The next morning, Lando pulled up to the curb outside her apartment building in a car that, by his standards, was modest. A sleek, black Audi RS5 — not one of his usual hypercars, certainly nothing that screamed money the way some of his other rides did. But still, he caught the way her eyes widened just slightly when she stepped outside and spotted it.
Noted.
She hesitated for a second, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder before walking toward the passenger side.
“This is… a nice car,” she said as she climbed in, running her fingers lightly over the smooth leather interior.
Lando smirked as he pulled away from the curb. “Yeah? You like it?”
“I mean, yeah. It’s pretty.”
He chuckled. “Pretty isn’t usually how people describe it.”
She shrugged, glancing out the window. “I, uh, really don’t really know cars. Obviously. I mean, I’m sure you can probably tell. This one looks cool though.” A pause. “Fast, I’m assuming?”
“Very.”
She made a thoughtful hum, then—almost absentmindedly—reached for the seatbelt and clicked it into place a second time, as if double-checking that it was secure.
Lando raised a brow but didn’t comment. Instead, he stole a quick glance at her as they hit a stoplight. She looked reserved, like she was still trying to figure him out.
Which, fair enough. He was trying to figure her out too.
“So...” he started awkwardly, drumming his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. “How’d you sleep?”
She made a face, lips pursing in mild contemplation. “Not terrible.”
“That’s not a good answer.”
“It’s not a bad one either.”
Lando huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll take it.”
For a few beats, there was only the sound of the city waking up around them—traffic, pedestrians, the occasional honk of a horn.
Then, casually, she asked, “Do you do this often?”
“Do what?”
“Drive your friends to class.”
You idiot, she mentally facepalmed herself. What kind of a question even is that?
Lando smirked, eyes flicking toward her. “No. You’re the first.”
That seemed to throw her off. “Oh.”
He could practically see her debating how to respond to that, and for some reason, it amused him. He let the silence stretch a little longer, let her stew in it before adding, “You should feel special.”
That made her huff a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I’ll be sure to brag about it to my classmates.”
Lando smirked. Yeah, he liked this. The slow push and pull of it. The way she wasn’t quite sure where to place him yet.
He shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as he was.
They fell into another brief silence, the kind that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but still carried something clearly unfamiliar. She was still adjusting to him. He was still adjusting to whatever this was.
“So… you don’t drive or somethin’?” he asked, cutting through the quiet.
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Why’s that?”
“Never got around to learning, I guess.”
Lando raised a brow, sparing a glance at her before switching lanes seamlessly. “Never?”
She gave a small, sheepish shrug. “I mean, I get the concept of driving, obviously. I just… never had the time. Or the skill, for that matter. Not my thing, I’ve learned.”
Lando clicked his tongue, amused. “You’re missin’ out, you know.”
“I think I’m surviving just fine without it.”
“Surviving,” he echoed. “But not thriving.”
That made her laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Lando smirked, but there was something else in his expression—something bordering on curiosity. He didn’t know why, but the thought of her not driving was oddly... something. It made her seem a little more untouched by the world he lived in.
And for some reason, he liked that.
Before he could dwell on it too much, they pulled up near the university. He idled by the curb, glancing over at her.
She hesitated for a second before reaching for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride, Liam.”
He nodded. “Anytime.”
She lingered just a beat longer, like there was something else she wanted to say, but instead, she just gave him a small smile before stepping out.
Lando watched as she disappeared into the crowd of students, exhaling slowly.
He shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t have let him.
But maybe she breathed a little easier with him around.
The first few drives were awkward in the way that new things always are. She didn’t quite know what to do with herself, and neither did he.
Lando had never been one for small talk, and she—well, she wasn’t exactly shy, but she was still guarded in that way people were when they weren’t sure what to make of someone yet.
So, at first, the car rides were quiet. Not uncomfortably so, but just enough to make the silence noticeable.
She’d fiddle with the strap of her bag or stare out the window, while he kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting lazily on the gear shift. He never pushed her to talk, and she never forced a conversation when there was nothing to say.
But then, gradually, things shifted.
It started small—little observations, little questions that didn’t seem to mean much on the surface. She learned that Lando wasn’t much of a morning person, but he hid it well. That he always had a coffee before heading anywhere, but he never really finished the whole cup.
One morning, she was fidgeting with the strap of her bag when she casually mentioned, “You drink a lot of coffee.”
Lando raised a brow, eyes still on the road. “You work at a coffee shop.”
“Yeah, but you don’t even get anything different. Always a spiced black coffee.”
He smirked. “And?”
She huffed. “And that’s… boring.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s simple. Gets the job done.”
“You could at least try a latte. Maybe an espresso macchiato. Something.”
Lando gave her a sidelong glance. “Didn’t take you for a coffee snob.”
“I’m not! I just think it’s a waste to keep drinking the same thing over and over when there’s so much out there that you could try.”
“Right,” he drawled, but the next time he stopped by Brews & Books, he ordered a macchiato just to see the way she lit up in satisfaction. He pretended not to notice when she gave him a subtle, knowing smile.
One evening, after her shift, Y/N climbed into the car and sighed, tilting her head back against the seat.
“Long day?” Lando asked, pulling away from the curb.
She made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “You have no idea.”
“Try me.”
She huffed but didn’t hesitate to launch into a story about a particularly difficult customer, waving her hands for emphasis as she spoke. Lando listened, offering the occasional smirk or amused hum, but mostly, he just let her talk.
“Some guy came in today and asked if we had any books on taxidermy.”
Lando glanced at her, amused. “And?”
She huffed, slumping slightly in her seat. “And I don’t know why we do, but we actually had two.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You sound distressed.”
“I am distressed. Who’s coming into a cozy book café and thinking, ‘You know what I need? A book about stuffing dead animals.’”
Lando smirked. “Hey, at least they’re reading.”
She shot him a look, and he found himself biting back a grin.
She rolled her eyes at him before exhaling dramatically. “Anyway. That was my day.” Turning her face to see him better, she added, “How was yours?”
Lando arched a brow. “You want to hear about my day?”
She shrugged. “I mean, you always listen to mine. Fair’s fair, no?”
He could’ve given her a lie—could’ve made something up about a business meeting or a gym session.
Hmm, let me think: drug deals, a back alley brawl, and a private execution all in time for dinner with my gang of co-criminals.
Instead he settled on, “S’alright. Nothing special.”
She gave him a look. “Boo. That’s vague.”
“That’s the point. Obviously,” he deadpanned, the ghost of a smirk upturning the corner of his lips. Y/N rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway.
The rides kept happening. Sometimes he’d show up unannounced after her shift, sometimes he’d send a text a few minutes before her class let out. It wasn’t always planned, but it was consistent. And that was what mattered.
He learned that she liked the window down, just a crack, no matter how cold it was outside. That she was a little clumsy when she was tired—nothing dramatic, just small things like fumbling with her seatbelt or nearly dropping her phone when she got in the car.
One evening, after picking her up from a late shift, he noticed the way she rested her head against the seat, eyes slipping shut as soon as they hit the first stoplight.
“You can sleep, you know,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “I won’t let you wake up in a ditch.”
She smiled sleepily. “That’s reassuring.”
But the next time she was exhausted, she actually let herself drift off.
It was subtle, the way things softened between them.
She started greeting him with a tired but genuine smile in the mornings, a quiet, “Hey, Liam,” as she settled into the car.
He started recognizing when Y/N was in a mood—when she was stressed about school, or irritated about something that happened at the shop. He never asked directly, but he’d say things like Long day? or You wanna grab a coffee before I drop you off? and she’d answer without thinking, without that usual hesitation.
And Lando… Lando didn’t quite know what to make of it.
Because he didn’t do things like this. He didn’t let people take up space in his life if they weren’t necessary, and yet here she was.
And somehow, it didn’t feel like an inconvenience at all.
And, to no one’s surprise, the news wasn’t met with euphoria when Firestar got home.
Once he entered camp, he was quick to jump onto the stump, keeping his tail high while the Clanmates he’d walked home with had the looks on their faces one would have when being ordered to go embrace a speeding car. Curious expressions and murmurs bounced around camp, the Clan moving in to listen to what their leader had to say.
“Is everyone doing well? Feeling happy?” he started, and when he got the usual nods and amused puffs of breath, he continued, “Then I’m sorry, because I may be about to ruin your moods.”
Dustpelt, sitting beside the stump and facing the crowd, grimaced.
“On my way to returning Bilberry home, a Blood cat approached me and Thornclaw,” Firestar said. “He had a proposition to help take down the Scourge’s army, using his insider knowledge and potentially getting help from cats in the Aulmir who don’t agree with the Blood.”
ThunderClan communally looked at each other and spoke in shock and interest.
“Who was it?” Sandstorm asked, ears back and eyes narrowed. “And what did you say?”
“The tom called Brick, one of the cats higher up in the Blood’s ranks. And, well, the idea came up that I could go into the Aulmir with him to find allies, and—”
For as much as he had anticipated outrage, the sudden leap in volume made him jump; the entire Clan was shouting in horror and shock and anger all at once. Firestar couldn’t even pick out a specific voice or individual words. It was just general, extremely unhappy noise.
He waited for much longer than usual for the noise to die down, and then he spoke. “I’m aware that it’s a very dangerous plan, but it’s about the safest one we have. None of you could get away with walking around in the Aulmir, not with the way everyone in every Clan looks like they do.”
“And Brick couldn’t just talk to them himself?” Goldenflower stared at Firestar like he was already dead.
“I want these cats to have a good impression of the Clans,” he said patiently. “That involves one of us coming to them and encouraging a friendly relationship, offering compassion and all that.”
Ravenwing sighed and gave his friend a tired, if affectionate look. “As much as I hate to admit it, Firestar is our best bet to get cats on our side. Even putting him looking like a loner aside, he got RiverClan to like us. If anyone can make friends with strangers, it’s him.”
“But if someone recognizes you, you’ll be dead!” Cloudnose protested.
“Only Scourge and his four enforcers saw me,” Firestar responded. “Brick tells me that it’s difficult to keep track of who all is in the Blood…”
“…So it’s hard to say if anyone besides them knows about you,” Ravenwing finished. He sounded marginally more confident.
The Clan’s outrage settled a little, the surface of it slowly crumbling to reveal what Firestar knew was really there: fear. He didn’t blame them. It was a terrifying prospect to him, too, as much as he wanted to keep them happy and promise he’d be fine.
“Trust me, I know it’s dangerous,” he said soothingly. “But, personally, I think it’s more dangerous to reject any possibility of allies who can help us scare off the Blood for good. And really, it’s not just scaring them off. Brick wants the Blood completely dismantled, and he’s willing to risk his own life to make that happen. Why shouldn’t we at least try to make that happen when the opportunity presents itself?”
“I think you should do it.”
