they had their daughter. They have one child, Kerrianne Larkin Telford. She’s about twelve going on thirteen. Looks like they were a happy little family of terrorists for a few years at least. That changed most likely when one Jimmy O’Phalen rose up in the ranks of the cause. Looks like Jimmy O’ didn’t seem to be a fan of Telford. Rumors have it that O’Phalen scarred Telford’s cheeks and took his family as his own…banished Telford from the cause and Ireland. Telford fell in with SAMBEL…guess he didn’t take the threat to get out of Belfast too seriously though it looks like he only remained in Ireland with SAMBEL for a couple of years…he patched over to SAMCRO right around the Spring of 2000. He rolled into town a few months after Miss. Y/L/N left town…can you imagine if he’d made it stateside a few months before she left…the pair would have found each other sooner. Either way it looks like the pair found each other. I spotted them out and about the other day and by the look of affection I spotted him giving her, I would guess Y/N has been given ol lady status by Telford. She doesn't appear to be sporting the crow ink some of the other ol ladies are, but all the same...the looks he was giving her screamed love…do have to wonder if she knows he’s married.”

She paused watching Hale’s jaw tense a smirk crossing her lips before she spoke again. “She knows how to pick them doesn't she? I bet Telford gives Y/N all sorts of juicy bits of pillow talk…sweet little tight thing like her must make him all relaxed and satisfied enough to get those lips moving. Pussy gets men talking; especially trusted pussy that they love. Judging by the looks Telford gives her around town; he’s dedicated. Given his traumatic past and his appearance, I bet it wasn’t hard to get him dedicated. I have a feeling that Y/N doesn’t have to do much to get him talking. Bet she only has to suck him off to get all sorts of information out of him.”

“She’s not going to say a word, if she is an ol lady, she’s been given the orders on how to handle questions about the club. Even if Chibs is giving her details she won’t betray him.” Hale snapped trying to push thoughts of Y/N and Chibs doing anything slightly sexual from his head, the thought feeling him with both disgust and envy of what the Scotsman managed to have with Y/N.

Stahl shrugged her shoulders as she spoke. “Even if she doesn’t know he’s still married? Bet if we dropped some truth on her about her boyfriend’s current marital status, we might get her pissed off enough to run her mouth. If he betrayed her then well…hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“And if she knows he’s married.” Hale remarked what Stahl was suggesting make bile rise in the back of his throat. Call it a crush or fondness or whatever, but he didn’t like the idea of breaking Y/N’s heart to get information.

“If the tart is fine with being a mistress then I’m sure we can find some other way to get her lips moving. It doesn’t hurt to give her some pressure and see how she handles it.” Stahl provided a smirk crossing her lips at the rage in Hale’s eyes at the statement about Y/N being a tart.

She spoke again, a chuckle leaving her. “Don’t look so gloomy David, this might work in your favor. We get Telford out of the picture and you might just have a shot. Maybe we push her off bad boys, you can play white knight. You can finally put those handcuffs to use with her in a far more pleasant environment. Of course that might put a stop to the fun we’ve been having together hmm, but who am I to stand in the way of true love.”

He scoffed at the comment, his shoulders tensing at the suggestion as well as the implication of what Stahl and he had fallen into.

Stahl let out a sigh. “She can have you when I’m done. Trust me David, we can always press the ol ladies. No information is useless in RICO.”

Hale cringed at the comment, his stomach turning at this plan.

He took a deep breath, having the feeling that Stahl was in for a challenge. Y/N was a tough nut to crack.

Pissed off Y/N didn’t run her mouth. She just lashed out.

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

Y/N was surprised and relieved to see the roses left on her parent’s gravestones. She could admit she’d not been to the graveside since her father’s burial.

She’d been to the cemetery plenty enough thanks to her work…but she’d not had the nerve to walk over to the section where quite a few of her family were laid to their final rests.

Her paternal ancestors and their spouses were all buried close by one another. The oldest section of the cemetery held her oldest ancestors and their offspring.

She knew that one day she herself would most likely be buried here alongside her family. There were already two plots at her parents' side that technically belonged to her.

Her father was always one to plan ahead when it came to funerals and had purchased the plots remarking Y/N could keep them for Daniel and herself or if she married and wanted to be buried with her future spouse she could sell her plot.

She had rolled her eyes at the comment about marriage of course. The idea had seemed preposterous given her tumultuous dating history and how most men who might be ideal for a future spouse showed her little interest aside from gazing longingly at her body.

She’d dated a few guys out in New York. She’d even had one pretty serious boyfriend but it had fizzled out before any serious talk about marriage and the future had come to fruition.

She knew her past held her back in her relationships in New York. How was she supposed to explain her past with the MC in Charming to prospective life partners?

She knew her most recent ex-boyfriend had some suspicions about her past…given her tendency to occasionally flinch during moments of intimacy that got a little too rough. She had never worked up the nerve to go into the full story though. She had a feeling her ex had sensed her trauma but had not been equipped to deal with it when she’d shut down any pleas for information about her past.

She was not quite ready to go into her background with that boyfriend. She was certain he couldn’t handle her past. So, she’d pushed him away the same way she did with most boyfriends. Scaring guys and pushing them out with cold behavior was easier than going into detail about her time as a friend of SAMCRO and the pain she’d endured at Gunner’s hands.

Chibs Telford was the first romantic partner who had any knowledge of what Gunner had done to her as well as her past sexual encounters with both Jax and a few other men.

She was stunned by Chibs’ reaction. He not only still wanted her, but had proven to her that he desired her.

It was not an outcome she had imagined when she’d allowed herself to imagine what might happen if she were to ever reveal the darker parts of her past to a man who liked her.

She kept thinking back to the words Chibs had said to her after he’d eaten her out; that he wanted to show her how she deserved to be treated.

It was a new and exciting concept to her; being treated well by a romantic partner.

She hoped that she’d proven to him that she wanted to treat him in kind. She couldn’t help but to think that with his own traumas he deserved to be reminded of how he deserved to be treated as well.

She’d been more certain that he deserved all the tenderness and adoration on the planet by his reaction to the knowledge that she was planning on going to the gravesite today.

He’d offered to come along with her. He’d wanted to provide her with emotional support when she’d admitted she’d not gone to her parents' gravesite since her father’s funeral.

Y/N could admit she’d been tempted to let him tag along.

She’d resisted the urge to allow it though. She’d told herself that her first visit to the gravesite should be on her own.

Perhaps in the future though; she might let Chibs come with her.

A morbid voice in the back of her head told her it was the most depressing bring the guy you like home to meet the parents' situation, but she shushed the voice.

She was also overtaken with the realization that she was an orphan now. She had no living parents…so that made her an orphan didn’t it?

A voice in the back of her head told her it was a dumb thought…everyone became an orphan at some point in their lives, so it wasn’t something that was that unique.

She shifted the red roses aside placing the daisies she’d purchased on either parent’s grave.

She had a feeling the roses left on each grave had been Old Charlie’s doing. Roses seemed more his taste than Skeeter’s.

She was not surprised to see that the graves had been well maintained, any flowers that had been left at her father’s funeral being taken away after they’d wilted. The area was clean and polished waiting for her.

She had a feeling that this was both Old Charlie’s and Skeeter’s doing. The men had most likely been out to the gravesite maintaining it until she felt ready to make it out. It was clear that they’d cared enough about her to make it neat and ready for her.

She found herself sitting on the ground directly in front of her father’s tombstone not caring if the dirt below her got her jeans somewhat dirty. It would be a long while before grass grew over the filled in grave. Grass had long ago grown over her mother’s filled in grave given that the woman had died when Y/N was so young.

She sighed, her eyes lingering on her mother’s tombstone for a brief moment. She rarely visited it. Her father had been the one who had gone out to maintain it.

She’d gone once or twice when she was a teenager looking for some maternal connection that she’d craved. She felt foolish for the action knowing she would not find that connection in a cold marble tombstone.

Her mother’s full name was written on the dark marble stone in neat font: Caroline Hope Y/L/N. Beloved Wife and Mother. Her birthdate and death date were written below the inscription. A small dove had been carved into the edge of the stone. It was a simple stone and Y/N had been certain her father had struggled to choose it as he’d planned her mother’s entire funeral.

She’d never quite understood how he’d had the mental strength to embalm and bury the woman he loved, but Y/N assumed that in her father’s mind it was just the last act of love he could give his wife. He’d made sure she was cared for. Y/N could distinctly remember seeing the clothing her mother had been buried in…a modest blue sundress with a white floral print and a pearl necklace. She had only been four then, but somehow her mother’s funeral dress was a core memory that had stuck. Her father had allowed Daniel and her to view their mother in the casket at the funeral. Daniel had run away from it but Y/N had remained staring at the woman.

She was unsure if she loved or hated her father’s choice of giving her this core memory.

She tore her eyes from her mother’s tombstone, hating to admit she felt disconnected from the woman. Y/N felt a sense of love knowing that this was her mother, but she didn’t remember her clearly enough to feel the sense of grief she told herself she should feel.

She’d always held the thought in; certain it would upset her father. Her mother had been the love of her father’s life. She’d been his first and his last everything.

They’d met as teenagers and were one another’s first love. Her mother’s father had worked the funeral circuit preaching around Charming and surrounding towns and he’d brought his daughter along. Y/N’s father had been the funeral director’s son.

Y/N’s parents had met for the first time at a funeral. It was not the most romantic meet-cute, but it was her parents.

Her father had never remarried after her mother’s death. He’d not even dated. He’d remained dedicated to her even in death.

When Y/N was younger she’d hoped that she might be lucky enough to find love that deep with someone.

As she’d gotten older though she’d become jaded by the concept.

She sighed, staring at her father’s tombstone, the dark marble was simple with her father's name engraved into the stone: Lloyd Oliver Y/L/N. Beloved Father. Dedicated Husband. Respected Mortician.

The last addition had been her father’s request. Even in death he was proud of his profession.

She felt her throat grow tight telling herself this would feel cathartic even if she was just talking to a marble stone. “I’m sorry I haven’t been out here to visit…I’m actually sorry for a lot of things I’ve done lately.”

She clasped her hands together wringing them, her voice tense. “I can say without any hesitation that if you were still here right now…that saying sorry wouldn’t be enough with what I’ve done. I know how proud you were of our work…how proud you were that I followed you into the work you loved. I’m afraid I’ve sullied it though. You would hate what I’ve done…I fucked it up again, just like I always do. You know me; family disappointment as usual.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, her voice soft. “I’m sorry though, I really really am. I went down a path you’d hate. I got greedy and now I can’t get out of this…the sick thing is I was given a possible way out of it by Filip and I told him no. I am so desperate to burn in the hell of my own making. I…maybe I just like the pain. I think I deserve it in some sick way. How else do you explain why I’m so impulsive? I let the flame burn me and I never figure out that fire hurts…maybe I know it hurts but some part of me likes it. Maybe I’m sick? You did always worry about me…when I was a kid, I was way too interested in your job…Remember that teacher I had in elementary…fourth grade…she thought I was disturbed because I talked about your job so much…maybe I am. I mean what kind of person is so willing to do what I’ve done? What kind of girl prefers the company of the dead because the living scare the hell out of her? Maybe people around town are right about me? I’ve had a few boyfriends in New York tell me I’m not normal. Maybe at the end of the day I’m not right in the head…maybe I’m fucked mentally. How else do you explain the choices I make? I’ve always been quick to anger, too depressed, too impulsive, too starved for risk. I never know what’s good for me. I’ve had nice guys ask me out…back in New York…hell even Deputy Hale tried to take me to dinner pretty soon after I got into town… and I would rather scoop my eyes out with a melon baller than let a nice guy love me. I push people away because it protects me. I go for guys who don’t deserve me…I go for what hurts me. I let someone like Gunner violate me more than once and I stuck around. Maybe my brain is just abnormal.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I always felt bad for you…two bad kids. How could such a nice guy have such bad kids? I used to blame you for it when you’d scold me for whatever crap I had pulled…say that you were too damn nice and that was probably why I was so rotten. I tried to say that maybe if you were less focused on your job and more focused on Danny and me then we’d not have turned out so bad. I know it was unfair to turn it back on you. I think I was parroting the perceptions I heard from people around town though…poor charitable respected Lloyd Y/L/N dedicated to his service to the community but cursed with two ungrateful brats. You were always fighting to keep me out of jail or worse…always dealing with Danny’s health after the accident…always trying to balance the job with making sure your kids stayed alive. I know Danny and I both gave you hell…You died thinking that I was finally done giving you hell…but surprise.”

She let out a shaky sigh, her fingers reaching out to trace the birth and death date on the tombstone. ��You died thinking SAMCRO was a thing of my past…you thought your biker whore daughter had finally grown up…I know you’d hate me for calling myself that. You never were fond of my choice in language especially when I used it to degrade myself. I know I always tried to take some high ground and claim that I was nothing like the girls that hung around the MC and threw themselves at anything in a kutte…was I really any better though at the end of the day? I may have been a bit more discerning in who I fucked but…I still liked a man in a kutte and a criminal record a mile long. I loved the danger…I loved the chaos. Nice guys who worked nine to five jobs just didn’t do it for me like the outlaws could. I wasn’t satisfied with a dick unless the guy attached to it had a rap sheet.”

She rolled her eyes, the words leaving her. “I know…just what every man wants to hear about, his daughter’s sex life. I guess you aren’t really here to hear it though…I hope you’re not hanging around watching me that much. That would be kind of creepy if you were just hanging around watching me 24-7.”

She let out another shaky breath as she spoke. “I met someone…Jesus, Daddy, you’d hate Filip. You would take one look at the reaper on his back and kill him on sight. You’d ship me back to New York if you were still here. You would not even give Filip a minute of your time to even attempt to win you over. You would look at his appearance and who he is and want me to get away from him. You’d see the scars on his cheeks and the kutte on his back and that would be that, no chance of accepting him.”

She shook her head, a small humorless laugh leaving her. “I know the age difference would make you less than enthusiastic. He’s forty five years old…just turned forty five. He was about sixteen when I was born. If that wasn’t enough to make you cringe…He’s got a wife and a kid back in Belfast…they’re estranged but they are still there…You’d take one look at those facts and shoot him on sight. I’m sure you’d take me for a fool…your poor damaged daughter hooked up with the married outlaw biker who is way too old for her…and if that didn’t piss you off you’d be so enraged about his past in Belfast even if I’d lie and try to tell you it's only rumors. I know you would just look at Filip and see danger. You’d see a guy who is going to destroy your kid. You wouldn’t think he’s good enough.”

