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tumbleweed-writes · 1 year ago

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Death and the Lady: Chapter Eleven: Chibs Telford X Reader

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@youngadult9016 @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming @redwoodmaya

PREVIOUS CHAPTER FOUND HERE

TW: Description of Decay, Smut. 18+

CHAPTER ELEVEN: REASSURANCES

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She was barefoot in the cemetery; the ground cold, damp, and mushy below her feet. She frowned at the realization that she had no shoes on in a place where it very much seemed as though she should be wearing shoes.

Being barefoot outdoors, especially in such a public place in the dark, seemed to be just asking for a foot injury. She was certain this was a tetanus shot waiting to happen. She didn’t even go barefoot in her own yard. Why was she without shoes right now of all times?

She didn’t have much time to focus on this realization nor this question though, the strong grip on her hand and the Scotsman ahead of her pulling her forward. His movement seemed far too quick for her; his legs were much longer than her own which meant that he moved forward at longer strides than she felt capable of. She was almost certain if he moved any faster she’d trip over her own feet…especially in the wet ground. Her lack of shoes seemed to give her no traction in the damp bit of mud mixed with grass below her feet.

She thought to protest the swiftness in which he was pulling her forward, but had not a chance as he spoke, not even turning back to glance her way. “Jus’ a wee bit further. We’re close now.”

“Where are we going?” She dared to ask confusion washing over her as she struggled to keep up with his pace. She wanted to stop and force him to face her. She wanted to demand that he explain what was going on. She was sure if she stopped though he’d risk yanking her forward and making her fall to the ground with as quick as he was moving.

“You’ll see. We jus’ got a wee bit further to go. Trus’ me, we’re almos’ there.” Chibs replied his answer far too vague.

She parted her lips, tempted to prod him for more information. However, she remained silent; something about the pace in which he was moving and the demanding pull of her body behind him telling her he was the one calling the shots at the moment.

She stared down at her clothing, a greater sense of bewilderment washing over her. The knee length white nightgown she wore was not at all what she’d been expecting. The nightgown was sleeveless and sat loosely on her body; the fabric almost flowing as she moved. The delicate straps and the thin cotton of the gown seemed as though it would do so little to warm her in the cold night air.

She was certain she owned a nightgown similar to this one. She owned quite a few nightgowns; most of them vintage pieces she’d acquired at thrift shops during her years in New York and a few vintage pieces that had once belonged to ancestors of hers. She had quite a few of her ancestors' old clothing sitting in a closet in one of the spare bedrooms. She’d always had a love for vintage pieces. Even if she didn’t wear some of the more delicate vintage pieces in her closet she still had an admiration for them.

She preferred nightgowns when she slept, but didn’t quite understand why she was wearing a nightgown in the middle of a cemetery. This was never something she would wear outdoors, especially in such a public place.

Chibs was dressed as he usually always was; jeans, a dark top, and his leather kutte. She could barely make out the reaper on his back in the dim light of the night.

She glanced around her at her surroundings as Chibs continued to pull her forward. She didn’t recognize anything around her and she had a feeling it wasn’t just because it was so dark out.

She could barely make out her surroundings from far away, but up close she could spot a few distinctive features. The cemetery felt old. The grass felt overgrown as though the grounds had not been maintained in a long while. She spotted none of the usual sightings of a cemetery; no flowers left out by mourners, no maintained trees and carefully landscaped plants, no sign of care.

To her, cemeteries had always felt peaceful. She’d always been able to find some beauty in them. She wasn’t sure if it was just that she spent so much time in cemeteries due to her job, but she’d always been able to appreciate them.

This place held no beauty though. It felt almost lifeless; like a caricature of a cemetery that one might view in some old black and white horror film.

The tombstones around her felt grand; towering obelisk monuments, old magnificent crypts, and worn gravestones whose inscriptions had long since faded. Everything seemed so gray and dreary.

She was sure that she couldn’t possibly be in any part of Charming’s local cemetery, not even the older sections.

She was certain if she was in Charming’s cemetery then she’d recognize her surroundings. She’d been all over the property with her job. She knew every section of that cemetery by heart. She remembered the name of the first person buried in that cemetery and how many available plots remained in each section.

This cemetery was nothing like the one in Charming, To be honest, it resembled a few of the older cemeteries she’d been to during her time out in New York when she’d first begun to work as a funeral director. She’d had to go upstate once or twice for a burial and a few of the cemeteries there had been filled with tombstones that dated back to the original colonies when the USA was still under British rule.

She peered up at the night sky, the realization hitting her that it must be cloudy as the moon was barely visible. She could barely see a sliver of moon behind the dark clouds. The stars were not visible at all, the lack of moon and stars made her surroundings devoid of any natural lighting.

She frowned as she felt a light drip of wetness against her skin as the dark clouds above her started to release just a hint of rain.

She parted her lips to mention the rain to Chibs and request that they seek shelter indoors in order to avoid being caught in an incoming storm, but the comment died on her lips as she heard a distinct rustle of movement behind her.

She turned struggling to glance behind her as Chibs continued on his path, yanking her behind him. She peered through the dark of the night straining her eyes struggling to see just what was responsible for the noise, but spotting nothing.

The noise sounded out again close enough for her to recognize it as the shuffle of feet somewhere out in the pitch black of night. She couldn't shake the sense that she was being watched like prey by someone or something that was just waiting for a chance to pounce.

She spoke, her voice faint and fearful. “Filip, there’s something out there. I think it’s following us.”

She earned no response, turning back to face the man who’d just moments ago been dragging her along her stomach dropping as she realized he was nowhere in sight.

She turned searching her surroundings for him seeing only the dark of the night and the shape of the tombstones around her, her voice growing frantic. “Filip? Where are you? Filip?”

She was met with silence, her arms wrapping around herself both trying to protect herself from the cold night chill and the sudden realization that she was alone in a strange place with something clearly stalking her out in the darkness.

She called out again her heart slamming in her chest she moving forward hoping she’d just gotten separated from him and would catch up to the Scotsman soon. “Filip? Where are you?”

She heard the shuffle of movement behind her, the sound close enough that she was sure she could reach out and touch whatever was responsible for it if she were to turn around and face it.

She turned to face it praying against odds it was Chibs. Bile rose in her throat at the sight in front of her.

She recognized the man. It was one of the deceased men she’d allowed SAMCRO to borrow. He was mostly recognizable by the suit he’d been dressed in for his funeral…the suit he’d not been buried in as his body had been loaned out to the Sons prior to the funeral. Instead bags of concrete had been buried in his place…bags she’d placed in weighing them out carefully to imitate the feeling of an occupied closed casket. The unoccupied casket had not been found until later the bags of concrete missing compliments of SAMCRO. Not a soul other than the Sons and she knew this man had never occupied that grave.

Decomposition had begun to set in to the man’s features. The man’s skin had taken a somewhat green tone and begun to split as bloat had set in; gasses from his decaying organs clearly releasing. She was confused by the sight as she had embalmed him, puncturing his organs with a trocar. There should be no gasses remaining in his organs. How were there still gasses to make him bloat? Black purge leaked from his orifices and insect life had begun to settle in. She could spot flies buzzing around him and maggots wriggling in a few pockets of his split skin. One of his eyes had gone a milky white and the other had rotted away completely leaving him with an open empty black socket.

Despite the advanced rate of decay the man managed to shamble forward his hands reaching out towards her his nails black a few of the nails having already fallen off his fingers.

She snapped out of her shock and disgust moving backwards barely escaping his grasp. She turned struggling to move forward the muddy ground below her and her lack of shoes caused her to slide and struggle as she attempted her escape.

She heard another rustle of movement to her left, another body appearing to start a slow shamble in her direction.

She recognized this body easily. It was the very first deceased she’d been solely responsible for burying back in New York.

The young woman looked exactly the way she’d looked when Y/N had first stared down at her on that embalming table years ago before she’d gotten started on trying to make her look presentable for the modest funeral her family had paid for.

She could remember how young the woman had looked laying there lifeless on the embalming table. They’d been close in age and Y/N remembered thinking that they could have gone to school together at one point. Y/N could also remember thinking to herself that it could have easily been her on that embalming table had she remained in Charming with Gunner and SAMCRO. The thought had been a sobering one especially for her first official solo embalming job.

The dead woman was just as thin as Y/N remembered her being, the drug addiction she’d struggled from in life making her almost skeletal. Her skin held no sign of color to it. The skin was pallid aside from the pooling of purple where blood had settled on her right side. She’d been lying on her right side when she passed and once the heart had stopped pumping blood it had all settled to the lowest point in the body. Livor mortis truly was a fascinating thing, or at least Y/N had always thought it was interesting to consider. The dead woman’s long fair hair was stringy and greasy lying limply against her scalp. She wore the same stained yellowed white sundress Y/N could remember cataloging when her body had first been rolled into the funeral home back in New York. Her long nails were dirty and chipped bits of red polish still remained on them.

Her eyes were a pale shade of blue, any sign of life behind them long gone. Those lifeless eyes were fixed on Y/N and as strange as it sounded Y/N was almost certain she could spot a sense of hatred in them despite the lack of light behind the dead woman’s eyes.

Y/N continued to move forward struggling in the wet ground as the rain above her fell harder making the mud feel sticky and thick below her. Her nightgown was drenched quickly, the fabric feeling heavy on her form as she tried her hardest to escape.

She fell to the ground, the slickness of the mud far too difficult to maneuver through at such a quick frantic pace. She cried out the deceased pursuing her, growing closer and closer by the second.

She felt a strong pair of hands grip her upper arms, her heart lifting hoping it was Chibs. Perhaps he’d returned to rescue her.

Her blood ran cold as she was roughly pulled back upright meeting the eyes of who she’d foolishly hoped would be her savior.

Gunner smirked down at her his grip on her arms growing harsh as he spoke a sense of glee in his voice. “Hey, Girl. Did you miss me?”