Firestar looked down to his left. Cinderpelt had limped up to his side and was balancing on her good back leg, the front ones leaning her against the stump. Her bushy, burr-covered tail wagged excitedly.
“In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to,” she said. “I saw more earlier than just you coming to the border with a buddy.”
Perfect: approval from the seer herself. He stepped slightly to the side and gestured for her to jump up on the stump with him, which she quickly did as he asked, “What else was there?”
Cinderpelt expertly answered him while speaking loud enough for everyone to hear in an air like she hadn’t meant to be overheard. “You’re to look for a calico molly with the stars in her eyes. She’ll have a small red daughter, and both of them are going to be our path to success.”
Mutters and grumbles, but the Clan looked reluctant to argue against messages from StarClan itself.
“If you’re caught, we’ll lose the most vital member of ThunderClan,” Greystripe said, quiet but clear. “Even if StarClan sent a sign, it’s still…”
“Dangerous,” Firestar agreed. “I’m willing to take the risk and place my faith in StarClan’s message. I promise, the instant I get what we need, I’m coming home. There’s no point in lingering and making you all worry.”
“You make us worry anyway,” Frostfur sighed. “But… if StarClan sent something to Cinderpelt…”
Conversation coursed through the crowd like a wave, hitting the end of the group and rebounding back, splashing into other ideas and rippling off again. Firestar gave Cinderpelt a grateful blink and she winked at him with a beam.
“Then it’s agreed?” he said to the Clan. “In two days, I’ll be meeting with Brick and heading out into the Aulmir. Is everyone fine with that?”
They very obviously weren’t exactly thrilled, but they all sighed or mumbled affirmation.
“Thank you all for placing your trust in me.” Firestar bunched up to jump back down onto the ground. “Continue your business!”
He half-expected to be crowded by cats demanding that he stay home, but except a good number of mournful looks at him like he was already dead and a couple cats muttering things like, “This is suicide,” or, “Stars help him”, he was allowed to walk to the prey-pile in peace and fetch himself Mousefur’s mole.
The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but by the time Firestar was chewing on the last foot of his meal, cats were slowly making their ways to their dens and wishing each other sweet dreams. With that loneliness tugging him towards the warriors’ den, Firestar got to his feet and walked out of camp, heading to his nest. He curled himself, flopped down, and shut his eyes, ready to stew all morning again—
“Hey, Firestar?”
He blinked and lifted his head. Greystripe and Ravenwing’s heads had parted the newly-grown lichen curtain, and they were looking at him with hesitant anxiety.
“Hey,” Firestar said, surprised. “Something up?”
“Well…” Ravenwing took a few steps into the den, Greystripe following. “We thought you might like some company today. Since… since you might be lost in a few days.”
Greystripe nodded. “And we miss sharing a den with you. We know you miss that, too.”
Firestar’s ears warmed sheepishly. “I– I mean, I do, but it’s not horrible.”
The anxiety in Greystripe’s eyes left to give his friend a deadpan look. “Dude, you look like you’re being sent to die alone in the woods every time you go to bed for the day. Don’t think we didn’t notice your slink.”
Ravenwing twitched his whiskers. “So why not come see you?”
Firestar had a faint notion that he should protest, that he should insist that as leader, he was fine and he could take the isolation. The rest of him wondered why he would even bother to do that. Tradition? Because Bluestar did that too? And how well did it go for her?
“I’d like that,” he said quietly. “Thank you. Er– that moss there isn’t big enough for both of you, maybe—”
“Nope. Move over.” Greystripe stepped into Firestar’s nest and plopped down beside him.
Firestar was too surprised to do anything but obey him, scooting and changing positions so he could share the thankfully larger nest with his friend. He then squeezed into Greystripe to let Ravenwing settle down on his other side. It took some shuffling, but they managed to find a comfortable position of Greystrpe curling around the edge of the nest, half-circling the other two with Firestar in the center and Ravenwing looped halfway around him.
There was silence for a moment, Firestar basking in the warmth and companionship, before his inner thoughts escaped him and he murmured, “I miss just being a warrior. Getting to sleep in the same den as everyone else, and just being talked to like I’m nobody special, and talking to others at Gatherings…” He lowered his head onto his paws. “And hanging out with you guys.”
Greystripe pressed his cheek against Fireheart’s.
“It can’t be easy,” Ravenwing replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to help with that. I wish I did.”
“I’m sorry you had to step up like this so early in your life,” Greystripe added, also muted. “You’re doing great, but… it’s still not fair.”
Something in Firestar’s chest broke. He had the sudden urge to wail like a kit, pour out a deluge of regrets and fears and grief. He instead burrowed deeper into the nest of warmth and comfort his friends made, shut his eyes tight, and tried not to shake.
---
Evening came, and with it, anticipation. Firestar tried to occupy himself with breakfast, but had barely finished when Dustpelt came into view with his former and current apprentices, Thornclaw and Bramblepaw, flanking him.
“You’re not in trouble,” Dustpelt told a nervous-looking Bramblepaw patiently. “Just stay in for a moment and I’ll come back for you. Have some prey, alright?”
Bramblepaw’s oversized feet tip-tapped nervously, but he shuffled over to the prey-pile, glancing at Firestar as Dustpelt approached him with Thornclaw.
“I was thinking we could talk outside,” the deputy said promptly. He didn’t make an obvious gesture, but something in his face and tone made it clear what he wanted to talk about.
Firestar stood up. “Let’s go.”
Thornclaw looked between them with an unusual lack of confidence and an unsurprising amount of confusion. Firestar just crooked his tail and led the toms out of camp.
No one said anything until they were a good ways into the woods and camp was no longer visible. Then Firestar turned, sat down, and tilted his head at Dustpelt: Do you want to start?
“You may have noticed that we’ve been giving you a lot of duties lately,” Dustpelt began, sitting down beside his leader. “Escorting Firestar and leading patrols, and so on.”
Thornclaw stayed standing, rod-straight and rod-stiff. “Yessir, I have.”
“The reason for that,” Dustpelt continued, “is that we’ve been considering having you replace me as deputy when the time is right.”
Thornclaw jolted, staring between his superiors with huge hazel eyes. Firestar managed to restrain a chuff at the sheer shock distorting his face.
“It’ll be a while,” Firestar added. “We want to give you time to completely raise an apprentice and gain some experience in life. But, if you’re willing and eager, I’d be very pleased to have you serve under me as second-in-command once you’re ready.” He raised a paw in an easing gesture, preemptive. “You’re free to think about it for some time, and you don’t have to say yes. We just think you’d be an excellent replacement for Dustpelt. You did learn from the best.”
Dustpelt poorly restrained puffing out his chest, leaving his fur to flare a little.
Thornclaw looked from leader to deputy, mouth open and occasionally working soundlessly, like he had many words to say and they were all dying on his tongue. Firestar encouragingly blinked at him, waiting patiently until Thornclaw was able to get a sentence out.
“Me?” he managed. “With-- with my st’mbling overwords?”
Firestar nodded once. “I was chosen despite my size and personality. You have much more of what ThunderClan is looking for, and I think you’d balance me out.” His eyes creased. “I am a bit too nice for my own good sometimes.”
“But…” Thornclaw stared at Dustpelt. “But don’tchu want to be deputy?”
Dustpelt shrank a little, his fur no longer fluffing out. “To tell you the truth, no, never. Whitecloud wanted us to lead together, so we did. But I made Firestar promise to replace me as soon as we had someone with potential.” His eyes shone as he regarded his former apprentice. “And that someone is you.”
“What do you think?” Firestar asked. “Would you like to take some time to consider it?”
Thornclaw looked down at the ground, his back legs sitting heavily like they’d given out. His fluffy tail, fur coming together into a sharp point at the end, tapped quietly as he thought. Firestar and Dustpelt said nothing, letting the young warrior wander about in his head, until he finally looked up.
“You both knew my father, right?” he said.
Firestar’s heart twinged painfully at the memory of Lionface. “Yes, we did.”
Another pause, and then, hesitantly, Thornclaw said, “I nev’r got to know him. Jus’ had Mira to tell me what he was like. She’d say, like… ‘He was a wond’rf’l deputy, and he would be so proud of all of you if he was here’.” His face sank a little into melancholy. “I didn’t think he would be. Not of me, when I talk like… like an idiot that can’ keep fr’m slippinnup my words.”
“That’s not—” Dustpelt started. Firestar tapped him with his tail and gave him a look, and he fell silent.
“He’d be proud of Snowshade, doing so well even though he’s deaf,” Thornclaw went on, the words coming quicker as he continued. Firestar suspected this had been on his mind for a long time. “He’d be proud of Tornface, surviving a dog’ttack. He’d be proud of Brackenfur, being so nice an’ helpf’l and impressing other Clans at Gatherings.” His face went even sadder. “But me? I don’t have friends. I have my brothersan’ sister, and my mira, but they have others too. I fight well, but I can’t talk to anyone without…” His voice went so quiet that Firestar could barely hear him. “…without hating my stupid voice.”
Firestar looked at Dustpelt out of the corner of his eye. The deputy looked heartbroken. Thornclaw must not have talked to him about this.
“I fight good, but tha’s it. Tha’s all I have.” Thornclaw looked back up at them. “I dunno if Arpam would be proud of me as I am. No friends or stories or confidence.” He hesitated, then, slowly, a bit of fire came into his eyes. “But… but maybe he’d be proud of me if I follow’d ‘im, and served my Clan like he did. Like my mentor does.”
The heartbreak left Dustpelt’s expression, his own eyes shining with affection. “You already make me proud. Me and your mother and your siblings.”
“Then I can mak’em more proud. Them’n you.” Thornclaw stood up, tall, magnificent and with a mane that shone regally like his father’s always had. Determination settled on his face. “And being deputy, when I’m ready to lead… I think thassa good way to do it.”
Firestar’s chest warmed with relief and joy. “That’s wonderful to hear, Thornclaw. ThunderClan would be thrilled to have you as deputy.” He stood up too. “Now, to get you started, when they’re ready to become apprentices, we’ll give you your pick of Rainkit or Sootkit. Whoever you want, whoever will help you learn and grow too.”
“Hmm…” Thornclaw set his jaw to the side thoughtfully. “Think maybe whichever’s gunna be harder. Maybe Rainkit. He causes lotsa problems, and Sootkit follows him.”
“Good choice,” Dustpelt said, rising with the others. “He’ll teach you more than any other apprentice. And I know you’ll do well.”
“Get to know him in the meantime,” Firestar added. “It’ll be good to build that rapport as early as you can.”
Thornclaw’s eyes lit with excitement. “I will.” He paused. “Issat all?”
“That’s all.” Firestar flicked his tail. “You’re free to go. I’ll go back to camp.” He looked at Dustpelt. “Are you coming back for Bramblepaw? I can send him out here to join you.”
