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kazosa · 7 years ago

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Secrets - SoA: Chapter 1

Summary: Female reader has lived in a life full of secrets. When her father dies unexpectedly and sends her on a trip all over the country, she finds out just how much like her father she really is. The end of her trip brings her to Charming, CA where she finally gets some big pieces of her family puzzle put back in place and form new relationships with the people there. Chapter 1: The reader has made it to Charming and meets some of the Sons. Warnings: language and blatant flirting A/N: If it wasn’t clear before, this takes place after the events of the final episode, so SPOILERS. Word Count: 3600 Tags: @telford-ortiz-teller @sam-samcro IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN SOME WAY. ASK BOX IS SAFEST WAY, BUT I DO TRY TO LOOK AT ALL COMMENTS AND REBLOGS. If you asked to be added and I didn’t do it, please remind me (I’m forgetful!).

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March 14 – Charming CA You were broke down on the side of a dusty, lonely highway 5 miles outside of Charming, CA and you were late…by a full day and a half. As if that wasn’t irritating enough, you were out of replacement parts. The goddamned drive chain had snapped again and there was nothing you could do about it. You’d taken off your helmet, goggles and gloves to pick up what was left of the drive chain. You put the pieces you could find into one of the hard cases and tucked your goggles and gloves into your helmet and put them into the other hard case. There was just enough cell signal out there so that you could call, of all places, Teller-Morrow Automotive to come get you with a flatbed. Teller-Morrow was the place you were supposed to have rolled into yesterday morning. You loved your dad’s ’74 HD Super Glide, but the old girl was in serious need of an overhaul. She wasn’t meant for such a long ride. The person on the phone, you thought he said his name was Rat, said that he would send a flatbed out as soon as possible.

At first, you had to take it slow. You weren’t used to riding and the kick-start on the Super Glide was a bit rough. You almost had to jump on the damn thing. Getting your “Iron Butt” would take a while, “Bun Burner” even longer. The ride took over twice as long as it should have. The bike breaking down, waiting for parts you couldn’t carry, shit weather, getting used to riding for hours at a time, all added days upon days to your travel. The last breakdown set you back a full two days. You’d snapped the kick starter right off. The damn thing sheared off and needed to be completely replaced. Pushing hard, too hard, you’d made the run from Seattle to Charming in less than a day.