He turned her around to face the deceased who were still shambling towards her his voice was cruel but so amused. “Here she is, guys. Come get her.”

She cried out begging to the dead to leave her be and spare her. “No, please, no. Stay away from me, please. I’m sorry, please don’t.”

A familiar voice sounded out among her panicked cries, the Scottish brogue soothing and gentle. “Hey, Hen. Yer havin’ a bad dream, Lass. Come on, wake up.”

The voice continued, sounding out over the horror in front of her and her cries of panic and pleas for forgiveness. “Come on, Love. It’s okay. Ya can wake up now, Hen. Yer safe. I’ve got ya.”

Awareness kicked in rapidly; she shot up in bed, her breathing labored. She gazed around the dark of her room, her heart slamming in her chest.

She struggled to comprehend that none of the horror she’d just experienced had been real; it had all been manufactured in her mind. She struggled to accept that she was in fact safe and sound in her bedroom, her concerned boyfriend staring up at her through the darkness of her room.

Chibs felt her shoot up out of his embrace. He reached out blindly in the unfamiliar room, it taking him a moment to find the lamp on the nightstand at the side of her bed he’d fallen into the night before.

He finally located the switch turning the light on giving the room a dull pleasant glow in an otherwise stressful situation. He sat up alongside her, reaching out hesitantly to place a hand against her lower back. He was almost sure touching her too quickly would send her into an even more frantic state. It seemed as though she was locked in a panic attack whatever she’d dreamed about horrifying her. He was almost certain that touching her too hastily would send her into fight mode.

He rubbed soft soothing circles into her back trying to give her some silent reassurance while she sorted through whatever had just occurred in her sleep.

He’d woken when she’d begun to thrash beside him the murmured words leaving her lips more and more rapidly by the second. No, please, no. I’m sorry. Please don’t. Please no. I’m so sorry. Please no.

She struggled to catch her breath for a moment, it always feeling like this when she woke from one of the nightmares that had become frequent since she’d agreed to help out SAMCRO. She always struggled to pull herself out of that sense that she needed to fight for her life or run screaming. It always took a moment for her to reassure herself that she was safe in her bedroom and not in danger of losing her life and her soul to the dead who pursued her so relentlessly.

The only thing that seemed to be different this time around was that she was not waking up all alone to deal with the aftermath.

Chibs continued to rub her back, uncertain of what to say. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to her but none of them felt quite soothing nor good enough.

He was tempted to bring up his own experience with nightmares. Lord knows he’d had a few of them all about how Jimmy O’ had attacked him back in Belfast. He was tempted to reassure her that he’d experienced the same sense of panic she was currently locked in. He was tempted to promise her that it would all be alright.

He kept his hand pressed to her back, his eyes scanning the room feeling dazed, worried, and exhausted.

He’d not had much of a chance to really take a look around the master bedroom before they’d gone to bed the night before.

He’d been more focused on stripping down to his boxers and undershirt and getting into bed beside the woman he had been imagining having the privilege of sharing a bed with probably from the moment he’d realized that his liking her went far beyond just lust.

He’d folded up his kutte and clothing leaving them on a red velvet living chair in the corner of the room by the closet. He’d placed his gun and his knives between his clothing and the kutte uncertain how Y/N would feel about the weapons being out in plain sight.

The room was larger than he’d anticipated.

The room was a bit cluttered but nothing compared to the rest of the house. The clutter felt more personal than any of the family heirlooms in the other parts of the house. The belongings spread throughout the space made it feel cozy and welcoming. It seemed to reflect the woman who rested here.

The walls were painted a deep navy tone though he had a feeling that may have been her father’s choice given the room had once belonged to him and several ancestors prior.

Chibs took notice of the old vanity table sitting directly across from her side of the bed studying the bottles of perfume set out on it alongside a surprisingly large wooden grandiose looking jewelry box, and a large collection of makeup that was all neatly sorted in an organizer.

A soft looking purple rug sat out in front of the vanity table; it seeming far less intimidating than the exquisite looking persian rugs throughout the rest of the upper portion of the house and downstairs in the funeral home portion of the house.

Her closet appeared large from what he’d seen it looking more like a walk in closet than anything. Two dressers sat in the room and a few items sat spread out over the tops of them; a few small framed photos from Y/N’s childhood. There were a couple of crystals sitting out; a large piece of rose quartz and another amethyst, this one much larger than the one he’d spotted out in the living room.

A few small framed taxidermy butterflies were mounted on the wall alongside a couple of paintings that looked to be antiques. The paintings featured delicate flowers and songbirds.

There were several books on gardening stacked on a dresser showing Y/N had a love for the hobby. He found it kind of amusing. His Hen who worked daily with death and who everyone knew as the town undertaker loved a hobby that was all about nurturing something that most people associated with life.

The queen sized bed held a heavy looking tall ornate headboard made out of dark cherry wood. The headboard was something Y/N had casually mentioned, the night before, that she’d gotten in a thrift shop back when she’d been living in New York. it had been a steal she’d claimed as it was old and obviously had been well cared for.

Her bedsheets were a soft mint tone and they felt comforting and soothing to his mind. A heavy gray comforter and a handmade colorful quilt covered the bed making it feel cozy and safe.

The houseplants had caught Chibs' attention. There were several of them; all well taken care of sitting throughout the room. Those that needed bright light sat along her window seal and others sat throughout the room in ceramic pots. The plants made the room feel fresh and full of life.

The room felt like a nice escape from the sensory overload in the rest of the living quarters portion of the house and the dreary knowledge of what happened on a daily basis in the downstairs funeral home portion of the house.

Chibs easily realized he could grow accustomed to spending his nights in this room if she allowed him the privilege. It felt far more comforting than his bed in the dorm at the Sons clubhouse or the pathetic bed he kept in a small studio apartment he rented for when he wanted to take a rest away from the noise of the Sons clubhouse.

The gentle rub to Y/N’s back was enough to break her out of the panicked sense of dread she’d been locked in; she was surprised as tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes.

She turned to face Chibs, scooting close to him, her arms wrapping tight around him. She allowed the tears to fall more rapidly. She was too exhausted to bother attempting to wipe them away or hide them the way she usually might when she had to cry in front of someone.

She’d never felt 100 percent comfortable crying around people. She had to wonder if it was just because she’d grown up in an environment where there seemed to be a constant stream of crying mourners coming in and out of the home. She’d always associated crying as something that was only meant to be done in front of others in serious situations like the death of a loved one.

As she’d gone into the funeral business she’d learned to hold back tears even more. It was inappropriate to cry in front of the mourners you were meant to serve. She’d adopted the concept that their grief was not hers so she had zero right to cry. She had learned to keep her emotions locked tight close to her chest. Crying was only done in private and never in front of anyone else.

She’d found that crying in front of anyone just made her feel awkward and embarrassed. Her tendency to compartmentalize her emotions on the job had seeped into her personal life it seemed.

Chibs wrapped his arms around her, rocking her against him, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s all okay now, Hen. I’m here, I’ve got ya.”

She gripped down onto his undershirt, her face burying against his chest wanting to be surrounded by the familiar scent of him. It was a scent that had soothed her to sleep the night before; a hint of cigarettes and the faintest hint of his cologne.

He ran a hand up and down her back continuing to rock her his words soft and soothing reminding her that he had her and that everything was okay in this room.

He found himself repeating the phrases I’ve got you. It’s okay now. It’s over now. You’re okay now. You’re safe.

His soothing managed to calm her enough to stop her tears but she remained locked in his embrace. They both found themselves holding on to one another tightly both seeming to seek reassurance and a sense of peace.

He dared to speak though he already knew the answer to his question. “Nightmare, Hen?”

She nodded her head wordlessly. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, he quick to speak again. “You want ta talk bout it?”

She let out a heavy sigh, a cruel voice in the back of her brain telling her that if he knew about the content of her nightmares he’d write her off as being unstable and therefore a risk to SAMCRO.

She shushed the voice, choosing to give him a brief summary. “You, me, some cemetery…the dead I’ve buried stalking me in the night. You disappeared this time around. Usually you let them drag me away screaming. You actually usually seem pretty thrilled when they drag me away, kind of like you were in on it…almost like it was a trap and you were an accomplice. This time Gunner was there too…he offered me up to them gleefully. One of the bodies I loaned to SAMCRO and the first body I ever embalmed all alone were the dead who were after me this time around.”

He spoke absorbing this information the need to reassure her sliding from his lips. “You know I’d never let anythin’ happen to ya, Lass. I’d sure as hell not let anyone drag ya away from me. As far as Gunner goes. Ya never gotta worry bout him again. We’ve already established I’ll fuckin’ break his legs and arms if he comes near ya ever again.”

He paused, clearing his throat knowing the exact incidents that had been the culprit behind these dreams. He felt an awful sense of guilt claw inside of him digging its nails in making him feel anguished.

He spoke wanting badly to fix this for her even if he was uncertain that what he was offering to her was even possible. “If…if ya doin’ favors fer the club, if it's hurtin’ ya like this. I can get ya out of it…I’m sure Skeeter would be happy to pick up yer end of the deal even if he’s tryin to quit gamblin. As long as we still got a funeral home connection ya shoul’ be in the clear.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure my backing out on my end of the deal and handing the responsibility over to Skeeter will be just fine and dandy with the MC. I won’t be seen as knowing too much and being a risk at all.” She snarked back, unable to hide the venom from her voice.

She cringed parting her lips to apologize for her harshness but she didn’t have a chance as Chibs spoke, sounding surprisingly certain of his words. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt a hair on yer head…not even my club.”

She sighed wishing that taking the solution he was offering was that simple. She could distinctly remember her talk with Clay just last night though.

SAMCRO’s Pres had urged her to keep making both Chibs and the Sons happy. She was certain backing out on her end of the partnership she’d offered to develop with SAMCRO would not make the Sons happy at all. Chibs might forgive her for backing out of the deal she’d made, but the rest of the Sons most likely would not be so understanding.