“That’d be good,” Dustpelt said. “Showing Thornclaw how to mentor was my plan for the night. By the time we’re done, the border patrol should be back.” He frowned. “I suppose your friend is keeping his rogues from attacking our borders, given how little we’ve seen them.”
“I hope so.” Firestar sighed, then turned back towards camp. “I’ll see you two later. Stay safe out here.”
Returning well wishes were tossed his way as he trotted off. He allowed his tail to jump around in excitement when he was close to camp again, thrilled at how well the conversation had gone. He was already imagining discussing hunting plans and encouraging Thornclaw to raise his voice more when meetings came around.
He entered camp and, to his surprise, Bramblepaw was already standing by the tunnel with his sister, evidently waiting for him.
“You’re still not in trouble,” Firestar said warmly, touching his nose to his brother’s bowed forehead, then Tawnypaw’s. “Dustpelt wanted me to tell you to go out and join him and Thornclaw for training.”
“Oh!” Bramblepaw deflated a little, but seemingly with relief. “Okay. Good.”
Firestar tilted his head. “How is training going, by the way?”
“He’s a good fighter,” Tawnypaw said flatly. “But he won’t knock anyone down. Just dodges and taps a lot.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone, is all,” Bramblepaw said sheepishly. “I’m just really big and heavy, and if I fight too hard, they could get bruised or cut up or—”
“You’ll be fine,” Tawnypaw said. “Fight with Thornclaw. That’ll be fair.”
“I… I can maybe do that.” Bramblepaw waved his tail in a jittery fashion before scurrying out of camp.
“And how’s your training going?” Firestar asked Tawnypaw.
She rolled her shoulder. “Fine.”
He wasn’t going to get anything else out of her—he knew that by now—so he just purred. “Good. Let me know if anything comes up, alright?”
“Sure,” Tawnypaw replied.
Firestar was tempted to ruffle her head-fur, just to tease. She looked like she knew he was thinking about it, going by her suspicious squint and turned-back ears. He elected not to irritate her with more physical contact and moved on, heading towards a sleeping Goldenflower and Aspencloud, nestled together.
At the sight of them, loneliness stabbed him again. This time, though, it was softened by some padding around his heart. The memory of his friends staying with him made it a lot easier to swallow.
Arthur woke to Merlin thrashing, convulsing through some sort of night terror. He held Merlin close, and tried to keep him from injuring himself through the spasms, but he was entirely uncertain whether that was even the right thing to do.
He noticed, as the minutes went on, that Merlin had been getting increasingly warmer. With growing terror he realized that Merlin was incredibly hot, burning up as if the dreams themselves were causing some sort of incredible magical fever. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he’d felt so powerless. It was a relief then, if a surprise, when Morgana knocked on their door and entered as soon as Arthur was able to stammer some sort of assent.
Morgana walked in, with a confidence and certainty of action Arthur couldn't remember ever seeing in her before. The room seemed to drop in temperature as she crossed in, and, in moments, she brought a hand to Merlin’s chest and one to his face. Arthur could feel the cold radiating off her. Merlin’s temperature crashed drastically as he woke with a start to the cold shock that rippled through from the point of Morgana's contact, and he breathed in sharp and deep like a man just saved from drowning.
“More like the pyre…” Morgana said, responding to the thought Arthur had never voiced.
Merlin panted as he assessed the situation, assessed the room around him, came back to reality, blue eyes betraying an equal measure of absolute understanding and complete bafflement that Arthur could only hope would be promptly explained
- So, to whom do I owe this honor? Omiros was so polite that they suspected him to be ironic. The entire Asijaka clan is here visiting me?
- We have a delicate matter to discuss, Kyrie Omire, Noor started carefully.
- I'm all ears.
- My daughter Myrto, whom you know ...
- I do, I do. Omiros smiled inscrutably.
- Well, she is carrying your child.
- Oh is she now?!
Omiros looked genuinely surprised, while Myrto looked down on her feet.
- There is no use in denying it Kyrie Omire, Eira said. She has already seen the obstetrician, Agnodíkh. He can confirm it.
- I see.
- So it's best for everybody that you do the honorable thing.
- "The honorable thing"? Oh, you mean, I should marry her?
- Yes.
- And if I refuse?
- That would be most unfortunate, Noor said. It would ruin your reputation, as well as Myrto's.
- Well, we can't have that, can we? But I'm sure you know I can barely support myself and my two foster children. My entire livelihood consists of kind donations. So my reputation is important to me. But is this really the future you want for your daughter and grandchild, Kyria Asijaka? A life in poverty?
- If I may suggest, Eira cut in, we can't provide a substantial dowry, but we can bestow a small weekly contribution.
- I see. And this arrangement is according to your wishes Myrto?
- Yes, Myrto said, and was glad Omiros couldn't see the tears in her eyes.
- I understand, Omiros was immersed in thought for a while. Before I give you my reply I need to talk with Myrto alone. Maybe we can go for a walk Myrto?
- If you wish.
- I do.
- Well, well, well. Are you going to tell me what's going on?
- What do you mean? They just explained it to you, didn't they?
- Myrto, do you take me for an idiot? I might not understand all mysteries in the world, but I do know one thing: I'm not the father of that child.
- But the obstetrician...
- Give me a break. I've been married Myrto. I know how children are made! Now tell me the truth!
- I just can't! It's too embarrassing. I'm so sorry for getting you into this mess. It's all my fault.
- So who is he? Who is the father of that child?
- It's someone I met in Katafygio.
- And that's the truth? Do you love him?
- Yes, maybe! I don't know! I don't know him! He wanted me to stay but I just couldn't, I love my family so much, how could I leave them? I didn't know about the baby, I swear! I'm so sorry for everything! I understand that you can't marry me. I'm a terrible person! Boohoohoo...
- I don't believe you are a terrible person. However, I was very hurt by your behavior earlier this year. On the other hand you probably went through a lot, and I just happened to be the one to pay for it all.
- You didn't deserve it!
- No I didn't. But it's okay, it's the past. All I wanted was the truth. Myrto you have to make a choice. A life with me will not be easy, but I do care about you, and if you need me to give you and the baby my name, I will. If not, I'm sure your family can find other arrangements.
- I'm not sure if I can love you like a wife should.
- All I want from you is honesty and the proper respect any husband would deserve. Can you give me that?
- Yes...
- Then let's go and tell your family that I accept their terms.
.
.
[End of chapter 13]
Once again I want to thank those of you who have followed, liked and commented on my story. It means a lot and gives me the motivation to publish my small stories. I am truly grateful. 💕
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Previous | Index | Character overview | Next (Chapter 14)
Death and the Lady: Chapter Thirteen: Chibs Telford X Reader
PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE
Tag List: @youngadult9016 @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming @redwoodmaya
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18+ Only please. Smut ahead.
Chapter Thirteen: Where the Heart Lies
Her hand felt delicate in his. Of course the longer he knew her the more Chibs Telford realized that Y/N Y/L/N was far less demure than she appeared at first glance. She might appear at first glance to be so prim and proper, but she was far more fierce and strongwilled than anyone really gave her proper credit for.
Her determination was disregarded as her just being too stubborn for her own good and at times written off as a sign of immaturity to those who weren’t willing to attempt to work through the walls she placed up. Her fierceness was written off as her simply having a smart mouth and never knowing when to shut up and stop being so hostile.
Chibs had found though that he appreciated the stubbornness and the wit. He’d admired these traits in her from their first meeting, and had only grown to adore this facet of her personality as the months wore on.
He was perfectly content coaxing her to trust him and let go of her need for control. He was happy to put up with the occasional sass and even willing to allow her to give him a hard time. He was willing to encourage her to not build walls around herself and isolate her heart. He allowed her to be vulnerable without judgment, thankful she trusted him enough to be open with him.
Still, even with as strong willed as he was aware she was; he couldn’t help but to focus on how fragile her hand felt against his as she led him down the hallway back to her bedroom.
His heart began to pound in his chest though the blood flowing through his veins began to fill in a lower region of his body. His body was already eagerly and joyfully anticipating what she was asking of him.
He let out a shaky breath at the thought of what she’d asked of him.
He felt ridiculous admitting it, but the notion of what she had asked of him made him feel a sense of anxiety. A nervous energy began to bubble up in his gut along with the lust coursing through him.
He felt foolish for feeling anxious at the thought of taking her to bed and loving her at her request.
He was far from a blushing virgin. He was more than sexually experienced. He would like to think that he was quite gifted in that department. He had enough experience under his belt to know how to pleasure a woman. He was confident in his sexual prowess.
He knew though of course, that quite a bit of his experience involved less of the act of loving and more of the simply primal act of fucking. Bedding the croweaters did not require such tenderness nor gentleness.
Sex with a croweater was just that; sex. There was no feeling behind it. He didn’t want to cherish them and hold them close to him. He didn’t want to protect them and make it clear to them that he adored them with every last ounce of his heart.
Bedding a croweater was usually more of an act of finding release. There were no soft kisses, no gentle touches, and no words of adoration passed between lovers.
It was more of a pure physical act. There might be some occasional dirty talk but the end goal was always the same. Find release and then move on. Kisses and touches could be rough and desperate and movements could be harsh. There was no love there. His heart had not been involved in the process of bedding a croweater.
Chibs Telford knew that this was no romp in bed with a sweetbutt who honestly cared less about him and more about the fact that she had attracted the attention of a patched in member of SAMCRO.
He knew that what Y/N was asking from him was an act he’d not engaged in in such a long time.
He knew that his estranged wife was probably the last person he’d attempted to make love to.
He shoved the thought from his mind not wanting to focus on any thought of Fiona at the moment.
He’d begun to realize that thoughts of his estranged wife did not fill him with the same aching sense of longing that had once overtaken him. He felt a fondness for the life they’d had and a care for her, but his heart had begun to pull in a different direction. Thoughts of Fiona filled him with a sense of guilt more often than not nowadays.
It was an equally exciting and terrifying realization to have that his heart was shifting and changing.
Chibs was certain he was following her too closely as they neared her room and to be honest it took everything in him not to attempt to scoop her up and throw her over his shoulder to get her there a little quicker.
He silently told himself that throwing her over his shoulder could be reserved for a future time.
He was also tempted to kick his shoes off and perhaps lose a few articles of clothing as they made their way to her bedroom. He pushed back the temptation telling himself that she would be none too amused if he left a trail of clothing down the hallway especially considering his gun and knives would have to join this discarded clothing.
She turned to face him as they finally reached her bedroom, they entered the room, he kicking the door shut behind them.
Her lips met his, his hands sliding along her body once again taking in the curves he’d been dying to caress from their first meeting. Caressing her and holding her was a privilege she’d allowed him as their relationship had grown more serious. It was a privilege he was taking full advantage of.