She traced her father’s name, her voice soft. “I know what I’d say to you though. I’d say that he's good enough. I would tell you I don’t care about Belfast or who lives there…The age difference doesn’t bother me. I’d probably try to push your buttons and spit out some bullshit about how I am happy to call Filip Daddy even if he’s not quite old enough for that unless he was a teen dad. I’d probably tell you that a man his age has the experience to know how to make me feel so good, that he’s far more gifted in bed than guys my age.”

She paused, rolling her eyes. “I never was appropriate and I kind of lived to make you cringe back when I was having my rebellious years. I figured out that being vulgar and oversharing about anything sexual could make you back off and not suspect the reality of what I was going through. I was always capable of looking like a proper lady but my mouth and my tendency to love shocking people always ruined the prim lady disguise I wear.”

She cleared her throat, her words genuine. “I would be telling you the truth about him being worthy of me…he reminds me everyday that he wants to be worthy of having me. He’s tried pretty damn hard to woo me. I think even you’d be approving of the effort he’s put into it…the man didn’t run screaming when I told him what a trocar was. That’s impressive, you’d have to admit it. He asks me questions about my job; not to appease me or charm me, but because he wants to hear what I have to say. He’s been good to me. He makes me feel safe. I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel safe…at least not a romantic partner. I’ve never felt this protected with anyone.”

She felt her throat grow tight, spilling more of her heart. “I told him about Gunner…told him more than I even dared to ever tell anyone…even you. Pretty sure he’s the first person besides a therapist who knows all the details. I told him every last detail. He didn't run away like I feared he would. I was sure he’d run…or worse he’d look at me differently…like I am in fact just the biker groupie everyone around town thought I was back then. I was afraid if he knew about Gunner and the others…that he would surely leave. I mean…how is a guy supposed to cope with the fact that some of the men he shares a kutte with have fucked the girl he’s dating…how is he supposed to deal with the fact that one of those men, even if it’s a man in another charter…did what he did to me…I don’t know, I’ve always struggled with admitting what the lack of consent with Gunner meant…saying the word. Filip is the one who said the word…told me how wrong it was…even told me he wanted Gunner dead for what he did to me. I expected my past to be too much for him or for him to develop this weird jealousy issue…you know how guys are when they know someone else has touched their possessions… Filip though, his reaction was to feel sorrow for me…he wanted to show me what being shown love is supposed to feel like…he wanted to protect me and get retribution for what happened to me. He offered to kill for me, Daddy…and he meant it. I know you’d probably not approve of the fact that he’s capable of such a thing…but I’d have to hope that you’d approve of his desire to keep me safe…to love me. Filip doesn’t view me as a possession. I know you’d find that really really hard to believe…men in his world have some pretty fucked views of women. I’m not claiming he’s some abnormality in that world. I just think I’m as much Filip’s as he’s mine though.”

She sighed knowing she was safe to say the words here with no one to listen. “I love him…I love Filip Telford. He doesn’t know about it yet…I’m half afraid to tell him. What if he doesn’t feel the same? I keep thinking of what you’d say…you’d probably tell me that if he’s dumb enough not to love me then he’s too dumb for me. I need him to love me though…it sounds so pathetic to say it…I've never claimed to need anyone to love me...I have always been the type to say that people can love me or hate me and I don't give a damn either way...I like to think I’m independent…that I could go back to life before I met him…I, so much has changed in my life so fast over these past months. I resisted his affections so much when I first met him...I was afraid of what he'd lead me to...of falling back in with SAMCRO. He's made it clear though that he has zero intention of leading me back into the pain that I found with his world...I’m scared of how my life has changed over these past few months, of how things have changed since you died and I came back home, but Filip…he makes it feel so much less scary. I’ve opened up to him so much about my past and I have never felt comfortable enough with anyone to do that. I don't feel so alone with him around. I've never felt that...belonging. I always try to pretend that I don't mind being alone. I try to say that loneliness is just a part of life...Filip makes me want to stop isolating myself...and not accept the idea that I just have to be alone. I have never had that with anyone...the sense that they feel lucky to have me around...the acceptance of me for who I am. I don't have to pretend not to be so morbid or so quick to anger. I don't feel like I have to hide the parts of me that scare other people around Filip. I need him more than he knows. I just keep hoping that maybe he needs me just as bad.”

She shook her head reaching up to wipe at a stray tear threatening to spill from her eye. "I can’t say that you’d be fond of Filip… I can’t say you two would love each other, or even try to pretend to get along…but I think that maybe my loving him would be enough for you…I think me being happy with him would be enough. You always worried about my happiness…about me finding my place in the world. I want to be in his world…it scares me, but I trust that he would keep me safe.”

She spoke again, pulling her hand back from the stone. “I’m going to visit more often…even if you aren’t here, I know you’re not really here…I want to bring Filip sometime. He wants to come with me…to support me. I’m going to let him. I am letting him in…you’d like that…me letting someone in.”

She adjusted the daisies in front of the stone as she spoke. “Even if you wouldn’t be proud of me, I hope you’d still love me. You told me once that a father never stops loving his child. I hope that’s true.”

She stood up, wiping the dirt from her jeans as she spoke. “I love you, Daddy. I’ll see you later.”

She turned ready to make the long trek back to her car hoping that she could maybe get a latte somewhere to perk up enough to make it to the grocery store to gather the items she needed for the week.

She paused as a woman approached her. The professional looking woman was thin and tall with straight dark blonde hair and a pantsuit that screamed Fed. She appeared to be in her mid thirties at least. Her lips were thin and she wore little makeup. She had a narrow straight nose and well manicured brows. Her eyes were dark and they were fixed on Y/N.

She felt a chill run down her spine as the woman approached her giving a calm smile that did not match the intensity of her gaze. “Y/N Y/L/N?”

Y/N nodded her head, her voice tense, she doing her best to appear relaxed and calm. “Speaking.”

The woman pulled a badge from her jacket pocket revealing that Y/N was right to think fed. “Agent June Stahl, ATF.”

Y/N sighed keeping that same relaxed demeanor as she spoke. “Can I help you Agent Stahl?”

“I’m guessing you aren’t here on business? More of a personal visit?” Stahl asked, nodding down at the dark wash jeans and gray babydoll tee Y/N was wearing.

Y/N spoke her stomach turning at Stahl’s avoidance of the question. “I’m not here for work.”

She paused speaking again trying to sound more assertive than she felt. “How can I help you?”

Stahl spoke as she shoved her badge back into her jacket pocket. “What do you know about SAMCRO?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the question. Stahl apparently was ready to jump right into it. She shrugged her shoulders giving the company line Chibs had taught her to give though she’d known the line long before Chibs and she had become involved. “That motorcycle club? Pretty sure they’re just a bunch of mechanics who are motorcycle enthusiasts. Pretty sure they throw a good wild party.”

Stahl smirked at the comment, not surprised by it. “Of course, Didn’t you used to be a frequent attendee of those wild parties?”

Y/N shifted in place, her arms crossing over her chest. “I did use to prefer Jack Daniels to mint tea. Didn’t everyone have a rebellious phase?”

Stahl nodded her head, not missing the chance. “And what a phase it was for you. I have to say I’m kind of annoyed but impressed, Y/N, several arrests under your belt and you served not a moment in a real jail cell. Looks like you got more than a few slaps on the wrist though…guess it helps that your daddy was buddy buddy with the local sheriff.”

Y/N held her head up high fast to respond, keeping her voice even refusing to address how her father had always been willing to appeal to Unser to keep her out of any real trouble. “I am not proud of my past behavior. If I could go back I’d change a few things.”

“Is SAMCRO one of those things you might change? I have taken a look at that rap sheet of yours, sweetheart, looks like the innocent club of motorcycle enthusiasts got you into some trouble back in the day.” Stahl remarked, stepping closer to Y/N.

Y/N stepped back a frown crossing her features. “Like I said, I indulged a little too hard back then…people do dumb shit when they’re drunk.”

“Is one of those dumb things Nathaniel Papadopoulos? Or Gunner…as he seems to insist on being called?” Stahl remarked not shy about bringing up something that she knew would make Y/N cringe.

The mention of Gunner did just that. Y/N crossed her arms tighter, her voice picking up a hint of tension. “I did dumb shit when I drank as much as I did. He was the dumbest. I was nineteen years old when I met him…I wasn’t mature enough to pick romantic partners who were the best for me. Pretty sure most nineteen year olds pick shit men. I wised up and left him. It’s ancient history at this point in my life.”

“What about now? Just what kind of men are you picking?” Stahl remarked a cool smile crossing her lips as she attempted to prod the answer from Y/N.

Y/N sighed fast to respond. “Ones who don’t beat the shit out of me.”

Stahl reached into the professional looking messenger bag she had slung around her arm as she spoke, pulling out a file. “You do pick men with records though. You should have a peek at his.”

She handed the file to Y/N watching as the woman gazed down at it searching for any hint of a chance to pounce.

Y/N gazed down at the open file in front of her, raising a brow at what was clearly Chibs’ rap sheet. She shrugged her shoulders, keeping her calm not bothering to read past a few lines not shocked by what she saw. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

Stahl smirked, nodding her head down at the file as she spoke. “Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man isn't he…if you believe the rumors around town…I find that most rumors have some truth to them.”

She paused nodding down at the file again as she spoke. “You should flip to page two…the arrests in Belfast. He was court martialed and discharged from the Queens Armed Forces at nineteen. Looks like he had a temper in his youth. The arrests in Belfast continue from there. Pretty sure he got into a few brawls on the behalf of the cause…The True IRA tends to frown upon anyone they think may be a loyalist. Looks like Telford took offense to loyalty to the crown, looks like he was not afraid to fight dirty…then there’s the suspicion of a few bombings that he may or may not have been involved in, can’t get a clear answer on that one. Any investigations went nowhere…There were a few rumors about how he may have taken part in the murder of a Northern Irish police officer but there was never any proof to tie him and his associates to it…speaking of his associates in Belfast…his wife…Fiona, she’s definitely True IRA through and through. Third generation, comes by it honestly. Her mugshot is on page three…she got arrested with her husband for one of those brawls I talked about. She is a fiery one…darker than I expected though for an Irishwoman. Pretty sure she’s the Black Irish we always hear about.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop turning the page on autopilot gazing down at the pretty young woman in the photo and a photo of a young Chibs, his face free from the scars that Jimmy O’ had left him with.

Fiona was an elegant looking woman with wild dark curls and piercing dark eyes. Her nose was narrow and her lips were pressed into a smirk that showed she had no worries about having any mugshot taken. She gave off the energy of someone who was well versed in danger and quite content to invoke it if necessary.

Stahl spoke up, a slight smirk on her lips clearly hoping to strike a nerve. “You did know he’s married right?”

Y/N glanced up at Stahl, her face not giving the reaction the woman was probably hoping for. She kept her cool not letting the information of what Chibs had done in Belfast nor the photo of his estranged wife rattle her. “Yes, I was aware. They’re estranged. Divorce unfortunately is not an option…You know how the Catholics are? I’m afraid I don’t know too much about Filip’s years in Belfast aside from the mundane fact that he was a mechanic and that he left some tragedy behind.”

If Stahl was disappointed in Y/N’s reaction she didn’t reveal it as she replied to the comment. “Yes, a true tragedy. I guess you’ve heard all the rumors that fly around Belfast…Jimmy O’Phalen took Fiona and Chibs’ and her daughter for his own…left Telford with a reminder to not even attempt to get them back.”

Y/N clenched down on the file as Stahl motioned to her cheeks lining them along where Chibs’ scars were embedded into his cheeks. She spoke again, a sigh leaving her. “Telford joined up with SAMBEL after that…Guess he was familiar with the MC before hand, so, they were happy to take him on...even though rumor has it O’Phalen banished him from Ireland…guess the banishment finally kicked in though since Telford came stateside back in 2000. He hasn’t seen Fiona or his daughter since Kerrianne was around four. I’m amazed Telford got citizenship in the states…given his record and the trouble he’s gotten into out here.”

Y/N kept her voice flat as she replied. “America is the land of opportunity.”

“That it is…and what opportunity has he found with you?” Stahl dared to ask a small smile crossing her lips hoping to make Y/N squirm.

Y/N spoke knowing the line to give a hint of snark in her voice, deciding that being vulgar might work in her favor. “I open his beers and suck his dick. Pretty sure most men couldn’t ask for more.”

“And what does he say when you wrap those soft lips of yours around that dick of his?” Stahl remarked, proving she was just as vulgar.

Y/N gave her a smile that she hoped read as confident not above continuing with the line of conversation though she was full of shit…they’d not gone that far sexually just yet. “Pretty sure he’s too busy moaning when I take him down my throat. That Scottish accent of his is hard enough to understand on its own…the second he gets is dick wet I may as well not even try to decipher Glaswegian.”

“And what about afterwards…any juicy bits of pillowtalk? Orgasms tend to make lips loose, I find.” Stahl dared to ask she stepping even closer to Y/N.

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the words sliding from her. “He tends to start snoring after he cums…You know men. You rock their world and they reward you by conking out.”

She paused lying through her teeth deciding that playing up the sexual role would work in her favor.

It was a game she’d learned to play during her time in the clubhouse…when she wanted to entice a man into giving her what she wanted.

She found that playing the minx could work in her favor with men and could make straight women intimidated enough to slink back. “I will say that that is the one advantage to getting your rocks off with a woman. Women are a little better at pillowtalk…too bad I like a good thick dick more than a nice wet pussy.”

Stahl smirked giving Y/N a reaction that she’d expected to get if she’d been talking to a man. She sighed, the realization hitting her that Stahl was playing on both teams. She recognized a raging bisexual when she saw one. “I can only imagine…what a shame you have your preferences.”

Y/N spoke as she stepped back, dropping the flirty tone from her voice. “I don’t know too much about SAMCRO. I can’t imagine they’re too interesting. Just a bunch of mechanics who love a good Harley and a crazy party…Like I said, any trouble they may find is usually aided by booze…people do dumb shit when they drink. I’m afraid my party days are over. Most people don’t like the idea of the local undertaker sliding around a stripper pole in a biker clubhouse. Pretty sure Filip would not be too into the idea of seeing me on any pole unless he’s the only one watching.”

