#jimmy o’phelan

[tuesdayaddamss]

who’s afraid of little old me; chibs telford.

part ii. abandon hope, all ye who enter here

summary: lennon knows something that samcro does not.

warnings: mentions of abuse, kidnapping, death, language.

author’s note: this is not cannon complacent! and it won’t be for the rest of the story.

word count: 2875

chibs has seen more of jimmy o'phelan in the span of two weeks than he has over the course of a decade, much to his chagrin. but, as many times as he’s come face to face with his demon, he has seen neither hide nor hair of lennon. he had begun to fear that her transgression was found out, that she’s now rotting in some shallow, unmarked grave, thousands of miles from her home.

but he assumes that, if that were the case, he’d be buried right alongside her. although, it would be very on-brand for jimmy to let him squirm, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and then stomp on him when he least expects it.

he hoped, though, that she’d merely been shipped back to belfast to wait for him along with his fiona. while she seems to be held close to the butcher’s chest, he supposed it made sense that he wouldn’t want her in charming with the feds sniffing around and blood being spilt. she surely knows more than she should, spending so much time in jimmy’s shadow; he wouldn’t want that knowledge falling into ATF’s hands.

still, chibs feared the worst. god only knows why he’s so torn up about some girl he doesn’t even know, but he finds himself looking for her in the curve of jimmy’s smirk every time. even while it’s all falling apart around him — the club, the brotherhood, his fucking life — he’s tormented by the thought of little lennon and what has, and might, become of her.

it’s not until cameron hayes snatches jax’s baby, abel, in his misguided attempt of avenging his own son, that they meet again.

he finds himself back at jacob’s, with the club this time, his toes nearly biting jax’s heels as he follows the distraught man inside. it’s been six days since abel was taken and gemma skipped town to avoid the false murder charges hanging over her head, and samcro’s been in absolute shambles since. jax’s sitting on a hair-pin trigger, and clay’s withering away without his ol’ lady around to take care of him, the rest of the club wilting beneath the tangible upset that the men radiate — when their president and vice president suffer, so do the rest of them. it’s the way of their world.

chibs is doing his damndest to be what they need him to be; a level head, a pillar, a friend. but he’s haunted by the living dead, fretting over his godson, and mourning his prospect. half-sack, as annoying as he was, was a good man, and he would’ve made an impressive son if cameron wouldn’t have gutted him. he, like so many do, went too soon.

jimmy’s waiting for them, in the same booth they had sat in last time, when the sons file into the bar, like a hoard of delinquents visiting the principal's office. but he’s not the one that catches his eye this time — it’s lennon, perched on the lip of a pool table, her face crumpled into a grimace. she looks, somehow, older than she did the last time he saw her, and it’s not merely because of her overly-mature clothes. the exhaustion and distress she’s feeling is practically leaking out of her pores.

but she’s alive, and he counts that as a blessing. he is not responsible for the death of this girl, at least.

her silvery eyes meet his, full of something that he cannot decipher; it leaves him anxious. it’s thick, whatever it is, sticky as a cobweb, and he feels that he should know. but he doesn’t. he unfortunately cannot read her mind, and he is not yet fluent in the wordless language of lennon.

jax and clay slide into the seats across from the butcher, the former with his chest puffed out and his teeth bared like an angry dog, the latter trying to keep this meeting bloodless. tig takes his place directly behind the president, one hand on his gun, as always, while the rest of them congregate in the back of the room; distant, but present. and this puts him only a few feet from her, his back to the wall and a brother on either flank.

“that’s her?” juice’s warm breath fans over his cheek as the boy leans close, his voice low to avoid being overheard. his club’s privy to what he witnessed that day between jimmy and her, after he spilled his guts in the chapel whilst telling clay about the IRA’s want for reconciliation. they’d been rightfully horrified, but the puerto rican was especially so — he has a sister that’s around her age, he thinks.

he nods grimly, and he lets out a heavy breath, as if trying to expel the phantom smoke of pity in his chest. “fuck.” which sums it up pretty damn well, he’d say.

“cammy arrived in belfast last night,” that gets their attention, all of them listening to jimmy and the news he’s delivering. “he was picked up, but your boy wasn’t with him. we don't know where he is, i’m tellin’ you.”

the blood drains from jax’s face, his nostrils flaring dangerously. if abel wasn’t with cameron, the chances are that he’s dead, or so far out of reach that he’s as good as — because if the kings had already got their hands on the traitor, he’s rotting in an alley somewhere with a bloody cross on his forehead, ergo no help to them. “that’s it? that’s all you’ve got, man?”

“i’m sorry, jackson. we’ll keep our eyes and ears open, and if anythin’ comes up, we’ll call.” the bastard seems almost sincere — too sincere. chibs doesn’t buy it, not one goddamned bit.

out of the corner of his eye, he sees lennon’s jaw twitch, her expression souring, and he hones in on it. there’s that something again; what does she know?

upon closer inspection, chibs notices the purplish-green bruises branded into her throat, or what of it peeks through her heavy foundation. the shape of fingers is so distinct that it cannot hope to be denied. his stomach churns.

jax stands so abruptly that he shakes the table, spilling jimmy’s beer and sending the alcohol all over the front of his shirt — which chibs gets some minor satisfaction out of — before turning on his heel and storming towards the door, their brothers following like the loyal beasts they are.

but chibs lingers, watching the young girl as if waiting for something; but what could she do here and now? what could he do? not a damned thing. but those bruises, that look, it makes him wish that he had a solution. she stares back at him through a curtain of cornsilk, shaking her head, as if she knows what he’s thinking.

so, feeling as though there’s an anvil on his chest, turning his rib-bones to dust and squashing his heart, he follows in his brother’s footsteps, pointedly ignoring jimmy and his wry grin as the mick bastard shakes hands with clay.

fuck diplomacy, chibs thinks, fuck the cause, and fuck jimmy o’phelan.

chibs is on his fourth bottle of guinness, the others hot on his heels, when chucky scampers into the clubhouse, visibly anxious and bouncing on the balls of his feet. after their meeting with the butcher, hours ago now, they all stuck their necks in their respective bottles and started praying for a miracle. without any real leads to follow, save for the dead irishman on the other side of the atlantic, there’s nothing to do but be patient and hope for the best. alas, they’re running short on both patience and hope.

“there’s a girl outside, lookin’ for jax.” chucky informs, rather timid as he braves the wretched ambiance of the clubhouse. “she says it’s important.”

the aforementioned vice president is a cunt-hair away from a nervous breakdown, thinly-veiled terror evident through a facade of rage. chibs isn’t convinced that he should be taking visitors at the moment, when he’s likely to shoot the first person to look at him funnily. “what girl?”

“dunno — i’ve never seen her before.” a stranger showing up on their turf, demanding to speak to a son is rarely a good omen; especially not in times like these. but here’s the kicker: “young, blonde, irish. she said she’s a friend.”

jax turns to chibs, brows raised, bloodshot eyes darkening. he’s never spoken to lennon, but it’s terribly similar to his description of her, and what little he might have noticed this afternoon. “why the hell would your girl come here, lookin’ for me?”

he’s half tempted to remind him that she isn’t his anything, that he doesn’t know her anymore than they do, he’d just been the first to happen upon her, but he recognizes that it isn’t the time nor place. “no clue, jackie.” he fears that jimmy might be two steps behind her, though.

and jax seems to be thinking the same, turning back to chucky with a frown. “she come alone?”

chucky nods, much to chibs’s surprise. he’d figured that her leash was a short one — he can’t imagine her handler allowing her to waltz into enemy territory, especially unaccompanied. that would be an awful big risk for her to take, and for what?

as soon as jax gets to his feet, chibs is trailing after the man, the rest of their brothers moving to follow; but the blonde stops them. “just chibs. you guys hang back, give us a minute.” no one’s thrilled about his decree, not having much love for the irish as of late, but they know better than to argue. even clay sits back down, clamping his mouth shut.

traumatized little girls are prone to being skittish ones, and the last thing they want is to scare her off with the cavalry.

there she is, as promised, waiting impatiently in gemma’s office, about as comfortable as a lamb in a lions’ den. with her arms crossed over her chest, jaw locked as tight as a rusty spring, chibs perceives that whatever she’s come for isn’t anything good. she relaxes minutely when she sees him in the vice president’s shadow — he’s familiar, somewhat, and he gave her a small taste of empathy all those weeks ago. he is, at least, more welcoming than jackson teller is in his current state.

