#Chapter ten

[ranmacapss]

[Ranma ½] ✥ Chapter 10, The Hunter

[tumbleweed-writes]

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

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

Chapter Ten: Reverence

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Facing Gunner tonight had unnerved her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To put it frankly, Gunner was an asshole. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did ya?” Chibs dared to ask it taking him a moment to absorb the odd tale. He quickly realized the woman he adored did in fact hail from an eccentric family and it wasn’t just because of the family business.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Ten

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Fireheart was left to ponder that vision for the rest of the night. Even more confusing, he didn’t see Yellowfang or Cinderpaw go to Bluestar with this news. He caught sight of Yellowfang speaking to Speckletail, at least, but he had to be content with that by the time he went to sleep. Maybe Bluestar would be talked with tomorrow.

But Yellowfang didn’t talk to Bluestar. In fact, no one did. She didn’t leave her den. Fireheart and Whitecloud were the only ones to see her for a couple days; any time they checked in, she was curled up and asleep, often with half-eaten remains of the prey they left for her lying near the entrance of her den.

“Do you think she’s sick?” Fireheart asked Whitecloud one night.

Whitecloud’s answer was delayed and quiet. “I can only hope that’s the case.”

Speckletail, at least, was pulling her weight admirably. She only had to be told once that Bluestar was feeling unwell for her to double her efforts, recruiting Whitecloud to help her schedule patrols and decide on where the night’s hunters would be sent to level the prey supply. Fireheart did his best to show his appreciation with thanks and not bothering her with questions about Bluestar.

Not to say that Bluestar didn’t come up. A couple nights after Fireheart’s question, he went for breakfast to find Speckletail tiredly pawing around the pile, her ears poorly resisting folding back and her tail twitching. Her cream-and-brown coat had lost a bit of its usual shine, dull with exhaustion.

“Good evening!” Fireheart said brightly, coming up to the side of the pile across from her. He tilted his head, concerned. “You look like you didn’t sleep. Are you alright?”

“Evening.” Speckletail gave him a weary blink. “I slept, don’t worry. It’s just been a busy few nights.” She barely managed a huff of what failed to sound like amusement. “Seems like I’ve got to do everything myself lately. I haven’t gotten Bluestar to come inside and do her job.”

“Oh…” Fireheart nodded, valiantly hiding the immediate spike of worry in his chest. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Do you want me to talk to her for you?”

Another attempt at a chuff, slightly more energetic than the last, and she shook her head. “You don’t need to worry about that, Fireheart. You’ve been taking care of Bluestar like she was Yellowfang. Don’t think I didn’t notice—bringing her prey and making sure she’s alright.” Speckletail gave him a warm look. “I appreciate you trying to help, but it’s not your concern.”

Fireheart almost squinted at her in bafflement. “She’s the leader of ThunderClan and my mentor, and suffering with something she won’t talk about. I would darn well think it’s my concern.”

The deputy’s whiskers twitched. “Right. I forgot I was talking to you.” She sighed, her eyes turning in the direction of Bluestar’s den. “Well, I won’t order you to, but if you think you can get a word out of her, or even get her out of her nest, you have no complaints from me.” She looked back at him. “But perhaps eat first.”

Fireheart obeyed with a head-bob and quickly took a mouse while Speckletail continued to look through the pile. He ate with no ceremony or thought, shook out his fur and trotted out of camp with a tail-flick to Speckletail, who had finally found a squirrel she wanted.

Fireheart took a breath as he approached Bluestar’s den. It was deathly silent out here, a particular void of sound seeming to coalesce specifically behind the lichen curtain. A moment of hesitation, and then Fireheart quietly pushed past the lichen and stepped into Bluestar’s den.

As before, he only saw his mentor’s back, the fur of which was more ruffled and stiffer than usual. She was tightly curled up, breathing so slowly and softly that Fireheart had to watch her side rise and fall to be sure she was still alive. The prey she’d tossed aside, at least, was mostly eaten, but it had gone stale and was starting to stink a little. A few little prey-bones were scattered around where Fireheart or Whitecloud had missed them in scooting the remaining meat outside.

Carefully, Fireheart cleared his throat and spoke quietly. “Bluestar?”

Her head did not jolt up as it usually did; instead, she lifted it with groggy surprise, looking around blearily and slowly twisting from lying on her side to on her stomach. In a voice creaky with disuse, she said, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” Fireheart said, stepping sideways to get into her view. “I didn’t meant to interrupt your sleep, but I wanted to check on you.”

Bluestar did not meet his eye, or even really look at him beyond a glance as she turned her head this way and that. Fireheart could swear he heard her whisper, “Where…?” before she shook her head like she was clearing away flies and finally looked at her apprentice, though their eyes still didn’t connect.

“Er…” Fireheart cleared his throat again and took a step closer. “Well, I was thinking—you’ve been in here for a few nights now, and the Clan’s a little worried, so I thought maybe you could come in and order a patrol. And, um, get some food, too.” He nudged the mostly-eaten prey with his paw. “This is a little old to finish now.”