“I’ll say it again, what a shame.” Stahl remarked that smirk still on her lips though Y/N did spot a hint of annoyance in the woman’s eyes at the fact that Y/N was still feeding the company line on SAMCRO.

She paused speaking again. “Telford and you make an interesting pair…a funeral director and a biker…just how did you meet?”

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the lie sliding from her lips. “My Acura got a flat tire. We got to talking and one thing led to another. I’ve always had a thing for accents.”

Stahl spoke up, nodding over Y/N shoulder at the gravestones. “You came back to Charming to a big mess from what I heard. Your father left you with some debt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Y/N remarked her voice cool and collected she snapping the folder she’d been holding shut.

Stahl nodded her head at the comment she daring to bring out the big guns. “I’ve taken a peek at those debts of yours. You paid a little chunk of them off in cash…Just where did you get the cash? The payment was in the thousands. Lots of cash to having lying around with your debts.”

Y/N remembered the lie Chibs had told her to tell. She was relieved he’d given her enough background about Clay and Gemma’s finances, so that she could tell a believable story. “Gemma Teller Morrow asked for my expertise. Her poor grandson having such a frightful entrance into the world got her thinking about her own mortality. Her husband and she were willing to pay me quite well for my time to discuss plans. They know my time is valuable and they took up quite a bit of it…They were willing to make it worth my while as they kept me so busy and out of reach from any of my other duties at work…pretty sure Gemma has some oil investments that give her some nice payouts. I came to them for the plans…made a trip out to the garage to discuss it all and went through the trouble of bringing all of the catalogs I have. They choose a luxury option for their caskets…mahogany and satin. I don’t do home visits for funeral planning, so they wanted to make sure I was compensated for the exception I made for them. They paid me double my usual rate plus travel expenses.”

“That is an extravagant payout.” Stahl remarked her tone of voice hinting she did not buy Y/N’s tale.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, her voice calm knowing she sounded heartless, but it was better to sound heartless than guilty. “People will pay anything to have peace of mind when it comes to death.”

Stahl dared to speak, nodding again at the cemetery around them. “I would have thought they might shy away from using your services…given what happened to those two men you buried a while back.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh shaking her head. “The grave robberies were an unfortunate incident. The families of those poor men were heartbroken over what happened to their loved ones' remains. I did everything in my power to make sure that they were cared for. The family was far more understanding than they had to be. They know I did my part when it came to the care of their loved ones before their final rests were disturbed. I hope the Lodi police find whoever was responsible for such a gruesome act. If I got my hands on them…well let’s just say I don’t approve of anyone fucking with my paychecks.”

Stahl smirked, hating to admit she was impressed with how quick the response was. Y/N was not an easy nut to crack. “And your boyfriend had nothing to do with those empty graves.”

“Why would Filip have anything to do with it? He’s just a mechanic.” Y/N remarked a small laugh leaving her she managing to make the accusation appear as though it sounded ridiculous to her.

“A mechanic with quite the record. You should hang on to that file, Y/N. Take a good look at it. There’s some really interesting bits of information there. Filip Telford is far from innocent. I think you are smart enough to know that. I am also thinking you aren’t so innocent either…that must be why he’s so obsessed with you. If that wife of his is any indication of the kind of woman he likes…then you are one bad girl.” Stahl remarked, nodding down to the folder still in Y/N’s hands.

Y/N gave Stahl a calm smile shrugging her shoulders. “I’m an absolute angel, Agent Stahl.”

She paused, giving the agent a flirty smile as she stepped around her ready to pass. “At least outside the bedroom. Now, if you excuse me. I have some errands to attend to. If you have any further questions you can find me at the funeral home.”

And with that Y/N found herself heading back to her car the folder she held clutched tightly in her hand.

She couldn’t decide if she wanted to burn the folder or not.

—-------------------------------

Chibs sighed rolling his eyes at Juice as he rounded the billiards table for what felt like the hundredth time.

He spoke nodding down at the pool cue in the younger man’s hands. “Are ya takin yer damn shot or not? I ain’ got all day, Juicey.”

Juice scowled at the older man, his voice tight. “We put money on this okay? I don’t trust you after last time. I still say you hustled me, talked that damn croweater into distracting me and putting me off my game.”

“Aint my fault yer a shite pool player. I won fair an square.” Chibs snapped back a small smirk on his lips knowing that he had maybe talked the buxom blonde croweater Juice was recalling into helping distract Juice from the game.

It hadn’t been too selfish in Chibs’ opinion. He got Juice laid.

Chibs sighed as his cell phone began to chime he yanking it from his kutte knowing he might as well have a phone call since Juice was nowhere near getting on with the game.

He felt his heart lift at the familiar number as it flashed along his screen. He hit accept call, his voice becoming far more cheery than it had been moments before. “Hen, what are ye doin?”

“I need you, Filip.” She blurted out the comment striking him off guard.

The words were appealing but he was not hearing them in the context he would prefer. Her voice seemed panicked.

She spoke again knowing she sounded paranoid but a voice told her if Stahl was interested in her then who was to say that the feds hadn’t found a way to listen in on her calls. She had little idea how bugging phones worked outside of movies. “I need help with my lamb…seasoning it. You know what to do with lamb.”

Chibs furrowed his brow, thrown off even more by the comment. Y/N didn’t eat lamb.

He’d learned that bit of information when he’d mentioned Half Sack’s vegetarianism to Y/N as well as Gemma’s criticism of vegetarians. Y/N had commented that she was not a vegetarian and didn’t think she would be strong willed enough to be one. She did admit that she couldn’t bring herself to eat veal or lamb though. She had commented that she knew it was stupid as she’d eat the adult versions of cows at least…but she couldn’t get herself to eat lamb nor veal as they were both baby animals. He could remember finding the comment kind of sweet though amusing.

He felt his stomach turn it hitting him she was worried that someone was listening in on the conversation.

He spoke trying to keep his calm and not fly off the handle at the thought. “Are ya safe, Love? Is anyone following ya? Are ya alone?”

“Yeah, no. You know it. I uh…just ran into someone while I was out…we got to talking as she reminded me of how much a pain lamb is to deal with. I know you know just what to do with lamb. So, I thought I’d call in the expert. I thought I might call Gemma about it…you remember what she told me about lamb back when we met to make those future funeral plans for Clay and her. I figured that you might be the person to go to though.” Y/N remarked still keeping her cool not helping but to feel like a moron for this entire charade.

She had a feeling that Chibs seemed to have caught up on the game though and was intelligent enough to decode what she was trying to say.

He spoke tossing the pool cue he’d been holding down on the table not caring if it scattered the balls and alarmed Juice. “Aye, I’ll be there, Hen. Don’t ya worry Mo ghràidh. I’ll handle the lamb fer ye.”

“Okay, be at my place…I’m headed there now.” She provided saying the remaining words in her head. I love you, Filip.

“Aye, I’ll be there soon.” He replied unaware that she was thinking the same thing he was currently thinking. I love you.

He hung up his cell sending Juice nod as he turned to leave. “Game’s over, Laddie. If Clay asks I’m goin to see my ol lady. Gotta help her with some lamb. Tell Gemma to give me a call. She knows what to do with lamb.”

Juice furrowed his brow as he watched Chibs leave the man not paying him any mind. He spoke to an empty clubhouse completely confused by the interaction. “Lamb?”

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

Her lips met his the second he walked in the door.

Chibs let himself into Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home well past knocking and waiting for someone to allow him entrance.

He’d spent almost every night in the home this past week, so formalites like knocking had been forgotten.

He made his way upstairs nodding to Skeeter, the man giving him only rolled eyes in response.

As soon as Chibs stepped past the sliding door that led him into Y/N’s living quarters her lips met his in a bruising kiss.

He returned the kiss, his hands sliding along her body appreciating the figure he’d been shamefully admiring since their first meeting.

She pulled from his lips reluctantly, her voice sounding frantic now that she was far away from Agent Stahl. “An ATF agent ran into me at the cemetery today. Had some questions for me.”

“Shite, who was it?” Chibs dared to ask, having the feeling he already knew the answer.

Y/N took a deep breath trying to calm her anxieties. “Agent Stahl…fucking bitch tried to push my buttons by asking me about my past…Gunner and some other shit. She was eager to mention your wife…and shit that happened in Belfast. Tried to show me mugshots and your criminal record. She left a freaking file with me and told me to take a look at it so I could learn all about you. She’s trying to make me crack and run my mouth. Pretty sure she thinks that if she makes me afraid of you then I’ll turn and give her enough to go after SAMCRO.”

Chibs clenched his jaw, shaking his head, his hold on Y/N tightening. “What’d ye say?”

“I told her I know nothing about what you were up to in Belfast. I know about your wife and am unbothered by it. I know nothing about SAMCRO. I told her all I do is suck your dick and open your beers…I got pretty graphic on that last detail.”

Chibs smirked at the comment, his hand wandering down her body to give her backside a squeeze he was unable to stop himself. “Aye, ye ain given me that privilege yet, Hen. Probably had to use yer imagination on that one, aye?”

She sighed, shaking her head at the comment though it did make a hint of smile cross her features. “I thought the lewd angle would unnerve her…I have the weirdest sense that it turned her on. Pretty sure I can spot a bisexual from a mile away.”

Chibs rose a brow at the information. He spoke, shaking his head at the comment. “Ye know I would rather hear bout ye gettin a woman hot and bothered if she wasn’t a Fed.”

“I know you would…sadly I’m telling you what I told her…pussy doesn’t do it for me the same way a dick does. I have no interest in muff diving anytime soon, sorry to break your heart.” She commented, not shocked by this line of conversation. He truly was a male through and through.

“Aye, can’t say I’m disappointed…I don’t like sharin.” He remarked, surprising her by the certainty in his voice.

He sighed his hand running up and down her back as he spoke again. “Did ye look at the record? My rap sheet?”

“Not really…She mentioned a bunch of crap you pulled in Belfast. Saw a mugshot of Fiona and you…Stahl loved shoving that in my face. She tried to coax me into looking into the entire file.” Y/N explained noticing the tension in Chibs’ body at the mention of his estranged wife and of Belfast.

He felt his throat grow tight as he spoke again knowing that there was nothing he regretted in that file she was discussing. He had to fear that Y/N might find some things she was not pleased to learn about him…especially during his time with the cause. “Wouldn’t care if ye wanted to look at the entire file…ye probably should know bout the lad yer datin.”

Y/N spoke so certain of the words that left her. “I know who I’m dating. I’m dating someone who has been so sweet and so protective of me right from the start. I’m dating someone who makes me laugh and as I recall eats me out like his life depends on it…which indicates he’s going to be pretty well versed in doing other things in the bedroom.”

She paused, pressing a kiss to his cheek catching the hitch in his breath at the mention of their bedroom activities. She spoke again, her voice soothing. “I’m dating a man who has known more pain than any human being should ever have to know, but still remains so strong and so compassionate. I’m dating a man who is loyal to his brothers and would do whatever it takes to protect what he believes in. I’m dating a guy who goes above and beyond to look out for me. He rushed all the way over here after I called him ranting about lamb like a nutcase…he offered to kill someone for me because he knows they caused me pain.”

She spotted his hold on her grew tighter at the mention of Gunner. She spoke once again, her lips pressing back to his cheek. “The man I’m dating has listened to me cry over my brother and my father on our first date and didn’t run screaming. He doesn’t care if my job scares the hell out of everyone. He treats me better than I ever believed I deserved. He proves to me each and every day that he wants me to be treated with all the adoration and security on the planet. He makes me feel safer than anyone has ever been capable of making me feel. I know just who I’m dating. I don’t need a criminal record to tell me a thing about him. I know who he is outside of shit he’s done.”

He sighed, his lips sliding along hers relief washing over him. She spoke as she pulled from the kiss her voice soft. “I don’t need a fucking ATF agent to tell me who I’m dating, because I know him better than she ever will.”

She spoke again, her voice firm. “I am not telling her shit. I’m sure it won’t be the last time she tries to press me over this. I know that ATF is up SAMCRO’s collective ass right now. I’m not telling her a thing though Filip.”

“Aye, I know, Hen. I trust ye. Ye did so good, Love. Fuckin gash doesn’ stand a chance with my lass.” Chibs praised her, the comment making Y/N preen somewhat. She was surprised by the feeling. She didn’t think she had a praise kink, but anything was possible.

He pressed a kiss to her lips he fast to speak again. “I want ye to keep tellin her the same thing, Hen. Ye don’t know shite. She ain’ got nothin on ye. She probably thought the fuckin life I was forced from in Belfast was some big secret I was keepin from ye.”

Y/N nodded her head knowing that was exactly what Stahl had been hoping for. She spoke a soft sigh leaving her. “She brought up the empty graves…Kept my story the same as always.”

“That’s my hen. Ye know yer in the clear on that mo ghràidh. Ye’d already be in handcuffs and been carted away if they had shite on that.” Chibs reassured her a sense of comfort washing over at at the words.

She knew he was right. It had been long enough. Lodi had left her alone and she had a feeling the ATF didn’t care about two empty graves when the local P.D. had failed to connect the dots between her, SAMCRO, and those bodies.

She had a feeling the ATF was more interested in the gun running that SAMCRO was secretly engaging in.

Any pressure Stahl was placing on her was to entice her into slipping up and saying something Chibs had told her in confidence. She knew that the agent was getting nothing from her.

Y/N would never betray the man she loved no matter how much Stahl irritated her and attempted to intimidate her.

She allowed her lips to slide along Chibs’ , the pair growing lost in the moment. She parted her lips from his knowing that there was only one thing she wanted at this moment that could make this day seem less awful. “I want you to take me to my room and love me so good that I forget all this crap.”

Chibs felt his heart rate increase at the comment, a warm flush of lust spreading throughout him. Was she offering what he hoped? “Aye, is that so? Are ye sure, Hen? Ye want it all?”

She nodded her head stunned at the realization of how badly she wanted this. She pressed her lips to his the kiss feather light before she spoke. “I am so sure. Take me to my room and love me Filip.”

He felt the moan leave his lips as she took his hands in hers leading him from the room to their destination.

He knew he had every intention of giving her what she was asking for.

He would give her anything. It was a realization he was quite content with.

#chibs telford #tommy flanagan #sons of anarchy #chibs sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs telford x reader #death and the lady #chapter twelve #sons of #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs #filip chibs telford

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writingplotbunnies · 2 months

Text

Best Served Cold (Part 4/?)

Pairing: Jax Teller x OFC

Summary: Jax surprises Sophie at the station, and they have an intense lunch where they learn a bit more about each other.