Her hands slid along his body caressing him in return not helping but to always enjoy the feel of him. She knew that she could easily describe him as being sturdy and strong. When she thought of his form she associated him with a sense of dependability and security.
He reluctantly parted his lips from hers, he moving away from her embrace. He reached down to slide his kutte from his body gently folding it and placing it where it rested most nights he slept over; over the red velvet living chair in the corner of her room.
He avoided her gaze as he placed his gun and knife over the kutte. He hated to admit that it made him feel uneasy to reveal the weapons to her. He always feared that it would be a reminder of just who and what he was for her.
He knew her past with the club might make her feel a sense of unease when she allowed herself to think too long and hard about the fact that the man she was allowing to be by her side was very much an outlaw.
He’d realized her memories of being around the club were filled with more bitterness than sweetness. He was hoping to ease her back into his world and feared pushing for too much and making her pull away.
He knew of course that her past with Gunner might aid this sense of unease and bitterness. Chibs had recently begun to wonder if Gunner had lorded his status as a Son over her head to intimidate her. She had been so young then and so vulnerable; the thought floated around in his mind. He imagined that the Tacoma Son had been quite proud to show off any means he had to harm Y/N to her, as a little reminder to keep in her place when he perceived her as being too difficult. The man had proudly declared that he’d flashed a gun at a woman more than once the few times Chibs had been unfortunate enough to overhear Gunner’s bragging over his past sexual encounters.
Chibs felt sick having to admit that he’d begun to wonder if any of the horrifying stories he’d heard in the past from Gunner had possibly featured Y/N as unnamed the sexual partner in question. The thought made his stomach turn considering that he’d realized Gunner’s propensity for rough sex apparently did not always involve a partner that consented to violent acts. If he knew then what he knew now; he had a feeling he would have been less inclined to sit by and let Gunner run his mouth so smugly.
Chibs pushed the thought from his mind not wanting to focus on the asshole when he was about to experience this moment with the woman he adored. He had already promised himself that Y/N would never know that pain again. She’d certainly never know it from him.
Y/N kicked off her shoes and socks as Chibs focused on removing his rings lining them along her dresser allowing the silver cross he wore around his neck to join the rings.
He kicked his own shoes and socks off before he made his way back over to her his lips sliding along hers.
She felt her knees grow weak against his kiss and was certain she might easily collapse to the floor if he was not so lovingly holding on to her keeping her pressed close against his body.
She allowed him to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding along hers with skill, the act working a moan from her lips.
She placed a hand against his back allowing her other hand to mess his hair. He pulled his lips from hers sliding them across her cheek working them down her neck. He nipped at the delicate skin of her neck determined to leave evidence of his affections behind.
He smirked as she let out a soft gasp at the action, her knees feeling all the more wobbly.
She pulled back from him her voice soft suddenly feeling far more bashful than she’d ever felt about the act of sex in her life. “Bed?”
“Aye, bed sounds perfect, Hen.” He replied, tempted to tease her that they didn’t need a bed. He’d gladly take her on the floor or against a wall.
He held in the remark though reminding himself that it would be best saved for a different time. He was suddenly reminded of that night on her sofa when he’d gone down on her after she’d opened up to him about her past. He remembered his determination to show her exactly how she deserved to be treated by a man. He was still determined to do just that.
He knew that he needed to make sure she was comfortable. He needed to be sure that she knew that the act of loving her was all about making sure she felt as good and as secure as she possibly could.
They laid back against the bed he lying by her side. His hands reached out to embrace her, his lips sliding along hers, the kiss feather light allowing her to be the one to deepen it this time around.
He let out a soft moan as she pulled her lips from his pressing them against his cheek. He closed his eyes, soaking up the affection the act still filling him with that cozy sense of warmth. He’d recently realized the warm feeling he had anytime her lips pressed against one of the scars embedded along his cheeks was a sense of feeling adored and accepted. It was a feeling he’d not thought he’d ever have again in his life.
His hand slid down her side as her lips moved along his jawline pressing soft kisses to his skin. He opened his eyes as he let out a soft content sigh, his hand sliding underneath the soft cotton of her shirt. He gently caressed her skin as her lips slid along his neck.
He felt a soft moan leave his lips the words leaving him as she nipped and sucked along his pulse line making it clear she intended to leave a few marks of her own along his skin. “Yer, so fuckin soft, Hen. Warm an perfect.”
She felt a soft moan of her own leave her lips. She was tempted to shrug off his comment and insist to him that no one was perfect. There was something about the certainty of his words though that told her that he was convinced she was perfection and that was enough to make her not want to shake off his praise.
She ran a hand of her own up his shirt relieved he’d not worn layers of shirts today. It seemed that she only had one long sleeved shirt and an undershirt to contend with as she caressed his skin lovingly.
He sighed, his hand still caressing her side sliding it along her back pressing her closer to him. He rubbed soothing circles into her back as she continued to press sucking kisses against his neck.
She pulled from his neck her voice soft. “Can I take this off?”
He furrowed his brow, it taking his lust hazed brain a moment to realize what she was asking. “Aye, ye can.”
She began to pull his shirt up he sitting up to aid her in pulling both it and his undershirt up and over his head.
He laid back down his stomach churning, he was not entirely thrilled with his torso. He knew that in the years since his banishment from Belfast he’d neglected his health. He drank too much, smoked far too much, and ate a poor diet. He had not really seen a reason to take care of himself. That meant his midsection had grown wider than he would prefer. He also knew his face carried more weight than he’d like.
The insecurity he felt over his physique was not noticed by Y/N her eyes scanning his bare torso landing on the tattoo over his heart.
She slid her fingers across it, her voice soft as she read the name; Kerrianne. “Told you, you’re sweet.”
He felt a smile spread across his face, the comment making his worries about his less than fit form leave his brain in an instant.
She leaned up her lips sliding along his, her hand pulling from his chest sliding along his back, her touch loving and far more gentle than anyone had ever been with him.
He pulled from her lips his hand running along the hem of her shirt it his turn to ask. “Can this come off?”
She nodded her head sitting up allowing him to pull the shirt up and over her head. He tossed it across the room to join his discarded shirts.
He moaned at the sight of her torso, his eyes landing on the white lace over her breasts. He resisted the urge to bury his face against her lace covered tits the way the lower region of his body was insisting he should do.
He wanted to yank her bra off and take one of her tits in his mouth. He wanted to suckle at the skin making her nipples harden. He wanted to suck and kiss the delicate skin leaving love bites in his wake. He wanted to massage her breasts taking in how soft they truly were. He wanted to slide his dick along her soft smooth skin cumming against her skin. He wanted to watch her breasts bounce as she rode him out.
He swallowed the lump developing in the back of his throat putting a lid on his hormones. There would be plenty of time to do every single filthy thing he wanted to do involving her breasts later. Right now he needed to take his time with her and worship her body.
She pressed her lips to his, the kiss brief the words that left her taking him by surprise. “Remember that thing we talked about a moment ago? The thing you teased me I haven’t given you the privilege of doing yet?”
He nodded his head eagerly, his heart and his cock jolting at what she was hinting at. “Aye, I recall it.”
She spoke her voice soft as she pressed her lips along his chest. “I want to suck you off, Filip. You made me feel so good the other night when you ate me out. I want to make you feel good too. Can I suck your cock?”
He groaned at the words, his response spilling from his lips. “Shite, Hen. Aye, do it, Love.”
She gently pushed him down to rest on his back, her body moving over his. She straddled his hips, he groaning at the image. He grunted as she teasingly rocked her hips against his, a soft gasp leaving her lips. He groaned, rocking up against her his hands placed at her hips enjoying the delicious friction they were building up.
He cursed their jeans for separating the lower regions of their bodies from building up the friction he wanted to create. He wanted to rip those jeans off her body and feel her hot center through her panties. He could imagine her panties growing so damp with need as she grinded against him.
She leaned down her lips pressing to his a moan leaving him at the feel of her lace covered breasts pressing against his torso. He ran his hands along her back toying with the clasp of her bra. He wanted nothing more than to unclasp it and feel her bare torso against his own.
He did not have the opportunity to unclasp it though as she moved down his body, her lips sliding along his torso, her lips pressing along the million dollar tattoo at the center of his chest she making a mental note to ask him about it at a later date.
He reluctantly allowed her to slide down his body, her lips soft against his skin, he knowing the promise of what she was about to give him was enough for him to wait to reveal her breasts.
He moaned as she slid her lips down his stomach pressing soft kisses along the scar along his belly; another gift from Jimmy O’.
She placed a hand over the obvious bulge contained in his jeans giving it a squeeze, the action making him grunt.
She slid her hand along his belt making quick work of unfastening it. He groaned as she unfastened the belt unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. He managed to aid her in pulling the denim from his body without kicking her in the process.
The jeans were tossed aside her lips pressing to his thighs a soft moan leaving his lips as she slowly pressed her lips along his skin avoiding his boxer clad cock. She took her time pressing soft teasing kisses to both thighs, her movements far too slow. He whined as she finally pressed her lips against the bulge in his boxers.
The kisses didn’t last nearly long enough but he didn’t have long to mourn their loss as her fingers slid underneath the hem of his boxers. She gazed up at him, her voice soft. “Is this okay, Baby?”
He groaned, nodding his head eagerly at the words leaving him. ‘Aye, Hen.”
She pulled the garment from his body, he lifting his lips helping her remove his boxers. They were dropped over the side of the bed to join his other clothing.
She moaned at the sight of him standing at full attention, her voice teasing mirroring what she’d said the night she’d given him a handjob. “Still impressive, Filip.”
He groaned, his cock twitching at the praise. He parted his lips to reply but only managed to let a moan leave his lips as she pressed her lips to the underside of his cock pressing gentle kisses to the velvety skin.
She spoke, her voice filled with admiration. “You have a gorgeous cock, Filip.”
He grunted, unable to form words as she ran her tongue along his cock tracing the veins, her hand reaching down to caress his balls gently massaging them.
He felt a strangled moan leave him as he reached down pushing her hair aside giving him full view of her as she wrapped a hand around his cock her tongue running along his tip lapping at the precum leaking from the slit.
She took his tip between her lips, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock. She hallowed her cheeks lowering her mouth taking more of him. He gripped down at the bedsheets with the hand not currently holding back her hair as she began to bob her head.
She stared up at him, maintaining eye contact as she bobbed her head, her hand still massaging his balls.
She moaned around his cock as she took him deeper with each bob of her head engulfing his cock in the wet heat of her mouth. He grunted her actions, working praise from him. “Fuck, Hen, fuckin perfect, Love. Takin my cock like this, oh, shite. Fuck yes, take it so fuckin good.”
She pulled her lips from his cock stroking him his cock slick from her treatment, her voice teasing her lips swollen. “I love this cock, Filip. Can’t wait for you to bury it in me. It’s going to make me feel so good, Baby.”