As much as she trusted Chibs, she was quite certain that even he couldn’t protect her from the wrath nor the suspicions of Clay Morrow. If she backed down and handed over the responsibility of the bargain she’d made with SAMCRO to Skeeter, she’d be written off as a threat to the MC. She knew too much. She would be viewed as a loose end that they could easily snip off.

She was certain that Chibs would be powerless to fully provide her protection if she was viewed as a threat to SAMCRO. Even if he tried to protect her, then who was to say he’d not be given the same treatment; treated as a threat. They would most likely view his attempts to protect her as a sign of weakness and disloyalty to the club.

She spoke her voice soft but determined. “I made a deal with SAMCRO. I intend to keep up my end of the bargain.”

“Even if it’s torturin’ yer mind, Hen?” Chibs countered he scooting back just enough to peer into her eyes.

She let out a soft sigh averting her eyes from his, the words soft. “The nightmares are not happening as frequently as they did at first. The nightmares are probably just picking up because of all of the stress of tonight. I had a nightmare the night after I was practically interrogated by Hale. I think stress and anxiety triggers them. My brain is just a jerk who can’t process guilt and taunts me with things I don’t feel so awesome about…the guilt of what I’ve done along with the fear of being caught.”

She let out a shaky breath feeling safe enough to say the words out loud. “I can accept that what I’ve done means I’m an awful person who deserves hell. I betrayed the profession I swore to uphold the ethics of. I have caused immense pain to the bereaved. I disrespected the dead that were entrusted in my care. I could and should lose my license for what I did. I deserve any suffering that comes my way. I know that. I’ve made my bed and I need to lie in it”

“Ya ain’ an awful person. What ya did fer the club was…” Chibs started to say before she spoke, interrupting him.

“Morally repugnant, abuse of a corpse, an insult to decent society, a sin.”

He spoke again, rolling his eyes somewhat at her comments. “Ethically…questionable. Yer far from bein awful and deservin any torture. The world ain’ that black and white, Hen. Ya gotta realize shite is more of a shade of gray…at least in our world. Jus’ focus on the fact that ya made sure those bodies did get a final rest when SAMCRO was done with em. Ya weren’t responsible fer what we did with em. We didn’t tell ya why we wanted em. What happened after ya agreed to help us, that’s my sin to suffer fer, Lass. I’ll take hell fer ya. Those families will never know the truth. They didn’t blame ya fer the version of events they were given since ya didn’t get sued. They don’ know what ya did. Only SAMCRO does, and we ain’ judgin’ ya. The bereaved and the rest of society know nothin’ bout what really happened, and they never will. What they don’t know won’t hurt em.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple as he spoke again. “ I want ya to think bout what ya did fer those bodies we had ya cremate…ya cared nough to give em a final restin’ spot. Ya buried em with care under that rose bush. Ya made sure they found peace somewhere beautiful to rest, even if ya didn’t know what they’d want. Ya gave em that care in the end. Someone truly morally repugnant wouldn’t bury cremains of lasses she didn’t even know with such care. Someone who was so awful wouldn’ care bout what happened to those cremains. Ya cared though. Yer carin means ya ain’ so bad.”

She sighed, wanting to argue that she was just as responsible as him as she’d agreed to loan out the bodies in the first place even if it had been for much needed money.

The fact that she’d sold her morals for money made her feel even worse. She knew the debts she’d inherited had been crushing her, but she also knew she’d had other options. They’d just not been options she wanted to take. She’d been selfish and greedy. She’d been impulsive and dived face first into danger. She had proven she hadn’t changed as much as she’d claimed she had when she exclaimed she was nothing like the girl she’d been almost a decade before. She was still prone to run towards danger like a moth to the flame. If she was feeling the burn of the flame then she had no one to blame but herself.

She held her tongue though knowing that this was one argument she had zero chance in hell of winning. She knew enough about Chibs to realize that his stubborn streak was equally the width of hers.

She dared to speak, bringing up something that had been troubling her. “What am I supposed to do if anyone ever asks where the money you guys gave me came from? I paid those bills in cash…they were large payments for cash…cash that I just seemed to get out of nowhere. Suppose someone ever looks into my financial records if the police keep looking into those empty graves. What do I do if anyone ever asks me just where I got so much money out of nowhere?”

Chibs sighed, wracking his brain for a reasonable answer. He spoke as an idea crossed his mind, hoping it was a reasonable solution. “Ya tell em ya did some funeral plannin fer Gemma…Tell em she wanted to make funeral plans fer Clay an her…ya know plan ahead of time fer the future. Say she paid ya in cash fer it all. Clay and she got nough investments in all sorts of legit shite. It’d sound reasonable to think ya got paid in cash. Ya can throw some bullshite plans together as evidence ya planned it. Gemma and Clay would cover fer ya and collaborate yer story if anyone ever asked.”

She sighed knowing that counting on Gemma Teller Morrow or Clay Morrow to be an essential alibi for her wasn’t ideal. She had a feeling that it would work in a bind though. They wouldn’t just be protecting her after all. They’d be protecting the misdeed she’d done for the club and therefore protecting the club itself.

She nodded her head, unable to stop herself from voicing her fears. “I always worry that one day what I’ve done for SAMCRO will lead back to me and I’ll lose everything. I love my job, Filip. I’m where I was meant to be, working here. This is essentially what I was born to do. It’s my legacy and I’ve finally gotten to a place in my life where I want to accept it. I’m good at what I do. I can’t lose that. It’ll be like losing part of my identity. I won’t know who I am without my job.”

“Ya ain’ goin’ to lose a thing, Hen. That fuckin’ case in Lodi is cold and the local PD there have given up on it. We’ve been havin’ Juice monitor shite gettin intel from a connection we got outta the San Joaquin county department. They’re able to call in and see what’s goin in all the departments in the county without it soundin’ suspicious. Those empty graves and that staged crime scene are old news in Lodi. Cops there got bigger fish to fry. The case ran cold and leads ran dry. I think yer in the clear.” Chibs reassured her she frowning slightly at the mention of this connection in San Joaquin. She would never cease to be amazed in how long the arms of SAMCRO reached.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, he fast to speak again. “I love how much ya love yer job, Hen. Yer righ’, yer fuckin incredible at yer job. Ya ain’ losin’ yer legacy. Ya ain’ gotta worry about losin that part of yerself, not fer the club and never fer me.”

He pressed another kiss to her temple, his words soft. “Trus’ me Mo ghràidh. I’m not in the habit of lyin’ to pretty lasses.”

“What does that mean…Mo ghràidh?” She dared to ask as she soaked in his reassurances, this not being the first time she’d heard the unfamiliar words leave his lips.

He spoke, managing to pull back just enough from her to press a soft kiss to her lips as he spoke. “Scottish Gaelic, Hen. It means "My love.”

If her heart hadn’t already overflowed with devotion for him at least a dozen times tonight she was certain it would have in this moment. Her lips pressed to his cheek, her voice soft and filled with a sense of fond adoration. “Oh, Filip. How are you this sweet?”

He chuckled, shaking his head at the comment not helping but to lean into the press of her lips to his cheek. “I’m only sweet to ya, Hen. Don’ tell no one. Gotta keep up my reputation, especially with the prospect. Can’t let em know I’m this soft.”

She smiled, wanting to point out that he was far sweeter to more people than he realized. She held it in though, pressing another kiss to his cheek.

Her lips ran across his skin adoringly, Chibs not helping but to sink into the affection. He was certain he’d never grow accustomed to someone kissing him with such tenderness and he knew for a fact he’d never be entirely convinced he deserved such warmth. He was eager to soak it up all the same.

He managed to turn his face, his lips sliding along hers with ease. The kiss easily grew impassioned, his tongue finding no resistance, she parting her lips.

She let out a soft moan as he slid his tongue along hers, easily dominating the kisses she sank into his affections.

She reluctantly parted her lips from his an idea crossing her mind. She smiled at him, her voice soft as she reached out toying with the collar of his undershirt. “So, you said that tonight was all about me…making me feel good?”

“Aye, it was.” He insisted his heart rate picking up, he trying not to get his hopes up on what she might be about to offer him. He was quite certain he’d eagerly take anything she was willing to give him.

She leaned in her lips brushing across his so lightly; the kiss was not nearly enough for him. She smirked as she pulled away, he leaning forward chasing her lips.

She gently shoved him back to rest against the bed, her voice teasing. “So…it’s around three a.m…I could argue that last night was just about me. It’s technically a new day.”

“Aye, it is.” He agreed a heat spreading to the lower region of his body, his heart beating all the quicker.

She laid down beside him, her lips sliding along his cheek down to his neck. “So, can this morning be about you?”

“Aye, Hen. I wouldn’t say no to tha’ offer.” He insisted a low moan leaving him as her lips moved along his pulse point, pressing soft sucking kisses into his skin.

He was certain she might leave a mark behind and he couldn’t help but to love the idea. He knew he’d wear any lovebites from her proudly.

She ran a hand down his torso teasingly her lips focused on his neck, his head falling back soaking up the attention.

She ran a hand under his undershirt caressing his warm skin, a small sense of anxiety building ever so slightly within him. He was almost tempted to attempt to suck in his stomach. He knew his midsection was far wider than he’d prefer.

She didn’t seem to notice that he was a little heavier than he’d like her hand caressing his skin, her touch soft and teasing.

He turned his head, her lips pressing to his, the kiss growing deep as her hand ran down his torso far too slowly. Her fingertips passed over his hips gently running along his thigh, a groan leaving him.

She ran her hand back up his thigh, sliding it over his abdomen, a groan leaving him the lower region of his body perking up almost as though it was trying to tempt her into touching him.

Another groan left him as she gave in her hand pressing over his boxer clad member a soft moan leaving her as she spoke. “Can I touch you, Baby? I want to stroke this cock and make you feel so good.”

He eagerly nodded his head, the words becoming jumbled up on his lips he wanting to say a million things.