“lennon,” he greets, as if he knows her. he doesn’t, but he feels like he does. there’s an invisible string, tying him to this girl, something almost tangible.

“mister telford,” she hums, her voice soft, as if she might be overheard. her expression shifts as she faces jax, it seems older somehow, more guarded. “mister teller.”

“you needed something?” jax isn’t as patient as he, clearly wary of what her being here could mean. jimmy o’ wouldn’t like it, not one bit.

lennon, thankfully, doesn’t care much for niceties. she’s on a time crunch, he figures. “you told jimmy that your mam didn’t kill edmund hayes.”

that’s not what he was expecting. not that he’d known what to think in the first place, really, but he never would’ve guessed this. chibs frowns, making a disapproving noise at the unnecessary bite in jax’s tone when he snaps, “what?” she’s not their enemy, he wants to remind him. she’s just a girl, a victim.

“humor me.” she pleads, with a sad smile that does not reach her eyes.

“gemma didn’t kill him,” chibs interjects, before jax loses his temper and accuses her of wasting his time. she has a point, he knows it, she just hasn’t got there yet. “he turned rat. shit hit the fan and an ATF agent, stahl, took him out. she pinned it on mother to save her own arse. cam acted before he got all the facts.”

her shoulders flinch, almost imperceptibly, and she lowers her head, her arms dropping to fold her hands in front of her. “jesus, mary, and joseph.” it’s so quiet that he almost misses it, but it’s heavy, full of grief and disappointment. edmund meant something to her, obviously.

jax is, unfortunately, not so quick to pick up on it. too drunk on his own sorrows to give a damn about another’s. “you came here for that?” he scoffs. “why do you care?”

“because eddie was my friend.” she retorts sharply, her eyes narrowing as she stares back at him. but, graciously, she allows it to roll right off her back. “but he’s not why i’m here.”

she glances out the thin, plexiglass window, swallowing anxiously. “jimmy lied to you about your boy.”

“what?” jax’s demeanor changes in an instant, from short-fused and twitchy to desperate and hopeful. chibs, too, gawks at her. “abel? he knows where he is?”

“when cammy got to belfast, the babe was with him.” she informs thickly, digging a small slip of paper out of her coat pocket and offering it to him. “he left abel with his cousin, maureen ashby. she’s good people, she’ll help you.”

“you need to move quickly, mister teller.” she continues, when jax is too gobsmacked to give any response. “he’s safe now, but i don’t know how long that’ll last.”

ten minutes ago, they were standing at square one, helpless, clueless, and terrified for the fate of the favorite son’s son — but now, they have more than just something to go off of. they have an answer. a destination. she’s handed it to them on a silver platter.

this is more than a sentimental letter from a long lost daughter. this isn’t just her betraying jimmy. she’s betraying the kings, the IRA as a whole, in order to help them. she’ll die for it. he knows it, and she must too. even jax seems to grasp the weight of the favor she’s doing them. lennon, an absolute stranger, is putting her head in a stockade for abel’s sake.

“why are you doing this?” jax croaks, grasping the tiny piece of paper reverently, like chibs had taken kerrianne’s letter weeks ago.

“because children belong with their fathers.” she speaks from experience, her words bloody and raw, her eyes shining under the fluorescents. “be wary of your irish brothers. and the priest, too. don’t trust the gimp any further than you can throw him, aye?”

a good catholic would never speak so ill of a man of god — but chibs isn’t much of a saint these days either. this world robbed him of that. lennon, too, probably has plenty of reasons to turn her back on the cross.

jax nods feverishly, but chibs feels like he’s gone stupid, as if she’d just smacked him upside the head with an iron bar. her tone takes a twinge of desperation when she speaks again, averting her gaze. “and, please, leave my name out of it for as long as possible. once you reach belfast, they’ll know that i helped you, but until then–”

“you’re goin’ back with him?” his voice returns to him then, those words hitting him like bullets. if she goes to jimmy now, and he finds out what she’s done, he’ll do worse than kill her. he cannot stomach that thought. this poor, brave girl dying because of them, because she’d tried to do the right thing.

“we fly home tonight.” she confirms, and she won’t look him in the eye now, like his concern may burn her retinas. “i’ll do my best to keep an eye out for abel until you get there,”

“he’ll kill you.” chibs points out, shaking his head in disbelief. he feels that he’s only breached the tip of the iceberg that is lennon, knows that there’s more here than selflessness and tragedy, but no sane being waltzes into the arms of their would-be murderer, of their captor and torturer. he might assume she has a deathwish, but he knows better. if she wanted to, she surely would have ended herself by now. something’s stopping her. the same thing, he presumes, that’s calling her back to the short strand.

“no, he won’t.” she sounds so confident, so sure. she’s either a fool or a martyr — not that there is much of a difference.

she straightens, smoothing down her skirt and turning for the door. jax’s hand shoots out to snag her wrist, and she bristles slightly. “thank you.” he breathes, adjusting his hold to squeeze her fingers. “i can’t– i don’t know how i can repay you for this, but if you need anything, the sons will be there.”

she smiles, but it’s bittersweet, as if he were a naive, overzealous child, despite him being twice her age. “may the road rise to meet you, jackson.” she bids gently, extracting her hand from his. chibs wonders when she last felt such a kind touch. the blessing strikes something within chibs’s heart, old and familiar and warm.

and then she’s gone, as quickly as she’d come, and chibs is left staring after, an awful feeling in his chest. one question has been answered, but a thousand more have risen.

“what do we do?” jax begs, watching her shiny black car turn the corner and disappear, like he is.

“we go get our boy.” chibs tells him grimly. and then, they go ghost hunting.

taglist: @youngadult9016 @tommyflanaganfan-blog

[etclouie-masterlists]

— Home Is With You masterlist

main masterlist | chibs masterlist

summary; moving to Charming after your aunt dies to sort her affairs and to start a new life, you find yourself sleeping with a biker before meeting one of his best friends, the only other Glaswegian he knows.

quickly getting to know him, and finding how the sparks fly between you both. an insatiable desire flares between you, despite the copious amount to try and continue taking it slow; Chibs determined to do right by you. but he only has so much self control.

story starts just over a month before S1E1, or june 30th 2008

pairing; Chibs Telford x Glaswegian fem!reader

warnings; explicit smut (in almost every chapter), 18+ minors do not interact!!!, a lot of sex — they're real horny for each other, chibs getting his chance at love (and at being a dad), reader has three of chibs’ kids, no use of y/n, age gap relationship (10years, chibs is 36 and reader is 26), meet cute, first dates, swearing, fluff, lots and lots of feelings, rough relationships, whirlwind romance, ooc!chibs at some points, glaswegian!reader (can mostly be glossed over), british spellings, glaswegian + scottish slang, usual SoA things, jimmy o’phelan!!, angst with happy ending, lowercase is intentional, more detailed warnings on each chapter — read and heed them !!!

last updated; april 14th 2025

total word count; 3.1k

— #𝜗𝜚 chibs telford // #ᯓᡣ𐭩┊home is with you

— ** contains smut / suggestive content, warnings posted on each individual chapter; read and heed the warnings. all content is 18+, minors do not interact !!

main story;

prologue

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter numbers are an outline, not an estimate. i am an unreliable writer, so chapter length/fic length may and probably will vary

oneshots; in timeline order

call for cuddles

extras;

playlist on spotify

side characters / locations

taglist form

asks — #[ 🥃 ] HIWY asks —

oneshots — #[ 🫂 ] HIWY oneshots —

dividers;

star divider by @strangergraphics // mdni and pattern divider by @cafekitsune — all used in chapters for this fic || chapter pic inspo credit to @wheresarizona much love 🫶

askbox is always open for questions on HIWY here !