Word Count: ~3000

Warnings: angst, illegal activity, possessive behavior, sexual content, canon typical violence

A/N: This is my first SOA fic, so let me know what you think. This is a multipart fic, so let me know if you want added to the taglist.

The week had been quiet. So of course, Friday became a whirlwind of activity. Much to her delight, Sophie watched Agent Stahl stomp around the office with a permanent frown on her face. David seemed just as harried but figured most of it was because of all the ATF agents still taking up space in his station. She’d gathered that AFT wanted to find evidence to get SAMCRO on a RICO charge, something about gunrunning and the IRA.

“Look,” Stahl snapped as she paused in the hallway, “I don’t have time for this right now. I have to drive out to Stockton and release a guilty man because someone leaked information about the witness we had. And now that witness is probably dead.”

“You don’t have to be the one out there to release Bobby,” David told her. “No one would blame you if you didn’t want to go back there right away.”

Stahl scoffed. “I’m not afraid of the Sons of Anarchy, unlike everyone around here seems to be, and I’m going to see each and every one of the bastards pay.”

Sophie didn’t even bother to pretend she wasn’t watching them. Maybe she’d start keeping popcorn in her desk drawer for moments just like this. She hadn’t noticed it during their first interaction, but as the days had progressed, she’d seen the signs of healing on Stahl’s face, and knew whatever had happened must have hurt like a bitch. Getting her face messed up like that might be enough to make the case personal for Stahl. Sophie kinda figured a promotion hinged on the results of this case. Or a commendation.

As though just now realizing she’d become the main event, Stahl huffed out a breath, placed her hands on her hips, and shook her head a bit. Then, as though nothing had happened, she rolled her shoulders back, shook her hair back into place and continued down the hallway - of course, she managed to pause by Sophie’s desk long enough to offer a glare. Sophie grinned and offered a little wave in return. If one was going to be a petty bitch, own being a petty bitch.

At the door, Stahl nearly ran into Jax who happened to be coming in. They eyed each other with an intensity that had Sophie reaching slowly for the sidearm she wasn’t supposed to have on her. After a few seconds of posturing, Jax turned away and strode towards where Sophie sat at her desk. He leaned his hip against the desk and smiled at her with his whole face.

Sophie glanced over his shoulder and saw Stahl lingering in the doorway, her eyes narrowed on them. Sophie returned Jax’s smile.

“Looks like you’ve got a fan,” Sophie said, nodding her head in Stahl’s direction.

Quickly, Jax glanced over his shoulder before shrugging. “I’m all about customer service.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m well aware.”

They both laughed, and Sophie fought down the blush she knew would make an appearance anytime now.

“She seemed in a hurry,” Jax said.

Sophie nodded. “Yeah, she’s headed out to Stockton. Apparently, she’s gotta release someone named Bobby, and she’s not happy about it.”

Jax smiled. “He’s a Son. They had him on bullshit charges. He shoulda been out weeks ago. That’s actually why I stopped by.”

“You came by to tell me about bullshit charges against a man I’ve never met?” Sophie asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Jax laughed. “Nah, I came to see if you wanted to come by the clubhouse tonight. We’re having a party for Bobby - celebrate his return.”

“Yeah? I haven’t been to a party in a while, sounds like a good time.”

“Good.”

Sophie laughed a bit. “You really drive all the way out here just to ask me out, Jax?”

He tucked some hair behind his ear and leaned in closer to her. “If I did?”

“Those blue eyes of yours get you just about any damn thing you want, don’t they?”

Jax shrugged. “They do what they can.”

Allowing herself to get lost in Jax’s eyes, Sophie weighed the benefits of her next move. Even before showing up at the station in the middle of the day to invite her to a party, she knew Jax was interested in her. An interest she shared. But mid-operation connections would only complicate things. She wanted him. Wanted to see what it would be like to belong to someone - to experience what Olivia had enjoyed with Drifter. She didn’t know if Jax wanted that with her, with anyone. Maybe he had someone. Too little information.

“What are you after here, Jax?”

He leaned back, and she nearly regretted asking the question. It wasn’t exactly fair because she didn’t know that she’d be able to answer the question if he’d asked it. But it hung there in the space between them.

Jax slid from the desk and held his hand out to her. “Come on. Let’s go for a ride.”

Sophie glanced around the office. She held up a finger to Jax, hoping he’d wait before scurrying down the hallway. Poking her head into Unser’s office, she knocked on the doorjam.

“What can I do for you, hun?”

Seemed everyone in Charming used pet names instead of real names. She’d work on being annoyed by it later.

“I’m gonna take my lunch away from my desk today.”

“Make sure you know what you’re doing there.”

Sophie nodded. She didn’t have a damn clue what she was doing there. Didn’t think Jax knew what he was doing either.

“Yeah.”

It sounded as unconvincing to her as it probably did to him, but other than a vaguely disappointed look, he didn’t say anything further.

Plastering a smile on her face, Sophie sauntered down the hallway, and if she put a bit more sway in her hips, well, the pleased look on Jax’s face told her he enjoyed the show. His gaze was hot as he tracked her progress. She licked her lips. Something about whatever this pull towards Jax was felt easy - and that’s what made her hesitate. That easyness made her question everything because nothing in her experience had led her to believe that easy was possible. Easy was often a lie. Slipping her phone into her pocket, Sophie came to stand in front of Jax. She enjoyed the idea that all she needed to do was lean forward to press a kiss to his chin. Being tall had a lot of benefits, but she still enjoyed being around a man who made her feel safe, who engulfed her. With Jax, it wasn’t just the size - he only had a couple of inches on her, but he had that extra something that just drew her in - made it feel easy.

“Ready?”

Unable to trust her voice, Sophie nodded. Jax gave her one of those dazzling smiles of his before gently pressing his palm to her shoulder and escorting her from the station. As they approached his bike, his hand slid down around the side of her body and before she could think to move out of his grip, he’d felt the edge of her sidearm. Moving quickly, she tried to take a step back, but her hand locked around her, pulling her into his chest.

“You gonna explain that?”

Sophie avoided his eyes. “A girl can never be too safe.”

“Inside a police station?”

She glared at him. “Thought you were gonna take me for a ride?”

“This ain’t finished.”

Sophie nodded. Jax held her gaze for a beat longer before passing her the helmet. Swinging her leg around and settling behind him, she silently cursed herself. She knew he’d have questions, and it wasn’t exactly as though she had secrets. But she didn’t want him getting involved. Didn’t need him to be a man about things and decide he needed to start fixing her problems. Zobelle had hurt her family, and that made him her target, not SAMCRO’s.

She settled in, arms wrapped around him and let her thoughts scatter to the wind. They drove for about ten minutes before Jax pulled off the main road. Just ahead of them was a small lake, and no buildings as far as she could see. When Jax had the kickstand set, she slid from behind and offered him the helmet. Without waiting for him, she walked towards the water’s edge and stood staring across it. She’d always loved water, found it peaceful. Even rainstorms made her happy. The heat of Jax’s body alerted her to his presence. He didn’t say anything, just stood at her back.

“The gun’s not a big deal,” Sophie began, hating the words even as she spoke them. “I didn’t want to talk about it outside the station because I’m not legally allowed to carry inside the station, but my legal CCW is on file with Charming PD, so they know I own at least one weapon.”

Jax turned her around to face him. Slowly, he reached to the hem of her shirt and pulled it up enough to reveal her unregistered .9mm Smith and Weston. He whistled through his teeth.

“That’s a lot of gun for a not a big deal.”

“It’s hardly a Desert Eagle, Jax.”

Instead of allowing the joke to ease the tension, Jax tilted his head forward, eyes soft as he tucked Sophie’s hair behind her ear. His hand lingered against her neck, thumb moving soothingly along the sensitive skin.

“Whatever it is, Sophie, you can trust me.”

If she thought the nicknames made her stomach flutter, it was nothing compared to hearing him say her name. It was like a benediction on his lips. And she did trust him. Blame the pull she felt to him, blame her need to trust someone because the person she had once trusted with everything had been killed - stolen from her. Going through that again, that loss would kill her. Sophie knew that, but as she met Jax’s gaze she realized it was too late.

“I wasn’t lying. To me the gun isn’t a big deal. Like I told Hale - ”

Jax jerked back as though she’d slapped him. “Hale knows?”

She smirked at the jealousy in Jax’s tone, brought her hand up to cup his cheek. “He had to process the CCW. The gun it’s like slipping on a pair of shoes before I leave the house. I’ve been carrying one for so long I only notice when I don’t have one on me. Like that KA-BAR you keep strapped to your belt.”

Jax blinked. She doubted he’d expected her to notice.

Sophie dropped her hand. She pulled the gun from her holster, held flat in the palms of her hands. “This? It’s not the one they issued me, but it gets the job done.”

She watched Jax’s face, saw the confusion cloud his features.

“Staff Sargent Sophie Cooper, USMC, retired.”

Jax chuckled, shook his head a bit in what she thought might be surprised disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Did my dime then figured it was time for a new adventure.”

“Why’d you leave?”

Sophie stepped back, crossed her arms against her chest and looked out over the water. “I missed a lot being gone. I spent most of my time deployed to all the garden spots. Lost a lot of time - ”

Choking on the words, Sophie covered her face with her hands. Thinking about all the time she could have spent with Olivia made her nearly blindingly angry. They both thought they’d have more time. Not that her sister had ever expected her to settle down, not back then. Jax’s hands cupped her shoulders, his lips ghosted a kiss across the crown of her head.

“I wanted to see the world, and I did. Never had been interested in settling down; that was always Livvy’s dream. And for a while, she had it. Met a guy, fell in love, got married. I’m sure they would have made me an auntie before too long, but they never got the chance.”

She took a shuddering breath, and tried to move away from Jax. He didn’t let her. Instead, he turned her to face him. Sophie didn’t know when the tears had begun, but Jax gently wiped them from her eyes.

“She was killed. Murdered, and it was awful, Jax. Still gives me nightmares, and even when I wake up I see her.”

He wrapped his arms around her, tucked her head into his neck and held her tight while she cried. Her hands gripped his kutte, while her tears stained his chest. Gentle fingers slid through her hair as he whispered soothing nonsense to her. It was easy to fall into his arms, to let him support her, support the weight of everything she kept to herself. Drifter and the guys had tried, but they’d been dealing with their own grief, with their own problems. She was sure Jax had his own demons riding him, but she let him hold her, let him be the support she hadn’t realized she needed.

“I was overseas when I got the call. Managed to get stateside within twenty-four hours, but it wasn’t fucking fast enough. The only thing I could do was her hand when she died. You see it in the movies all the time, watch people close the eyes. Never understood it. Not like I hadn’t seen a corpse before, but it was my sister. It was Livvy laying there with her eyes open, staring at me and I couldn’t take it. I’d never felt so guilty. So helpless.” Sophie forced a deep breath thorugh a sob that lodged in her throat.

“I’ve seen people beat to hell, but my sister’s face? It was a mess of deep cuts and bruises, all covered in more gauze than skin. Connected to tubes and wires and monitors. The beeping. Incessant beeping. Nearly got arrested for destruction of property when I shoved the cart monitoring her vitals into the wall so hard it left a dent.”

Jax huffed a gentle chuckle against her skin as he tilted her head up to face him. “I can picture that. Probably scared the nurse.”

She laughed. “I hope so.”

When Jax pressed his lips to hers in the gentlest kiss she’d ever felt, she should have seen it coming. Maybe she should have stopped it. Maybe she should have felt Jax was taking advantage of her emotionally compromised state. Instead, she returned his kiss, wrapped her arms around him and poured the sorrow and the anger she always felt into his mouth. It would always be there, living just under her skin. But, as Jax deepened the kiss, tangled his fingers in her hair, she allowed herself to feel nothing but pleasure. The way her toes tingled from the way he held her, the taste of him - tobacco and mint - on her tongue.

Sucking in a breath, Sophie tilted her head back. Jax gave her no quarter as his lips attached to her neck, nibbling then biting along her tendon. His hands swept down the center of her back before gripping her ass and squeezing, forcing her core to rub against the growing hardness in his pants.

“Jesus,” she panted.

“Jax, darlin’.”

With a laugh, she swatted his ass teasingly. Liking the way it felt beneath her hand, she did her own groping, enjoyed the low moan he released against her neck. It was too fast. She didn’t go from flirting, to crying her eyes out about her dead sister, to making out in the middle of nowhere with a guy she’d known for less than a week. There was too little foundation for the intensity of what she felt.

“What is it, Soph?”

She blinked up at Jax, who while flushed, looked at her with concern. Huffing a frustrated sigh, she broke from his arms, and this time, he let her. She moved around in a small circle.

“It’s all in the wrong order.”

“What?”

“This - ” she gestured between the two of them. “I don’t do this. Not like this, and I don’t want to make too many assumptions, but your not the first biker I’ve been around. I know how easy it is for you to get pussy, and we’ve made no promises because that would be fucking stupid at this point - but, what I’m feeling for you is more than I thought. More than I expected. God, I sound like a fucking Hallmark movie. I’m not a romantic by nature. I don’t believe in love at first sight because that’s stupid and totally impractical. But, Jax, I want to lose myself in you. And that scares me. It scares me so much.”

Jax didn’t respond right away. He lit a cigarette, offered her one. Hand trembling a bit, she took it from him, allowed him to light hers. She wanted to shove the words back into her mouth. It didn’t have to mean anything. Her and Jax. It could have just been a good time for both of them. Now? Now she’d put emotions to it. Allowed the moment to get away from her.

Shaking her head, she started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Jax’s voice whispered against her skin as he halted her progress with a hand on her arm. She trembled, unable to identity exactly what she felt.

“I don’t know what this is. The girl I thought was the goddamned love of my life left after I cleaned up her fucking mess. My junkie ex-wife OD’d in the hospital after my son nearly died during birth. My life’s a mess. I don’t believe in fate, don’t know what I believe in right now, but you? It’s something real. First real thing I’ve felt in a long time. You ain’t the only one scared, darlin’.”

“We make quite a pair, don’t we, Teller?”

He pulled her into his arms, pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Her hands came to rest on his chest. Easy.

“Yeah, we do.”

They remained quiet as they rode back into Charming. Jax dropped her back at the station after they swung by Lumpy’s for some burgers to go. Like a gentleman, he walked her back to her desk. Like an outlaw biker, he gave her a kiss she’d be thinking about for the rest of the day before sauntering to the door.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Sophie managed to call out, her breathing not quite back to normal.