“Oh—” Bluestar blinked like she’d been hit in the head and slowly got to her feet. “Yes. Right. Patrols.”

Before Fireheart could say anything else, she walked past him, her tail sticking straight out. Fireheart caught sight of a few bits of dry moss clinging to it.

He hurried out after her, trying to match her pace to stand at her side, having some foggy notion that she was about to fall over and he needed to catch her. She didn’t, obviously, but he was still reluctant to let her walk in front of him as they went through the entrance to camp.

Her arrival was welcomed with many heads turning her way and sparks of conversation and greeting. Fireheart caught up to her, some small part of him relieved at the warm reception for reasons he couldn’t name, and turned to speak to her.

Then he stopped. Watched her eyes roam over camp, mouth ever-so-slightly opening and closing, posture stiff. She was staring at everyone like they were strangers.

Why does she look so confused?

Before he could follow that line of thought, Bluestar vigorously shook her head again and her eyes cleared. She straightened up and, with steps that had a bit of forced regality, made her way over to Speckletail, who had stood up from her meal to greet her leader.

Bluestar got to the point. “Have you sent out a patrol for Sunningrocks’ border?”

“Not tonight,” Speckletail said. “I was busy with the hunting patrols. Should I—”

“No, no.” Bluestar waved her moss-spotted tail. “I can do it. You’ve been working much more than you should have to.” She looked around again, inspecting her Clan distantly, then looked to her apprentice. “Fireheart, will you take…” Again, a scan of the clearing. “Lizardtail and Willowpelt, and their apprentices, to Sunningrocks?”

“Sure!” Fireheart nodded, eager to help. “Should we have someone else come with us, since we have apprentices?”

“It… should be fine.” Bluestar’s eyes fogged for an instant before she blinked the fog away. “Swiftpaw is nearly a warrior. He can count as an adult for this patrol.”

Swiftpaw, sitting by his mentor, brightened up, looking at Lizardtail excitedly. Lizardtail purred and flicked him with his tail.

Willowpelt nudged Brackenpaw and stood up, the golden-brown apprentice jumping up after her. The pair of pairs trotted up to Fireheart, who turned and nodded to Bluestar.

“Get something to eat, too,” he said to her in a low voice. “And please eat all of it.”

At this, Bluestar’s gaze swung over to the prey-pile, and without responding she walked past him and to the scattered animals. Barely holding in a sigh of relief, Fireheart gestured with his tail and led the warriors and apprentices back out of camp.

All in all, it was a rather peaceful walk. Swiftpaw and Brackenpaw hung at the back of the patrol, Swiftpaw telling a story about his first encounter with a deer and Brackenpaw hanging on every word, staring with big-eyed awe at the older apprentice. Fireheart half-listened in, but mostly enjoyed the breeze wafting towards the patrol and winding around them. With the lack of foliage to block it, scents from much further off in the territory greeted him. He was so caught up in trying to identify which particular plant he was smelling, however, that he didn’t notice Willowpelt picking up her pace to catch up to him until she whispered in his ear.

“Is Bluestar okay?” she asked.

Fireheart flinched in surprise and looked at her. “Huh?”

“Bluestar.” Willowpelt glanced back at Lizardtail, who was walking a little faster after them with his ears perked. “She was… well, she felt off. You’re the one who’s seen her the most, so you’d know what’s up, right?”

“Oh,” Fireheart said, scrambling for a satisfying answer. “I have a feeling she’s ill with something. She’s just been sleeping these past few nights. She ought to get better soon.”

Willowpelt nodded, though she didn’t look entirely convinced. Lizardtail, now very close behind, shared an expression of scrutiny with her.

“Just give her time,” Fireheart whispered to them both. “She’ll be okay.”

The faces were much more doubtful, though Fireheart didn’t miss that glint of hope in their eyes. They said nothing more, just walked along their way, the unaware apprentices still talking.

Sunningrocks came up quickly, announced far in advance by the rush of water. Fireheart let himself feel that stab of grief as the thought of Silverstream came back to his mind, and it dutifully drifted away once he found something else to think on. His nose twitched at the faintest smell of fish that grew stronger as they closed in on the stretch of flatland. RiverClanners were near, it seemed.

Good thing Greystripe isn’t with us, he thought. They’d all try to kill him.

Why just him? a mean little bite of an idea snipped. They’re the ones that let Silverstream die. All Greystripe did was love her. He didn’t scare her enough to make her starve herself.

Fireheart unconsciously clenched his teeth on that snip. Don’t. It’s done.

Even with that firm rebuke, he could feel the thought tapping around in the back of his mind, muttering anger. He tried to breathe it out, didn’t succeed, and chose to file it away to consider later.

“You smell that?” he asked brightly of the other warriors. “There must be some RiverClan cats by the water.”

Lizardtail sniffed. “Then we’ll have to remind them where the border is.”