“Fuck, Hen. It is, I’m gonna make you cum on this cock.” He grunted his balls aching at the words he having to admit he was an absolute sucker for dirty talk both giving and receiving.
She took him back between her lips bobbing more enthusiastically, her cheeks hallowing. He groaned, unable to take his eyes off her his voice still so full of praise. “Christ, Love. Look at ye. Ye look so fuckin prim and sweet, but ye love suckin my cock. I can fuckin tell ye love this.”
She moaned around him giving him the affirmation that she did in fact enjoy this. She could admit that she’d not quite been fond of oral in the past or at least she’d not been fond of giving it to most of her past sexual partners.
Most of the guys she’d gone down on were too forceful and seemed to not always care about her comfort. They seemed to think that porn was a guidebook for how to react when a girl went down on them. She didn’t exactly appreciate it when a guy tried to slam down her throat to the point that she wanted to vomit. Sore throats and having to take a guy’s release because he didn’t bother to warn you was not ideal nor enjoyable.
There was something about giving head to Chibs that just felt so rewarding and pleasurable. He was so adoring and so lovely with her. She had to appreciate the fact that she was clearly pleasing him. It was a turn on to know that she was able to make him feel this good.
She took him deeper breathing through her nose and relaxing her throat, the act making his eyes practically roll into the back of his head. He groaned as she took him so deep the praise leaving him. “Fuckin, perfect, Hen. So fuckin gorgeous, Lass. Shite.”
He whined as her hand left his balls but the disappointment was short lived as she slid a hand down her body unfastening her jeans just enough to slide her fingers underneath the waistband of the denim.
He groaned as she moaned against his cock it taking his lust hazed brain a moment to realize she’d slid her fingers underneath her panties and was currently touching herself.
He spoke his voice thick with lust at the realization of just what she was doing. “Fuck, look at ye, Love. Touchin that sweet pussy while ye suck my cock. Does havin my cock in yer mouth get ye that wet?”
She moaned around his cock her fingers teasingly sliding along her slit she toying with her clit the bud aching at the stimulation.
She pulled her lips from him, her voice teasing. “I’m so wet, Filip. I’m so ready for you.”
He groaned not having a chance to respond as she took his cock back between her lips bobbing her head.
He grunted, beginning to rock against her ever so slightly, his grip on her sheets remaining tight, resisting the urge to rock against her face as eagerly as he wanted to. He told himself he could fuck her mouth later if she’d allow it. Right now he was doing his best to chase his release and treat her with care without getting too lost in lust.
He spoke his voice thick with need, his balls drawing up closer to his body, the stimulation and the knowledge that she was touching herself bringing him closer and closer to orgasm. “Gonna make me cum, Hen. Shite, yer gonna make me cum so hard, Love.”
She moaned around his cock bobbing her head with even more enthusiasm gagging around him as she took him as deeply as she could the blow job, easily growing sloppy.
He grunted his body tensing, his pelvis thrusting more freely, his balls aching the words leaving him his accent growing so thick his words were nearly intelligible as he came his load shooting from him in hot spurts . “Fuck, perfect, Hen, Shite, Lovely Girl, Makin me cum. Fuck yes. Mo ghràidh.”
She took his release moaning around his cock surprised to find that she did not mind taking all he had to give her and felt no desire to spit his release out the same way she’d felt with some men. The taste of him was at least not unpleasant, it was far more tolerable than some of her past experiences in this act.
She allowed him to ride out his orgasm continuing to bob her head, her fingers continuing to slide along her aching clit and her soaking slit.
He groaned, his body feeling heavy and satisfied as the last of his release seeped from his aching cock.
She pulled from him pressing soft kisses to his oversensitive cock it softening and resting against his belly.
He groaned, it taking him a moment to recover from his orgasm and for his body to feel less like putty.
He leaned up resting on his elbows a groan leaving him when he realized her hand was still down her jeans and she was still playing with herself.
He spoke, his voice gentle and lazy despite the fact that he very much knew that he still had plenty of plans with her tonight. “Come here, Hen.”
She moved up his body, Chibs gently taking a hold of her arm pulling her hand from her jeans. She whimpered at the loss, her clit throbbing. Her hips rocked chasing the stimulation she’d been so happily enjoying.
He pulled the hand she’d had pressed against her pussy up to his lips. He took her fingers between his lips suckling greedily at her wetness, the action making her moan.
He spoke as he pulled from her lips his voice husky with need. “Fuckin’ sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted, Hen. Jus’ as sweet as ye.”
She whined as he reached out, unfastening her jeans and working them down her legs. He groaned glancing down at her pink cotton panties spotting the wet patch along the front of them revealing that she was as soaked as she’d told him she was.
He was tied between wanting to yank her panties off or wanting to rid her of her bra.
He made his choice, unfastening her bra with one hand, tossing it across the room. He stared down at her bare breasts praise leaving him. “Perfect breasts, Hen. Shite, better than I imagined.”
She didn’t have time to tease him over the admission that he’d imagined her breasts as he eagerly leaned forward taking a nipple between his lips suckling.
She whined her head falling back as he attended to both breasts sucking, licking, and kissing. He slid a hand down her torso, his fingers sliding under the waistband of her panties. His fingers slid along her slit, his voice muffled against her breasts. “Ye really are fuckin soaked, Hen. Shite, this all fer me?”
“Uh huh.” The words barely managed to leave her as his fingers slid along her slit teasingly sliding along her clit before sliding back down.
She rocked her hips against his ministrations, Chibs rewarding her by dipping one finger into her entrance quickly followed by another.
She whined as he thrust his fingers into her curling them just right to hit her in an angle she could rarely manage to find on her own.
She rode his fingers unashamed of the moans that left her lips as he continued to finger her his lips focusing on her breasts.
She whimpered as he spoke against her breasts. “Feels so good ‘round my fingers, Mo ghràidh. Christ, yer gonna feel like heaven round my cock. Not gonna ever want to leave yer pussy.”
He reached forward with his other hand yanking her panties down to her knees wanting to watch in full view as his fingers thrust in and out of her.
He moaned at the sight of it she obediently parting her legs for him giving him more room to work with. He stared down at her the sight gorgeous; her legs spread for him, his fingers sliding in and out of her soaked with her.
He buried his face back against her breasts suckling them as he fingered her.
Her head fell back, his name leaving her lips, he continuing to murmur praise against her breasts, his fingers continuing to thrust in and out of her. “Fuckin, gorgeous. Perfect tight pussy, fuckin wet and hot. Perfect, Hen. Made me feel so good, gonna keep makin me feel good once I bury my cock in ye.”
She gasped, her body flushing knowing no man had ever managed to make her feel this amazing with his fingers alone and the praise he was giving her made the pleasure all the more palatable. She’d never imagined herself having a praise kink but there was something about pleasing him and being admired for it that made her wetter than she was certain she’d ever been in her life.
She managed to speak her voice a broken whine. “Gonna feel so good, Filip. Want you so bad.”
“Ye got me love, always.” He remarked continuing to please her knowing he wanted to make her cum on his cock. He knew he had to wait longer than he might have had to wait had she met him in his twenties.
He groaned knowing had he met her in his twenties they would have been absolute sex addicts. He had a feeling that had he known her in his twenties then neither he nor she would have ever left the bed or whatever surface they could manage to find. He had a feeling had he met her years ago he would have knocked her up several times over by now or at the very least had to buy stock in a condom company as to not have dozens of wild little Telfords running around causing havoc.
He continued to finger her, they both moaning at how wet she was. The sound of just how soaked she was as his fingers slid in and out of her was audible and would have made her feel embarrassed if she wasn’t so lost in the pleasurable sensations washing over her.
She spoke her voice shaky uncertain if she was begging to cum or begging him to bury himself in her and never leave. “Please, Filip, fuck, Baby, please.”
He groaned knowing that she wouldn’t have to wait much longer. He could feel himself starting to perk back up his refractory period ending.
He was shocked that his cock was perking back up this quickly. He had a feeling the woman he was currently pleasing was a perfect inspiration for the lower region of his body to get back into the game so quickly.
He spoke, his fingers finally pulling from her as he realized he was finally ready. “Ye ready fer me, Hen?”
She nodded her head sliding her panties down the rest of the way tossing them across the room.
"Want you, Filip." The words left her she feeling needy as she rolled onto her back, her legs spreading for him eagerly.
He groaned at the sight, unable to stop himself from speaking. “Look at ye, Love. So fuckin eager fer me.”
He pressed the fingers he’d had buried in her to his lips, cleaning her taste from them, a pleased moan leaving him.
He spoke as he moved over her reluctantly pulling his fingers from his lips. “If I wasn’t so eager to bury my cock in ye, I’d eat ye out right now.”
“There’s always later.” She remarked, the comment working a giggle from him.
“Aye, there is definitely later.” He agreed a moan leaving him as his cock slid along her soaked center. She was so soaked that it made his cock ache almost painfully.
She spoke a sigh leaving her, her lust filled brain clearing enough for her to motion towards the nightstand. “Condoms in the drawer.”
He groaned reluctantly, pulling away from her enough to reach into the nightstand finding several boxes of condoms, her cheeks flushing as she explained., “Bought them a few weeks ago when it hit me that we were headed in this direction…it was before I saw your dick. I didn’t know what to expect and I wasn’t about to just try to casually ask you what size dick you have?”
He snorted at the comment nodding his head finding the appropriate size. “We can dump the ones that don’ fit at the clubhouse. Lads’ll appreciate free rubbers. I’ll drop em off without em knowin the source. Migh’ give the smalls to Half-Sack.”
She rolled her eyes giving his shoulder a playful nudge. “Please, don’t mention your prospect when your dick is this close to being inside me.”
He giggled at the comment, tearing the foil packet open, working eagerly to slide the condom over his aching cock a groan leaving him at the action and the realization of what he was about to experience.
He tossed the package of condoms aside, turning his focus back to her. He took himself in hand positioning himself against her, opening his words soft and filled with reverence for her. “Christ, yer fuckin beautiful.”
She spoke the words sliding from her lips without hesitation. “So are you.”
He snorted at the comment, shaking his head. “I still think ye need glasses, Hen. Ye think I’m pretty I worry bout yer vision. Shite, the state of California lets ye drive…we let ye drive a Hearse and yer blind ‘nough to think I’m pretty.”
He didn’t give her a chance to protest as he did his best to make sure he was positioned against her just right. “Ye ready, Hen?”
“Yes, please.” She replied knowing she’d never been so certain that she wanted a man inside of her before in her entire life.
He pressed his lips to hers the kiss light as he thrusted his hips forward pressing himself inside of her slowly inch by inch.
She gasped her arms wrapping around him, her head falling back a gasp leaving her. She moaned knowing she was right to assume he would be capable of providing a pleasant stretch at his size.
He groaned as his cock was enveloped by her snug heat, his cock aching remembering how wet she was underneath the barrier of the condom.