“Later, darlin’.”

Part 5

Master List

#jax teller #jax teller x oc #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #fanfiction #soa fanfiction

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shiorimakibawrites · 9 months

Text

Anticipation (Part 12 of Alley Cat)

Image credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Image Description: Matt Murdock as red-suit Daredevil against nighttime city background in one block, Shadowy couple leaning against each other surrounded by candles overlooking a city in second block, under second block is text saying Alley Cat by Shiori_Makiba, the third block is a orange medium haired tabby laying on a table and looking up at the camera playfully.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,192

Summary: It's a week until your date with Matt Murdock.

Warnings: Reference to the death of a canon character, frank references to and conversations about sex, character seeing a sexual slur as a badge of honor, swearing.

Can also be read on AO3.

Series Masterlist

Anticipation

by Shiori_Makiba

Monday

You had the nagging feeling that you had forgotten something. Something important but you couldn’t put your finger on what and it was driving you crazy. Your work was taking twice as long as you kept getting distracted by the feeling that something was . . . off.

At first you thought the distraction was due to you still being a little turned on. You had taken care of yourself before getting ready for work but that only taken the edge off. Your body knew what it wanted. Matt Murdock, preferably naked, on your bed. Or the couch. Or the kitchen table. Basically anywhere in your apartment. It wasn’t pleased with having to settle for your fingers and the vibrator instead.

But this wasn’t the first time you had dealt with Matt Murdock induced horniness. You had had dirty thoughts about that man and his perfect ass since you had seen the photos in the paper of The Man in Black. Granted they had multiplied and intensified since you had actually meet the vigilante. And realized that his ass was even better in person.

And had gotten even worse when you realized that under that gruff exterior was someone who was funny and charming. He had been so sweet when he confessed his feelings . . . son of bitch!

That was what you had forgotten! You had forgotten to tell him that you liked him too. Yes, you had agreed to go out with him and that implies that you liked him too. But you thought he probably would have liked to hear the words.

You reached for your phone before you remembered something else and to fight the urge to bang your head against your desk. You hadn’t gotten his phone number. All you had was his work number. Which, yes, you could use to call him . . . but it was kinda of unprofessional to call his business phone for personal business . . . and you didn’t know what Matt had told them about your relationship . . . Nelson had heard about your Daredevil encounters and seen Matt flirting with you so he might not be surprised by such a phone call . . . but Page hadn’t and you didn’t want to give her the impression of some crazy lady who was being overly familiar and maybe a little creepy about her boss / co-worker / friend . . .

Your worrying was shattered when Marci Stahl, one of the firms attorneys, came striding toward you. No, stride was the wrong word. Not with the way those high heels were hitting the floor with a sharp clack. It matched the furious scowl on her pretty face. Frantically, you tried to remember what you could have done to get into Ms. Stahl’s bad books. You were drawing a blank.

“You wouldn’t believe the shit Jackson is trying to pull,” she snarled as soon as she was in speaking range.

By the time you and Ms. Stahl had gotten everything sorted out, it was two in the morning and you were dead on your feet. Figuring how to contact Matt would have to wait for another day. You went home and feed Houdini on autopilot before collapsing on your bed. You were asleep as soon as your head was on the pillow.

Tuesday

Eventually you were convinced by Houdini that it was time to wake up. He achieved this by repeating walking across your chest and legs before meowing – very loudly – directly in your ear. Once he realized that you were awake, he started nudging your hands and purring. You got the message and started petting the cat.

You couldn’t blame him for wanting some attention. He hadn’t gotten much before you went to work and hardly any at all when you finally got home. You worried sometimes about him getting too lonely when your hours ran long. You had thought about getting him a companion but if the fights he got into with other cats were any indication, Houdini preferred to be a one-cat show.

So you petted Houdini, cuddled him and told him what a smart, handsome boy he was. He purred until he fell asleep, sprawled across your chest. You didn’t quite fall back asleep but you dozed. It wasn’t your usual day off but Ms. Stahl had gotten approval for you both to take today off after working so long yesterday. You were content to remain exactly where you were.

Right up until your stomach reminded you that you hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Houdini grumbled when you started to get up and clung to your shirt. It was obvious that he didn’t want his human pillow to move. It reminded you of how Matt had reacted to getting woken up which made you giggle. You eventually managed to detach his claws from your shirt and set him back on the bed.

You wondered if Matt would be just as difficult to peel off when he was comfortable and didn’t want to move.

You made coffee and considered what to eat. You were hungry but wasn’t sure what to made. And tired enough that you were feeling distinctively unenthusiastic about cooking. Maybe you would go out to eat . . . you looked at the clock. It was past noon. Most places would have switched to their lunch menu but that was fine. It wasn’t the first time that you had eaten non-breakfast food for breakfast. It wouldn’t be the last. One of the cafes nearby had a really good turkey club sandwich . . .

Mind made up, you drank some more coffee before taking a quick shower. Which had the added benefit of making you feel more awake and less like a zombie. Since you weren’t going to work, you opted for jeans and on impulse, the dark blue silk blouse your sister had given you for your birthday. After a short battle with your hair, you felt ready to face the world.

After arriving at the cafe, you picked an open table and pursued the menu while you waited for the waitress to get a moment. You were pretty sure you knew what you were getting today but maybe something else would jump out at you . . .

“May I join you?”

You jumped at the voice. A familiar, deep voice. You looked up and sure enough, there stood Matt Murdock. Dressed in a dark blue suit, one hand resting on the back of the chair across from you, his white cane in the other. An amused smile graced his beautiful face. Probably because he had startled you. Which he seemed to enjoy doing.

“Yes,” you said because being a sneaky ninja or not, you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to spent time with him.

He flashed you a pleased smile as he folded up his cane and pulled out the chair across from you. He barely sat down before the waitress appeared at his elbow and introduced herself. You wondered if you had that same slightly stunned look on your face when looking at Matt. Probably.

“Hello,” Matt said. “Can I get an iced tea and a braille copy of the menu?”

“Of course, sir,” the waitress said before turning her attention to you. “And for you ma’am?”

“I’ll take an iced tea too,” you said. The insecure part of your mind didn’t entirely appreciate the obvious difficulty she had in tearing her eyes away from Matt. Or the way her eyes kept flickering back to him. The part of you that tried to be honest and self-aware acknowledged that you probably shouldn’t be throwing stones. Glass houses and all that jazz.

The waitress had enough self-control not to hover after she returned with your drinks and the braille menu. If she continued to sneak glances while she attended to the other tables, you were unaware of it as you soon found yourself rather distracted watching Matt’s fingers glide across the menu.

Mostly because the horny parts of your brain couldn’t help imagining those hands doing the same thing to your body . . .

“What are you thinking of getting?” he asked.

“T-the turkey club,” you said, trying to force your brain to stay in the here and now. “What about you?”

“I like their turkey club,” he said. “But I’m also partial to their potato soup.”

You nodded thoughtfully and said, “It’s a good soup. One of my favorites on a cold winter day.”

“Me too,” he said. “You come here often?”

“Often enough to have favorites,” you said. “You?”

“The same. It’s a good distance from my apartment and the office.”

You sighed. “Not me. My office is all the way over on the Upper East Side.”

“I know,” he said. “Foggy’s girlfriend works at Lee, Everett, and Kirby too.”

“She does? What’s her name?” You asked, curious to know if it was someone you knew.

“Marci Stahl.”

“I know her,” you said while mentally adding another point in the do-not-underestimate-Nelson column. Marci Stahl didn’t suffer fools gladly.

“You do?”

“Yes, I’ve been assigned as her paralegal a couple of times,” you said.

Matt nodded. The waitress walked back to your table and asked if you were ready to order yet or if you needed a few more minutes. You were both ready.

“I’ll have the turkey club,” you said. She nodded and jotted it down on her order pad. “And you sir?”

“The french dip,” he answered.

“Coming right up,” she said, then collected your menus and heading toward the kitchen.

“What’s it like, working with Marci?” he asked.

You sipped your tea and considered the question. “Challenging. Ms. Stahl has very high standards.”

He hummed his understanding.

“You ever work with Ms. Stahl?” you asked.

“Not professionally. We were paired together a few times for mock trial and group assignments at Columbia.” His smile took on a nostalgic air. “Usually I worked with Foggy and the professors liked assigned us against Marci and whoever she was partnered with.”

“Why?”

“I think they found it entertaining,” he said. “Foggy and Marci spent most of those years locked in an on-again, off-again cycle. When they were together, they liked showing off to each other. When they were broken up, they were bitter, vicious rivals. That none of us like losing and all of us are incredibly stubborn only added fuel to the fire.”

You could see that. It matched with what you knew of each party. And honestly, you couldn’t blame the professors if they found all that drama amusing.

“Who usually won?”

“Me and Foggy,” he said, his smile taking on cat-that-got-the-canary vibes. “Through I suppose we had an unfair advantage. Marci didn’t have a consistent partner and some of the ones she got stuck with didn’t pull their weight.”

You hummed in acknowledgment and thought about the folder of old acceptance letters in your filing cabinet. One letter in particular . . .

“I wonder . . .” you said thoughtfully.

But further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of your food. And for several minutes, you both applied yourself to the serious business of eating delicious sandwiches and fries.

“What were you wondering about?” Matt asked.

“How things might have been if things had gone differently,” you answered. “One of the law schools I got accepted at was Columbia.”

“We were almost classmates?” he said, sounding disappointed. “I could have meet you sooner?”

Your heart skipped a beat. And reminded you that you had something to tell him.

“Yeah, I guess we would have,” you said and gathered your courage. “There is something I forgot to tell you the other day.”

“Oh?” he said. Was there a note of uncertainty in his voice or was that just projection of your own nerves? “And what did you forget?”

You took a deep breath and said, “I-I like you too. I-I know that agreeing to go on that date implies it but. I thought you might like the words. Too. So just so you know. I like you. A-and am hoping we will have s-something serious.”

And immediately wanted to cringe. That was the worst word salad to ever come out of your mouth.

Your self-recrimination was cut off by his hand taking one of yours and interlacing your fingers. It gave you the courage to look at him instead of the table. That fond, soft smile he sent in your direction all but took your breath away.

“I appreciate hearing the words, sweetheart.”

You have happily spent the rest of the day holding his day and talking but it was not to be. Not only did he have work at his office that he needed finish before tomorrow but Page and Nelson were probably wondering when he was coming back with the lunch he promised them.

While you waited for the cafe to make a Reuben for Nelson and a tuna melt for Page, you exchanged phone numbers. The waitress had looked a little disappointed when she saw you holding hands with Matt. Which was fair. In her shoes, you would have been disappointed too.

After a brief, playful argument over who would pay for your and Matt’s lunch – which you won – it was time to head back to his office. He, obviously, didn’t need a guide to get there but gladly accepted the thinly veiled excuse to prolong what was arguably a lunch date.

He paused when he wrapped his hand around your elbow. He caressed the fabric, humming thoughtfully. “You are wearing silk.”

It wasn’t a question but you answered it anyway. “I am. My sister gave me several silk blouses in different colors for my last birthday in attempt to brighten up my wardrobe. She thinks I wear too much black.”

He hummed in understanding as the pair of you started walking. His fingers kept caressing the the fabric and consequently your skin underneath it. The sensation made you shiver. “What color is this one?”

“Dark blue,” you said. “Like the suit you’re wearing.”

He smiled and said, “What a fun coincidence.”

“You like silk?” you asked.

“I do. It doesn’t irritate my skin like many other fabrics do,” he explained.

You nodded, making a mental note to start wearing more silk. You saw no point in discouraging Matt from holding you by wearing fabrics he would find itchy.

“Do you like your silk blouses, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you said. “I enjoy how it feels against my skin.”

“I’m glad,” he said. Then his smile turned into that coy smirk and he leaned down until his mouth was by your ear. “The sheets on my bed are silk. I hope you enjoy how they feel against your skin just as much.”

Maybe it was the husky quality of his voice. Maybe it was his warm breath hitting that sensitive spot by your ear. Maybe it was the images his words would put in your mind. Maybe it was all of that. You shuddered and felt your face get warm as blood rushed to your cheeks. And . . . other . . . places.

“Good to know,” you managed to squeak out. You shuddered again as Matt took a deep breathe and his lips brushed against that sensitive spot by your ear. And had to swallow a moan when he pressed a gentle kiss there before he straightened back up. He behaved himself the rest of the walk. Which wasn’t much of an accomplishment since, as promised, his office wasn’t that far from the cafe.

You both paused by the building, out of the path of the foot traffic. Despite knowing that you wouldn’t be able to resist climbing him like a tree, quite possibly in full view of everyone on this street, if you stayed too long, you found yourself reluctant to pull away.

He slide his hand up from your elbow until he was cradling your face in his palm. The movement was slow, careful. Giving you ample to time to pull away or tell him no. When you did neither, he bend down and pressed his mouth against yours as your eyes fluttered closed.

Everything fell away. All that existed was his mouth, his tongue lapping at your lips, against your tongue. His hand sliding to the back of your head, gentling encouraging you to tilt your head further back and let him deepen the kiss . . .

“Matthew Michael Murdock!”

The two of you jumped apart at the annoyed shout like a pair of teenagers caught making out. A sensation that only deepened when you saw the origin of the shout – Foggy Nelson looking down at you from his open office window with a very stern expression. You could just see Karen Page standing behind him looking equally irritated.

“Stop making out with my client and bring us our lunch! Karen and I are starving!”

Now you were blushing for a different reason. Embarrassment with a touch of guilt. On impulse, you shouted up, “What’s your favorite cake?”

“What?” they both asked in one voice, clearly confused by the sudden turn of the conversation.

“What’s your favorite cake? I’ll bake it! As an apology for making Matt late getting you your lunch!”

Foggy pulled his head back into his office. You could see them talking but there was too much noise for you to hear what they were saying. Matt, who absolutely could hear their conversation, didn’t seem concerned. In fact, he had a little smile on his face. After a couple of minutes, Nelson reappeared in the window and called out, “You’ve got yourself a deal! Pineapple upside down cake!”

You flashed him a thumbs up. You would have to go to the store for the pineapple but that was fine.

“And tell your boyfriend to get his fine ass up here!” Page added.

You looked over at Matt. “You heard the woman. Get your fine ass up there.”

Matt laughed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll call you later?”