You were slightly overdressed in your boots, jeans, t-shirt, sweatshirt and leather jacket for the surprisingly warm California weather. The skull mask kept the dust out of your lungs and kept your skin protected as well as giving you the “don’t mess with me” vibe. You kicked your feet up on the handlebars, crossed your ankles and leaned back against your gear bag to wait for the flatbed to show up. Resting your hands on your stomach, you caught a little snooze while you waited. Twenty minutes after your phone call, you heard the sound of a heavy truck coming down the road. Cracking an eye open, you just barely caught a glimpse of a TM printed on the side of a flatbed truck door. You watched as the truck whipped around, crossing the highway to pull in ahead of you then slowly back close to your busted bike. Two men jumped out of the cab of the truck. The driver’s intense eyes were what struck you first. They seemed to be calculating every move. He was bald, but you thought you caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the top of his head. The other man was equally intense, but you could see that his eyes were a shocking blue, even from the distance you sat. Unlike Baldy, this man had a shock of curly brown hair that was in stark contrast to his blue eyes. Curly-top spoke to you. “Hey! You (Y|N)?” he called as he walked toward you. “Yeah,” you called back, your voice sounding rough from sucking air at high speeds all day. You kicked your legs down from the handlebars and got up off the bike. “What happened?” Curly-top asked. “Drive chain snapped and I’m out of parts,” you told him. “You work on bikes?” he asked, a little surprised. “I work on THAT bike,” you motioned to the current bane of your existence. Curly top turned to Baldy who was getting the flatbed ready for your bike. “Hey, Hap, she ran out of parts!” “Lucky for us,” Hap said back with no indication that he cared in the least. He messed with some levers and started lowering the flatbed. Curly-top came close and you could see his name stitched on his shirt, “Tig” it said. You noticed that he kept watching you. “Why don’t you go get in the cab, sweetheart, this’ll only take us a few minutes. You can sit in the middle.” Oh boy... Five minutes later, they had your bike secured to the flatbed and were in the cab with you. You’d barely gotten into the drive to Charming when Tig’s constant staring was starting to get to you. “Dude, what? You’re creeping me out,” you said evenly. Tig had his elbow on the window, his fingertips holding his forehead, a confused look on his face. “Have we met? I feel like we’ve met. Did you used to work at Shakers?” You had a feeling you knew what kind of establishment Shakers was. Not quite sure what to make of Tig, you turned to Hap and hooked your thumb back at Tig. “Is this guy for real?” Hap didn’t look away from the road, but a twinkle did make its way to his intense eyes. He nodded and a small deep giggle came from within. You turned back to Tig, “No, I’m sure I’d remember you. Never worked at a place called Shakers, either.” Tig didn’t look away from you, though, instead, “You look really familiar. It’ll come to me.” The rest of the ride to the shop was filled with small talk from Tig, Hap mostly just listened as he drove. You appreciated him going a little slower than the posted speed to spare your bike more wear and tear. “Been on the road long?” Tig asked. You knew what you looked like. Your boots were definitely worse for wear, your jeans were getting worn out, and you felt like you were carrying ten pounds of dirt on your body. Showers were not something that you often had the luxury of using while you were out. “Kind of obvious, huh? Yeah, it’s been a while. Started back in April.” “Last year?” Hap piped up. “Yeah. Shit happened,” was the only explanation you were willing to offer. “Long time to be on your own,” Tig observed. “Whatever it was, I’m sorry. People don’t go out on the road, alone, for that long without a damned good reason.” A few moments later, Hap pulled the truck onto the Teller-Morrow property. He pulled up to the building and parked the truck inside one of the empty bays. It was getting close to 6 pm and the light was fading fast. Hap jumped down out of the truck and started shutting off equipment, locking down for the night. Tig got out next and let you out with him. “Got a place to stay?” Tig asked. You hadn’t really thought about it since you can make do with just about anything. “I’ll figure it out. I just need my bag off the bike and if you could point me at the office. Is anyone still around?” Tig was looking somewhere beyond you then his eyes shifted to you, “Yeah, looks like Chibs is still in there. I’ll get your bag and bring it in for ya.” “Thanks for your help tonight, Tig,” you told him. Seeing Hap working on the other side of the truck, “Thank you, Hap!” The bald man with the intense eyes didn’t look up from what he was doing, he just tipped his head back in acknowledgement. Turning around, you saw the entrance to the business office with a small “office” plaque on the door. You crossed the shop floor to the door and reached for the knob, turned it and pushed into the room. The office was like any other auto shop office you’d been to and in the last year and you’d seen the inside of a lot. There were car and motorcycle posters all over the wall, furniture that looked like it was new thirty years ago, and the smell that was always the same, grease and dirt, and this place added burnt coffee. The only difference was that this office was crowded with boxes upon boxes. You noted that they were labeled with dates and names like “receipts,” “inventory,” and “expenses.” The man who sat in the chair behind the desk didn’t seem to notice you yet and let the paper in his hands fall to the desk. He put his head in his hands and his silvery gray hair fell between his fingers and around his face, you could just make out a pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose. “Jesus Christ, Tig, this tax shite will be the end of me,” the man you assumed was Chibs said. It finally dawned on you why your dad wanted you to be in Charming. “I can help you with that,” you said quietly.