[elyalovi]

Titus Welliver, el Lex efímero

En Titans, desde la primera temporada hasta la tercera, solo hubo menciones de Lex Luthor, ya que es parte esencial de la historia de Conner, pues, es él quien recolectó el ADN de Superman para mezclarlo con el suyo para crear clones y así nació Conner, a quien considera como su hijo. En la temporada cuatro, finalmente, Lex se hace presente aunque de manera breve. El Lex Luthor de Titus Welliver termina falleciendo tras su reencuentro con Conner y realmente no se le vio ninguna característica destacable, pero esto no es responsabilidad del actor ya que solo participó en un episodio. Y realmente es una pena porque Welliver es uno de los actores más versátiles y tiene un buen historial haciendo de villanos complejos y memorables; como el hombre de negro de Lost, Silas Adams en Deadwood y Jimmy O’Phelan en Sons of Anarchy.

->El mejor Lex y los demás Luthor

[breakingisolation]

Irish and Scottish accents... just hire an Irish or Scottish actor respectively for the show or movie. It will make a huge difference, trust me. Things like this have gotta come from a genuine Celtic source, else it just flops and sucks.

[hauntedscreams]

nero’s inspiration

tony soprano - the sopranos

gomez addams - the addams family

melisandre - game of thrones

stefano dimera - days of our lives

jimmy o’phelan - sons of anarchy

the undertaker - pro wrestling

carmine falcone - dc universe

thranduil - the hobbit

[bailwhoreganaxoxo]

The love triangle you’re in based on your birth month: Sons of Anarchy

January: Bobby Munson & Tig Trager

Feburary: Ima Tite & Jax Teller

March: Tara Knowles & Lyla Winston

April: Gemma Teller-Morrow & JT Teller

May: Ratboy Skogstrom & Filthy Phil

June: Chibs Telford & Fiona Larkin

July: Nero Padilla & Chibs Telford

August: Herman Kozik & Tig Trager

September: Clay Morrow & Wayne Unser

October: Opie Winston & Jax Teller

November: Happy Lowman & Juice Ortiz

December: Chibs Telford & Jimmy O’Phelan

[whiskeyshots]

Catherine, and her *many* loves: 

Jimmy O’Phelan, Dessie Dennehy, and Darragh Ryan. 

[littlevampie222]

30 Day SOA Challenge:

Day 10: Favorite villain? Maaaaan, I didn't root for the ruthless folks that messed with my guys...

But for the sake of actually having an answer here, and because I have already mentioned two that I absolutely despise, I'm going with Jimmy O’Phelan. I enjoyed his storyline with Chibs, the whole IRA and Ireland storyline, etc. I was glued to my seat watching all of that unfold. Plus, I always enjoy this actor's work.

[fcundwings]

MUSE LIST.

ALTHEA JARRY. #tarnishcdbadge. secondary.

ANGEL REYES. #elsecretvrio. request. 

ANNIKA WEBER. #pinksdemons. request.

ANTONIA PENA. #corruptmayor. request.

AUGUST MARKS. #mercilesskingpin. secondary. 

BISHOP LOSA. #reydelosmayas. primary. 

BOBBY MUNSON. #wantdtruth. closed.

CANDY EGLEE. #fightershevrt. primary. 

CHARLES BAROSKY. #kingsconscience. closed.

CHIBS TELFORD. #streetblade. request. 

CHUCKIE MARSTEIN. #lostfingers. closed.

CLAY MORROW. #kinghailed. closed. SINGLE SHIP with @murkyhazed‘s gemma teller morrow.

COCO CRUZ. #mybadtm. primary. 

COREY JOYNER. #pinksarcane. request.

CREEPER VARGAS. #lachicano. request.

DONNA WINSTON. #neverrats. request.

ELI ROOSEVELT. #nyclieutenant. request.

EZ REYES. #remembersshit. closed.

GALEN O’SHAY. #belfastbutcher. request. 

HALLORANN. #crowsprospect. request.

HAPPY LOWMAN. #unholymayhem. primary. 

HERMAN KOZIK. #halfwayapologies. primary. 

JIMMY O’PHELAN. #kingsbetrayed. closed. 

KERRIANNE LARKIN TELFORD. #heartsreason. request. 

KEVIN JIMENEZ. #alcoholsought. secondary.

LETICIA CRUZ. #mistakeslearned. primary. 

LINCOLN POTTER. #knowledgepowered. request. 

LOWELL HARLAND, JR. #secondgenmechanic. primary.

LYLA WINSTON. #starsdisappeared. primary. 

MARCUS ALVAREZ. #asesinodedios. secondary. 

MARISOL REYES. #mamasdearest. request.

MAUREEN ASHBY. #nobodyslapdog. closed. SINGLE SHIP with @heartstirred‘s keith mcgee.  

MICHAEL ARIZA. #suffocatedmartyr. request.

MIGUEL GALINDO. #mryellowraincoat. primary.

NERO PADILLA. #gangsterzen. request.

NESTOR OCETEVA. #definedloyalty. primary. 

RATBOY SKOGSTROM. #loyaltyburned. closed.

ROSARIO SANCHEZ. #pinkspurity. request. 

SAMARA WELLERSTEIN. #pinksbrilliance. request. 

SIMONE ALVAREZ. #likehcney. closed. SINGLE SHIP with @anarchiy‘s esai alavarez.

TAZA ROMERO. #forgivensins. request. 

TESSA ALVAREZ TELLER. #emperatrizmaya. primary. SINGLE SHIP with @modernmythe‘s abel teller. 

TIG TRAGER. #haloaflame. temporarily closed. 

WENDY CASE. #junkiemom. secondary. 

permanent starter calls can be found here.

[fcundwings-archive]

updated muse list:

ALTHEA JARRY. #tarnishcdbadge. secondary. permanent starter call.

ANGEL REYES. #elsecretvrio. secondary. permanent starter call. 

BISHOP LOSA. #reydelosmayas. secondary. permanent starter call.

CANDY EGLEE. #fightershevrt. primary. permanent starter call.

CHIBS TELFORD. #streetblade. request/plotting only. permanent starter call.

COCO CRUZ. #mybadtm. primary. permanent starter call.

DONNA WINSTON. #neverrats. request/plotting only.

EZ REYES. #remembersshit. request/plotting only. 

GALEN O’SHAY. #belfastbutcher. request/plotting only. 

HAPPY LOWMAN. #unholymayhem. secondary.

JIMMY O’PHELAN. #kingsbetrayed. request/plotting only.

JUICE ORTIZ. #pastrepentance. primary.

KERRIANNE LARKIN TELFORD. #heartsreason. request/plotting only.

LETICIA CRUZ. #mistakeslearned. primary.

LYLA WINSTON. #starsdisappeared. primary.

MARCUS ALVAREZ. #asesinodedios. secondary.

MAUREEN ASHBY. #nobodyslapdog. request/plotting only. [SINGLE SHIP with @heartstirred‘s keith mcgee]

MIGUEL GALINDO. #prideofmen. secondary.

NERO PADILLA. #gangsterzen. request/plotting only.

TAZA ROMERO. #forgivensins. request/plotting only.