You nodded, smiling despite your mild embarrassment. He headed up to his office and you to the grocery store. You had a cake to bake.

Wednesday

The look on Foggy Nelson’s face when you showed up at his office after work with your cake saver in your hands was priceless. Apparently he didn’t realize you were serious. Or would deliver so quickly.

It didn’t take Foggy and Karen long to get over that surprise and have a piece of cake. Matt pouted at them when they told him it was their apology cake and he couldn’t have any. When they started making yummy noises at him, he apparently decided to pull out the big guns. By which you meant he took off the glasses and gave them big sad hazel eyes.

You were right about the power of his sad puppy dog face. Foggy caved almost immediately. Karen managed to hold out a little longer but still within two minutes of deploying the puppy eyes, he had his piece of cake. The obvious enjoyment on his face when he took a bite only added to your joy.

Thursday

A familiar voice called your name as you exited the office building after getting off work. You looked over to see your best friend Jo hurrying toward you.

“What are you doing all the way over here?” you asked after giving her the usual hug.

“Doing an interview with the founder of an animal charity,” she answered, managing to keep most of the grumpiness out of her tone. It wasn’t because Jo didn’t like animals. She loved animals. Her two little dogs were just as spoiled as Houdini. It just that Jo hadn’t gotten into journalism to write fluff pieces. Investigative journalism was her passion. You were biased, since she was your best friend, but you thought she was damn good at it.

“How did you end up on Ellison’s shit list? Again?” you asked.

“You heard of that new gang in the Kitchen?”

“Which one?” you asked. “One who keeps trying to challenge Daredevil to a fight or the one who trying to scare everyone by being extremely violent?”

“Both,” she said and gave you a curious look. “How did you know there was two gangs? There aren’t been any reporting about that particular detail yet.”

You scrambled for answer that didn’t include ‘I’ve been talking to Daredevil for several weeks and am going on a date with him tomorrow.’ The problem was that you weren’t very good at lying, especially on the fly. You decided to tell her about the alley encounter on the logic that she would find that police report eventually.

“I-I stumbled across Daredevil just after he finished fighting members of the second gang on my way home from work the week before last. He warned me to be extra careful at night because of those gangs being very active right now while we waited for the police to show up.”

“You meet Daredevil?! And didn’t tell me about it?!”

“Sorry,” you said and looked at your feet. “The cops were already being kinda of hostile about that encounter without me talking to the press –”

“I’m your best friend, not ‘the press’,” Jo said, sounding hurt. “You know I understand what ‘off the record’ means. Or would respect that you were telling me something confidentially as your friend, not a journalist.”

You winced. You just hadn’t been sure what or how much to tell her. You had never kept a secret of this magnitude before. “I do know that. I’m sorry. I should have said something even through my lawyer also recommended that I don’t talk about it.”

“Your lawyer?”

“Yeah. I know better than to be interrogated by the police without a lawyer.”

“Why would the police want to interrogate you?”

“Because Daredevil was nice enough not to leave me alone with violent rapists who might regain consciousness any minute, they seem to have gotten in their heads that I know more about the vigilante than I was telling them.”

“Do you know more than what you were telling them?”

“No,” you said. You mentally apologized to Jo for the lie and all the other ones you have to tell her. You didn’t like lying to her but the identity of Daredevil wasn’t your secret to tell. It was Matt’s.

Jo nodded. Good, she seemed to believe you.

“So whose your lawyer? Someone at your firm?”

“No,” you said. “I hired my own. I wanted someone who was my zealous advocate, not someone who has to worry about how things might reflect on Lee, Everett, and Kirby.”

“Understandable,” she said. “So who did you hire?”

“Foggy Nelson at Nelson & Murdock.”

Her eyes widened. “The firm who helped take down Fisk?”

“Among other things,” you said. “What do those gangs have to do with Ellison being mad at you?”

“He’s worried that I’m taking too many risks investigating them,” she said and scowled. “I know what I’m doing.”

“So did Ben Urich,” you gently reminded her.

Even with as gentle as you could make it, she still flinched at his name. You knew why. Ben Urich had been both a mentor and a friend to Jo. She had been inconsolable when he was murdered. She still couldn’t get through his birthday without crying.

“I’ll be more careful,” she promised.

“That’s all I ask,” you said.

Jo nodded. “Okay, that’s enough about work. I found another bar for us to try.”

You used to have a regular bar to hang out but Jo’s last serious boyfriend had been the bar’s owner. And their break-up fight had been ugly. Not call the police or file for restraining order ugly but there had been a lot of yelling and some rather nasty personal attacks. Needless to say Jo was not welcome at that bar anymore.

Since then, she had been on quest to find a new regular hangout for the two of you. Finding one that you both liked, within reasonable traveling distance from either your apartments or your jobs, and didn’t charge an arm and a leg for drinks, was proving surprisingly challenging.

“It’s not another dance club, is it?” you asked. You didn’t dance. You arguably couldn’t dance. Not without stepping on your poor dance partner’s feet a million times. Or falling on your ass. And otherwise making a fool of yourself.

Besides, dance clubs were loud places. You preferred not having to shout in order to be heard by the person standing next to you. And you would also prefer having a place that you could bring Matt to. Which meant nowhere that was going to hurt his ears and give him a migraine before he even got in the building.

“No,” Jo said. “You’ve made your opinion of those very clear. From what I could tell, Josie’s just seems to be a regular bar. Maybe a little rundown but I like a bar with character.”

You hummed your understanding.

“Anyway, I’m off tomorrow night. Do you want to check it out?”

“I can’t,” you said. And felt yourself blush. “I have a date.”

“A date?” Jo repeated as you two started to descend down to the subway platform. Then narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “Do you let your sister talk you into another blind date?”

“Hell no,” you said. You loved your sister dearly but her previous attempts to set you up . . . well, let’s just say that they could have gone better. “I meet someone.”

“Really? Where? At work?”

You shook your head. It was time to test the story you had come up to explain how you had met Matt to your friends and family without mentioning the whole Daredevil thing. “He came across me while I was trying to get Houdini out from behind a dumpster. Helped me catch the little escape artist and get him back home. We got to talking. Then we kept running into each other and he asked me out earlier this week.”

Jo smiled. “I’m happy for you. What’s his name? What does he do? Is he handsome?”

“His name is Matthew. He’s a lawyer,” you said and fidgeted with the strap of your bag. Your face felt warm. You hoped you weren’t already blushing. “And he’s very handsome.”

“What are you doing? Dinner? Movies? Both?”

“Dinner.”

“Any idea where?”

“A little Italian place he knows,” you said.

“Nice,” she said. “Anything else you’d like to share?”

“He’s a really good kisser,” you said and knew you had lost the battle not to blush.

“Kissing already?” Jo said with an arched eyebrow and a teasing grin. “Before the first date?”

The insinuation in her tone only made your blush worse. Especially since if Houdini and his job hadn’t interfered, you probably would have already done a lot more than kiss him . . . And because she knows you very well, Jo immediately read that in your expression.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed. “You’ve already slept with him!”

“No!” you yelped. “We just kissed!”

She eyed you with deep skepticism.

“We just kissed,” you repeated. You took a great interest in your shoes. “Then he got called into work.”

“And if he hadn’t, you would have let Handsome Lawyer Matthew fuck you.”

“Maybe,” you muttered. Then quelled under her Look. “Okay, fine. If we hadn’t been interrupted, I would have had sex with him. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” she said. Then, with a familiar look of determination, stood up and started tugging you in the opposite direction. “Come on.”

“You’re going the wrong way,” you objected, confused.

“No, I’m not,” she said, firmly herding you away from the route home. “We’re going shopping.”

“We are?”

“You need new underwear.”

“I do?”

“First rule of being a slut, my young apprentice, is that plain cotton panties are for your period. When your date removes your trousers or pushes up your skirt, they are to be greeted with either sexy panties or no panties at all. Since this is going to be your first time as a slut, I think you would prefer the former.”

It was official. That blush was never leaving your face. “Joanna!”

“What?” she said with fake innocence. “Am I underestimating you? Are you bold enough to go on your first date with Matthew the Handsome Lawyer without any panties?”

She was enjoying this. Jo had no shame whatsoever about sex and considered being called a slut a badge of honor. And had made it known for years that the moment you wanted ‘stop being such a prude about sex’, she would be more than happy to mentor you in ‘the ways of the slut.’

“No,” you admitted. “I’m not that brave.”

Jo looked entirely too pleased with herself.

You sighed and said, “I’ll agree to buy underwear you deem suitable on two conditions.”

“I’m all ears.”

“One – nothing I find itchy or otherwise uncomfortable.”

“Of course,” she agreed easily, obviously feeling magnanimous in the wake of her victory.

“Two – nothing whose sole appeal is how it looks.”

“I can work with that,” Jo said and gave you a curious look. “Any reason why?”

“Matt’s blind,” you said. “He's not going to care what my underwear looks like.”

“Gotcha,” she said, nodding thoughtfully. Then she gasped and whipped her head around to stare at you with wide eyes.

“What?” you demanded.

“Matt Murdock,” she said. “The Matthew you want to be a slut with is Matt Murdock.”

You felt your own eyes widen, “How did you know?”

“How many blind handsome lawyers named Matthew, who are commonly called Matt, does Hell’s Kitchen have?”

“One as far as I know,” you admitted.

“I can see how he would tempt you into the ways of the slut,” Jo said thoughtfully. “I’ve seen him a couple of times when Karen Page has done some freelance articles for us. That man is ridiculously hot.”

“I noticed,” you said dryly.

“Are those lips as soft as they look?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m nosy,” she said without an ounce of shame. “And I’m your best friend. Who else are you going to share those kind of details with? Beth? You know your sister doesn’t want to know about your sex life anymore than you want to know about hers. Me? I absolutely want to know how many times and how loudly you moan his name when Matt Murdock fucks you with his big, hard, throbbing –”

“Okay!” you interrupted loudly. Before you died of embarrassment. "I get your point. Jesus Christ, Jo."

She just giggled at you. The giggling took a while to die down. Your blush took even longer to fade. It didn’t help that Jo kept dropping hints about Matt’s rumored sexual prowess the entire time. Apparently he had a reputation.

You were very relieved that you didn’t run into any of yours neighbors when you finally got home. You didn’t think you could take any more knowing looks after people noticed that distinctive pink bag in your hand.

Houdini apparently sensed that you were a little frazzled and didn’t pull any of his usual stunts. Just ate his dinner, then cuddled up against you and purred until you felt less stressed. It wasn’t that late but you decided to call it a night. You changed into sleeping clothes, then made yourself comfortable in your bed. It didn’t take for your eyes to grow heavy. Soon you were asleep.

END NOTES

Once again, my attempt to write what I thought was the next chapter was stymied until I accepted that the characters had more to say and there was another chapter. Already working on the “First Date” and (fingers-crossed) should have that done in the next couple of days.

Please note that parts of "First Date" will overlap with this chapter.

After that, it supposed to be “Carnal Knowledge”. I think you all can guess what is going to happen in that one.

#daredevil #fan fic #alley cat series #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader

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oliverwolfboy · 8 months

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In a bsd uni and high school modern au. You're telling me that Bram wouldn't 100% wear hoodies ALL the time? Have you seen this man, yes he wears victorian clothes yes, but that's simply because he is new to the modern world. This man would fucking love hoodies. They are comfy and you can sleep in them, plus it could hide his ears. Bram would wear a band hoodie from his favorite band, and you cannot tell me otherwise. Just imagine it.

Also in a no abilities modern uni and high school au. I think Bram would be an albino, with stahl's ear deformity. He would probably also be an amputee, with a missing leg, or something like that.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bram bsd #bsd bram stoker #bsd bram #bram stoker

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p4rsuade · 2 months

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one night is all it takes ➤ robert stahl (PART ONE)

𝓼ummary. one night is all it takes for your life to change and fall apart. one night for it to change the rest of your life forever. nina’s life was incredulously boring and her days to seem to be an endless circle. she was lonely, stuck in a small apartment alone with one cat, in a town where she knew nobody and she thought she thought nothing good will ever come to her, that was until she had met robert stahl in a bar. and that’s when her story begins.

𝔀arnings. cursing. brief mention of alcoholism? smut (horribly written btw so don’t expect much)

𝔀ord count. 1,460

robert stahl (shades of blue) x female oc

I had woken up a minute before my alarm was meant to go off. That couple moments of bliss as you wake up, unaware of your surroundings or the world around you, your thoughts quiet for a moment — but then it comes crashing as soon as you gain your consciousness back, and your alarm rings through your ears as it practically barks at you, telling you to get the fuck off your ass and get up to relive another day of yesterday, and the day before that, and the other day before that..

I let out a groan as I shift to my side, my brows furrowing as I close my eyes shut, already getting a headache from my annoying ass ringtone. I should change it, I thought, but I always end up forgetting, and at this point, I should just learn to suck it up. I aimlessly extended my arm out to my bedside table, using my sense of touch to search for my phone, and when I finally felt it under my palm, I picked it up and rolled back onto my back.

My eyes squint slightly as I turn off my phone alarm, and I let out a sigh of relief. It was quiet and peaceful now. I closed my eyes again, dropping my phone onto my stomach, hoping to get a couple more minutes of sleep, but my mind was already going crazy. I should get up.. The cat needs to be fed.. Has the mailman come in yet? I need to make breakfast..

I groaned. Fuck it. I’ll get up. I sat up and stretched, letting out a small moan as I arch my back and stretch my arms above my head.

I let out a sigh as I sat there for a couple of moments, unmoving. I looked out the window, and then I eventually swung my legs out to the side of the bed, and my feet landed on the cold hardware floor.

—

“Jasper!” I called out, shaking the bowl as I looked around the house, and then I hear a familiar meow behind the couch. I smile and shake my head, before placing the bowl down onto the floor, and I walked over to the couch, pushing it away from the wall as I pull out Jasper from under the couch.

“How’d you even get in there?” I mutter as I bury my head into his fur, and then I placed him back on the floor, letting him walk over to his food bowl to eat. “He’s such a dumbass sometimes.” I mutter under my breath, and I walk over to the kitchen to make myself some toast. I wasn’t too fond of breakfast, I always skipped it, but I wanted to try something different today..

—

10 Things I Hate About You. Such a classic, I could never get get bored of this movie. If you asked me to bring one film with me to a desert island, it’d be this movie definitely.