She spoke teasingly, almost parroting a phrase he’d murmured to her the night before in pursuit of pleasuring her. “I need words, Filip.”

He groaned, nodding his head. “Fuck, Hen. Aye ya can do whatever ya want to me.”

She giggled at the comment the action making his cock twitch. She spoke, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “That’s a dangerous offer to make, Handsome.”

“Never been one to shy away from danger, Lass.” He remarked his heart lifting at the word handsome. It had been so long since anyone had called him such a thing.

He whined as she pulled away all too suddenly. She smirked, shaking her head at the whine that left his lips.

She pressed a reassuring kiss to his cheek, her voice soft. “I need to grab something that’s going to help us out.”

He furrowed his brow as she turned in bed reaching for the drawer in her nightstand. He smirked understanding as she rolled back over holding up a tube of lubricant.

He spoke nodding his head at the tube, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Ya keep lube in yer nightstand, Hen?”

She returned the smirk as she spoke. “Yep, it can be helpful especially when I’m a little too eager to really work myself up and get as wet as I want before I make myself cum with my vibrator.”

He groaned the words making his cock throb. He closed his eyes for a brief moment overcome with imagery of what she was describing. He could so easily imagine her lying back in this bed, a toy buried so deep in her wet center. He could imagine her writhing against the bed as the toy buzzed away moans pouring from her lips.

He spoke daring to open his eyes as he watched her open the tube squirting a healthy amount of lube into her hand. “Fuck, Hen. I think I may need a demonstration some time.”

“You want to hump my vibrator?” She teased a giggle leaving his lips , he shaking his head.

“Nah, think we already established I wanna give ya the humpin round ere. I wouldn’ mind seeing ya play though, Love. Bet it’s a fuckin’ beautiful sight.” He insisted his cock throbbing at the thought.

She spoke knowing just what to say to make him moan. “Last time I did it, we’d just ended a phone call. The sound of your voice was enough to make me want to make myself cum. I think that accent of yours is a kink I didn’t even know I had.”

“Christ, Mo ghràidh.” he moaned, his reaction being exactly what she’d envisioned.

She spoke, a surprisingly dominant tone entering her voice. “Get rid of those boxers for me, Filip.”

He groaned, shoving the bed sheets and comforter down with zero shame as he frantically reached down practically ripping his boxers off his movements a little clumsy.

His boxers were kicked off somewhere off the side of the bed, she gazing down at his cock a soft moan leaving her as she spoke. “Fuck, Filip. You’re way more impressive than I’d hoped.”

He groaned knowing this wasn’t the first time a sexual partner had made a comment about his dick. In the past though, when a croweater thought to comment on his size he’d always assumed it was absolute bullshit. The club sweetbutts tended to just say whatever they thought whichever Son they were with wanted to hear.

Talking about how huge a guy was seemed to be a favorite line among the croweaters no matter what size their bedroom partner might be.

With Y/N though, he had the sense that her words were genuine judging by the sense of lust washing over features.

She stared down at him, her clit distinctly throbbing. She wasn’t lying. He was thicker than she’d hoped for and longer than she’d thought he might be. He was just above average enough to pack the promise that he’d feel good without it being too much.

He wasn’t so huge that she was certain he’d just be painful buried inside of her. She knew some guys were deluded enough to think that the bigger the more pleasurable. She knew though that too big could just be uncomfortable. Some guys seemed to think that a woman’s body was unending but that was not the case at all. She’d found in the past that too big meant less inside and a sense of discomfort. There was a fine line between being thick and long enough to provide a pleasant stretch and being so brutally huge it felt like you were being ripped in half.

She had a feeling that Chibs favored the pleasurable stretch side of the coin.

She pressed her lips to his, the kiss growing deep without any effort. Chibs groaned into the kiss as she wrapped her lube slicked hand around his cock.

She stroked him slowly, his head falling back moans of pleasure spilling from his lips. He rocked against her touch she pulling her hand back a frustrated whine leaving him.

She spoke her voice so teasing. “Stay still and enjoy it, Filip.”

He groaned gripping down onto the bedsheets nodding his head frantically, having to wonder when he’d become so submissive.

There was something incredibly erotic about letting her take control though. It was not something he’d thought he’d be willing to do with any bedroom partner.

He found that he was all too eager to lie back and let her take control for now at least.

She wrapped her hand back around him stroking him so slowly a groan leaving him he resisting the urge to rock against her to increase the pleasure.

She spoke her voice soft and sweet. “So beautiful, Filip. You’re so handsome.”

He spoke his voice thick with lust. “We gotta get ya glasses, Hen. Fuck.”

He paused, shaking his head a giggle leaving him as he spoke again. “Actually nevermin’. Don’t wanna get ya glasses. Ya migh’ see what an ugly bastard I am if yer vision gets better.”

She spoke pressing an adoring kiss to his lips, he moaning against her lips. She spoke as she pulled from the kiss far sooner than he’d hoped. “Shush, you’re not ugly. You’re the sweetest, the bravest, and the most handsome man I know.”

He groaned as she sped up her movements, her voice teasing. “If you weren’t handsome I wouldn’t have worn out the batteries in my vibrator thinking about you.”

He grunted the words leaving him. “Fuckin jack off too much to ya, Love. Livin’ with my hand down my fuckin’ boxers every nigh’ since we met.”

She moaned her clit throbbing at the confession. She spoke, reaching forward with her other hand massaging his balls, the action making his eyes practically roll into the back of his head, a loud moan leaving him.

She spoke pulling her hand from his balls all too soon but he didn’t have time to focus on the loss as she spoke. “What do you imagine, Baby?”

“Takin ya in every position, Love. Makin ya moan my name. Makin ya cum over and over again. Makin ya cream all over this cock. Cummin in that pussy, lettin ya know it’s mine. How tight yer pussy woul’ feel. Yer fuckin tits.” He moaned his eyes gazing down at what she was doing to him wanting to commit the sight to his memory.

It was the hottest thing he was sure he’d seen in a long while; her lube slick hand sliding over his cock, pre cum desperately seeping from his redened tip, her nails that soft pink, her hands so delicate wrapped around his thick length.

She spoke, reaching out with the hand that wasn’t occupied placing it over one of his. She pressed his hand to her breast over the silk of her nightgown “These tits?”

He groaned at the action, his cock throbbing painfully. He massaged her breast over the silk of her nightgown, a moan spilling from him. “Aye, fuckin perfect breasts. Perfect handful. Stared at em too much when we firs met. Couldn’t wipe em from my brain.”

She smiled a soft moan leaving her at the words and the feel of his hand working her breast. No guy had ever managed to make pleasure course through her so rapidly just by touching her breast alone.

She was tempted to lower her nightgown and let him have all the more access, but held back stroking his cock more rapidly, the action making his resolve break his hips rocking.

She did nothing to stop him, allowing him to help her chase his orgasm. She spoke her voice soft and adoring. “Want to make you cum, Handsome. You deserve it. Such a sweet brave man, trying to protect me tonight, promising to keep me safe.”

He groaned, nodding his head frantically, the words spilling from him. “Gonna protect ya with my life, Hen. Always gonna be safe with me.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, her voice sweet. “You’re going to be safe with me too, Filip.”

He groaned the words making his heart ache with adoration. She continued to stroke him, her lips pressing along his neck. “You made me feel so good tonight, Filip. Never had a man eat my pussy so well. Never had anyone make me cum from that alone.”

“Fuck, gotta treat ya how ya deserve.” He grunted the comment making his balls ache hinting that she would soon be successful in getting him to his end.

She spoke continuing to stroke him he chasing the sensation with rapid thrusts helping her please him. “Want to treat you how you deserve too, Handsome.”

He moaned as she nipped at his pulse point his balls throbbing pulling closer to his body the end so deliciously close.

He twisted the bedsheets in his hands unable to form any responses to her words he devolving into moans and groans as she continued to stroke him her lips and tongue soothing the nip to his neck.

He grunted his cock twitching his orgasm hitting him harder than he’d anticipated his head falling back his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head. He felt her name spill from his lips his accent growing thicker praises spilling from him as ropes of cum spilled from him coating her hand and his stomach. “Fuckin’ shite, oh, Hen. My Lass. Fuck, yes. Fuckin’ perfect, makin me cum. Wish it was in ya, fuck.”

She stroked him through his release a moan leaving her lips at the sight of him so lost in pleasure and the evidence of that pleasure spilling onto her hand.

He whined as he came down from his end the light stroke to his oversensitive cock too much.

She reluctantly pulled away he panting towards the ceiling his body shaking and damp with sweat.

He turned his head, meeting her gaze a groan leaving him as she brought her hand up to her lips, her tongue peeking out to taste the release coated along her skin she moaning at the salty taste of him.

He groaned at the action, his hand pulling her fingers from her lips, his lips pressing to hers.

He kissed her deeply, his hand pressing to the back of her head keeping her there. He reluctantly pulled away from her his voice drowsy. “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me if ya keep bein this perfect, Mo ghràidh.”

She giggled at the comment not helping but to tease him. “Good thing I have caskets downstairs huh?”

He rolled his eyes, his hand reaching down to her backside giving it a playful swat. She gasped, jumping slightly at the action. She spoke her voice a mix of scolding and playfulness. “Filip.”

“Don’ bury me yet, Love. Still got life in me.” He remarked his body feeling heavy and relaxed.

She shook her head giving his shoulder a playful nudge. “You better go clean up before you pass out. Buddy. I am not sleeping pressed to you if you’ve got dried Chibs juice on you.”

He snorted at the comment a huff leaving him. “Aye, things I do fer ya.”

She shook her head, reaching out to find a tissue to clean her own hand as she watched him pull from her bed.

She smirked lust washing over her as she admired his backside as he disappeared into the master bathroom shutting the door behind him.

She was pleased to find that his backside was just as much of a gorgeous sight sans clothing.

She relaxed against the bed tossing the tissue into the wastebasket by the bed satisfied her hand was clean enough.