TESSA ALVAREZ TELLER. #emperatrizmaya. primary. [SINGLE SHIP with @heirofanarchy‘s abel teller]

TIG TRAGER. #haloaflame. temporarily request/plotting only.

WENDY CASE. #junkiemom. secondary.

[fcundwings-archive2]

MUSE LIST.

ALTHEA JARRY. #tarnishcdbadge. secondary. permanent starter call.

ANGEL REYES. #elsecretvrio. request. permanent starter call.

ANNIKA WEBER. #pinksdemons. request. permanent starter call.

AUGUST MARKS. #mercilesskingpin. request. permanent starter call.

BISHOP LOSA. #reydelosmayas. secondary. permanent starter call.

BOBBY MUNSON. #wantdtruth. closed. permanent starter call.

CANDY EGLEE. #fightershevrt. primary. permanent starter call.

CHIBS TELFORD. #streetblade. request. permanent starter call.

CHUCKIE MARSTEIN. #lostfingers. closed. permanent starter call.

CLAY MORROW. #kinghailed. closed. permanent starter call. SINGLE SHIP with @murkyhazed‘s gemma teller morrow.

COCO CRUZ. #mybadtm. primary. permanent starter call.

CREEPER VARGAS. #lachicano. request. permanent starter call. 

DONNA WINSTON. #neverrats. request. permanent starter call.

EZ REYES. #remembersshit. request. permanent starter call.

GALEN O’SHAY. #belfastbutcher. request. permanent starter call.

HAPPY LOWMAN. #unholymayhem. primary. permanent starter call.

HERMAN KOZIK. #halfwayapologies. primary. permanent starter call.

JIMMY O’PHELAN. #kingsbetrayed. request. permanent starter call.

KERRIANNE LARKIN TELFORD. #heartsreason. request. permanent starter call.

LETICIA CRUZ. #mistakeslearned. primary. permanent starter call.

LINCOLN POTTER. #knowledgepowered. request. permanent starter call.

LYLA WINSTON. #starsdisappeared. primary. permanent starter call.

MARCUS ALVAREZ. #asesinodedios. secondary. permanent starter call.

MAUREEN ASHBY. #nobodyslapdog. closed. SINGLE SHIP with @heartstirred‘s keith mcgee.  permanent starter call.

MIGUEL GALINDO. #prideofmen. secondary. permanent starter call.

NERO PADILLA. #gangsterzen. request. permanent starter call.

NESTOR OCETEVA. #liferiskd. request. permanent starter call.

ROSARIO SANCHEZ. #pinkspurity. request. permanent starter call.

SAMARA WELLERSTEIN. #pinksbrilliance. request. permanent starter call.

SIMONE ALVAREZ. #likehcney. closed. permanent starter call. SINGLE SHIP with @anarchiy‘s esai alavarez.

TAZA ROMERO. #forgivensins. request. permanent starter call.

TESSA ALVAREZ TELLER. #emperatrizmaya. primary. SINGLE SHIP with @modernmythe‘s abel teller. permanent starter call.

TIG TRAGER. #haloaflame. temporarily request. permanent starter call.

WENDY CASE. #junkiemom. secondary. permanent starter call.

[tuesdayaddamss]

who’s afraid of little old me; chibs telford.

part i. two fingers of jameson

summary: chibs sees what evil the butcher of belfast is capable of.

warnings: mentions of rape and abuse, language, jimmy o’ being a sleazy piece of shit.

word count: 3554

there’s a bar called jacob’s, nestled in charming’s most decrepit corner. it’s nowhere that they’ve frequented, but chibs still recognizes the address when it’s sent to him. he remembers having to pick up an embarrassingly inebriated juice from the same place last summer, when the boy was going through one of his spells, too blue, and humiliated, to drink in their company, in the privacy of their clubhouse.

the last time he’d been here, there were more heads than he’d bothered to count. all of them the nasty kind of drunks, those that lived with their necks stuck in the mouth of a bottle, too mean to brave the public. today, it’s damn near empty, not even a body to man the bar. just chibs and the butcher of belfast, jimmy fucking o’phelan, and the fools he’d brought along.

“sorry, love,” she sounds like she means it, chibs thinks, but he’s not to be trusted in matters that regard his wife. fiona’s an open wound, been bleeding for more than a decade now, and jimmy’s the one that keeps rubbing salt in the gash. he should’ve known what was waiting for him, who’d really summoned him here. fiona may have been the one to call, but the mad bastard was never without a hand in it.

he can only watch as a gunman leads her away with a hand on her elbow, her dark eyes looking over her shoulder, begging him for forgiveness that he’s already given. “sit with me,” that voice’s the same one that’s haunted his nightmares, and it’s a valiant effort not to bristle at the sound of it. but he sits anyway, because it wasn’t a request, and he knows it.

jimmy hadn’t changed an inch in twelve years, he realizes with no small bit of bitterness. he had hoped that time would be cruel to him, but he seems to be thriving, save for the exhaustion that lingers beneath his eyes. it’s the same face that had sneered down at him while he’d bled out on a street corner in a belfast slum. he wonders if he, himself, is even recognizable. he’s hardly the same man today, and he doesn’t look like him either.

“lennon!” he does bristle when his monster abruptly raises his voice, twisting around in his seat to find someone. chibs hadn’t noticed her at first, his vision having tunnelled at the sight of fiona and then reddened for jimmy, but he certainly sees her now, as if the irishman had thrust some spotlight upon her. young, too young for this place, and looking about as angry and miserable as he feels. “get the man a drink, for fuck’s sake. what am i payin’ you for?”

as soon as jimmy’s back is turned, the girl rolls her eyes, reminding chibs of a teenager pitching a fit. which, by the looks of her, might not be far off. she can’t be any more than eighteen, if that. “you’re not payin’ me,” this lennon retorts, her accent as thick as jimmy’s, and he’s impressed by her audacity. there are very few who dare to spit at the butcher like that. but, to chibs’s surprise, the grey-haired man merely scoffs at her.

she’s no IRA soldier. hell, she’s practically a babe. he doesn’t think he wants to know what she’s doing with the likes of jimmy. he sorely doubts that it’s of her own volition.

despite her attitude, she appears at the foot of the booth a moment later, a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other. two fingers of jameson that he won’t touch set in front of him, and another that’s gone in seconds in front of jimmy. chibs prides himself on his observational skills, and it isn’t lost on him how she shies away from the man, her muscles tight and her head held low, without any of the bravado he’d initially picked up on. he imagined her an alley cat, stared down by a dog, back arched and hair on end.

her eyes, grey like the glasgow sky he’d grown up under, meet his for half of a second, and he nods. and then jimmy’s hand strikes her ass, none too gently, and she’s whirling on her heel to go before her keeper can even order it. chibs pretends not to notice her tilt her head back and pull straight from the bottle as she curls into another booth. cheers, he thinks grimly. if only the company was better.

“i’m not stateside for the sons,” jimmy starts, but he has only a portion of chibs’s attention. the rest of it is scattered in the winds. with jackie and his nomadic dream, stahl and her proposal, fiona and his kerrianne, and the thug standing behind him with a hand on his gun. “just came to close a distribution deal — i had no idea how muddled things had become.”

muddled was an understatement. jimmy’s boys had practically spat in the sons’ faces when they decided to sell guns to their enemies, the AB. the same bastards that had nearly killed him with a car bomb, who had been shoved so far up their asses that they couldn’t even digest in peace.

“edmond and cameron wouldn’t take a piss without your permission,” he retorts, the first time he had opened his mouth thus far. he thinks he hears the blonde girl snort, likely agreeing. no one in the true IRA went behind jimmy o’s back, and if they did, they very scarcely live to tell the tale.