I sat in front of the TV as I munched on my toast, Jasper curled up in my lap as he had finally finished his food. He was probably thinking, if cats could speak – ‘This fucking movie again, somebody check on this girl, holy shit.’

I couldn’t blame him though. I finally finished up my toast, and I gently patted the space beside me, and Jasper crawls off me to go lay where I pat, and I stood up, putting the empty plate into the sink.

I wanted to do something different today. Maybe go out for a drink, because I knew damn well I needed it. New country, new town.. been here for a year, and still no sign of me making any friends, which is mostly my fault.. I never leave the house.

—

I dressed up for once, I put on red lipstick, straightened my hair, and I put on a dress. I wanted to look nice for once.. I needed something to change for once in my life. The days were getting long, and it was as if I was wasting away my days locked up in that small apartment.

I grabbed my purse and keys on the way out, after feeding Jasper, and I headed out the door.

—

I sat on the stool, aimlessly following my finger around the rim of the glass. An endless circle. That’s how I felt.

I finally lifted my finger, and I wrap my hand around the small glass, before downing it quickly, holding back in a horrid expression as the alcohol got to me.

“Hey, mind if I sit here?” A voice asks. A male voice, at that. I turn my head and look up at him, and gave him a weak smile. Fuck, I really am a fucking nervous person. “Yeah, of course. Nobody’s sitting here.”

And he sat down, and I thought that was that. I turned back to my glass, staring down into it, before the man spoke up again. “Never seen you ‘round here before.” He chuckles as he raises his fingers over at the bartender, “A beer, and a..” He turns to look at me, “What do ya want?”

“Oh, uh- just.. a beer is fine.” I nod. “A beer for me and the lady.” He smiles at the bartender, and I noticed his dimples showed as he did, and it made me smile slightly. The bartender simply nods and I look at him, replying to his previous comment. “Yeah, I’m new here.” I smile. “You a regular here?” I asked.

He nods, and shrugs. “I guess I am, yeah.” He chuckles, “Makes me sound like some sort of alcoholic, don’t it?” He grins. The dimples again.

“Ah, no.. not really, or well..” my voice falters as I pretended to think. “Well what?” He grins in amusement.

“Maybe you are.”

And he laughs, shaking his head. “I promise you, darlin’, I know how to restrict my alcohol.” He grins, and the bartender slides across two beers, and he opened his, taking a sip almost immediately.

—

My back hits against the wall, a small moan escaping my lips.

I was suddenly in his apartment, and soon in a couple of minutes, will be in his bed.

He wrapped his fingers around my waist, keeping me in place, and he assaults me with his lips, as if I was his air to breathe. God, just like the movies, I thought.

“Jump.” He breathed out, his lips trailing from mine to the crook of my neck. I did as he said immediately, I jumped and he immediately grabbed my rear, picking me up and bringing me to his room.

—

I let out a cry of pleasure as my face buried into the pillow as he relentlessly assaults me from behind, “Atta girl.. takin’ all of me, ain’t ya, honey?” He groaned as he dug his nails into my hips, thrusting into me deeper and deeper, my insides pulsing as it tightens around his hardened cock. I could feel myself on the brink of ecstasy, but then he slows his pace, gripping my ass tightly. “You’re not cummin’ until I say so.” He whispers against my ear, and I nod quickly, desperately needing him to go back to the speed he was at.

“Thatta good girl.” He whispers, and then he thrusts into me again, and I cry out, “Come on, come on, come on, fuuuuckk..” He groans as he tugs at my hair, before he turns me around, placing me onto my back against the bed. “Look at me, darlin’. And don’t look away.” He whispers as his hand moves onto the headboard, keeping himself steady as he continues his pace, pulling in and out, wet skin clashing against each other echoed in the room.

He wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

I tried to keep my eyes on him as he fucks me as if there was no tomorrow, and my lips parted and my brows creased as I can feel it coming..

But his stern voice pulls me out of my daze, “Not yet, baby. You got this.” He whispers, before moving his face into the crook of my neck, biting down as he leaves hickeys all over, as if he was claiming something. Me.

He continued with his assault, his free hand moving my hands above my head, holding my wrists in a firm grip, and he moved even faster. I cry out in pleasure, and as I was about to say his name,. I realised I didn’t get it.

“Name’s Robert, honey, now let me hear you scream it for me, yeah?” His voice reverberates against my skin as he bites down onto my skin again,

which makes me moan out his name.

#robert stahl #robert stahl x reader #robert stahl x oc #shades of blue #jeff sadecki #warren kole #phillip graves #jeff sadecki x reader #jeff sadecki x oc #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x oc #one night is all it takes robert stahl

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hxney-lemcn · 2 months

Text

Right Here — Stahl x gn! reader

summery: Lissa tries tirelessly to make you realize your feelings for Stahl. Once you do, things don't go as smoothly as you'd like.

tw: anxiety, anxiety attack (This is fluff tho I swear), hurt/comfort

a/n: I'M GOING FERAL I NEED MORE STAHL CONTENT HELP ASAP! HE IS SO FINE AND SWEET HOW IS EVERYONE SLEEPING ON HIM AHHHHHH!

wc: 1.3k

Master List

“He’s looking at you again,” Lissa pointed out, a giggle falling out of her pink lips.

This had been going on longer than you thought it would. Your close friend Lissa had been pointing out every time she had caught Stahl looking at you. At first you thought she was just messing with you. She had quickly caught on to your feelings for the olive haired knight when she noticed how you were warmer to him than anyone else. Whereas others wouldn’t bat an eye at you bumping shoulders with Stahl jokingly, Lissa had honed in on the smallest interactions she caught between you two.

Little did you know, she had also picked up on signs from Stahl. The way he leaned into your jokes, or how he always seemed to have something you needed when you needed it. She felt hopeless watching the two of you subtly showing your signs of care and affection for the other. The two of you were so blinded by your own feelings, you missed how the other felt.

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Lissa pouted, getting sick of your ignorance.

This had continued until finally you were forced to face the facts. You were innocently teasing each other, enjoying the other's presence.

“You’re so mean to me,” You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Only to you,” Stahl teased with a bright grin adorning his face. You missed the way his eyes watched you warmly. Instead you reached up to his cheek and pinched it in slight frustration (perhaps a bit out of cute aggression as well).

“Ow!” Stahl yelped, holding his cheek protectively as it was his turn to pout at you. A wave of guilt had suddenly hit you, not wanting to have actually hurt him.

“I love you,” You blurted, hand forming a heart shape. It was something you did when you felt you may have gone a bit too far, hoping to make amends before the other person could get too mad. You had done it with your childhood friends, they had been who you learned it from. So you didn’t think much of it until you parted shortly after.

Lissa pounced on you, pulling you over and jumping up and down excitedly. With your back turned, you had missed the warm pink that dusted over Stahl’s face, walking towards his next duty with a beaming grin. He couldn’t help the excited flutter his heart gave recalling the memory. Even if you hadn’t said those three words in the way he wished, he was still content hearing you aim them towards him regardless.

“You told him you love him!” Lissa squealed once the two of you out of ear shot.

You felt yourself warm at the implication and quickly went to clear the obvious misunderstanding, “I meant it as a friend.”

Once again, Lissa pouted, cheeks puffed out in frustration, “Then why did he give you the most lovesick look after you said it?” You paused, trying to recall how he looked. Damn you for being too anxious to look at people fully.

“He did?” You asked meekly, a strange feeling encompassing you at the thought. You continued to contemplate your feelings, and they were stronger than you had anticipated.

“He has been for the longest time!” Lissa exclaimed, crossing her arms. “And I’ve been pointing it out this entire time! You’re just noticing?”

You couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. The sudden realization of just how deep your feelings had scared you. You’d never felt so scared for loving someone before. You loved your friends deeply and unconditionally, but not to the extent you loved Stahl. It was scary how you could envision your future with him, even scarier was the thought of him not being there.

You kept stewing in these thoughts, sitting by the fire as the other’s started retreating to their tents. You had never seen yourself being dependent on someone else. The thought alone was terrifying. Relying on someone else, giving them your heart and trusting they won’t break it. But then your mind drifted to Stahl, and the thought of giving him your heart seemed less daunting. He was so sweet, easy to talk to and fun to be around. He had shown you nothing but kindness and your fearfulness seemed silly. If you were to depend on anyone, it would be Stahl. And just as you came to that conclusion, Stahl had joined you by the dwindling fire.

Suddenly your self assurance had vanished and the anxiety of giving someone your all had returned full force. You curled in on yourself, holding your knees to your chest as you watched the flames dance around. You could feel Stahl’s worried eyes watch you, and where this would usually calm you down, it had only heightened the anxiety coursing through your veins. He had scooted closer to you. This too would normally calm you down, but this time it made you feel like you were drowning.

“What’s wrong?” He muttered, voice soft.

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you buried your face into your knees, hoping it would hide you from your fears, “I’m scared.”

Stahl frowned, watching as your breathing picked up and you suddenly grabbed onto your hair. You kept repeating that you were scared and he felt his chest tighten. He hadn’t seen you like this in a long time, and he hoped he never had to. Your anxiety had been clear to him since he first met you, and it was his personal achievement that his presence had seemed to quell most of it. Although this time, he was the cause without even knowing.

He placed his hand on your back, bringing you into his chest and holding you. Resting his head on top of yours, Stahl gently rubbed your back. You grasped onto his tunic. Not only was he the source of your anxiety, but he still managed to comfort you.

Once your hysteria started to die down, Stahl asked, “Do you want to talk about it?

Your fist clenched onto his tunic once more, whimpering out pitifully, “I love you and it's scary.”

Stahl’s heart pumped faster, yet it twisted as well. Was loving him really so harsh? He knew it wasn’t that, but his own mind couldn’t help but warp it to be as such.

“I’ve never felt this way for anyone before and it's so scary,” You continued, unaware of Stahl’s internal conflict. “I love you so much but I��m scared to let you in.”

At this, Stahl nuzzled the top of your head, “You don’t have to do anything you're not ready to do.”

“But I want to,” You replied back almost pathetically, melting into the warmth of his affection. “I want to love you and care for you, and for you to love and care for me.”

“I do love and care for you,” Stahl replied instantly, only pulling away enough to meet your eyes. The usual feeling of warmth and affection filled him every time you were near filled him tenfold. He brushed back a stray strand of your hair as his hand rested on your cheek.

His touch sent your body aflame, unused to such a gentle caring touch. You stared at him with unending love and adoration for the man who sat in front of you, who held and touched you with such reverence. You felt your mind finally ease, and the thought of giving your all to him had finally brought you peace. He cared for you just as you did him, and you couldn’t be any happier than you felt at that realization.

Closing the small gap between the two of you, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. You both watched the other with tenderness, not wanting the night to end just yet.

Lissa picked up on change in both of you the next day. She watched with near awe at your unabashed adoration for the other, how you were even more relaxed by Stahl’s side, how he managed to dote on you even more than before.

‘Finally,’ Lissa thought to herself with a slight huff.

#stahl x reader #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem awakening x reader #stahl fire emblem x reader #stahl #fire emblem #fire emblem awakening #x reader #stahl fire emblem #fe stahl

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pzyii · 6 months

Text

so…. Toh au

Willow and buffy and lil dawn so lore. (Wrote some of this this in another post as I was figuring it out) The council basically replaces belos and the emperors coven, and the golden guards/slayer are basically just their science experiments to get good soldiers. Buffy was one but Giles, who worked for the council but has since this quit, couldn’t stand by as another child went through that so he took baby buffy and brought her to the human realm (which he had the portal to, probably from his father) and left her there to get adopted by Joyce. Her ears are less pointy than normal witches but they just blame it on stahls ear. Also her hair is naturally brown cause even if all grimwalkers aren't often based on the same person they do tend to get similar traits. at some point buffy find the portal pretty alike luz did. Tho unlike her buffy isn’t exactly an outcast, she’s just really lonely. She meets willow and Xander there. And Giles who knows that she is the baby he took but doesn’t say anything cause of Giles reasons. since then there’s come a new golden guard(or whatever they are gonna get called in the au). This is a really young one so far. And it’s dawn. And to try and make her more powerful or something the council have used titan blood(cause she’s the key) i don’t have that much lore for willow except just at the start she’s studying oracle (to then join the emperors coven) as a way to try and gain her parents love and approval. But she more so likes illusion, healing and abomination(tho honestly she probably choses to study them all when she can)

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 7 months

Text

ch. 2 — mælan (to speak)

notes: content warning for religious imagery is getting real in this chapter :]

summary: Athelstan's soul cannot rest. Neither can Alethia's.

tagged: @levithestripper @demon-of-the-ancient-world (msg me to be added/removed!)

masterlist | chapter one

Athelstan

He set the quill down on paper, the soft scratching sound soothing his nerves. Nervously, Athelstan tried to swallow his fear. It was as if something was watching him, following his every step. The week of Alethia Stahl’s arrival had marked a month since he’d been taken to Ecbert’s court, and since then, Athelstan had not had a night of full rest.

Carefully, he started the new line on the parchment, writing a ‘D’. He paused when it turned red.

“What…?” He muttered under his breath. Athelstan shook his head, writing the next letter when the red ink began bleeding down the parchment, ruining the document. He cursed under his breath. Athelstan looked around the library, suddenly unable to find the door. His vision blurred in front of him, and shadows flitted past in the corner of his eye.

Cold fear ran down his spine, a sweat making him shiver. His throat tightened, and Athelstan took another step back. A hiss next to his ear made him whirl around, only for the creature that met his gaze to make him shake with fear. Again, Athelstan stumbled backwards, a silent scream lodged in his throat. There was no true, lawful explanation for any of this.

Blood dripped from his forehead into his eyes, blinding him against whatever demons haunted him. Athelstan stepped onto something, twisting his ankle and falling to the ground. A weight was on his chest, and Athelstan could finally see the creature that had been following him. Its claws dug into his tunic, sharp talons piercing his skin like thorns. It was going to kill him, he was going to-

“Athelstan?”

The creature leaned forward, and Athelstan let out a shout for help. Then, someone else was by his side, helping him up.

“Are you… healthy?” Alethia asked him clumsily.

“Alright.” Athelstan corrected. “Yes, I am alright.”

His pupil eyed him suspiciously, her hand still stabilizing his back. In the past week, Athelstan had learned little about her. Usually, he was much better at observing people, but he did not see her much outside of his lessons. He had a feeling Alethia understood him far more than he her.