Chibs cleaned himself up as thoroughly as he could, losing his undershirt as it hit him; he'd definitely spilled his release far enough to hit the article of clothing.

He left the room not ashamed to be completely nude not helping but to look forward to any hint of lust that might be on her features at the sight of him totally bare.

He was only somewhat disappointed to find her fast asleep as he reentered the bedroom. He felt a sense of comfort hit him at the sight hoping that she would find a more restful sleep than she had moments ago.

He found his boxers within the bed sliding them back on before he slid back into bed beside her.

He scooted close to her his arms wrapping around her torso, his head resting close to hers. He spoke a surprising statement leaving his lips as sleep began to sink in. “I love ya, Hen.”

He was too exhausted and far too satisfied with what they’d just done to consider the statement that had left him too hard.

His heart screamed though that he was certain of his words. He loved her.

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

Chibs rolled his eyes at the low whistle that left Juice’s lips at the clear love bites pressed into Chibs’ neck. Y/N had not been subtle about her choice in placement of hickies and he knew he had not entirely been subtle in his choices either.

Juice leaned in examining the darkened marks visible under the collar of Chibs’ black shirt and his kutte. “Y/N did that?”

“Ya shoul’ see her neck.” Chibs commented knowing he would not go into any greater detail than that.

He sat back at the bar satisfied enough with the little bit of bragging he’d done. He knew he’d never share any of the details about Y/N. He was quite sure she’d embalm him alive if he got too vocal about their bedroom activities. He figured he could get away with bragging about his own sexual prowess though.

“If she didn’t scare the shit out of me, I’d ask if she has any sisters or cousins.” Juice commented Chibs smirking at the words as he sat back at the bar in the Sons’ clubhouse.

He spoke, raising a brow. “My lass scares ya? Sweet wee thing like her scares ya?”

“She told me where the blood goes in an embalming, dude. Shit is spooky,” Juice shuddered remembering the conversation that had happened at the fairground the night before.

Chibs smirked, eager to respond, making Juice shudder all the more. “Aye into the sewer.”

Juice groaned, shaking his head. “Shit, I do not want to be a fly on the wall in you twos private conversations.”

Chibs smirked all the more tempted to prod Juice all the more but held back as Jax Teller entered the clubhouse.

Chibs sighed pulling from the bar knowing a serious talk was needed between his vice pres. and he.

He spoke nodding his head. “Jackie Boy, can we talk?”

Jax nodded off towards his Chapel having the feeling Chibs wanted to talk about something that he didn’t want Juice’s ears lingering around to hear.

The Scot followed Jax into the room, the doors shutting behind them giving them a sense of privacy.

They both sat at the reaper table in their usual spots, Chibs letting out a sigh knowing he had to jump into this right away. “Gunner ran into Y/N at the fairgrounds last night.”

“Shit, fucking asshole. How’s she doing?” Jax dared to ask his jaw tensing at the news. He’d been dreading this possibility the moment Y/N had become once again entangled with SAMCRO.

Chibs shook his head, his fists clenching. “As alrigh’ as she can be. Fuckin terrified her seein him.”

Jax cringed at the comment he daring to speak. “I’m guessing this wasn’t just him being his usual shithead self in front of a woman. From your reaction, I’m guessing she filled you in on the background with him?”

“Aye.” Chibs snapped, taking a deep breath, his eyes crossing over the sign proudly displayed on the chapel wall. Brains Before Bullets.

Jax shook his head, a heavy sigh leaving him, he pulling a cigarette from his kutte pocket lighting it. “Shit was awful. They were this destructive force together. I tried my best to keep him away from her and to talk her out of being stuck to him…but you know how stubborn she is. She was even worse at nineteen.”

“She told me everything.” Chibs blurted out reaching into his own kutte pulling out a cigarette of his own.

Chibs spoke again gripping down onto his cigarette so tight it almost snapped in half. “He fuckin violated er more than once back then. Did ya fuckin know bout that?”

Jax grimaced, shaking his head. “I knew the sex was rough. Gunner loves to brag. If I’d known she…If I ever knew he forced himself on her, I swear I would have killed him.”

Chibs was tempted to say the words What about now? Would you kill him now? I would.

He kept the statement in not having a chance to say the words as Jax spoke. “Shit back then was a blur, Chibs. She was a mess…shit with her brother. I think she was in self destruction mode. She was so young…she loved her brother and he loved the hell out of her. He complained about how much she followed him around, but if anyone else said a word he’d beat their face in. The accident took him from her mentally at least. I felt like I owed it to her and him to let her work shit out. I enabled her. I’ll own up to that. I felt guilty. Ope and I are the ones who encouraged her brother to get that Harley, more me than Opie. After the accident, I blamed myself as much as she blamed me. In my own fucked up way I thought letting her work out her pain in the clubhouse was the right move. If I had been able to predict Gunner, then I would have told her to get the fuck out of my face that very first night she showed up blaming me for her brother’s accident.”

Chibs spoke, taking a long drag of his cigarette, the words harsh. “I want to fuckin kill Gunner. I know I can’t. Shite would bite me in the arse.”

Jax sighed nodding his head in agreement. A member of one charter murdering a member of another charter would likely result in a Mayhem vote towards the killer.

If Chibs killed Gunner and it was found out, Chibs would most likely be killed in retaliation.

Chibs spoke venting out loud talking more to himself than to Jax. “What kind of fuckin man am I if I let him live knowin he violated the woman I love? I don’ care how long ago it was or how fuckin determined she was to destroy herself. I know he hurt her and I know he’d do it again if he was given the chance.”

Jax widened his eyes not missing the word love.

He chose not to address it quick to speak trying to break Chibs out of his vocal inner dialogue. “Then we don’t let him ever be alone with her. Anytime he shows up in Charming, we’re going to make sure those two never cross paths…not without you or me around. The rest of SAMCRO will look out for her too. Her being a business association of the club protects her alone…you being with her guarantees it.”

Chibs let out a shaky breath, his words tense. “I can’t promise I won’t beat the shite out of him on sigh’ if he’s even in the same room with her Jackie. I see him an all I see is red. All I can think bout is him violatin’ her…He bruised her damn wrist at the fairground…if he was willin to do tha’ in public…If I didn’t know wha’ he did to her in private…I’d shudder at imagining it.”

He gazed down at the lit cigarette in his hand remembering his statement to her when she told him about Gunner. If he’d known her back then…he had not finished the sentence yet he knew what he’d say.

His heart screamed he would have protected her had he known her back then. She would have been cherished by him. He would have appreciated her and shown her how to channel her pain without harming herself. He would have fallen for her.

A more sensible part of him knew he was damaged by his past so thoroughly when he first arrived in Charming. That sensible part of his mind told him he would have been so lost in his own misery he might not have had it in him to take on hers. He would have been in no shape to play protector. Perhaps they would have destroyed one another due to their own fear and anguish. Perhaps they would have just used one another to avoid facing their misery. Perhaps they could have been toxic for one another.

His heart battled that thought though the over romantic organ insistent she would have been good for soothing his misery and he would have been good to her. He would have worshipped her making it known mistreatment of her would be met with violence against anyone who laid a finger on her. They would have not destroyed one another the way his mind insisted but instead would have healed each other.

Being by her side now felt so healing. He felt lighter than he’d felt in years. She didn’t make him feel like the dirty damaged outlaw. He felt like Filip who loved deeply and protected those he trusted.

Jax was fast to speak, providing reassurance. “If it comes down to that, you’ll have my support. I think you’ll be justified to knock him out for what happened at the fairground alone. You throwing any punch his way is going to be seen as you defending your ol’ lady.”

The comment about Y/N being his ol lady only brought a small sense of warmth to him, his anguish and rage towards Gunner casting a shadow over what should be such a delightful statement.

“Aye, I’ll defend her. I’d kill fer her Jax. I offered to kill the prick las’ nigh’ and ya know what she said?” Chibs blurted out, taking another drag from his cigarette.

He spoke again before Jax had a chance to reply. “She tol’ me that me killin him would bite me in the arse. She fuckin’ knew how that shite would go down with the club, without even havin to be told. She jus’ knew how our world works.I hate tha’ she’s righ’. She’s too damn clever…makes too much sense even when I’m pissed off.”

Jax shook his head fast to speak. “She’s always been clever.”

Chibs cringed knowing he needed to say the words. He wouldn’t be able to push it from his mind until he cleared the air. “She mentioned her past with ya.”

Jax cringed at the comment knowing that it the conversation was unavoidable. He’d known it would come up the second Chibs started to get close with the local undertaker.

Jax spoke knowing he had to lie it out on the table. “We had fun…when we weren’t arguing…which was most of the time. We argued about everything. I was a prick and she was mouthy. She was angry and I was nursing a broken heart. It wasn’t love, you don’t have to worry about that. We were a good distraction for each other. I never meant for it to go in that direction. At first I just wanted to let her vent about her brother. She seemed like she needed a friend or at least someone who let her talk without judging her. I think we were both caught up in our own problems…our grief over her brother, our mixed feelings about our legacies, and other bullshit. We worked shit out on each other. The sex was good, but we weren’t committed to anything deeper than just fucking each other. I wasn’t looking to make her anything more than a friend who I occasionally hooked up with and she wasn’t looking to be my ol lady. I’m sure my mom would have loved her to be my ol lady…but I wasn’t interested. I’m still not. Trust me, brother. I know she’s yours. I have zero interest in pursuing anything with her and I know the feelings are mutual on her end.”

Chibs let out a shaky breath, his heart lifting at the words I know she’s yours.

He couldn’t ignore the possessive little voice that piped up in the back of his head. Yes she is.

Jax spoke again, a sigh leaving him. “She leaving Charming was what she needed. She was going to wind up dead if she stayed here…especially with Gunner. I worried about her getting so deep back into SAMCRO. She doing okay?”

“I’m takin care of her. I ain’ goin to let nothin happen to her.” Chibs insisted not wanting to spill his guts about her nightmares or the sense of guilt she felt over what she’d done for the club.