“RiverClan?” Brackenpaw’s voice popped out of the quiet of the forest. “Do I get to see them now?”

“You should, yeah,” Swiftpaw said. “You’ll think they’re funny. Big heads and short tails.”

Brackenpaw’s eyes sparkled. “I bet I’m taller than all of them already.”

Swiftpaw chortled. “You’re at least a better fighter than them.”

“Really?” Brackenpaw tilted his head. “I thought when you guys fought them, you lost.”

“That was a fluke,” Lizardtail said quickly. “They had the element of surprise and more cats.”

“We really ought to go for Sunningrocks again,” Willowpelt muttered, seemingly to herself. “That land will be useful in winter.”

Fireheart sighed, grateful that his head was now turned forward so they couldn’t see him roll his eyes. He’d been happy about the lack of comments about the stupidest quarrel in the territories for the past couple of months, but now that prey was guaranteed to run thin, he expected it would come up again. Fabulous. Exactly what he wanted on this peaceful walk.

“Don’t you sigh like that,” Willowpelt said, more warm than annoyed. “We’re going to need all the prey we can get.”

“There’s no prey on that land, Willowpelt!” Fireheart looked back at her. “It’s a bunch of dumb rocks no one sits on, who cares who owns it?”

To his relief, Willowpelt just crinkled her eyes and shook her head. Even Lizardtail seemed amused by Fireheart’s frown, rolling his own eyes more jokingly than seriously. Fireheart himself just turned forward again, curling his tail good-humoredly.

That cheery mood lasted about as long as it took for a new scent to hit Fireheart’s nose—one that he was very familiar with by this point, but stronger and more disgusting than usual.

“Anyone smell blood?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Lizardtail picked up his pace to catch up and walk by Fireheart, his nose in the air. His eyes narrowed. “I do. That’s not prey blood, that’s…”

“Cat blood,” Willowpelt finished. Her tail bristled. “Someone’s hurt.”

The apprentices fell quiet, sniffing too. In unison, the patrol broke into a run. Fireheart lost his lead to Swiftpaw and Lizardtail, choosing to hang back a bit to block Brackenpaw’s view from whatever it could be. The scent of blood, and now raw meat, strengthened enough to make the mouse in his stomach curdle.

They all skidded to a halt as they reached Sunninrocks’ border. Fireheart poked his head out of the treeline and stared at the sight before him in horror.

A crowd of RiverClan cats were clustered in a pair of groups, the larger one surrounding a large streak of bloody grass and the smaller by the water, where blood joined with the river and melted into it as it was carried downstream. The cats were blocking most of the view, but tails, legs and a familiar warm brown head could be seen, the head with its jaw nearly disconnected and the eyes faded and empty.

“Is that Oakclaw?” Fireheart said, his voice almost cracking.

At his voice, the broad heads shot up and turned the patrol’s way. Fireheart recognized the pale grey calico Pansyheart, and she in turn seemed to realize who he was and relaxed, though her face lacked any of its usual merriment.

“It’s Fireheart and a patrol,” she said dully to her Clanmates. “I’ll talk to them.”

A few cats nodded and looked back down at their deputy and the smaller cat by the water. Pansyheart walked slowly and lethargically up to the treeline, not even seeming to have the energy to twitch her tail at the intrusion.

“You all wouldn’t happen to have found evidence of any dogs in your forest, would you?” she asked when she was standing across from them.

Willowpelt had the good sense to be professional. “We’ve scented them on our border near the neutral grounds, but we haven’t spotted them ourselves, no.” She tilted her head. “What happened here?”

“Take a sniff,” Pansyheart sighed. “Once you get past the dead cats.”

Obligingly, the patrol all lifted their noses, Fireheart opening his mouth to taste the air. The stink of dog was there, just under the meat and blood.

“That’s awful,” Fireheart said softly. “I’m sorry. Who’s been killed?”

“Our deputy and his apprentice, Burdockpaw.” Pansyheart hung her head. “They were out here to mark the border. We thought… we thought, with our land being flat, we could see the dogs coming from far off. I suppose that wasn’t the case.”

“Or it didn’t matter,” Lizardtail said, and to Fireheart’s surprise (and relief) his tone was solemn and empathetic. “Dogs are faster than we think, usually.”

Willowpelt nodded and asked, “Did you see them at all? Where they could have gone?”

Pansyheart gestured limply with her tail behind her. “Across the river. We can smell them on our side.”

Hesitantly, Swiftpaw came forward. “Is everyone else alive?”

“For now, thank the stars,” Pansyheart said with no enthusiasm. “I assume you all came to mark the border. Feel free to. We’ve got this handled.” Her eyes lowered to the ground. “I suggest you all be careful, in case they swim back this way.”

Before anyone could respond to her, she turned around and dragged her feet back over to her Clanmates. They didn’t greet her as she rejoined them, instead just looking back to the bodies in silence.