Not to mention that she.was beginning to grasp the fundamentals of his mother tongue and he… he did not know a single word of hers.

Athelstan looked away, avoiding her gaze and instead staring at her earrings. There were far more than usual, some of them high up on her ear. They looked like those some shieldmaidens wore, but if Athelstan had learned anything, it was that Alethia was not Norse. She did not speak the language, she did not keep their Gods.

“I have bad dreams a lot.” Alethia continued, her voice careful as she tried to construct correct sentences. “I see… people. They do not live. My friends are in the sky.”

“In heaven. Your friends are dead?” Athelstan asked. Alethia tilted her head, looking down at him curiously. She made a motion drawing her thumb across her neck, and Athelstan nodded.

“They are dead.” she affirmed. “What of yours?”

“I’m not sure.” Athelstan replied.

“Is that why you… have bad dreams?”

“Hallucinations.” Athelstan said, making the confession for the first time. Alethia nodded again, thinking for a moment.

“I know. I understand. Who?”

“It is me.”

“You are not dead.” Alethia replied, gently pushing against his shoulder. It was meant to be playful, and Athelstan could have appreciated that at any other time. Instead, he said nothing, only looking at his scarred hands. Alethia’s arm left his back, withdrawing for a moment, and Athelstan was ashamed to find himself missing her support.

“What happened?”

“Jesus’ death was almost mine.”

Alethia’s face scrunched up in concentration as she translated his words. Then, her eyes widened, and she pulled Athelstan into her arms. He froze. No one but his younger sister, and then Gyda had hugged him like that. Both were dead.

“I apologize for your pain.” Alethia said sincerely when they broke apart. Once again, Athelstan found himself astonished at what she had learnt in little more than a week. Then again, she had no choice and spent half her day in lessons with him.

She seemed to notice how he was still in the same position as before, and her hands wrung in her lap like they always did when she was anxious. That, he knew of Alethia. “Am I… too close?”

“You are open.” Athelstan said. “Affectionate.”

“Affectionate?”

“You care.” he replied. “You take your time to speak with others.”

“Isn’t that what Christians are supposed to do?” Alethia laughed after a few moments. She pulled herself up from the floor, offering her hand to Athelstan. He shrugged.

“I think so. Many do not.”

“They are just [...] Christians.” she replied, throwing in a word that he did not understand.

“What did you mean by that?” Athelstan asked, letting her help him up. His joints felt stiff and he wondered how much time he had spent on the floor before Alethia had found him. The tips of her ears reddened as she heard his question.

“It is a bad word.” Alethia replied. “An adjective for… pooping?”

Athelstan had to laugh. “You mean shitty?”

Alethia nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, shitty! They are just shitty Christians!”

Athelstan shook his head at that, trying to suppress another wave of laughter. This woman, this shieldmaiden - there was nothing simple about her, and yet, she could be so unserious. Alethia had not acted piously when she had drawn up her dress to her knees to dip them into the bath, and Athelstan tried his best not to think of it – and yet, she behaved more kindly than other, well, for lack of better words, shitty Christians.

He pushed his hallucinations aside as best he could, and pulled a scroll from the shelves.

“New words?” Alethia asked.

“New grammar.” Athelstan replied, and Alethia let out a sigh. Athelstan continued anyway. “You will speak of the past, so you can tell us who you are.”

“What if I do not want that?” Alethia asked, her hands crossing in front of her chest. She stepped closer to Athelstan, looking around as if she was expecting someone to hear her. “I do not… what is the word? Ecbert makes me… uneasy.”

“Trust? To give someone your… secrets?” Athelstan tried to explain. Alethia nodded.

“I do not want to tell him… who I am.”

“You do not trust the man that saved you? The king?” Athelstan replied.

“Do you? He saved you. I do not think you… trust him. You look at him with… confusion?” Alethia tried, her tongue struggling to make the words sound right. Athelstan only stayed silent at that. He could not say that he mistrusted the king, not out loud. Alethia waited for a few beats, the silence between them stretching more than what was comfortable.

“I will tell you.” she said finally. “Promise?”

“Promise.” Athelstan nodded. “Do you trust me, Alethia?”

She paused for a moment. “No. But I think I will. Tomorrow.”

“In the future.”

“Yes, that.” Alethia continued. “I have need of time.”

Athelstan thought he understood that.

By the end of the lesson, Alethia was using the past tense somewhat comfortably, although Athelstan noted that she still stumbled over weak and strong verbs. As Athelstan stood from the table, he noticed that Alethia was nervously jerking her leg up and down.

“What is it?” He asked, and she paused, a hand going to her knee.

“Nothing. Bad - what is the word? For an activity you do a lot?”

“Habit.”

“It is a bad habit.” Alethia said, pushing her chair backwards. “What is it?”

“It is Sunday.” Athelstan replied. “Time for mass.”

Alethia seemed to almost recoil at that. “You go. I do not think I shall go.”

“To mass? Everyone goes.” Athelstan replied. “You must.”

“No.” Alethia replied, her lips suddenly pressed into a thin line. “Do not… force me to do something. I wish to stay away. You can go and attend that… ceremony.”

Athelstan wanted to say something to convince Alethia to come, and yet, deep down, he knew that he wanted to go just about as much as she, though probably for entirely different reasons.

Alethia

She roamed around in the empty villa as the court of King Ecbert confined itself into the church. At first, the venture seemed somewhat interesting. Alethia nosed around in King Ecbert’s belongings, and then those of the healer, but both were not particularly interesting.

Mentally, she made a note to go out and collect her own supplies as those of the healer were… less than ideal.

She slunk out of the room, and towards the church. It had been a religious education book she’d sworn her ‘vow’ to the Night’s Watch on, it had been a church she had first seen when she’d arrived here. It was those thoughts that drew her towards the church now, feet moving on their own accord as Alethia stared at the closed wooden doors.

Her stomach turned.

She could not run from this.

Alethia stood close to the door, waiting in the courtyard until the church doors opened and the people streamed outside. She watched as King Ecbert, Prince Aethelwulf and Princess Judith exited, none of them noticing her. Alethia guessed that her attendance had not been missed.

Athelstan left the church last. He was staring at the ground, avoiding coming to close to any of the other people around her. Alethia bit the inside of her cheek. From what she’d gathered, Athelstan was feeling the same way she had when Grenn and Pyp died. She’d been so utterly alone, and even then, she’d had Sam, Jon and Satin - who did Athelstan have?

She was not his friend, but neither was Ecbert, and certainly not Aethelwulf.

He was pulling his leg behind him. It was not obvious, not like the one lame servant that worked in the villa, but Athelstan’s gait was definitely off. She wondered if it was because of his cruxificion. Alethia remembered being tied to a skinning cross - how the blood had slowly drained from her hands, how her limbs had become so horrendously heavy. She’d been pierced by an arrow, impaled by a spear - and yet, she could not imagine the pain of nails slowly being driven through your hands and feet.

Quickly, she looked to the ground, slinking into the church. Beneath her, the ground turned from trampled dirt to cobbled stone. When she looked up, she was alone in the church, the doors falling shut behind her. Alethia stared at the cross on the altar.

What had God done to save her?

Anger boiled up beneath her skin with a suddeness that Alethia almost stepped forward to do something rash. Instead, she kept her feet planted to the ground and took a few deep breaths. Only then did she allow herself to move.

She was not supposed to climb the stairs to the altar. Then again, Alethia was not supposed to do a whole lot of things. Keeping to the rules had done nothing for her, and neither had breaking them. There was very little in her own hands.

One, two, three, four - that was all it took to stand where the priest held mass. The golden cross was right in front of her, inlaid with gems and placed upon a disgustingly clean white tablecloth.

Alethia knew the cost of war, and how much of it would be fought in the name of God.

The Gods are cruel, that’s why they’re Gods, Cersei Lannister whispered in her ear.

Alethia raised her hand, fingers ready to curl around the cross and rip it from the altar. The religion of her ancestors, and yet, Alethia could not swallow the anger she felt each time she thought of a possible God.

The religion of her ancestors. She’d prayed to God when she was sure she was going to die, and then again when she could not find Jon. Once, her prayer had been heard.

Maybe religion was simpler than she thought. Maybe it was just a fifty-fifty chance. Athelstan still believed, right? Were she in his place, Alethia knew she would not. Maybe that was proof enough.

She drew back her hand quickly, still staring at the cross. Tears filled her eyes again, and Alethia had no idea why. Why was she always on the verge of tears? She walked back down the stairs backwards, almost missing the last. The cross seemed even larger, even more looming from the bottom of the stairs.

Kneeling was an automatic, not a habit. Alethia did not know why she did it. The cold stone under her bit her knees, but she’d felt much worse. Alethia found comfort in it.

“I wanted to go home.” She whispered. “That is all I wanted. Why couldn’t you let me go?”

She was not sure why she’d expected an answer, but the silence hurt her even more. Alethia tried to swallow her quiet sob, but instead, her palms found the ground as well, and she leaned forward.

“I wanted to go home! You’re keeping me here! Please, I want to- I want to-“ she gasped. “Why can I go anywhere I want, but not home? I wanted to keep my baby safe. I want my child to be safe. How will they be safe here? What if they’re a girl? What then? Please, please let me go home.”

Her hand curled into a fist on the cobbled stone, and Alethia let her tears fall there where no one would see. She felt stupid, stupid for what she’d just done.

Alethia stood from the floor, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She needed to get back to her room, there was still some cleaning she wanted to get done.

But when she turned, she saw that there was someone else was in the church, staring at her with wide eyes.

Athelstan.

Anger overtook Alethia with a suddenness that was all too natural. She crossed the distance between them, her hands grabbing the former monk by his shoulders and pushing him backwards.

“What the fuck are you doing here, huh?” She shouted, too caught up in the moment to remember that he could not understand her. Then, Alethia stumbled backwards, the regret already sinking in.

“What did you see?” She asked him, this time in his language. Her voice was shaking, and Alethia wondered where her strength had gone.

“Most of it. You almost tore the cross from the altar like a-“ he began, before he stopped himself. It took Alethia a few moments to understand Athelstan, like always. That only served to frustrate her more.

“Like a what?” She finally snapped.

“Like a Viking. Are you?”

“No.” Alethia replied.

“What are you?” He asked.

“I don’t… I won’t tell you. I already said that.”

Athelstan sighed. He shook his head where he stood, a tiny smile on his face. It was a sad one, and Alethia wished she could ask him properly, understand his language and his being in a way where she’d know what it meant.

“I am sorry.” Athelstan replied finally. “For all the pain you feel.”

“There is nothing there.” Alethia said. “Only fear for my child. What if it is a girl? What then?”

“You believe in God.” Athelstan stated as if he knew it. “I saw it. If she is a girl, she shall be christened and protected.”

“I was christened!” Alethia replied, her voice rising steadily. She searched for the words before she continued. “I was christened, I was supposed to be protected. Look at me!”

Athelstan looked away.

“Look at me!” Alethia spat, her hand shooting out to grab him again. It halted right in front of his face. “Look at me. Do you think I was protected? Hmm?”

“The christening does not protect the body, but the soul.” Athelstan replied. He sounded as if he was repeating a sentence he knew by heart but did not mean.

“And has yours been protected? Has God made sure that you feel whole?” Alethia laughed, her lip quivering. “I should think not. I see you, Athelstan.”

The tears that dripped onto her cheeks made her feel stupid once more, and Alethia brushed them away so hastily that she felt the rough fabric of her sleeve tug on her skin painfully.

“Fuck.” She hissed, going over the aggravated skin with her fingers. Athelstan reached out carefully, as if she was a wild animal, and stopped her wrist. Had he been anyone else, she’d have lashed out, but Athelstan was the only anchor she had in this villa, in this time.

She let him pull her hand away from her face.

“Why do you injure yourself like this? Why are you this hasty, this angry all the time?” Athelstan asked quietly. Alethia looked to the cross on the altar. Though she did not know if she believed, it felt wrong to lie here.

That was what she wanted to tell herself. The truth was that Alethia wanted to have someone here who knew. Someone who understood her pain. Athelstan looked like, maybe, just maybe, he could.

“I lost him.” Alethia mumbled quietly.

“Him?” Athelstan asked. Alethia’s hand went to her stomach automatically.

“The father?”

“His name was Jon, and he was good.” Alethia said.

“That is a rare thing in a man.”

“You are good, I think.” Alethia replied.

“I try.” Athelstan said. The distance between them was only a step, and yet, talking to him seemed so surreal. Still, Alethia wondered if she’d wake up back home in Winterfell.

“I do too. I don’t think it is enough.” Alethia confessed. Her heart hurt. Her head hurt. She was so awfully tired, her brain buzzing with a language she’d been forced to learn in mere days.

She lied down on the floor, letting Athelstan eye her like a curiosity.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Taking a break.” Alethia replied.

He squatted next to her, shaking his head, before he followed her lead.

Alethia rolled her eyes at him.

“What? I am taking a break?”

“From what?” Alethia snorted.

“Teaching you.”

She let out a pretend-gasp, turning towards Athelstan. “I am not a bad student.”

“The best I ever had.” Athelstan replied.

“How many people have you taught?” Alethia said, proud of her use of the past tense. She did not spend her entire day with it for nothing.

“Two.” Athelstan admitted. She snorted.

“Then how do I give you such pains?”

“Figuring you out is… impossible.” Athelstan replied. Alethia quieted down, and turned onto her back again. She stared at the ceiling and pretended it was the sky. Her palms were pressed onto the cobblestone as they had been, finding stability into the stone.

“Who are you?” Athelstan asked after a while, his words echoing the hundred times he had asked the question before.

Alethia took a breath. Next to her, Athelstan tensed. No doubt he expected her to lash out again. The guilt of it rose in her throat like bile.

“A traveler.” She said finally. “A soldier. A healer, a librarian, a bride and a widow. A Christian and a Godless person. A sister, and a mother-to-be. But most of all, I am far from home, Athelstan. So far.”

“So am I.” He told her. “My home is gone. I think I understand.”

Alethia considered if she could tell him for a moment. She wanted to. He had no idea that she was from the future. That she’d been to another bloody world. All he knew was that she was a stranger. Dangerous, potentially.

She could not.

“Thank you.” She said instead.

“Come,” Athelstan replied, offering his hand in a reflection of her earlier that day. “We are surely missed at lunch.”

#alestan #alethia stahl #athelstan #heorte til heorte #alethia x athelstan #vikings #vikings fanfic #history vikings #ecbert

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