She gasped his name as he finally pressed all the way within her, her body taking him to the hilt. She slid her hands along his back enjoying the wonderful stretch of her body adjusting to his thickness. He pressed his lips against her face pressing them to every bit of skin he could reach, praise spilling from his lips. “Fuckin perfect, feels amazin’ Lass. Mo leannan.”
She whined the words leaving her they broken as she struggled to speak through the blinding pleasure washing over her. “Feels amazing, Filip.”
He kept still for a moment wanting to give her time to adjust to the feel of him, his lips continuing to press to her skin, her hands sliding up and down his back.
She rocked her hips slightly giving him the hint that she was more than ready her voice soft. “Please, Filip. Love me.”
He groaned at the comment, a voice in the back of his head exclaiming I do love you.
He bit back the words, he rocking his hips against her gently, groaning at the sensation of her center around him. He was overwhelmed with the realization that he could not remember if any past lover he’d had at least in the past decade had felt this incredible wrapped around his cock.
She whined at the sensation not helping but to realize no man had ever been this gentle with her before. She’d had very few lovers who had approached sex with a sense of ease and tenderness. Most of her past experiences managed to be rushed, rough, or clumsy.
She wasn’t going to claim that she had not had good sex before. She’d had at least a small amount of decent lovers who managed to get her off. There had been a couple of guys who managed to figure out how to make her feel good though it was a rare treat. She was sure most of her experiences of her late teens and twenties at SAMCRO’s clubhouse had been hazy and less about tenderness.
Experiences with Gunner had held zero tenderness to them. She shoved the thought from her mind refusing to allow the man to taint what she was experiencing in the moment with Chibs.
She could admit that sex had never felt quite this satisfying before and she was astounded by the knowledge as they’d barely gotten started.
He began to thrust in and out of her moving at a slow pace both wanting to appreciate the sensation of making love to her. He found himself wanting to move slow with her, remembering her request to love her.
He found himself determined to show her exactly how a man should have been making love to her all this time. He wanted to fuck away any memories of the awful sexual encounters she’d had with Gunner. He wanted to fuck away any of the experiences she’d had with any man in a kutte during her years hanging around with SAMCRO. A possessive voice in the back of his head told him that he wanted to show her that he was the only man in a kutte who should have the privilege of being inside of her.
He found that he even wanted to out-fuck any man who she’d known in her time in New York. He wanted to ruin her for other men because she’d already ruined him for any other woman without being aware of it.
He spoke his words needy and adoring. “Yer so perfect, Hen. Shite, never thought I could have this. Wanted ye from the second we met. Fuckin saw ye that firs time and couldn’t stop starin at ye, couldn’t stop thinkin bout ye. Had to have ye.”
She whined remembering the lust that had washed over her the moment he’d peered at her over his sunglasses upon their first meeting in the crematorium.
She was certain if someone had told her that the strange Scottish Son who had come along with Jackson Teller and a few other Sons to complicate her life, would one day not only be in her bed but have his dick buried in her, she would not believe it.
She managed to speak her voice soft. “Oh, Filip. Fuck, wanted you too, didn’t want ot admit it, but my body knew it wanted you. You feel so good.”
“Aye, how do I feel, Hen?” He dared to ask continuing his thrusts the words strained it taking everything in him not to just give into lust and fuck her hard up into her headboard.
He wanted to slam into her ensuring she’d not be able to walk the next day without remembering his dick inside of her. He wanted to flip her over and take her from behind spanking her backside. He wanted to lie on his back and have her ride him so he could watch his cock disappear into her tight heat.
He held back knowing he’d have plenty of opportunities to take her in every position she’d allow.
She spoke, her nails digging into his back, her head falling back, her eyes sliding shut as she soaked up the pleasure. “You feel so big, amazing.”
He nipped at her neck knowing he had already probably left several love bites along her skin so what was another?
He continued to thrust in her, his eyes unable to leave her features. He was certain he’d never seen a more stunning sight; her head fallen back against the pillows, her skin flushed with arousal and damp with sweat, her lips parted sweet moans leaving her, her eyes fluttering caught between wanting to sink into pleasure and wanting to watch him.
He rocked into her eagerly, her legs wrapping around his hips, her hips tilting back allowing him to thrust at a deeper angle.
He grunted at the deeper angle knowing that he was not lying to her earlier. She did feel like heaven and he was almost certain he never wanted to leave her tight body. He was quite certain she could ask him for anything in this moment and he’d readily agree to it without hesitation.
He was once again overtaken with the knowledge that he’d do anything for her. It was a realization that should make him nervous, but all he felt was a sense of ease and comfort.
He knew she’d never ask him for anything that would betray his trust or his loyalty to the club or any of his brothers. She wanted him as he was, SAMCRO, his tragic past, the complicated life he’d left in Belfast, the danger that he was capable of, and the danger that might follow him.
She wanted him. It was a beautiful realization knowing Y/N wanted him.
He was once again taken with the desire to be worthy of her wanting him. He didn’t feel nearly deserving of her affection or her desire.
A voice in the back of his head exclaimed that she could do a hell of a lot better than him. She could date some nice normal guy; someone like Deputy Hale.
It would be so easy for her to find a good guy after dealing with all the horror dating bad guys had subjected her to with Gunner.
She’d chosen Chibs though. It was a shock to him but he was thankful she’d chosen him. He was astounded that she’d chosen Filip the outlaw with the complicated past who wore evidence of that past along his face.
He was in awe that she’d chosen him and seemingly adored him.
She whined her fingers digging into his back the longer he thrusted her hips rocking against his overwhelmed with how good he felt.
She had a feeling with as overwhelming as this was, if it had been any other man she might have tapped out.
She was once again overtaken with the awareness that sex had ever felt so good with a guy. Her past encounters after leaving Charming had been unsatisfying.
She knew she and her traumas were partially to blame. After her violent relationship with Gunner, she had not quite felt comfortable in most sexual situations.
The few boyfriends she had in New York had realized she was jumpy and closed off in the bedroom and cold and distant outside the bedroom. She’d struggled to relax during sex enough to actually feel good.
With Chibs it was so easy to relax. She had to wonder if it was just that he knew about her past and knew exactly how to approach all of this without freaking her out. Or perhaps it was just simply that she trusted him so deeply. She knew he would never harm her.
She knew it was a contradictory thought; the dangerous outlaw would not hurt her. She was well aware of what he was capable of by seeing what little she’d been forced to see of his rap sheet.
She trusted in her heart though that Filip Chibs Telford would never harm her. This was the man who had been so gentle with her from the start. She knew what was in his heart. She knew she was lucky enough to be in his heart.
She gasped, her voice pleading. “More, Filip, Please.”
He groaned, willing himself to speed up his pace, his thrusts growing a little more frantic, struggling to keep his pace and the rhythm that seemed to be pleasing her.
She whined her hand sliding down her body finding her clit. She caressed the bundle of nerves rubbing tight circles into it, the sensation increasing everything she was feeling.
Chibs groaned it hitting him what she was doing. He gazed down at her hating that he couldn’t angle his body enough to fully appreciate the sight of what she was doing. He made a note to get her to do this again when he got her to ride his cock.
“Fuck, Hen. Touch that clit fer me. That’s my Lass.” he groaned, encouraging her.
She rubbed more rapidly the combination of her fingers against her clit and his cock sliding in and out of her making her slide closer and closer to the edge.
She moaned his name, the sound urging him on his cock aching. He was certain his name never sounded so perfect on anyone’s lips. He could remember how overjoyed he’d been when she’d told him she would prefer to call him Filip during that first proper phone conversation they’d had.
She moaned all the more, her clit throbbing as her end approached closer and closer by the second. She felt it building within her so close she could almost grasp it. It felt as though a spring was coiling tightly within her bound to release at any moment.
Chibs moaned his voice low and full of adoration encouraging her. “Come on, Hen. Cum fer me, Love. Let go fer me.”
She moaned, her body shuddering as she fell over the edge shockwaves washing over her. Her fingers continued to rub circles into her clit as she came, her center contracting around his cock causing him to groan.
His thrusts sped up all the more growing sloppy his cock throbbing as his end drew nearer and nearer.
She whined moving her fingers from her clit, it quickly becoming overstimulating. She gasped her hands sliding along his back caressing him as he continued to thrust chasing his own end.
Her body felt heavy and sensitive underneath him, the feel of him sliding in and out of her almost too much. She resisted the urge to pull from him wanting him to find his release in her.
He groaned his voice thick and slurred the closer he got to the edge. “Gonna fuckin cum, Shite, Lass.”
She spoke encouraging him to reach his end, wanting so badly to please him as much as he’d pleased her. “Please, Filip. Cum.”
He groaned his end hitting him hard, his last thrusts desperate and clumsy as he slid over the edge releasing into the condom. His body jerked his cock pulsing as he fell apart. His release spilled into the condom with far more force than he’d anticipated. A voice in the back of his head marveled that he’d not cum with this much force since his earliest sexual encounters.
She rocked her hips against his encouraging him working her pelvic floor to help work his end the action making him groan her name leaving his lips along with a few low curse words.
He moaned it hitting him this was the second time he’d cum tonight, the thought making a pleasant shudder run through his body.
He collapsed against her thrusting weakly against her, rocking the last of his orgasm into the condom, his cock twitching as he spilled the last drops of himself.
He pressed lazy kisses against her skin as he came down from his orgasm. He found himself unwilling to pull from her just yet wanting to soak up the feeling of her underneath him, her arms wrapped around his waist.
She kept a tight grip on him, apparently just as eager to keep him within her and over her, the sensation making her feel safe and adored.
He groaned as his cock began to soften, it slipping from her against his will. He reluctantly rolled off of her, she allowing him to do so.
They laid on their backs, their breathing heavy and their bodies soaked in sweat.
She spoke weakly waving off towards the nightstand, her hand feeling heavy. “There should be tissue somewhere…for the condom.”
He nodded his head lying there for a moment trying to find the will to move his body feeling so heavy and relaxed.
He reached out, grabbing a tissue, removing the condom and tying it off. He tossed it in a little wicker wastebasket by the bed before he collapsed back into the bed.
He opened his arms for her, relieved as she scooted close to him, her head resting against his chest.
She wrapped an arm around his waist finding it easy to sink against his embrace, her body feeling so relaxed a sense of security washing over her.
He found the bedsheets as the cool room began to make them both feel clammy. He spoke his voice drowsy, he wanting to check in on her hoping he’d managed to love her the way she’d requested. “How’re ye doin, Hen?”
“Perfect…you?” She responded, unable to deny the giddy drowsy feeling washing over her.
“Perfect.” He replied, his eyes growing heavy, struggling not to give into the desire to pass out his body feeling satisfied and he feeling completely at ease.