Fireheart looked at the rest of the patrol and whispered, “We can put off marking, can’t we? They don’t need that right now. It’d be in poor taste.”

Willowpelt looked at Lizardtail, the two communicating silently. Lizardtail tilted his head in thought, then sighed, saying, “Fine. But if they come over here, I’m tattling on you.”

“They’re not going to,” Fireheart said firmly. “Don’t assume that of them when they’re like this. Let’s get prey and go home.”

Swiftpaw and Brackenpaw were giving him highly surprised looks as he turned away from the clearing and walked deeper into the forest, the older warriors following him and the apprentices quickly coming along.

The entire patrol was silent, but Fireheart was more quiet out of a horrible, nauseating ice in his stomach. He’d have to report this, and of course he would. That was just facts.

But how do you tell your ailing leader in a kind way that her former mate is dead?

[novella-b]

“Thank you for doing all this,” Remus whispered close to his ear.

A chill ran down Sirius and his eyes fluttered shut, only for a moment. “For doing what?”

“This. Throwing the party.”

“You don’t hate it?”

“Hate it?” Remus scoffed as if the mere thought left a bad taste in his mouth. “No, Sirius, I love it.”

That was a relief. For a second there, he wasn’t sure. “Did you really think I wasn’t going to do anything for your special day?”

“I guess I should’ve expected this, huh?”

Sirius ran a hand down his chest, placing it over his heart. “You deserve to be celebrated, Remus.”

Chapter 10 is hereeeeee!! get it while it’s hot!

[gt-abby]

Mar and Jake- Chapter Ten

We've arrived at double digits! I'm so excited.

Sorry in advance for never giving Mar an opportunity at a calm and peaceful life.

tag list: @soakedmilkgt

chapter nine chapter ten (you're here) chapter 11

----- 2500~ words

Jake was sitting on the couch with his head down, his leg bouncing up and down quickly as he waited nervously. He saw Emily walk out and quickly stood up, with Mar following her from behind.

“Mar, thank God you’re okay, I- umm, are you.. okay?” He was stuttering, not knowing exactly what to say as he fiddled with his fingers.

“I’m fine…” She said, not really looking at him. Her heart was racing, telling her to run, to escape, that this wasn’t safe, but she did her best to ignore it. Jake didn’t approach. He waited for her to come to him in her own pace. He didn’t expect her to float over fast and hug him on his chest. She buried her face in his shirt. Shocked, he slowly returned the hug and held her to his heart. This was finally what she’d been looking for- his warmth and the calming pounding of his heart.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this won’t ever happen again, I promise.” He whispered.

Emily smiled to herself. They really were the best of friends. In the span of just a week they were able to grow their bond so quickly, so beautifully. She was happy to be a witness to that.

When he raised her to eye level, he saw she was crying, but looking at him and smiling. He took that as a good sign.

“Welp, I hope everything is better now, and I’m glad that I helped, but it’s currently almost 4 AM and I really need to get some sleep, sooo…” Emily said as she headed for the door, but was quickly taken into a tight hug by Jake, who thanked her profusely. She gave him a light hug back, then quickly said goodbye to them both and left.

Jake yawned, and Mar also felt sleepiness wash over her now that the stress was gone.

“We should also get some sleep. Tomorrow is the weekend but I do still have a lot of work to do so it’s best to stay with a proper sleep schedule.”

“Yeah, I agree… I’ll need at least 15 hours of sleep after that. But… I think I’ll stick with my room for now. I do… need some alone time if that’s okay.” Mar replied, yawning as well. Jake’s heart skipped a beat when he saw her adorable little yawn.

“O-of course, Mar, what ever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks… well, good night Jake.” She waved at him then flew off into her room and back into the clothes pile. It was too comfortable to pass on, and after a while of readjusting her breathing to a normal speed, she drifted off. Jake, on the other hand, felt he couldn’t fall asleep even if he tried. The stress was too great, and even though he did reconcile with Mar, he felt as though he still had a long way to go before she could fully trust him again. After all, it felt like she was too eager to leave him as soon as Emily left, too.  He lay there on the couch, thoughts floating around in his mind for hours until he also couldn’t resist the lulls of slumber, and before he could set an alarm, he was out.

—

Mar woke up to see Jake hunched over his desk again, and she dared not disturb him again. She flew over to the common area to see breakfast ready for her and even some orange juice placed carefully in a bottle cap for her. She smiled to herself. Jake was as kind and thoughtful as ever. She ate slowly, deep in thought, thinking about how life-changing the past week has been. She got shrunk, found out her parents sold her out to be bound to an evil god that was sooner or later going to break free from their prison and use her as a vessel, broke her leg, then learned to fly, then got traumatized by her friend. This all left a sinking feeling in her heart. Is her life going to be like this forever? Is it going to just get worse from here? Or was this the bottom of the barrel and she was only going to climb up? Unlikely. Slowly she will gain more powers and who knows what else will happen to her. But she did have someone to rely on. Well, she knew that, but she also felt the opposite. It’ll take time for her to warm up to Jake again, and right now she was very appreciative of the space he was giving her.