That was not his secret to share. Sharing that would be a betrayal of her trust in him.

He spoke needing to say the words he knowing that what he'd said to her the night before as she slept was not just his orgasm talking. His heart screamed that he meant it. “I love her."

He cleared his throat he fast to speak again. "I'm crazy bout er, Jackie Boy. I will make sure she never has the need to leave Charming ever again.”

Jax nodded his head, Chibs almost certain he spotted a hint of relief in the younger man’s eyes.

He spoke a heavy sigh leaving him. “I know she’s not my biggest fan…but I do still care about her as a friend. I know she’s in good hands with you. I’ll do what I can to help you any way I can when it comes to Gunner.”

Chibs let out a sigh of relief nodding his head. “Aye, I appreciate that.”

He stared back up the sign on the chapel wall. Brains Before Bullets.

He knew just putting a bullet in Gunner’s skull was not the answer.

He would have to be smarter than that.

==============================================================

If anyone had told Y/N just a year ago that she would find herself walking arm and arm with a member of SAMCRO down Main Street, sharing a bag of candy, she might fear she had encountered someone who was quite delusional.

Here she was though walking with Chibs arm linked with hers a bag of chocolates in her hand they shared them as they strolled past shop windows.

Chibs spoke, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “I use ta steal chocolates from the petrol station when I was a wee lad…that and dirty magazines when I firs realized jus how appealin lasses were.”

She chuckled at the comment, it taking her off guard. “You had sticky fingers?”

“Aye, Christ. If my poor Ma had known she’d have skinned me alive.” Chibs commented a chuckle leaving his lips.

“I imagine so, especially with the titty mags.” She remarked a shaking laugh spilling from his lips.

He spoke, shaking his head. “Aye woulda been drug down to the local Priest by my Ma. Woulda been given so many Hail Marys I woulda had to have been raised in a confession booth.”

She replied to this comment giving his hip a playful nudge as they walked. “So I’m taking it you weren’t a good Catholic boy?”

“I tried…I maybe lied a wee bit in confession sometimes though. Figured some shite is better off between me and God alone…Father Anderson didn’ need to be part of that conversation.” Chibs admitted knowing he probably was considered to be a poor catholic as an adult. He’d not been to confession since he’d lived in Belfast.

He spoke a small sigh leaving him. “My poor Ma…both er kids went astray. She was a good Catholic lass. Cait was less bad than me. She was a wee bit more obedient. Her son though…he’s all his Uncle Filip.”

“You have a nephew?” Y/N dared to ask not helping but to soak up every story Chibs told her about his immediate family though she’d always got the sense it brought up a hint of sorrow in him.

“Aye, Padriac. He adored me growin up. I used to visit Cait and him…make the trip out with some cash and we’d have a wee party, good food and drinks. His da…my sister’s ex, fuckin bastard was a wee bit too much like our Da. Cared more bout the bottle than his family until he disappeared. My Da was older than my Ma when they got together…too damn old to be messin round with a lass er age. My Ma was sweet as can be, loyal heart and tender. She was a saint. She was stern with me and Cait when we needed it but she had a soft soul. She put up with too much from my prick of a Da, and when he left no one missed him. He was a fuckin brute. We were glad to see him leave. Our Ma died a few years after Padriac was born…Cait and I were the only family each other had. After I patched into SAMBEL I visited more. Padriac followed in my footsteps ya know? Prospected fer SAMBEL. Pretty sure he’s been patched in now. He’s bout twenty seven now. He was a teenager last I saw him but he was a handsome lad. Got those Telford genes, tall and dark headed. He’s got that Telford mischievous spirit. He’s a good lad. I love him to death and miss him more than ya know. Made me proud when I heard through the grapevine that he patched in to SAMBEL jus like me.” Chibs recalled, she not helping but to adore the fondness in his voice as he spoke about both his sister and his nephew.

She picked up on the comment about his father and his mother. She guessed that explained some of the sorrow that she sensed when he discussed his mother.

She spoke not helping but to tease him. “So, from what I’m hearing…there’s a younger Telford out there? Crap, I could have gotten a younger model.”

He let out a huff giving her backside a swat not caring if they were in public a laugh leaving her along with a slight squeal.

She buried her face against his arm, a little embarrassed as her squeal caught the attention of a passing man.

Chibs smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist, his voice low, a hint of husk in his voice. “Ya weren’t complainin bout my age when I ate yer pussy the other nigh? Think ya were too busy cummin on my tongue to say much of anythin legible.”

She felt her cheeks flush all the darker as she gazed up at him, his lips pressing to hers he tasting like chocolate and a sense of adoration.

She spoke her voice soft as he pulled from the kiss. “Don’t have any complaints about the older model I got.”

She paused, unable to stop herself. “I have always liked antiques.”

He snorted at the comment, giving her backside another swat, choosing to keep his arm wrapped around her waist as they continued to make their way down main street.

They were unaware of the eyes watching them from within a nearby diner.

Agent June Stahl watched the Scottish Son and the mysterious young woman with avid interest.

She’d not been expecting to spot a Son walking down Main Street when she stopped for a bite to eat the Charming Police Station feeling far too stuffy and Deputy Hale feeling far too suffocating.

She watched the pair as they stopped in front of a shop window the Scot leaning down to say something that the young woman found humorous judging by how her head fell back she clearly giggling. Stahl studied the pair as the Son’s lips pressed to his companion’s they making it clear they did not shy away from PDA. It was an odd sight; the rough looking forty something year old biker and the young elegant looking woman wearing a black dress that could only be described as prim.

She had a feeling judging by their interactions and the way the Scot was staring down at her with devotion that she was no croweater. She looked a little too polished to be a biker groupie. No, the way the Scotsman was staring at his companion screamed ol lady.

She spoke as her waitress refilled her cup of coffee. “Who is that young woman over there? The girl in the black dress across the street?”

The much older waitress who wore a name tag stating her name was Pearl rose a brow, she looking hesitant to speak up about anyone walking hand and hand with a member of SAMCRO.

Stahl resisted the urge to roll her eyes, having taken notice of the residents' hesitance to say much about SAMCRO. The MC had a hold on most of the residents of the town.

Pearl apparently decided her need to gossip was more tempting than the need to stay mum about SAMCRO. “That’s Y/N Y/L/N. She owns Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home. Her dad died a few months back. She inherited the family business. It’s a good thing she took over since she is the only available heir to do so. She has a brother but the poor dear hasn’t been the same since his motorcycle accident about a decade ago. He’s out in some institution in Lodi allegedly. Poor dear just isn’t right in the head, such a shame. Y/N came back to town for her father’s funeral and stayed. She was living out somewhere else for a while…out east somewhere. I don’t like to gossip but she had a wild streak about a decade ago…got into a lot of trouble, gave her poor dad a time. She seems to have cleaned her act up though…not her taste in men it looks like, but she’s grown up a lot…to be honest, she’s always been a peculiar girl…never quite fit in and didn’t seem to even try to, but she’s running the funeral home now. She seems good at her job at least even with as strange as she’s always been. She made the funeral home look real nice.”

Stahl raised a brow at the information. A funeral director who just happened to be walking down main street with a known criminal?

Stahl frowned, tempted to point out that this Y/N didn’t seem to have cleaned up her act too much if she was buddying up to a member of SAMCRO.

She held in the comment though making a mental note of this young woman.

If she had a wild streak there might be a police record there. Stahl was interested to find that she might just have another SAMCRO ol lady to look into.

#chibs telford #sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs #chibs telford smut #chibs x reader #chibs telford fanfic #chibs telford x reader #filip telford #death and the lady #chapter eleven

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redux-iterum · 1 year ago

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Charred Legacy: Chapter Eleven

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The hunting and walk home lacked any conversation; only their pawsteps and a faint breeze here and there provided noise, but they might as well have not been there at all. Even the thickening clouds overhead seemed to muffle the world around them. Bubbly Brackenpaw walked with his head lowered and eyes turned up anxiously to Swiftpaw, who had his jaw set tightly around his pigeon and his tail stiffly held close to the ground. Lizardtail and Willowpelt seemed calmer, carrying a dove each, but their faces were still tense and troubled. Fireheart didn’t know how he looked, having been equally unsuccessful as Brackenpaw, and he was grateful for being in the front of the patrol so he didn’t have to guess by his Clanmates’ expressions.

When they finally closed in on camp, Fireheart turned back to the rest of his patrol. “Go ahead into camp. I need to talk to Bluestar.”

To his relief, no one questioned him. The warriors simply nodded. Around his dove, Lizardtail said, “Hope she’s awake,” and followed Willowpelt through the bramble tunnel, the apprentices scooting along behind them.

Fireheart took in a deep breath, turned and made his way over to Bluestar’s den. His steps each took a month to complete and yet brought him to her door instantly, far before he was ready. Bracing himself, he poked his head in through the lichen and said, “Bluestar? Are you awake?”

What a curse and a blessing it was to hear her voice immediately. “Is that you, Fireheart?”

“Yeah.” He entered, fur prickling a little on his neck. “Sorry to disturb you, but, um, I have news about Sunningrocks.”

Bluestar sat up in her nest, which looked freshly remade with greener moss and bracken. Her eyes were clear again as they narrowed, examining her apprentice’s nervous fidgeting. “What’s happened?”

“Well…” Fireheart cleared his throat, for once having trouble looking her in the eye. “We got to the border, and there was a big group of RiverClan cats there. They, um, they were gathered around the bodies of their Clanmates. I guess the dogs got to them.”

He looked up in time to see her blink in confusion, expression turning concerned. “Where are the dogs now?”

“They don’t know for sure, but they caught the scent on the other side of the river, so they’re in RiverClan territory somewhere.” Fireheart’s chest tightened. “But, um, that’s not the main thing. What I need to tell you is who they found specifically.”

Bluestar stiffened, even if her voice stayed steady. “Who, then?”