“you see what happens if you give men some rope!” he agrees solemnly, as if they were on the same side. “shit only works when i handle it myself. and that’s my lesson here,”

“i want a sit-down with clay,” chibs doesn’t even bother to swallow down his scoff. the nerve of the mick bastard, asking him for anything after what he’d done, what he’d taken from him. he’d sooner cut off his own cock than help him.

“you expect me to recommend?”

“our bond with the sons runs deep,” too deep, if you asked him. chibs would be glad to wipe his hands of the cause. “your belfast charter has been our right hand since ‘87, best that we don’t jeopardize that.”

“i’m not your errand boy, jimmy.” his finger itches, the gun in his belt weighing heavily. he could do it, right here, right now. he’d die for it, and he knows that, but he’d be bringing him down with him. his wife, his daughter, god knows how many souls, would be freed. but then his brothers would be thrust into a war that they’re not ready for, and he’d be too busy rotting in the ground, like a coward, to help.

“aye, filip, you are.” the look in jimmy’s eye is as sharp as the knife he’d used to slit chibs’s face from ear to ear. “i banished you, took what’s yours. that’s the facts.”

chibs needs no reminder of what had been taken from him. of how he’d been thrust from ireland like trash to the landfill, of his three year old baby being ripped from his arms, his wedding band forcibly pulled from his finger while he lay bleeding. “you will do as i say.”

“go to hell,” he snarls, nearly regretting his words. he knows, maybe better than most, that this is not a man to piss off.

jimmy smiles, humming lightly, as he lifts his phone from the tabletop. dread pools in chibs’s gut. “have you seen any recent pictures of kerrianne?”

“she’s all fiona,” he feels ill, like he might hurl all over the leather seat, just like juice had months ago, though for a wholly different reason. not his bairn. please god, not his girl. “gorgeous. she’s reaching that magical change, yunno? tight little curves, breasts popping.”

he swallows back bile, grinding his teeth so hard that he swears he could feel enamel crack. “timley, really. fiona’s look’s fading — can hardly catch an edge any more.”

“and this one,” he turns to eye lennon lecherously, as if she were a piece of meat on a butcher’s table, speaking as if she could not hear. that poor, poor girl looked like a shell of a human being. her face numb, her arms wrapped around herself like armor. “she’s fun, pretty, but i’m afraid that she’s gotten loose over the years. she’s got a big goddamn mouth too. never shuts it unless it’s full.”

she flinches, and he has to pity her. at least fiona is treated like a wife, no matter how short her leash is, or how unwanted the love she gets. lennon, it seems, is no more than a pet. someone’s daughter, she is. he imagines his kerrianne in her shoes, jimmy paints that very picture for him, and he could cry.

“but kerrianne, the thoughts that enter my brain… impure. awful, i think.” he tuts mockingly, as if he was capable of empathy. and then he grins. “but then i remember that she’s not my daughter. so what’s the sin?”

“even if she does call me ‘da’.” and that’s it. sick, sociopathic, perverted son of a bitch. there’s a special corner of hell reserved for jimmy fucking o’phelan, and chibs cannot wait for the devil to get his hands on him. he’s tired of waiting. how long could he keep on praying to god for justice while that holy coward sits on his gilded throne and allows little girls like lennon to be raped and abused? allows innocents like kerrianne to be put in the que?

he lunges across the table, one hand fisted in the front of jimmy’s shirt, teeth bared like a rabid beast, heat searing his skin. the barrel of a gun presses against his throbbing temple, warning him, as jimmy jeers at his muscle to sit the fuck down and put it away. he knows, as well as he does, that chibs won’t kill him. not today. not while kerrianne is an ocean away, where he can’t protect her, while fiona can still pay the price of his heroism.

he lets him go, mourning the loss, longing for blood. “you set the meeting with clay, and we’ll work out this misunderstanding.” jimmy continues, as if nothing had happened. chibs can only imagine how many people threaten his life each day.

and then he waves him off, shooing him like he was a fly buzzing around his face. “walk him out, lennon.”

as much as chibs wishes that he could bash his smug face in, even if it’s just to regain some semblance of pride, he’s even more eager to get far away as fast as he can. he clambers to his feet without another word, spitting on jimmy’s loafers in a final show of defiance, before he storms past him and towards the doors, with the young blonde right behind him, the toes of her shoes nearly biting his heels.

he doesn’t expect any conversation from her, and he doesn’t know what he would even say. it’s not like she’d appreciate an “i’m sorry that your life sucks,” or that it would do her any good. he can’t help her, even if he wants to. he can’t even save his own wife and daughter from jimmy, let alone another’s, even if he wished to.

“mister telford,” to his surprise, she snags the hem of his kutte, effectively stopping him before he can make it to the van. her jaw’s clenched tight, eyes darting nervously over her shoulder as they come to standstill in the middle of the parking lot, his broad frame the only thing shielding her from any eyes that may be peering out of the building’s window. “kerrianne asked me to get this to you.”

she reaches into the cramped front pocket of her jeans, unveiling an unmarked envelope that’s been folded four times too many and stuffed into god knows how many odd places, the corners have begun to wear thin from being worried, but he regards it as if it contains the secrets of life. she shoves it into his calloused hand, her fingers icy against his palm, and he can only gawk at her.

he thinks, for a moment, that he might be hallucinating. perhaps he hasn’t given his head the time that it needs to heal, after all. maybe the explosion had caused worse damage to his brain than they’d diagnosed.

when he was excommunicated and banished, all those years ago, he’d been given very strict instructions. if he dared to seek out his family, if jimmy even suspected a lick of communication, he’d be buried alongside whoever had the gall to help him. it was a mercy that he was allowed to live in the first place, after all. he couldn’t risk the consequences of pushing his luck anymore.

for twelve years, he’s had nothing but memories and the picture he keeps in his wallet. nothing. and now, because of this girl, he has something. something from his kerrianne.

surely, she must’ve known how dire the consequences would’ve been if jimmy had caught her smuggling this overseas. if he happens to look outside now and sees her talking to him, even. she’d risked her life over a measly piece of paper, and chibs doesn’t know how he could even hope to express how much that means to him.

“thank you,” he croaks, clenching his jaw so hard that the bones creak. the words feel just as pathetic as they must sound. so he repeats them, as if that might augment them. “thank you.”

she nods jerkily, shoving her hands in her pockets as if her palms were glowing red. she turns on her heel, ready to scamper back to jimmy’s side, but chibs stops her.

“what he said,” he starts, unsure where he was going, but unable to simply ignore the elephant that’s looming over them.

“he’ll never touch kerrianne.” she interrupts sharply, her eyes burning beneath her pale fringe. “he was just tryin’ to get under your skin, to piss you off. he’d never. and if he did…”

she doesn’t finish that thought, but she doesn’t have to. the inferno is telling enough. he has to wonder just how well she knows his daughter — how deeply entangled she is with the butcher. lennon and kerrianne must be awfully close for the former to have risked her life just to get this letter to him. which means that she must spend time with her, she has to have been around for a long while.

over the years, he recalls jimmy saying. he does not want to think too hard about what that meant, in fear of hurling all over the lass.

the words ‘what about you?’ sit on the tip of his tongue, a gnarled hand tugging at the frayed strings of his heart. instead, he merely nods, because the longer she spends out here with him, the more trouble she’ll be in. she’s risked enough for him as is.

“thank you, lennon.” one more time, so that she knows. as if his gratitude — as if knowing that she’s done something good — might ease the hopelessness in her gaunt face. it doesn’t. alas, he tried.

he shoves the envelope into the pocket of his kutte as he watches her head back into jacob’s, praying to a deity he isn’t sure he believes in that it is not her death warrant.