After she finished eating, she returned to her room, and wandered around looking for something to do. She found a small pencil on her desk and decided to go back to drawing. She hadn’t drawn in a very long time but she thought maybe this was a nice opportunity to let her frustrations out on a piece of paper. It was hard, given the tiny pencil was still too thick for her, but she endured, rather quickly getting the hang of it. Soon she filled out an entire page with depictions of the fire deity in several angles, mainly towering over the view point or with their hand closer, as if about to grab the viewer. She flipped over to the next page and continued on, so deeply focused on it she was filling page after page in a fast pace. She was so focused on her drawings that she didn’t hear Jake leave the house. Only when he came back hours later did she snap out of her focus, with the front door slamming shut. She heard shuffled steps in the living room and came out of her room to see Jake stumbling over towards her with something giant carried in both of his arms, and a large plastic bag dangling over his shoulder.

“What the- what is this?” she floated to the side to let him pass as he clumsily placed the giant box on the floor in the middle of the room.

“A surprise!” He grunted, cracking his back after setting the box on the floor. She floated over to look inside the box. He opened the flaps and the roof of a dollhouse poked out.

“What?” She laughed and he smiled at her.

“I thought you’d like a proper place to live in, your size, for some better privacy.”

Mar was at a loss for words. Jake took the house out of the box and placed it on the floor so she could have a better look. It was brightly pink, to Mar’s dismay, but it fit her perfectly. She hopped in on her healthy foot, seeing everything from the living room to the bedroom. It was made up of two floors, and even had a study.

Walking out she looked up at Jake, not knowing what to say.

“Wow, this is… a lot… where did you get this?”

“Oh, it’s second hand. My aunt had it for her daughter and after she lost interest she was looking to resell. A nice coincidence, right?”

“Well, yes, it’s definitely in great shape but… it’s not really necessary… this is a big favor.”

Jake smirked at her pun, and she, upon realizing it, gave him a disapproving look. He laughed.

“Besides, everything is made out of plastic and… so pink it hurts my eyes. I’m really grateful, thank you that was very very thoughtful of you but… I don’t really think I can accept that.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve thought of everything. We’ll get you proper furniture, which I’ve gotten some already, like a proper bed, couch etcetera, and I also got lots of brushes and paint so we can color it to your liking. What do you think?”

“Oh, well… I guess I can’t really refuse, can I?”

He shrugged. “It would be a waste otherwise.”

“Wait, what did your aunt say about you getting a dollhouse of all things? You didn’t tell her… Did you?”

“No. No, of course not. I just said it was for a project.”

“But… you’ve got work and university to worry about, why would you take up another project, especially for me? You really don’t have to.”

“I have to make it up to you!” He snapped, making her cower again. “I-I’m sorry, I just… really feel like I screwed up and… I just have to make it up to you… I hope that’s how I can do that.” Jake crossed his arms and looked away. She saw a twinkle in his eyes. Was he crying?

She smiled at him and floated to eye level with him. “It’s okay, Jake, I know you didn’t mean it. I still… need to get over it but I know you’re a kind-hearted person, you’ve been so thoughtful towards me ever since this-“ -she gestured at herself. “-happened. One slip-up is allowed, especially when you’ve got so much on your shoulders. Taking care of me is already enough to make it up to me, if it’s that important to you.”

“Thanks…” he rubbed the back of his head, “I’m just… I feel like it could never be enough. The look you gave me, I-I can’t get it out of my head. You looked so terrified. I can’t stand it, someone I care so much about being this afraid of me.”

Mar’s heart skipped a beat. He said he cared about her. Well, she knew that, given he’d been so caring towards her over the past week, but hearing him saying that out loud is different. She smiled.

“I care about you too.” She then hugged his face. That felt a little weird to jake, but it was adorable, her entire arm-span couldn’t even cover half of his face, but he appreciated it.

“Let’s start then, shall we?” Mar hovered away so she could see him properly, and they both smiled. He went off to the living room to get the rest of the things he brought.

--

They worked on it until nightfall. Since it was able to open up to show everything inside, they could paint the inside of the house. Mar could paint small details like vines and branches, with a paintbrush jake made especially for her, one that was the smallest he could find but also cut the handle up so she could lift it. Mar felt like she could trust Jake again, as they had a blast making the doll house her new home. They couldn’t finish it all just that day, but Mar convinced Jake she could continue on her own when he leaves for class the next morning. As he got up to get ready for bed, he saw the drawings she made before on the paper that was on her desk, and smiled to himself. He looked down at her, thinking how incredible she was for forgiving him so easily. The pep talk she gave him earlier really did help lift his spirits, and he was able to fall asleep feeling much less guilty for the first time since that night.