“Where the hell was the bloody accountant?” he’d thought for the millionth time in the last two days. It may as well have all been written in Sanskrit. Two days he’d been trying to make the least little bit of sense out of it all and the only thing he’d become sure of was that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. He’d heard the door open and assumed it was Tig closing up for the night. “Jesus Christ, Tig, this tax shite will be the end of me,” he said. “I can help you with that,” an unexpected voice said. He looked up and saw a very road weary woman who looked surprisingly familiar, maybe it was the eyes? He thought she was quite pretty, even with all of the dirt that was clearly visible on her. When he realized he was staring, he stood up. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Not Tig, that’s for sure,” you smiled at him. You noticed the name on his shirt did say “Chibs.” It seemed like everyone had a nickname. For just a moment, you looked at the man. He was quite nice looking. He was tall and had chocolatey brown eyes whose shape reminded you of a cat. His silvery gray hair was neat as well as his Van Dyke. He was wearing dark blue jeans, a black long-sleeved t-shirt with the gray, short-sleeved work shirt over it. You thought the glasses were an added bonus to his good looks. This Chibs was quite a handsome man. “No. Clearly not,” he said. You went to him and held your hand out to him. “Hi, I’m (Y|N). Were you, by chance, expecting an accountant yesterday morning?” He took your hand without hesitation and you appreciated the warmth of his hand on yours. “Chibs,” he said. “We were, how did you know?” You sighed heavily and took a business card out of your jacket to give him. “My dad liked to do crap like this. He sent me on a trip and told me to be here yesterday. Didn’t say why, just to be here yesterday. Everything was always a big goddamned secret. Thought it was fun to see how I would react to situations.” He looked at the card. “(Y|L|N)? If you’re here, where’s Budweiser?” You smiled at the extension of your dad’s nickname. Nobody got away with calling him “Budweiser” unless he was really close with that person, you wondered if this “Chibs” guy was one such person. Your dad knew a lot of people and though you’d had to say the words numerous times, it never got easy breaking the news to people. You’d found that the best way was to just get right to it. “He died last February,” you said. You watched as his face and eyes went hard. You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you were expecting, but the solid stone face was not it. “Aye, it’s going around. If ye don’ mind, how’d it happen?” he asked. It’s going around? “Ah, it was cancer. Big goddamned hero didn’t tell anyone ‘til it was too late. He went quick,” you told him. “Aye,” he cleared his throat, “Well, I guess that’s a blessin’ then.” He paused a moment, looking at you. “Are you Buddy’s girl?” You nodded. “I’m sorry about your da, lass. What brings you out here though? I thought your da had you in Iowa?” “Yes,” hmm, he knows more than most, “we moved there right before I turned 5. I grew up there. When Dad died, he said I had to take his bike and ride it through the lower 48 and be here yesterday. I didn’t know why until just a bit ago. Sorry I’m late. Are you being audited?” you motioned at the boxes. “Oh, Christ,” he rubbed his forehead, “yes, we are.” “I’m pretty sure my dad sent me here to do your taxes for you. I assure you, I know what I’m doing. I’ve done audits before. This won’t be as bad as you think. Promise,” you did your best to sound reassuring. You’d done audits before, they were tedious and time-consuming, but not impossible. “I can get started right away, but I’m gonna need a shower first. Is there a motel around here somewhere? Something close?” Chibs went back to the desk and wrote down a motel and it’s address on a slip of paper for you. When he handed the paper to you, you tried to ignore the quickening of your heart when his fingertips accidentally brushed your hand. You were here to work, not lust after a good-looking Scot, not to mention, you’d just told him that someone he knew had died.

He wanted to offer her something better than what accommodations Charming had to offer. Even the old clubhouse would have been better, at least then, he would be sure he could look after her proper. He was feeling a certain responsibility to take care of Bud’s daughter. Bud would have done the same for him if he’d been in the same situation. He jotted down the name and address of the motel that was reasonably close to the shop and Scoops downtown. Maybe he could get Chuckie and Rat to fix up one of the rooms upstairs for her…if she stayed a while. He liked the look of her. Sure, she was road dirty, but that was understandable. He tried not to think about what she looked like underneath it all but his mind wandered to her in that shower she wanted as his fingertips touched the soft skin of her hand.