“you good, brother?” chibs doesn’t hear the gravel crunching under jax’s pristine sneakers, he doesn’t notice him at all until he’s right beside him, the smoke of his pall mall billowing into his face. he’s so distracted that he almost forgets about the grudge he’s currently holding against his vice president.

he gingerly folds his daughter’s precious correspondence, returning it to the safety of his inner pocket. he’s lost track of how many times he’s read it now — enough that he has it memorized. every word, every smear made by an eraser, the funny way she loops her Ls. in three hours, it has become his scripture.

jax seems to take his silence as rejection, but he’s never been good at taking no for an answer. “what’s eating you?” he urges, as if he doesn’t have enough problems of his own right now. he’s a relentless piece of work, always has been. that would serve him well at the head of the table, if he wasn’t so prone to running from his problems. chibs would like to call him cowardly, but that’s not it.

“jimmy o’.” he says slowly, the name like acid on his tongue. “i saw him today. he used fi to lure me out.”

“yeah, tig told me. he wants to talk to clay, squash beef, right?” he frowns, his keen blue eyes burning a hole through chibs’s pocket, blatantly curious about the scrap of paper that he holds so dear. “what’d he do to piss you off? besides the obvious, of course.”

he scrubs a heavy hand over his scarred face, phantom pain blooming within the dead nerves. twelve years later, and it still feels like an open wound. the thought of lennon has haunted him all afternoon, the memory of her sneer, her misery, her battered youth, stuck in the still-healing cracks in his skull like chewing gum.

maybe he’s softening with age, maybe he understands horrors that the butcher is capable of too well to write the girl off, or maybe his heart is just a bloody thing, but he can’t, for the life of him, get her out of his head. it’s unfair, he thinks, for someone so young to be stuck where she is. he doesn’t know her, or her situation, but he’s not foolish enough to believe that she chooses to be shackled.

if she’d willingly subjected herself to a life with jimmy, she would not have defied him. that look he’d seen in her eyes was that of a prisoner; a caged animal, who’s gnawed at its bars until its maw was raw and bloody and its hope was snuffed out.

“there was a girl,” he may be angry with him, but there is no man that chibs trusts more than jax. he has always been the last, stubborn scrap of humanity in this club, clinging to them like rotting flesh on a carcass. “a kid, couldn’t have been more than eighteen. she was with him,”

it takes jax a moment to understand, his brows rising and eyes darkening all at once. “with him? like—?”

“aye. he said so himself. and it was quite clear that she didnae want to be anywhere near the bastard.” he considers telling him about the letter, about the risk she’d taken for him, but won’t. that’s the one thing that’s his, not theirs. he’s not willing to share this treasure with his family.

“shit,” jax breathes, chewing so hard on the butt of his cigarette that his teeth pierce the filter. “that’s… fuckin’ sick, bro.”

he can see the internal dilemma he’s battling now, the same one that chibs is grappling with. it’s not like they can do anything about it — jimmy’s too powerful, too protected. and if they tried to interfere, the relationship between the true IRA and the sons of anarchy would be blown to bits.

and the unfortunate truth is that it’s none of their goddamn business. lennon has nothing to do with them, with the sons, with their deal with jimmy. they have no right to put their noses in her business, no reason to be worried about her. they can pity her as much as they please, but it’s not their burden to carry.

but how can he stand idly by, knowing what he knows?

“whatever you’re thinkin’, don’t.” chibs looks up, away from his boots and back to jax, when he speaks. the younger man’s staring at him hard, frowning. “it’s sad, man, but this ain’t our fight.”

chibs scoffs, his hackles raising. without lennon here to defend herself, he felt the need to do so for her. he doesn’t care who she is, where she’d come from. no child deserves a life like hers — and jax, as a father himself, should feel the same, logic be damned. “she’s a kid. it’s more than sad, boyo.”

“last time you started a pissing contest with jimmy, he split your face open and banished you.” jax reminds him harshly, as if he could ever forget. “and that, to him, was merciful. i understand that you wanna help this girl, but you don’t know anything about it. there might be a helluva lot more to the story than whatever you got.”

there’s nothing that could excuse what jimmy’s done, is doing, to lennon. but he thinks that jax knows that, that he’s grasping at straws in an effort to ease the weight.

“don’t go chasing ghosts, brother.” that’s exactly what she is, really. a ghost. no voice, no ties, no prominence. just a face he’ll never forget and a feeling he cannot shake. jax stares at him expectantly, brows raised. “okay?”

chibs kisses his teeth, fingers worrying the edge of kerrianne’s letter in his pocket. “aye. okay.”

but the thing about ghosts is that they have a tendency to haunt.

taglist: @tommyflanaganfan-blog @youngadult9016

[predomiinates]

"I need you clean of this, Irene." (nate)

( for the verse where i’m losing my mind )                 @heartstirred; for nathan.

    ‘ How am I supposed to be clean of this? She had my name. ’ Irene’s voice thins, as she stares him down. She can feel herself being dragged down by the ghost of a murdered woman and with each breath the further she goes down. Irene had never met Jamie, a small voice in her heart wonders if anything would be different if they had. Would the lie that the other had lived under have dissolved sooner … would she still be dead or would it have been Irene in her place? 

    She runs her hands over her face, trying to keep from screaming. Nathan’s gaze feels as if it goes straight through her and it takes too much for her not to throw it back it in his face, remind him that it’s his brother who has dragged this all back to the surface. That Irene’s own base instinct telling her the best way, the only way to rid them all of this, is to break it. To end this relationship and for her to run off to some other place, pursue her work with a new found dedication. Fuck Jamie Moriarty. 

    ‘ Jimmy O’Phelan is — ’ 

   ‘ I KNOW ! Nathan … I know. ’ Irene catches the barest recoil and she takes a breath. Jamie Moriarty lived a whole life, built a family under the wrong name long before Irene had stepped foot back in this town and her ghost is threatening her own life. ‘ I can’t be clean of this.’  Her blood isn’t on her hands but it might as well be. Irene is stained by Jamie. 

  His silence stretches out, brow furrowed in thought before he goes to speak again. ‘ You could marry me. ’ 

   It catches Irene off guard, and her voice nearly breaks. ‘ What? ’ 

   ‘ If you married me, you would be a Godfrey. ’ 

   ‘ That’s no reason to marry someone, Nate. ’ 

   ‘ Irene, you love me, I love you and everyone knows I was going to ask you someday …. so maybe it’s just a little sooner than planned. ’ Nathan’s voice is soft, one hand reaching out to take hers. Whatever determination, resolved seriousness in his expression having faded away. ‘ So…. Irene Adler, will you marry me? ’ 

…..

   ‘ Yes. ’

[chaoshailed-archive]

MUSE LIST.

ALTHEA JARRY. #tarnishcdbadge. secondary.

ANGEL REYES. #bitteredpast. request.

ANNIKA WEBER. #pinksdemons. request.

ANTONIA PENA. #corruptmayor. request.

AUGUST MARKS. #mercilesskingpin. secondary.

BISHOP LOSA. #reydelosmayas. primary.

BOBBY MUNSON. #wantdtruth. closed.

CANDY EGLEE. #fightershevrt. primary.

CHARLES BAROSKY. #kingsconscience. closed.

CHIBS TELFORD. #streetblade. request.

CHUCKIE MARSTEIN. #lostfingers. closed.

CLAY MORROW. #kinghailed. closed. SINGLE SHIP with @murkyhazed‘s gemma teller morrow.

COCO CRUZ. #mybadtm. primary.

COREY JOYNER. #pinksarcane. request.

CREEPER VARGAS. #lachicano. request.

DONNA WINSTON. #neverrats. secondary.

ELI ROOSEVELT. #nyclieutenant. secondary.

ELLIOTT OSWALD. #weightofgreed. request.

EZ REYES. #remembersshit. closed.

GALEN O’SHAY. #belfastbutcher. request.