Mar was too excited for her own proper home to not sleep in it that night, even if it was unfinished. The bed Jake found for her really was comfortable enough, and even smelled good, as if he bought it completely new just for her. She thought of the money she had in her bank account, and wondered what she would do with it now that she was both unemployed and taken care of. Will she need to keep paying bills and rent or is it considered as if Jake was living “alone” now? She had to have a talk with him about it the next day.

He'd already left when she woke up, as usual leaving breakfast for her on the counter. She ate while scrolling through social media on her phone, and noticed it had low battery. There was no way for her to charge it- given the charging port was too far away and the charging cable was far too heavy and long for her to be able to lift it up. She sighed, disappointed she hadn’t thought of it beforehand to ask for Jake to help her with it before he left, or the night before. She’d have to stop using it to save up charge until he comes back. Until then, she’d continue their work on the doll house.

Jake, on the other hand, had a long day ahead. Both school and a shift at work to look forward to, he didn’t even know when he’d be back home. Oh how he longed to be back home and work on the doll house instead of all of this. But given Mar couldn’t work anymore, he’d be the only one providing for both of them, so he couldn’t afford to miss shifts at work.

“Hey,” he heard a familiar voice behind him. Emily jogged over to him as they both went to a shared class.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked as she caught her breath.

“Fine, but the more important question is how’s it going between you and Mar? Did you make up?”

“Yeah, sort of. I know we still have a long way to go but we had a talk, and she basically convinced me she forgives me. Anyway, I thought I’d use an opportunity to make it u to her anyway and got her a doll house.”

“No way, I hope she didn’t find that patro-“ Emily thought aloud but caught herself before finishing the sentence. It’s probably best if he doesn’t find out about that.

“What? You think she… she thinks it’s patronizing?” He began doubting himself again. Shit.

“No no, of course not, I’m just… wondering aloud. It just happened to me. When we thought that my shrinking was permanent, my parents also got me a doll house. I took it to mean they thought of me as a plaything and began spiraling into thinking they didn’t really love me. They had to get rid of it to convince me they did. I grew back, shortly after, but had to stay home for the next few weeks because I couldn’t control my shifting. It was so dependent on my feelings that I shrank and grew almost constantly, sometimes breaking things in my room when I grew too big. That made me feel even more helpless and THAT worsened my shifting. Took me years to manage it properly but, y’know, it’s all good now.” She realized she was rambling and finished before they reached the door of the lecture hall. Jake remained silent. Now he couldn’t help it. What if she does? What if getting her the doll house made her hate him even more? He’d have to hurry home after work.

It was too bad that by the time he did get home, it was too late. When he opened the door he found the apartment ransacked- furniture turned over, books and all sorts of things scattered around, electronics pulled out of the walls, Mar’s phone smashed, and his tiny friend- no where to be found.

[kyriat-stories]

- Did you hear him, Noor? "Hope you continue your science career, even though you are now married" and yadda yadda. He is such a hypocrite!

The families had come together to celebrate Mezamura's wedding, and Teteriu had just finished his speech for the bride.

- I'm sure he meant well, Eira. He wants what best for his sister doesn't he? And Aurelio seems like a decent man.

- Yeah, it's nothing wrong with Aurelio, he is fine. But Teteriu just say things he doesn't live by. Pretending to be something he isn't. If he really meant what he is saying, why didn't he let me continue my studies? And this big party... giving them your old house... he is just showing off.

- The party is great though, and we all needed something to celebrate after this terrible summer.

- Oh sweet Astanna, yes! First uncle Itaja, then Telamon, and Nashuja wanting to leave Manthos for good. It sure hasn't been joyful.

- Well uncle's death wasn't that unexpected, he was getting older, and I'm just grateful Nashuja was still here when he passed. But Telamon...?! Did you learn exactly what happened?

- Not really. They just told me he was found dead outside the shelter where he lived. From what I've heard he had stopped drinking, but maybe he had a relapse? Or maybe he was robbed? Or struck by lightning? I don't know. I'm still in a bit of a shock, because deep down I did hope to see him again.

- So how is aunt Simadhne coping? Is she feeling better now?

- Well you know. Since we moved in after uncle's death she's been kind of busy with helping with the children and cooking for us all. But when Nashuja is leaving... I fear she will fall apart. We will all miss him so much. And knowing we will never see him again... It is unbearable!

- And Pamesijos? Will he go with him?

- Not if I can prevent it, Noor whispered. How can I loose them both?

- Really makes you think about the sacrifice they made, doesn't it?

- What do you mean? The war?

- I mean our parents Noor, when they let us both go. We were so young! About Khará's age actually! Can you imagine how it must have been for them?

- Well it was different. They wanted to keep us safe.

- Yes, exactly! Not so different from this situation, when you think about it.

- I've never thought about it that way, but you are right.

- But I'm not sure if I ever could have let Khará go, under any circumstances, so I totally understand your reluctance to let Pamesijos go with Nashuja.

- You will have to let her go some day anyway...

- What?