“Oh, thanks,” you said as Tig walked in with your bag and helmet. “Here you go, sweetheart. Thought you might want the helmet, too,” Tig handed you both items and getting the feeling that he was walking in on something. “Thanks, Tig, that was nice of you,” you put the bag on your shoulders then took your helmet by the strap. “How far away is the motel?” you ask. “If you want a ride, I can take you over,” Tig offered. You were about to accept when Chibs surprised you. “I’ll take her over, Tig. You go on home. It’s bad enough the poor lass was stuck in a truck with you and Happy for twenty minutes,” he said. “I need her to come back and do this audit.” Tig looked at you in surprise, “You’re the accountant?” You nodded. “Huh, no wonder Chibs wants you to stay so bad. He’s been going crazy trying to figure out this tax shit,” he waved around at the office mess. “Alright, I’m out, then.” Tig waved at Chibs and nodded at you, then he was gone. You watched Tig walk out then turned back to Chibs. If you could raise just one eyebrow, you would have, instead it came off as just a surprised look. Chibs had turned back to the desk and was about to sit. “Give me a minute? I’ll take ye to the motel.” You smiled a wary smile, “It was nice to meet you, Chibs, I’ll just be on my way. I’ll be here first thing in the morning.” You were already at the door and heading out before he could get a word out. You pulled out your phone and did a quick Google search for the motel as you briskly walked off the property. The large building you had to walk past to leave looked like it had seen a fire, probably worse. It made you wonder if this was why Chibs said “It’s been going around.” You made a mental note to do a little research on that. You pulled your skull scarf back up around your face. It may have been pleasantly warm during the day, but the ground lost the heat quickly and it was quite cool only a half-hour after sunset. The motel was a mile and a half away from the shop and you could be there in twenty-five minutes if you kept walking fast. Only five minutes, give or take, after you stepped foot off the Teller-Morrow property, you heard the familiar rumble of a motorcycle drawing near. You sighed and tried to keep your pace. The last thing you wanted was a confrontation on a street of an unfamiliar town. You just thought you’d be sparing Chibs, or yourself, any awkwardness by just walking. The rumble was right next to you now. “Oy,” he called to you. Probably forgot my name already. You turned your head to look but kept walking. “I don’t need your pity, Chibs.” He pulled his bike ahead of you and stopped, killing the engine, you couldn’t help but stop, too. “It’s not pity, (Y|N), it’s just a ride. C’mon, ye’ll freeze before you get there. Besides, you’re goin’ the wrong way.” You knew damn well you were not going the wrong way. You may have been in a new town, but nearly a year on the road had taught you a lot and you knew you were going the right way. Curiosity about the man on the bike had you wanting to climb on with him and see where you would go. There was something about him that told you he’d never hurt you. Yet, here he was, a veritable stranger, asking you to get on his bike and, presumably, take you to the motel. “And if I do? I’m going to be working for you. I don’t want things to be awkward,” you said. “Just get on,” he sounded exasperated. You pulled out your goggles and slipped them on, then your helmet and stuffed your gloves inside your pockets. There was no sissy bar on the back, you’d have to wrap your arms around Chibs to hold on. “Are you always so demanding?” you asked him. “Yes,” he said. “Get on.” You stifled a grin and walked over to him, swinging a leg around the back of his bike. You reached down and unfolded the pegs and got situated behind him. Your chin went just over his shoulder so you could see. He smelled of cigarettes, coffee and leather. It was only then you realized he was wearing a kutte. Leaning back slightly, you looked at the top rocker, Sons of Anarchy, and a reaper in the middle. You couldn’t help yourself, your ran your fingers over the patch. “You’re a Son?” you asked as he was about to start the bike. “Is that a problem?” his head was half turned toward you. “No. Not at all,” you told him. “We’re gonna have to talk about you getting a real bike though.” You put your arms loosely around him and spoke to him over his right shoulder. “Excuse the fuck out of me?” “Electric start? C’mon, man. Kickstart is badass and you look cool as hell doing it,” you grinned. “Christ, I’m an old man,” he scoffed, realizing you were teasing, “I don’t want my golden years spent in a wheel chair ‘cause I ate shit tryin’ ta start the bloody beast because I wanted to look ‘cool’.” “Yeah, you’re right. As long as you have a hot chick on the back, it’s all good,” you teased again. He turned his head to look at you. He pulled your right arm so your chest pressed against his back. His already dark eyes had gotten even darker. “Aye, lass, ye have a point,” he said, not letting go of your arm, his dark eyes staring into yours. You reached your left hand to cover his hand holding your right arm. You were glad for the dark of the night and the vagueness of the street lights so that he might not see you blush. Thankfully, the heat rushing to other places couldn’t be seen, either. Being so bold was not something that was normal for you. It was like you’d come out of your shell in the last year on the road. “You better take me to that motel before I jump you right here in the street for all of Charming to see,” you said, only half joking. Chibs still hadn’t looked away, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” It was you who broke first. A moment longer and you might have fucked him right there on his bike. You’d only just met the guy and you were seriously attracted to him. He was an astoundingly attractive man. His way about him was so cool and purposeful. He said what he was thinking and he meant it. You knew he wasn’t lying about screwing right there on the street, but you could also tell that it wouldn’t have been his preference, either. You thought maybe he would have rather have had a proper date than just a random fuck. One thing was certain, you liked Chibs and you wanted to know more about him.

#Secrets #Chapter 1 #reader insert #fan fiction #chibs telford #happy lowman #tig trager #reader x chibs

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