Fireheart silently fought with a lump in his throat.

“Fireheart,” Bluestar said, leaning into her words, “who?”

Swallowing hard, he met her eyes. “Oakclaw and his apprentice.”

At once, every hair on Bluestar’s body lifted away and stuck straight out. Her mouth opened wordlessly, her pale yellow eyes stretching wide enough to see a ring of white around them. Her throat flexed, like she was trying to speak and her words died before they reached her tongue.

“I wanted to tell you before you found out another way,” Fireheart explained, his heart breaking at the look on his mentor’s face. “Since… since he was your mate, and everything. I thought you should know as soon as possible.”

A tremor crept up Bluestar’s body from her tail and toes, until she was shaking all over.

Fireheart softened his voice. “I’m sorry.”

Bluestar didn’t respond for a long time. Her eyes slowly drifted from focusing on Fireheart to staring at something far away he couldn’t see, and they went wet. Her trembling faded just a bit, coming to rest with the venom in her voice when she finally spoke.

“How could StarClan allow this?” she said, low but viciously intense.

Fireheart gazed at her sadly. “I don’t think they have any control over it.”

“They do,” she near-snarled, startling him. “They take kits away all the time. Apprentices. Queens. Now they don’t even warn us about where these rotted dogs are going, and innocent cats die.” Her nose pointed to the ground, and she growled, seemingly to herself, “First his children, and then his parents, and then his niece, and now him. How dare they. How dare they.”

Fireheart had the brief thought to respond in defense of StarClan, but the next thought was the knowledge that now wasn’t the time. He instead stood quietly, gradually taking a few steps forward and reaching out with a paw, very gently touching Bluestar’s leg with it.

For a moment, Bluestar leaned forward, seemingly into the contact, before her head shot up. She ripped herself away and jerked around, collapsing into her nest and curling up tight enough to almost shrink herself to Fireheart’s size. Her fur still bristled, and her body still shook.

“I’m sorry,” Fireheart said again, not sure what else to do. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Bluestar didn’t respond. He waited a moment, just in case, then turned and walked out with a final glance at his leader. He couldn’t see her head; her paws and legs were wrapped around it, like she was trying to shut out all noise and light.

Fireheart’s subconscious considered berating him for destroying his leader’s day, and it certainly was a tempting way to respond to that conversation…but what else could he do, really? She was going to find out one way or another. Shouldn’t it be from someone who could break the news delicately? Someone who was close to her?

Then again, he mused as he walked, she’s been so distant lately, maybe I’m not all that close anymore.

Caught up in his thoughts, he failed to notice an exposed tree-root in his path, and he tripped. He barely managed to stop himself from falling flat on his face, bracing with his front paws. When he straightened up and looked around, he couldn’t even see camp.

Strange. Where had he walked to?

It took him a few embarrassingly long moments to recognize the area (everything looked different when the plants were dead, sue him). If he were to walk north a little longer, he’d end up at the road and its gravelly slopes. Camp wasn’t too far away—he could turn around and be back without anyone questioning him on where he’d gone.

He should go home. The dogs were still out there, even if they were last scented near the water. Maybe they were still moving around and had reached the forest after crossing that bridge that arched over the river. He wasn’t supposed to be wandering around alone, anyway. He needed to have a patrol with him.

But something was tugging at his paws to keep moving. He couldn’t name it—it just felt like even his toe-fur was pointing north, his claws being gently pried out to sink into the earth and keep him from turning around.

He was supposed to go to the road. Something important was there.

Obeying the invisible pull, he continued walking north. His instincts kept him sniffing the air and looking around, ears swiveling and steps careful and as quiet as could be. The bushes were almost all leafless, but their many branches and what shrubs didn’t die in the cold blocked his view of the rest of the forest in this area. He sent a small thank-you to StarClan that he didn’t have to worry about snakes sneaking up on him.

Maybe it’s a fox, he thought as he walked. Or a stray badger—I haven’t gotten to see one up close yet, this would be a good time to do that. It’s probably the dogs, though. I’m not walking to my death, am I?

That last question sank its claws into his mind and gleefully refused to let go, even as he tried to think more positively, until all he could see were long sets of white, crushing teeth and all he could hear were barks and shrieks of dying cats. His steps jittered and slowed. He tiptoed as the smell of the road closed in on him.

But something else nabbed his nose. Something familiar.

A couple memories trotted by his eyes: flat surfaces and rough carpet, long, naked paws scratching behind his ears and high croons coming from a figure much taller than him, their silhouette blocking the light hanging on the ceiling.

And before him, in the distance, a cluster of small bright lights, dancing back and forth.

A weird sense of relief hit him, and he resumed walking normally, heading in the direction of the lights and scents. More with slight variations clogged the air quickly, and soon enough he could hear indistinct chatter. Dropping into a crouch, he crawled forward, quick and silent, until he was positioned behind a naked bush and could get a good view without being seen.

It was a little group of humans on the edge of the woods, spread out enough for Fireheart to have to turn his head both ways to see all of them. They were all bundled in bright, heavy pelts, their heads covered and mist coming out of their mouths as they talked to each other. One of them had a long, completely straight, dark grey branch in their hands, pointed down at the ground. The others all had those lights in their paws, aiming the beams in random directions—sometimes over the road into ShadowClan territory, sometimes up or down the road’s straight path, mostly into the forest, shining on trees and creating stretched, ghoulish shadows.

Fireheart watched in fasciation. It had been so long since he’d been this close to a human, or even really seen one, especially this late at night. He remembered that humans moved around during the day. What were these ones doing out here in the dark?

A particularly tall one turned around and grunted something to a shorter, rounder human. Fireheart squinted in confusion at the tiny, bright red light on their face. They turned to look at something over the road and cleared up the mystery; they had a very, very small twig gripped in their mouth. At the end of it was the red light, and contrasting the shadow of the human with the distant lights of the Aulmir, Fireheart thought he could see a waft of fog drifting up into the sky— no, it stank even from here. He wracked his brain, trying to think of where he recognized that appearance of such dark fog…

Smoke. Smoke, right. His human had kept fires in their house all the time, in that little hollow space in the wall, and smoke occasionally drifted away from it into the biggest room. Strange to smell it coming from a stick that tiny, and to have it smell considerably worse. How were the humans tolerating it?

The round human hissed something, bringing Fireheart’s attention back to them. They rubbed a paw on the top of their burry head, and if Fireheart wasn’t mistaken due to the shadows hiding most of their face, they had a contorted, agitated expression. Another human, closer to the cat, turned and soothed their patrol partner with a soft voice. The round human huffed a sigh and shook their head.

Fireheart marveled to himself that even with the noise, he wasn’t disturbed. In fact, he would rather see these humans than any wild animal. He held in a snort, imagining Sandstorm bristling and hissing, or Teaselfoot fleeing the scene when one stepped too close to him. Maybe it was just his kittypet origins, but he didn’t see anything to be frightened about.

A thought struck him, as a couple of them called out in a loud voice into the woods. Were these humans looking for the dogs? They had to be, right? Why else would they be here, when they’d never come to the forest before?

That guess excited him. If they were on the job, then the Clans wouldn’t have to suffer the dogs for much longer. They had hope! All it’d take was a few human patrols wandering around, and then the dogs would be gone.

Fireheart’s fur fluffed out, expelling his excitement. He studied the humans again, but much more appreciatively. And not a moment too soon; the round human said something with a grumble, turned and started walking towards the road, in the direction of the Aulmir. The other humans gave scattered responses before following them. The tall one with the smoking stick turned their head one last time towards the deeper end of the forest, a bit of the red falling off the end of the twig, and then turned back and hurried after the others.

Fireheart watched them until the edge of the forest’s trees hid them from view, and their hard and heavy steps fell out of his hearing range. Once the coast was clear, he stood up, turned, and sprinted for camp, his tail dancing wildly behind him. He felt the wind catching up to him, almost pushing him from behind so he could reach home faster.

The run wasn’t far, and he soon slowed down and caught his breath at the outside of camp. He started to go for Bluestar’s den in his excitement, but…

Right. Tonight.

He looked away and trotted through the camp entrance.

The clearing was full; by the time Fireheart was home, the faintest stars were fading out of the sky. Several cats looked up at him and blinked in surprise.

“There you are!” Greystripe hurried up to greet his friend with a headbump, finally gentler from practice. “Willowpelt said you were talking to Bluestar, but I didn’t see you around at all.”

“I took a walk,” Fireheart said. “Listen, where’s Speckletail? Or Whitecloud?”

“Right here.” Speckletail emerged from a small group by the prey-pile and approached Fireheart. She tilted her head in an inviting question.

Fireheart did his best not to sound too happy about it as he gave the news. “I saw a patrol of humans on the border by the road.” He didn’t let the immediate reaction of curses and shock speak over him. “They had lights and were calling for something. I think they were looking for the dogs.”

Ravenwing, meeting up with Greystripe, gawked at Fireheart. “You think so? How could you tell?”

“I mean, why else would they be there?”

“Why do humans do anything, boy?” Yellowfang croaked, standing up in her place below the meeting stump. “Never can we say with certainty.”

Fireheart gave her a teasing squint. “Well, with my experience, I think I can make a guess.” He added to a disturbed-looking Ravenwing, “I don’t know why you all are so scared of them. They never noticed I was there, and they didn’t even break a twig while I watched them.”

“Are they gone?” Patchpelt asked, close by and anxiously wide-eyed. “They didn’t follow you?”

“We’re fine,” Fireheart assured him. “I made sure to watch them until they went away.”

Relief settled over camp, cats turning to talk to each other again, Speckletail returning to her conversation. Fireheart held back a purr of satisfaction as Yellowfang limped up to him with her jaw stuck out to the side, looking him up and down.

“Something wrong?” he asked when her buggy eyes went into slits.

Yellowfang didn’t answer him at first, eyeing his front paws. When she looked up at his face, she rasped, “You steam energy. Why were you so close to the road?”