- I mean, she will move out, get married, have her own household. All of our children will. It is terrible, but true!

- Noor! Do you have to talk about such excruciating future visions? Can't we just enjoy this party and have some fun?

- ♫♫ Ναι, να ζήσουν, ευτυχισμένοι για πάντα! ♫♫

.

Previous (Ch 9) | Index | Character overview | Next

[coritale]

journey to the west is a great book because one of the chapters is entirely dedicated to a rap battle about mountains and seas. but then theres also the vore

[amethystskeleton]

(Excerpt from Chapter 10):

Liam shifted around, placing his hands flat under his thighs to keep from doing something that he would regret. The place where Corey’s hands had pressed into his arm tingled like spider bites running all up and down his arm. Small, stinging, pinpricks of pain that refused to subside. It didn’t feel like it did when Liam lost control of the shift. But all the same, it didn’t feel good. 

Corey started the car and released the parking brake, making a U-turn as they left the parking lot. They passed the ME making the turn up into the preserve as they went. Liam shut his eyes and tried to find something else to focus on other than the tingling sensation running through his arm. His stuffy nose had yet to release or clear up so Liam focused his hearing, searching out Corey’s heartbeat to try and match his breathing to. 

[ericshoney]

Thrill Ride ~ Chapter ten (SMUT)

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, smoking/vaping, drugging, unprotected sex, virgin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The twelve soon arrived home and it wasn't long before drinks were flowing and some of the guys were smoking or vaping. Lottie didn't know what was going on with her body, but she felt very horny. She didn't say anything to the guys to start with, having a glass of wine and a bit of Juyeon's vape again, now getting addicted to the sweet taste. Lottie danced around, soft music playing in the background, as if she was on cloud nine and the guys watched happily.

"It's working." Kevin said to Sangyeon, who smirked wildly.

"Fantastic. Who's first?" He asked.

"Only fair I get her first since I won the race!" Eric exclaimed.

"If you say so." Changmin replied with a scoff.

Lottie was oblivious to the group of males talking, her mind fuzzy and overtaken by the alcohol, vape and the drugs she didn't know she had been injected with. She soon felt a pair of hands around her waist, making her giggle as she turned to see Eric.

"Hey baby, having fun~" He cooed, his mouth close to her ear.

"Hmm." She mumbled, his hands tightening on her waist.

"Well, how about we make the night even more fun." He suggested.

Lottie looked up at the male when she felt another pair of hands on her waist, just above Eric's. She looked to see Juyeon this time, the male giving her a sweet smile.

"What's....what's going on?" Lottie called.

"Don't worry darling, let us reward you for being so good for us." Juyeon whispered kissing her head.

Lottie then noticed all the guys had crowded around her, as if she was their prey. Her core felt extra hot and her panties already wet slightly. 

"You want a reward don't you love?" Jacob called.

"Make this night special." Haknyeon added.

"Make us proud." Younghoon said.

Lottie's mind wandered, her thoughts only on fun, not the logic. She nodded and smiled wide, making the males smirk. Eric threw her over his shoulder, carrying her to his bedroom and she was quickly thrown on the bed, her clothes removed and Eric's soft lips on her neck.

Lottie let out a small moan, Eric's rough but warm hands roamed her small body, his hands feeling large against her curves. He soon reached her core and chuckled, feeling how wet it was already.

"Wet already princess~" He whispered, sucking on her neck.

"Hmm....please." Lottie grumbled.

"Please what, my baby?" He asked.

"Please....take me." She moaned, as Eric rubbed her clit.

"Aww baby, are you a virgin?" He called, making Lottie nod.

"It's okay princess, I'll be gentle." He said, kissing her cheek.

Lottie nodded again and moaned as Eric slipped a finger into her. He laid her down, moving his digit slowly, before adding another. Once he thought she was ready, he rid of his clothes and lined himself up, no protection at all.

"Ready baby?" He asked.

"Yes, please." She begged.

Eric smirked and kissed her roughly as he pushed himself into her. He groaned at the tightness as she moaned into his mouth, his hands by her head to steady himself.

"Hmm fuck, so tight." Eric moaned as he pulled away from the kiss.

"Hng...fuck!" Lottie screamed.

"Move...please." She added.

Eric smiled and kissed her forehead, moving gently. Both moaning loudly for the others to hear. Eric soon picked up the pace, the bed banging against the wall, as he felt Lottie tighten around him. She moaned in pleasure, the drug making it easier for her to feel it.

"Close...so close." She called.

"Cum for me, princess." Eric whispered, kissing her earlobe.

Lottie then screamed in pleasure, the orgasm crashing over her body. She sighed happily as Eric came deep in her, the boy smirking as he pulled out and made her whimper at the empty feeling. He kissed her head once again.

"Don't worry baby, you'll be getting much more tonight~" He sang.