HALLORANN. #crowsprospect. request.

HAPPY LOWMAN. #unholymayhem. primary.

HERMAN KOZIK. #halfwayapologies. primary.

JIMMY O’PHELAN. #kingsbetrayed. closed.

KERRIANNE LARKIN TELFORD. #heartsreason. request.

KEVIN JIMENEZ. #alcoholsought. primary.

LETICIA CRUZ. #mistakeslearned. primary.

LINCOLN POTTER. #knowledgepowered. secondary.

LOWELL HARLAND, JR. #secondgenmechanic. primary.

LYLA WINSTON. #starsdisappeared. primary.

MARCUS ALVAREZ. #asesinodedios. secondary.

MARISOL REYES. #mamasdearest. request.

MAUREEN ASHBY. #nobodyslapdog. closed. SINGLE SHIP with @heartstirred‘s keith mcgee.  

MICHAEL ARIZA. #suffocatedmartyr. request.

MIGUEL GALINDO. #mryellowraincoat. primary.

NERO PADILLA. #gangsterzen. request.

NESTOR OCETEVA. #definedloyalty. primary.

RATBOY SKOGSTROM. #loyaltyburned. closed.

ROSARIO SANCHEZ. #pinkspurity. request.

SAMARA WELLERSTEIN. #pinksbrilliance. request.

SIMONE ALVAREZ. #likehcney. closed. SINGLE SHIP with @anarchiy‘s esai alavarez.

TAZA ROMERO. #forgivensins. request.

TESSA ALVAREZ TELLER. #emperatrizmaya. primary. SINGLE SHIP with @aenarchist’s abel teller.

TIG TRAGER. #haloaflame. temporarily closed.

WENDY CASE. #junkiemom. secondary.

[bailwhoreganaxoxo]

Which character hates you based on your birth month: Sons of Anarchy

January: Jimmy O’Phelan

February: Juice Ortiz

March: Clay Morrow

April: Wayne Unser

May: Bobby Munson

June: Tig Trager

July: Jax Teller

August: Gemma Teller-Morrow

September: Opie Winston

October: Ima Tite

November: Chibs Telford

December: Otto Delaney

[badwolf-in-the-impala]

~Whiskey Lullaby~

~Chapter 10~

Image Credit: Me. Pictures not mine obviously, but the collage is.

Rating: Mature/18+

Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, violence, suggested sexual/physical abuse, kidnapping, sexual content, angst.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, emotions....feelz. Nothing to major in this chapter.

A/N: Huge shout out to @jacksonroth for constantly kicking me in the ass to keep working on this story and lending a hand when I need a little extra help. You’re the best, Babe! Also, sorry it’s been a while since I’ve posted! More updates to come soon though!

---------------------------------------------------------

“Hey! Whoa, whoa.” Gemma stopped Tawni as she stormed back into the lobby, tears streaming down her face. Gemma raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin’, Gem.” Tawni lied, pushing Gemma’s hands away. Gemma was prepared to let it go, seeing as she was faced with her Uncle’s life in the balance; that is, until she saw Teagan walk back inside, a wicked bruise blossoming on her cheek.

“Nothin’, my ass, Telford.” Gemma stated firmly, hooking a hand around Tawni’s arm and pulling her back to stand in front of her as she stopped Teagan. “Now, what the fuck is goin’ on with you two?”

She looked between the two girls, though neither of them spoke up nor even looked at each other.

“You two had better start talkin’.” Gemma said, crossing her arms and popping a hip out to one side.

“I’ve nothing to say to her.” Tawni said, breezing past Gemma, who was left to hold Teagan back as she screamed after her, “Yeah?! Well, same to you, bitch!”

“Hey!” Gemma called over her, gripping her arm tight and pulling her down the hallway into an empty room. “I wanna know what exactly is going on with you two, and I want to know now. What changed, that you two went from being best friends to now hatin’ each other?”

“It’s nothing, Gem. We used to fight back in the day too.” Teagan said.

“Bullshit, not like this. You’ve never called her a bitch and meant it. That’s a term of endearment to us, hunny.” Gemma shot back. “I’m not going to ask you again, Teagan. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Gemma, nothing is going on!

“Yeah? And you’re a shit liar, Teagan.” Gemma said sternly as she pointed at a chair. “Sit.”

Teagan did so begrudgingly, letting out a sigh as she reached up to prod gently at her left cheek; wincing. Gemma rolled her eyes and yanked open on of the cabinets, pulling out an ice pack and breaking the middle bit before pressing it forcefully to Teagan’s cheek. Leaning back against the counter behind her, Gemma crossed her arms over her chest and waited impatiently for an explanation. Teagan finally fessing up when she realized Gemma wasn’t going anywhere.

“Tawni apparently witnessed my freakout...she thinks I’m sleeping with Chibs.” Teagan murmured softly, her gaze fixed to the floor and her brows furrowed tightly. Gemma leaned forward, opening her mouth as she was about to speak but paused, giving Teagan a confused look.

“Wait...you’re not sleeping together?” She questioned, watching in stunned silence as Teagan shook her head ‘no’. “You tell her that?” Gemma added, referring to Tawni as she nodded her head towards the closed door beside her.

“Yeah. Guessing she didn’t buy it.” Teagan replied sarcastically as she gestured to the rapidly darkening bruise on her cheek.

“Well, give her some time to cool off. I’ll talk to her..” Gemma sighed as she reached for the door. “But in the meantime, let’s go find Tara...make sure little miss ‘Mayweather’ out there didn’t do anymore damage to that head of yours.”

~

“Jesus, how hard did she hit you?” Tara questioned as she examined Teagan’s cheek closely before pulling the pen light from her pocket and performing the same tests she had done earlier, returning it to her pocket once she was satisfied, and retrieved a fresh ice pack.

“Hard enough that I’m pretty positive whatever was left of my soul got ejected from my body.” Teagan sneered as Tara pressed the ice pack back to her cheek, carefully.

“Yeah, well, you can worry about finding that later.” Gemma stated as she gestured to Jax who was approaching them from down the hall. “Looks like we got more important matters at the moment.”

“Hey, Doctor said they just wheeled Chibs out of recovery and into a room finally--” Jax paused as he looked down at Teagan, noting the visible bruise that peaked out from behind the ice pack. “The hell happened to you?” 

“Tawni’s fist.” Both Gemma and Tara replied in unison as the three of them stared down at Teagan, causing her to sink lower into her chair, silently wishing she was invisible right about now.

“Oh.” Jax replied casually, not seeming surprised in the least. “She figure out you’re bangin’ her Uncle?”

“We’re not sleeping together! Jesus Christ, what it is with you people?!” Teagan snapped as she got to her feet and stormed off down the hall, Tara chasing her down. Jax flinched as Gemma’s hand connected with the back of his head. Hard.

“The hell did I do?!”

“Not really a good time.” Gemma huffed before taking off down the hall herself. Jax sighed and shook his head as he caught the familiar glimpse of salt and peppered curly hair step out of the elevator.

“Oh, shit.” Jax muttered before taking off after his mother.

~

Tawni sat by Chibs’ bed as he still remained unconscious, a bandage wrapped around his head. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she sat in silence, her lips lifting in a small smile as she inhaled the scent that clung to the hoodie she was wearing. When the door opened, Tawni sighed and turned, ready to tell off Gemma, but stopped at stared at the curly haired woman that walked in.

“Fi.” Tawni breathed. It took her a minute for the flashbacks and memories from her early childhood in Ireland to fade before she hopped to her feet and glanced around out the door before she shut it once more and locked it. “Fi, what are you doing here? Jimmy-”

“Jimmy doesn’ know I’m here. Not yet at least.” Fiona said, going to Tawni and cupping her face. She gave a small smile and added, “Ye look more and more like y’er Ma every time I see you.”