She felt her own eyes grow heavy, she overcome with how adored and secure she felt at the moment. She couldn’t remember feeling this at ease with a man before in her entire life. The words left her lips before she could stop them. “I love you, Filip.”
She felt her stomach drop as soon as it hit her just what she’d blurted out. She shot up in bed certain that she had just screwed everything up.
A voice in the back of her head exclaimed that she was an idiot for blurting this statement out like this. What if he didn’t feel the same? The voice claimed that he couldn’t be in love with her. In her experience she wasn’t the kind of woman men loved. It was too soon for declarations of love, a voice taunted her. She was most likely coming across as a clingy mess. Men hated clingy.
Chibs widened his eyes, the words washing over him. He gazed up at her stunned by her reaction to her declaration of love.
He sat up gently reaching out for her terrified that her reaction meant she regretted saying the words.
A voice in the back of his head told him that she could not actually love him. He was not the kind of man that was deserving of something so pure. He’d done so many awful things and was not the kind of man women wanted to give love to.
Y/N spoke hoping to do some damage control. “I am a big girl and can take it if you ….don’t feel the same, or aren’t there yet. I just, I can’t hide how I feel. I promise this isn’t just the fact that you gave me an amazing orgasm talking. I love you. How could I not? I-uh. So, you don’t have to feel pressured to say it back because I said it. I’m fine if you aren’t ready to say it back.”
Chibs furrowed his brow, thrown off by her comments. How could she not realize he loved her? How could she think he couldn’t?
He pressed his lips to her temple, his voice gentle. “Look at me, Hen.”
She turned her head to face him cringing fearing the worse. He spoke, his lips pressing to hers, his voice reassuring. “How could I not love ye, Hen? I don’t know if ye noticed, but I’m a wee bit crazy fer ye. Pretty sure I offered to kill fer ye.”
He cringed at the last part of his statement; he was not quite sure if bringing up his offer to kill Gunner was welcome when she was clearly feeling vulnerable.
He spoke again soothing any possibility that he’d made this so much worse. “I love ye, Y/N. I have already said I love ye to ye…I technically said it firs, Hen. Ye were jus asleep the firs time I said it.”
“I was?” She blurted out, he nodding his head, his cheeks darkening somewhat.
“Aye…it was ah…after that fuckin incredible handjob ye gave me a few weeks back. I promise that was not my orgasm talkin, Hen. Ye made me cum hard, but I swear to ye that I was speakin from the heart and not my dick. I promise, I love ye.”
She spoke the words leaving her before her lips pressed to his. “I love you, Filip.”
He smiled against the kiss he reluctantly pulling back the words leaving him. “I love ye too.”
He managed to pull her back against him, settling down into her bed, his lips pressing to the top of her head as she rested her head against his chest.
He held her against him, his words soft as he allowed sleep to flood his system exhaustion hitting him. “I love ye, Mo leannan.”
She spoke, her own eyes growing heavy, the words spilling from her without hesitation or shame. “I love you.”
The thought washed over her making her feel secure and cozy as sleep took hold. He loved her. Filip Chibs Telford loved her.
Chibs groaned reluctantly, pulling from her embrace and her warm bed his aching bladder making it clear that he would not be able to hold off needing to pee much longer.
He found his boxers on the floor sliding them on the air conditioning flipping on making her bedroom icy.
He was certain that she’d practically ran to the bathroom an hour or so ago. He had only woken briefly long enough to hear her grumble something about UTI’s and how peeing after sex was the best way to avoid them. She was half asleep, the comment being clearly not meant for his ears.
He was so drowsy though that he was unsure if he’d heard her correctly.
The run to her bathroom and back into bed had been quick; she clearly wanted to get back to the warm bed and back to his embrace.
He walked his movements slow and careful not to wake her as he went into her master bathroom shutting the door behind him before he flipped on the lightswitch.
He took care of business washing his hands, the cold room and the overhead lights making his brain wake up more than he would prefer.
He groaned, wanting nothing more than to slide back into bed with her and embrace the comfort of sleep.
The file sitting out in her living room was a sirens call though. His mind could not pull from it the need to see just what Agent Stahl had shown Y/N too tempting to ignore.
He shut off the light in the bathroom blinking trying to adjust to the darkness around him as he left the bathroom making his way through her bedroom thankfully without causing any noise.
He made his way down the hall, his stomach in knots as he approached her living room.
He felt his stomach turn as he spotted the file even with all the clutter she complained about in her home; past heirlooms from the generations that had lived here before her.
He sat down on her sofa thankful she’d forgotten to turn off the lamp on the table before she’d asked him to take her to bed.
He reached out his hands shaking as he opened the folder, his eyes scanning the police reports, nothing featured within them a surprise.
At least Stahl had not doctored some fake reports in an attempt to make him appear to be more brutal than he knew he was.
He felt his stomach churn knowing that there was far more that he’d done than was featured in these reports. These were just the actions he’d been caught doing.
He felt his stomach churn all the more, spotting the mugshot of his estranged wife within the folder.
He remembered the arrest as she’d been handcuffed by his side and shoved into the back of a police car beside him. He’d been cursing up a storm and throwing out expletives about the arresting officers insulting their loyalty to the crown calling them dirty loyalist pigs.
Fiona had been so calm though; elegant even in the back of a police car. She had said nothing, only occasionally telling her husband to calm himself.
They’d been arrested for a brawl. There was always fighting in the streets back in those days. His twenties were a haze of bombings, bullets, and fists. He had thrived in the violence and the chaos.
He had loved the chaos. He had found a home in the horror of it all. He had found a cause to dedicate himself to and he was willing to die for it. He was a loyal man when he found something to fight for, even back then.
He was certain that he’d die at any moment and he’d been at peace with it. He had told himself he’d be dying for a cause he believed in.
When Kerrianne had been born in his thirties he no longer was at peace with the thought of dying for the cause. His baby had shifted his heart. He was no longer as filled with rage and pure spite. He was still loyal to the cause but he was less quick to fly off the handle without a second's notice. He had learned to hold back the need to fight first and ask questions later. He was more prone to sit back and observe.
He knew his hesitance to fly into a rage had made him appear weak. His loyalties to the cause had been joined by loyalties to his baby.
Jimmy O’ had used this appearance of weakness to push Chibs from the cause. All it took was the suggestion of disloyalty and weakness and Jimmy O’ had been given the go ahead to dispose of Filip Telford.
Chibs was unsure if Jimmy O’ had also been given the go ahead to take Fiona and Kerrianne for his own, or if that had been a personal choice that had just been tolerated from the Army Council.
Chibs knew Jimmy O’ had won over favor with the Army Council. He was proving to be a smart and resourceful soldier to the cause. He’d earned leadership of his own crew who he ran with an iron fist. He didn’t care about risk or danger when it came to his actions. He was willing to cost lives for the cause and the council only saw it as Jimmy O’ being dedicated and capable of bringing out that dedication in others.
They saw him as someone who was willing to get his hands dirty and deal with the day to day tasks that were required of the cause.
Chibs knew that Jimmy O’ was still in favor with the Army Council. He only had to answer to them for any of his actions. He was still running his own crew. He was still involved in recruitment and he was good at it. He had found himself a cushy position in the True IRA.
Chibs frowned at the photo of Fiona overtaken by the thought that her first love had always been the cause. He was sure she’d loved in order; the cause and then him. Then when Kerrianne had come along she’d loved her of course, though she’d not been entirely pleased to be pregnant seeing it as a hindrance in her fight for the cause.
She had been a good mother though; she’d loved their child. She had remained a loyal soldier though.
He at times had wondered if it had been so easy to believe in the cause and fight for it because he associated the fight for a free Ireland with his love for Fiona. He had loved her therefore her passions had become his own.
He knew of course that he was unable to blame her for the path he’d taken. She had introduced him to the concept of a free Ireland, but he’d been the one to listen so intently and practically trip over himself to become involved. He’d been loyal to the cause. He could admit he’d found an outlet for his anger in it. He fell into the promises of the True IRA hook line and sinker. Fiona had been an encouragement of his dedication to the cause, but he’d made the choice on his own.
He was overcome with mixed feelings at the sight of Fiona’s mugshot. A few years ago he would have wanted to take the photo and keep it close to him. He would have cherished the captured image of her even if it had been taken in a moment of such chaos.
He found that he had no desire to cradle it close to his heart though. He felt no need to cherish the image. He found that gazing upon it only filled him with sorrow and a mix of feelings he could not place. He did love her; though he’d found that it was not that deep longing love he had always assumed he felt for her. He cared for her. He did not want to cherish an image of her though and long for her to be by his side.
It was a shock; not feeling the longing that he’d become so familiar with when it came to thoughts of Fiona.
He picked up a mugshot sitting alongside it, a younger version of himself staring back up at him.
He felt his heart twist at the image. The man in the photo looked like a stranger. His face was free of the scars Jimmy O’ had left him with. He was in his twenties in the photo. He was far too thin, his hair dark and free of the hints of silver that had developed over the past few years. His mouth was fixed into a scowl and his gaze was intense and dark. He’d been young and so filled with an immature and honestly unearned sense of pride.
Chibs jerked almost dropping the photo as a soft voice sounded out beside him. “What are you doing up? I’m missing my in-bed furnace. I need someone to shove my feet against when I get too chilly.”
He gazed up at the owner of the voice, his heart lifting at the sight of her. The sight of her was a welcome distraction from his trip down memory lane.
She’d found a nightgown from her dresser, this one a long pale green silk gown with thin straps and white lace along the trim. He admired the sight of her, sure he’d never get enough of seeing her in a nightgown.
He had found that he enjoyed lying by her side at night, the soft silk of her nightgowns pressed to him the material soft against her curves.
She sat down beside him, her stomach turning at the open file in front of them and the photo of his estranged wife sitting out.
An insecure voice in the back of her head told her he’d been gazing at it longing for a woman he could not have.
She shoved the insecure paranoid voice back as Chibs spoke nodding down to the mugshot he was holding in his hand. “Jus rememberin how young I use to be. Shite, look at me. Fuckin full of piss vinegar and cum.”
She rolled her eyes at the last part of his statement. She gazed at the photo in his hand studying it closer than she’d allowed herself to do in front of Agent Stahl. “You look like you were an intense guy.”
“Aye, I was. I had a fuckin loud mouth too…never knew when to shut up until I learned the hard way.” Chibs admitted staring down at the photo of himself.
She dared to ask, unable to shove back her curiosity. “What was the hard way?”