Just then, the door opened, revealing Hyunjae, the elder male smirking and was already shirtless. He walked over and picked Lottie up in his arms, carrying her bridal style to his room. Lottie's mind was even fuzzier, her body just screaming for more and one thing she knew, is she'd get much more that night.

[ranmacapss]

[Ranma ½] ✥ Chapter 10, The Hunter

[kaejaebae]

New chapter for IICBH,IWRH~

🔪 Nightmares

❤️‍🩹 Anxiety

📹 Press Conference!

After 7 months, ch 18 is finally posted. 2 left before the story is completed~

Click here to read!

-Heads up: The outfits in the photo collage is the outfits at the conference.

[yahoo201027]

Day in Fandom History: May 7…

The Galaxy One, consisting of Gary, Quinn, Little Cato, Mooncake, KVN, Tribore, and the SAMES, battling out against the Lord Commander and the Infinity Guard which could decide the fate of Final Space, the universe, and themselves. The Season 1 finale, “Chapter Ten”, premiered on this day, 6 Years Ago.

[imtheiliad]

INSPIRATION FUCK IT SENTENCE SUNDAY (or something idk)

I have been tagged over the past few days by @eddiediaaz @heartbeatdiaz @ajunerose @wandiinha @eddiesbleps @buckleysbee @fleurdebeton for various wip games <;3 All of this is highly subject to change as I am writing this in the most chaotic way now.

The doorknob turns, and he hears Buck’s soft voice, and opens his eyes to find Buck holding a tray with two coffees, the diaper bag slung over his shoulder and Christopher on his hip. He looks straight out of a suburban mom's fantasy if Eddie's being honest. 

“Your bedhead is truly spectacular,” is the first thing he says directly to Eddie, Chris babbles in response. He crosses the room and gently lowers Chris into Eddies arms and kneels by the bed, offering one of the cups. 

It’s coffee. One sugar. No milk. And a touch of cinnamon. He doesn't let that make him wonder, he could have done this to be nice. Brought Chris to hurry him along. But it feels too soft, too much like a promise for it to be that. 

Buck’s hand curls around his knee, the heat permeating the duvet, a soft smile spreading across his face. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, as Chris leans into him, his voice feels fragile and weak, but it doesn’t matter because Buck is right there. Buck can hear him. And the silence is open and yawning. 

“Hey,” he cups buck’s jaw in his hand, thumb tracing his jaw, coaxing him to look up. Those blue eyes stare up at him, wide and watery, “I am so sorry. I get it if you still want–”

Eddie doesn’t let him finish the sentence, it’s a little awkward and uncomfortable but he kisses him, it’s so soft and fragile– the meaning in no way able to be misconstrued.

tagging: @princessfbi @dickley-buddie @eddiediazisascorpio @honestlydarkprincess @singlethread @buckleysibs @loveyourownsmiilee and anyone else who wants to share

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

coffee at midnight

a hotchniss fanfiction

chapter ten: chain on your neck

Read on ao3

join my taglist

taglist: @hopefulfangirl24 @thebejeweledwatercat @platypus-whit-boots @luhwithah @cvtsbutcut3 @acethet1c-blog @ccmattis-22 @duchessas @lucreziabeha @scorpiofangirl1109 @natasha-barton @lil-koala @themetaphorgirl @sequinsmile-x @emobabeyy @my-mummy-dust @section-chief-prentiss @psychicmuffinpandasludge @loriprentiss @unauthorizedaaronhotchner @smollro @dontemilyyyyme @daffodil-heart @hctchniss

[cursedheroclub]

you can continue reading here, on webtoon, or my website!

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

I already made a really big comment on the fic page but I can't not scream here also.

BABBIT!!! THAT NEW CHAP!!! HOLY COW

First of all it was AMAZINGLY WRITTEN and it gave so SO MANY FEELINGS that it should be ILLEGAL

There was so much anxiety I feel like I could cut it with a knife and serve it to a whole family

Me and reader (let's be honest they are basically an oc at this point) were hand in hand there. Like buddy I Feel You

They were asking themselves "what if" and I was sitting in the back, crushing a pillow between my arms and yelling back "YEAH WHAT IF" because what if you had decided to turn things south for the giggles. What if it went just as wrong as we worried it would. WHAT IF IT TOOK ANOTHER WHOLE CHAPTER TO FIX IT

I really love this fic. Is between my favorite ones. Thank you so much for putting out another chapter

You worked really hard, remember to take a rest too, yeah? Pretty please

Health is important!! You are too

Anyway. An accurate image of what was actually happening in that room this chapter:

Us both freaking the hell out

IM SORRY I PROMISE I DIDNT MEAN TO GIVE ANYONE ANY ACTUAL ANXIETY ATTACKS I SWEAR I JUST WANTED TO MAKE IT LIKE YOU COULD GET THE VIBES OF WHAT Y/N WAS RLLY GOING THRU JKSJDHFJSHDF IM SORRY AUGHsdfjshd

god ok but ur art is cute and i love it i wanna tattoo it on my eyeballs