Tawni smiled and gave a soft giggle. “Everyone here says I’m all Chibs’. They’re sure the whole niece thing is a cover up.” She said. Fiona chuckled and kissed her cheek.

“Ah. Well. Y’er Ma was his sister after all.” Both women let out a chuckle as they took their seats. “How is he?”

“Stable, they said.” Tawni replied with a sigh. She chewed her lip as her anxiety spiked with the thought of Teagan possibly making her way over and they’d both be stuck in a rather awkward situation. Before Fiona could say anything else, Tawni made her decision and stood. “Um, I’ll give you a minute. Uh, Tara Knowles is one of the doctors here. She’s Jax’s old lady. She might be in to check up on him.”

“Alrigh’, love. Thanks.” Fiona said with a smile, scooting a little closer to the bed and taking his hand. Tawni left quickly and rounded the corner a little too fast when she ran into Gemma.

“Jesus!” Tawni jumped and sighed, rubbing her fingers over her forehead. “Gemma, you need a goddamn bell around your neck.”

“Yeah? And you need some boxing gloves, apparently.” Gemma said, giving her a look. Tawni’s face dropped and she narrowed her eyes at Gemma.

“It’s an internal matter. I can handle it.” Tawni said, almost mimicking the lines she’d heard for years when she moved to Charming. Tawni started down the hall, moving past Gemma, but Gemma wasn’t having any of it.

“Oh, yeah. You’re handling it real well. Did you even see the size of the bruise you left on Teagan’s face?” Gemma asked, matching Tawni’s quick pace as they maneuvered through the halls.

“She’ll be fine...The bitch…” Tawni muttered. Gemma closed her eyes and sighed, muttering to herself about having to deal with this a second time, then grabbed Tawni’s arm, hauling her into the chapel that was, thankfully, empty.

“Alright. I’ve had just about enough of this bullshit, Tawn.” Gemma said. Tawni stared at the cross above the altar and had a split second desire to punch out Gemma as well, but she decided against it and turned her back on the cross, crossing her arms as she faced Mama Gemma. “They aren’t sleeping together, Tawni.”

Tawni snorted and rolled her eyes. “Oh, fer fuck’s sake...Gemma, if ye’re goin’ ta stick up for tha’ harlot, I don’ wanna hear it!” Tawni shouted, her accent slipping out along with her anger. “ ‘N I’m surprised y’er keepin’ up with her lies!”

“They aren’t lies, sweetheart. And I’m the last person who would lie to you, you know that.” Gemma said, a little offended at the insinuation. Tawni glowered at her for a moment before turning away from her.

“If ye heard it from Teagan, they’re lies. I saw how she flipped out an’ punched Tig when-” Tawni cleared her throat and blinked a few times before she continued, “When the van blew up. She wouldn’ be tha’ upset if she wasn’ involved with him.”

Gemma sighed and slowly stepped closer to her, the hollow sound of her heels filling the silence. She took Tawni’s shoulders and turned her around.

“Tawn. I thought the same thing. But she didn't seem like she was lying.” Gemma said in a soft voice, trying to calm the wild Irish girl down. She gave a small chuckle and said, “Not as if she could lie, with the concussion and having been punched by her best friend.”

“Well...she deserved it.” Tawni said, pulling away from Gemma’s grasp. “If they aren’t sleepin’ together, there’s somethin’ goin’ on. I know Teagan. She wouldn’ get involved with a member again.”

Gemma shook her head, not entirely ready to start down that path with her, at least not right now.

 “Tawni, let me find Jax or someone to take you home, okay? I’ll call you if we hear anything more about Chibs.” She said. Tawni didn't want to leave her uncle, but with Fiona here with Teagan, that was trouble enough. There was no telling whether or not Jimmy really didn't know if she was here or not, and that was the one thing Chibs made her promise when they moved; Stay away from Jimmy O’Phelan.

“Juice brought me. I think he’s still here. I can catch a ride home with him.” Tawni said, letting the barest tone of defeat into her voice; accent falling away. Gemma smiled and pulled her into a brief hug and kissed her cheek.

“Go on, baby. I’ll check in on you later.” Gemma said. Tawni nodded and sighed, turning to the crucifix and marking herself with the cross before she walked out. Gemma shook her head, staring up at the cross and said, “We’re about to have the Boondock trilogy in this bitch.”

Gemma stared at the cross for a moment longer before going to the altar and lighting two of the candles before walking out.

~

Teagan had found an empty waiting room on the next floor and curled up in one of the chairs, waving off any nurse or doctor who tried to ask if she was okay. She didn't even realize she had fallen asleep, until a rough shake of her shoulder woke her. Teagan groaned and shoved the hand away, opening her eyes to tell off the umpteenth nurse/doctor, when she saw it was Tig. She was still just as pissed and irritated, but she didn't have the strength to fight with him this time.

“Leave me alone, Alex.” Teagan hissed. Tig simply rolled his eyes; Teagan only ever used his real name when she was mad at him and his full name when she was absolutely irate.

“I heard about what happened with you and Tawn. I can’t make sure my baby sister is okay?” Tig asked, sitting down in the chair next to her.

“I’m not a baby, Tig. So fuck off.” Teagan snapped. “Besides, since when did you decide to actually start acting like my brother, instead of my fucking parole officer?”

“Look, Teage, I know I haven’t exactly been the most supportive of your decisions recently...” Tig stated. “And I most definitely haven’t been the best brother since you got back into town.”

“No fucking shit.” Teagan muttered, rolling her eyes before scrubbing a hand over her face, wincing as it connected with the bruise on her cheek.

“I’m tryin’ to apologize here, Rave.” Tig frowned as he watched his sister closely. “And you know well as I do, that’s not something I do.”

“I know.” Teagan sighed softly, her gaze fixed on her hands as she fidgeted with the ring on her middle right finger. “You don’t have too, Tig...really. I get it.” She sighed. “I haven’t exactly spent my time making good life choices.”

“While I’m not goin’ to disagree with you…” Tig trailed off for a moment. “Not all your choices have been terrible lately...well, one of them at least.” He smirked a little, chuckling, as Teagan rolled her eyes at him dramatically.

“You’re an adult, Teagan. I can’t exactly tell you what you can and can’t do anymore...not that you ever listened to me anyway. But, after today...after the explosion.” Tig shook his head at the memory. “Look, what I’m tryin’ to say is after what happened, I know you’re not just fuckin’ around with this whole ‘Chibs’ situation.” Tig sighed. “And if being with him makes you happy, or a better person, or whatever in the hell relationships are supposed to do; then I’ll try and back off...maybe even be a little more supportive.”

“Jesus Christ, how hard did I fucking punch you?” Teagan snorted in disbelief as she waited for him to start laughing or admit he was just fucking with her; but he simply stayed silent. Blue eyes fixed to hers patiently as he waited for some kind of response.

“Teage?” Tig questioned carefully after about a solid minute of silence between them had passed. Not entirely sure how to react as he watched his little sister dissolve into tears, burying her face in her hands as she let out a quiet sob. 

“Shit…” He muttered under his breath as he stood, kneeling in front of Teagan as he pulled her into a tight hug. Tig sat there with her for a while, letting his little sister cry. He hadn’t seen her like this since they were kids and he was ready to do anything to help her this time. Finally, Teagan pulled away from him, sniffling, as she wiped her face.

“I-I think I’m gonna go check on Chibs.” She said, clearing her throat. “I haven’t seen him yet...I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Yeah, babe. Don’t worry.” Tig said, helping her stand. “But we should make sure Rocky Jr. isn’t around. No need to go TKO over him.” Teagan rolled her eyes, but let the comment go. She nodded and Tig walked with her as they went to the elevator to find Chibs’ room.

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