“Fuckin bomb almost took me out. Was helpin plant some explosives with an older lad…he was more experienced than me, but I didn’t care. I was too cocky and runnin my mouth, not listenin to his warnings...one of em got set off and I was at least smart nough to hear it and run. Thank god the one that went off was weaker than it shoulda been. Wasn’t hooked up righ so it was a small fire more than anythin… Still got knocked flat on the ground, broke my damn arm. Taught me to shut up more often. I learned to listen and not assume I knew what I was doin. I learned to take direction a wee bit better. I learned to sit back and let people act before I jumped into action and got myself a world of hurt….I was still an angry lad of course, but I was less stupid in my rage. It was a hard lesson to learn, but it probably kept me alive.” He admitted not wanting to meet her gaze at the mention of bombs.
He spoke again, shaking his head a soft sigh leaving him. “It was a miracle I survived my twenties. Belfast in the eighties and early nineties was somethin else. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have survived it…and I didn’t care….not till my Kerrianne was born. She made dyin in fer the cause seem less noble.”
Y/N dared to speak, trying not to focus on the mention of his deeds in Belfast knowing it was something she might never feel at peace with but it was his past all the same. “She was four the last time you saw her?”
He cringed, nodding his head, the memory feeling so fresh still. “Maureen Ashby…she was a lass that hung round SAMBEL…datin our club pres…she an Fiona were close…she managed to sneak me by a market she knew Kerrianne would be at with Fiona…I was only able to see em from far away…Jimmy O’ never let em out of his sight without one of his lads nearby. I was able to see her for a moment…watch her smelling the flowers…She was so tiny…head full of curls and my nose and ears…She was carrying this wee stuffed animal…a white teddy bear. It should have been comfortin…but it was jus torture. Seeing my baby knowin I couldn’t go near her. She was a baby when Jimmy O’ attacked me. I loved her…loved her so much it hurt. I loved bein a Da. I thought it was a chance to be better than my own Da…I wanted so much fer her, had so many dreams fer her…Maureen promised to give her photos of me as the years went by…let her know I exist, let her know I love her. Don’t know if she jus told me that to comfort me. It would probably be too dangerous…lettin Kerrianne know her da is out there and he loves her. Jimmy O’ wouldn’ stand fer it. Even if he allowed it I’m sure he told her I ran off to America and abandoned her like some sort of arse, running from his family and the cause. Sometimes I dream bout my baby…memories of her. It hurts. I hate it.”
He paused, his throat growing tight he shaking his head. “Pretty soon after that tensions between the True IRA, SAMBEL, and SAMCRO started gettin too much and hinting they might fall apart…sendin a lad over to patch into SAMCRO and help deal with the Irish was a suggested way to ease tensions. I was a perfect candidate given my involvement with the cause and the MC. They knew where my loyalties would lie. I took the chance to get the hell out of Belfast…ain’ been back since.”
She wrapped her arms around his upper arm, her head resting against his shoulder as she spoke. “I’m sorry.”
He furrowed his brow, tempted to tell her that she did not need to apologize for bringing up the memory.
She spoke, her head turning to press a kiss against his arm. “For what it’s worth…I hope Kerrianne does know you’re out there. I hope she knows you love her…if you didn’t love her you wouldn’t keep her so close to your heart.”
He felt a small smile cross his lips knowing she was referencing the tattoo across his heart. His daughter’s name in celtic print. “Aye, it's all I can do.”
They sat in silence for a moment, she daring to speak. “What do you want me to do with the file…do you want it?”
He frowned, understanding that she was not exactly asking about the file itself nor the police reports. This was about the mugshot of his estranged wife.
He could feel the tension in her body as she continued to hold on to his arm. She was testing him, waiting to see where and with whom his heart laid.
He felt the words leave him without hesitation. “Fuckin burn it, Hen. Ain’ nothin in there I need.”
He paused, not missing the chance to tease her. “Though…we can save one of these mugshots of me…ya can frame it to put by yer bed…or I can get ye a locket and ye can size down one of the photos to keep in it. Ye can show it off when people ask bout yer boyfriend…really give em a shock. We can put one of yer mugshots on the other side of the locket…make it real romantic.”
She rolled her eyes at this comment, the tension leaving her body a giggle leaving her the sound a relief to him given the tension of the conversation. “I think if I want a photo of you by my bed or in a locket, I would prefer you to look less pissed off…and more sober judging by a few of those mugshots I spotted in there.”
“Aye, fine. I do think there is a photo in there of me was when I was fuckin shitefaced. Pretty sure I’m flippin the bird at the camera…I look like hell in it. I got picked up with fuckin Juice fer some shite, I don’t even remember it, I think I was fightin though…maybe breakin and enterin too. I jus remember the hangover more than anything. It aint the one we have hangin in the clubhouse though I was pretty stoned in that one and I’m flippin the bird in it. That one was from Kern county. Pretty sure I was on a run with Tig and Bobby in that one, or on the way back from a run. I had a wee bit of a joint with Bobby and ye can see it in my face…Got pulled over and ran my mouth, cops weren’t amused.” He admitted recalling a few of the mugshots in the file. He knew those were the milder offenses on his record.
He paused an idea entering his brain, unable to avoid the temptation to tease her.
“ Still gettin ye a mugshot of me…ye know fer yer fridge or somethin…or in yer office…really make Skeeter cringe.” He teased not wanting to admit that he was pretty tempted to make good on the offer.
She shook her head standing up, her voice drowsy. “I am both starving and exhausted…we literally did not eat dinner…and don’t you say that you fed me your cock.”
He snorted at the comment biting his tongue to keep any smart comments from leaving him.
She spoke nodding at the file. “If I get you the matches will you burn that damn file in the fireplace in the dining room? I have some leftover Chinese takeout in the fridge that I can heat up for us and some beer too.”
He chuckled standing up from the sofa as he spoke, tossing the mugshot down on the file more than eager to burn it to ashes. “Aye, takeout and burnin my criminal record. Sounds like a good night in.”
She shook her head, her lips pressing to his cheek before she headed to the kitchen. He called out behind her the words leaving him without hesitation. “I love ye.”
“I love you too.” She replied over her shoulder the comment filling them both with ease.
He gazed down at the file shutting it knowing that he’d been telling her the truth. There was nothing in that file he wanted nor needed.
A Girl With No Name, chapter 21, King Peter Steele & Long Lost Princess Daughter OFC, Modern Royalty AU
SUMMARY: When teenaged misfit outcast and street thief Ecatherina “Rose” Harkler sneaks into a party at the royal mansion, she meets the nation’s king, Peter Ratajczyk. The powerful ruler man identifies the sixteen year old girl as his long lost daughter, thought to have died with the rest of his family after a failed assassination attempt on his life instead claimed the lives of his loved ones. Stripped of her teenaged identity and thrown into a world of pretty dresses, undercutting words and unwanted security, Rose uncovers a plot to murder not only her father in cold blood… but herself as well.
CHAPTER WARNINGS:
CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1206
I smiled as I watched dad conducting his kingly duties, speaking with a reporter who was standing comically on a chair to look my towering father in the face as they both chatted and laughed.
When I had asked dad if I could accompany him on his appearance to the new children’s library located in the downtown area of upper city Brooklyn, he had only asked that I dress nicely. I had done as he had requested, donning dark black jeans that were free of any rips or fraying, a deep forest green sweater vest layered over a cream button down blouse with sleeves that reached my wrists, a black tweed jacket and leather booties. Mom had done my hair into tightly laced twin braids with little wispy pieces of red curls framing my rounded heart shaped face. A dark navy blue scarf was wrapped around my neck and matching gloves kept my hands warm from the chilly May evening.
I was very well aware of members of the King’s Guardsmen keeping a watchful eye on me as I mingled and socialized with people. Much to my delight, BSL was more commonly spoken with the upper class citizens of Brooklyn verses the humble proletarian.
I was busy explaining to a chubby cheeked little girl why I didn’t wear a crown when I saw something that made my heart freeze for a long second before speeding up.
A man dressed in a policeman’s uniform.
My heart began to beat so fast that I thought my chest would explode, my lungs began to spasm painfully and my vision blurred. I just turned and raced over to my dad, pressing myself into his back with my arms wrapped around his waist, tears streaking down my cheeks.
Dad only settled his hand onto my wrists, his thumb comfortingly stroking gentle lines into my skin as he continued to chitchat to the reporter. When he had finished, he took the both of us off to the side, where he then sunk down to his knees and took my weepy face into his hands.
What’s wrong? his eyes asked me, concern written in every wrinkled fold in his face. But my only answer was in the form of a distressed whine before I was snugging my distressed self into his muscular body.
I could help but feel safe wrapped up in my father’s muscular arms as he rocked back and forth, vibrations from his burly chest telling me that he was humming a soft song to me as he worked me through my anxiety attack.
I pulled away at long last, still refusing to leave his embrace.
I just really hate the police. I winced at how lame my excuse was, avoiding his eyes, shame flushing my face at my shallow words.
A spark in his eyes told me that he understood exactly what I was talking about. He turned his head and a member of the King’s Guardsmen came over to him. dad finally turned back to me, telling me that he was sending me back home again with the woman being my driver for the journey.
I have things that I need to wrap up here, and unfortunately, I will be unable to take you home myself for a few more hours, he told me with an apology in his eyes. I'm sorry, but I have things that I need to wrap up here. I’ll send mom a text, and when you arrive home, the two of you can do something fun at the house. Does that sound good?
I nodded numbly before following the woman to her own personal car, a cute little Volkswagen bug in a fun yellow color. I got settled in the passenger seat, buckling my seat belt into position before leaving the parking lot. I saw her switching the radio on, adjusting the volume to where I could feel the vibrations in the air.
I like country music better than what people are listening to today, she explained to me with a sweet smile. It’s basically stories about sweet love and driving to parties in trucks and the long lives that dogs lead. Much better than kill the cops, assault the women, kick the kitties. extremely vulgar music though, which I didn’t grow up with, so that may or may not explain it all.
How did you come to work as a King’s Guardsman? I asked, genially curious.
I’m a second degree black belt in taekwondo and I also did wrestling when I was a kid, she confessed, turning down a street and heading out of the downtown area. Hey, do you want a drink from Starbucks? I really love their white mocha frap- it’s just the thing to cheer me up whenever I had a depressing day!
Twenty minutes later, the both of us were sipping at frothy iced coffees as Jane resumed driving me home again, telling me about some of the hijinks that happened up at the local community college- one of her past professors had been a member of the royal bomb squad, and had plenty a stories about his younger days, including one about a little girl calling in for backup, misinterpreting her father’s comment about her mother’s nighttime farts. There were also plenty of onsite clubs and activities- a parkour club, a ceramics clubs, a musical theater club…
There’s a program where qualifying high school students get to take classes on campus, Jane filled me in as she pulled onto my street. I think I have a pamphlet in my glovebox, won’t you check it for me?
I did as she suggested, and pulled out a colored booklet that talked about the college;s offered majors and minors. I quickly located the program that she had been talking about on page twenty seven.
I’ll look at it once I’m inside, I told her with a smile as she pulled into the driveway, turning the engine off and getting out to walk me up to front door. Thanks.
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