“Oh...” He tilted his head back and forth, thinking. “I guess I just had a feeling I should go there, and I kinda knew to follow it.”

Yellowfang’s eyes widened a bit, then she nodded in satisfaction. “Good, boy, good. Always follow that feeling.” She gave him a froggy smirk. “But don’t follow it so far that you chase the humans.”

“They’re really not that bad, Yellowfang,” he said patiently. “We can afford to trust them once in a while.”

“I trust nothing that came not from the Mother herself,” she said sharply. “Especially color-changers.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Ravenwing piped up. “All life came from the Mother after she created the Three and destroyed the Titans, except for humans. Because we all came from the same place, we know what every beast wants: food, shelter, rest. But even you don’t really know what a human wants.”

Fireheart looked at him now. “Where did humans come from, then?”

“Who knows?” Yellowfang grumbled. “They arrived long ago from nowhere, and they’ve been a problem ever since. Can’t trust them, boy, when we know not what creature came up with them.”

Fireheart couldn’t resist a mimicry of her smirk. “I thought ShadowClan ate food from humans all the time.”

This got him a cuff on the ear, though it hardly hurt. “Necessity! Necessity, boy, not preference.”

Fireheart chuffed and rubbed his ear. “Right, sorry, pardon me.”

“Sounds like you’ve had an adventure tonight,” Patchpelt said, and coughed. “I hope you’re right about them looking for the dogs.”

Fireheart nodded respectfully to him. “Well, even if they aren’t, I think we’ll be okay.”

Patchpelt’s sigh turned into another cough. Ravenwing murmured something to him that sounded like, “Get some rest,” before leading him back to the elders’ den. Greystripe nodded to Fireheart and Yellowfang and went back to where he had been, where a half-eaten bird laid waiting.

Fireheart himself was about to go for the prey-pile when a quiet voice cleared their throat. He looked to his left to see Whitecloud standing close to him, his yellow eyes doing a poor job of hiding his worry.

“Bluestar has been silent all night,” he murmured to Fireheart. “I heard RiverClan lost two of their own. Was it…?”

Fireheart nodded sadly. “Oakclaw, and his apprentice.”

Whitecloud let out a “hough” and lowered his head.

“I had to tell her,” Fireheart whispered. “She ought to know.”

“I know. I know.” Whitecloud looked up again and sighed. “I’ll keep an eye on her tonight. Get some prey, and thank you for the news.”

He turned and walked away before Fireheart could respond. Fireheart, deflated, made his way over to the prey-pile.

Maybe he should’ve hunted something for Bluestar.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #chapter #chapter eleven #book three #arc one #charred legacy

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gt-abby · 11 months ago

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Mar and Jake- chapter 11

I'm actually skeptical about this arc but hopefully this would work.

Tag list: @soakedmilkgt

Chapter ten chapter eleven (you're here) chapter twelve

----- 2k words~

Mar woke up in a dark room on the floor, her memories taking the time to come back to her. She realized she wasn’t wearing her normal clothes- instead she had a weird full-body leotard that was cut short on her broken leg and at her shoulder on the other side of her body, but also there was something wrapped around her neck, made out of metal. She couldn’t take it off no matter how hard she tried. She had a fresh cast on her leg, too, a proper one for a broken leg, not just bandaging like she used to use. And her head was pounding.

Then she gasped. She remembered- people breaking the front door off it’s hinges and destroying the apartment to find her. She was hiding in the clothes pile and they quickly caught her, one holding her tightly in his fist throwing her into a metal box. She was still in said box.

Mar began panicking again. Who were they? What did they want from her? And why were they so aggressive?

Suddenly the room started moving. It felt like it was rising, then suddenly placed-dropped on a hard surface. A window opened and a giant eye peaked inside. It was bright blue and grey, slim and calculating. It fixated on Mar, unmoving for what seemed like forever, and Mar couldn’t break eye-contact with whoever it was. She couldn’t tell what they were thinking. Then the eye narrowed down and left, leaving the window open.

“Caught another scared-y one, huh?” a voice said, feminine sounding and self-important. All Mar could see was their uniform at waist level- nothing like she’d ever seen before.

“They all seem to be like this, ma’am.” said a different voice. Masculine for sure.

“Bring it over to my office. I’d like to have a chat just the two of us…” the window was slammed shut and the box was picked up again. As the man carried it, it was bouncing and swaying, Mar couldn’t find a way to stabilize herself. Not that her panic was helping, either. Her breathing was inconsistent, and her heart beat fast. So many questions in her mind, and so much fear, she could barely contain it. They were looking for her, for some reason. They knew where she was, they came in violently and destroyed everything, took her to God knows where and knocked her out. They can do whatever they wanted with her. Giants that had all the power in the world over her. And she wasn’t even able to call for help. Who knows if Jake knows she’s been taken. Who knows how much time had passed. If he’d even gone home. If he did, he probably thought she wanted time to herself and hid somewhere. No, he would see the destroyed apartment and instantly know something was up. But he had no way of knowing where she was, if he even looked for her.

Before she knew it, she was slammed down on another surface. She heard someone walking away and closing a door behind them. Her headache was still prominent, but she was more focused on what’s happening outside. Then the wall opened fully. A face revealed itself, now two bright blue eyes staring her down, making her feel naked. The face showed a big smile, but nothing about it was happy. It looked sinister.

“Hello, little one,” the woman said. Mar didn’t dare move or make a noise. She gulped. “Aww come on, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re too valuable to risk any harm done to you.”

“I-is that why you destroyed my home and grabbed me like a toy?” Mar felt brave enough to say that. Her voice was almost too small, but the woman seemed to have heard her fine.

“Yes, I really have to talk with them about that. After all, we are trying to be discreet here.” No concern towards Mar was able to be detected in her voice. Mar risked looking away for a second. The woman sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Come on out, little one, my neck is killing me looking at you from inside the box.” Mar felt she had no choice, or else she’d be grabbed again forcefully. So she floated near the floor and out of the box she was in. She blinked in the bright led lights that surrounded her, and when she got accustomed to them she looked back at the woman. She wore a business suit, sat in an office chair. She gestured for Mar to sit down on an eraser. Mar hesitated but complied.

“What’s the name this time?” The woman asked.

“‘This time’?”

“You know, the one they gave you, the god.”

“You know about the fire deity?”

“Of course, why else did you think we took you?”

“I don’t know…” Mar rubbed her forearm. She was already so afraid she wasn’t even able to feel it anymore. Her body was all out of fight or flight mode.

“The name?” The woman asked again, impatiently.

“I’m… I’m Mar, but they didn’t give me any names. I don’t even know their name.”

“Hello, Mar, I’m the Director. You can call me that from now on. Not that you’ll see me much after this.”

“What do you want with me?”

“You seem to be special. If they didn’t give you a name, they must be confident enough to come through you this time. It won’t be happening, though.”

Mar was left with more questions than answers. She looked around, and saw there were no windows, and besides the ventilation, the place felt colder than an average building. They must be underground. She had a feeling questioning the Director wouldn’t give her any more information than she has now. So, she kept silent, waiting for the unknown. The woman leaned closer to her, scanning mar with her eyes. She then wrote down something in a notepad. There was a loud ping from behind Mar, and she saw she was basically sitting on a giant desk made of glass, and the ping came from the computer behind her. The Director ignored it.

“Alright, it seems I’ve got everything I needed from you. Any questions before we move on from here to your cell?”

“Yeah, pretty much everything. What is this place, who are you all and, ‘cell’? Am I in some kind of prison?”

“Ah, yes, the usuals.” The woman leaned back in he seat, sighing. “I don’t usually do this, but I might as well answer your questions. This is the place where we research, find, and contain threats of the “other world” that holds the fire god. You, little Mar, are considered a Threat.”

“What?” She let out a laugh with the word she spoke. “A threat? Of all things, someone like me is considered a ‘threat’?”

“We have yet to figure out what you’re capable of, so yes, you are. Especially to this world. You contain within you a being powerful enough to destroy entire planets. It may be dormant as of now, but it could also wake up at any moment and use you for its nefarious plans. That’s why-“ the Director pressed a button. “-you must be contained.” The door opened and a person walked in, shoving Mar back into the box and locked it, despite her protests.

“Goodbye, little Mar, We’ll meet again soon enough.” She heard as she was taken back out of the room.

Jake was pacing back and forth in the living room. He didn’t even know where to start. Call the cops? Declare a missing person? No, how are they supposed to find a 10 centimeter tall person, or even begin an investigation around it? They won’t believe him. Nothing was stolen, either, except for Mar being no where to be found. Who’d even take her? She was on no speaking terms with her parents, and she’d been inside the apartment all week. Almost all week. The one day he took her with him to university might have been it. Whoever it was that took her was most likely on campus when they arrived that day and saw her. Whatever the case, he needed help.

“Hello?”

“You need to come quick; Someone took her.” He was surprisingly calm when he said that.

“What?”

“I said someone took her!” he snapped. There it was- his panic. It was boiling inside of him until then.

“I-I’m coming.”

He hung up. He needed to sit, but there was nowhere to sit down. The couch was flipped upside down and the bar stools in the kitchen were broken. He resorted to sitting on the floor. He held Mar’s broken phone in his hands as they were shaking. How could he have let that happen? He really should have kept her in his sights at all times. But there was no time for that kind of thinking. They had to find her. Whoever took her didn’t do it to take care of her. They must mean her harm.

Some time later, Emily walked through the open door, and gasped at the sight.

“…What happened here?”

“I wasn’t here when it happened but… it looked like she was hiding and they forced their way in and turned over every inch of the apartment to get to her. They… they eventually did.” His voice was low, and soft yet broken. He was with his back to Emily, and she could see teardrops on the broken phone in his hands. He sighed. “Everything’s a mess…”

“Clearly.” Emily replied. But he didn’t mean just the apartment. His head was a mess, too. Emily bent down next to him and rested her hand on his shoulder as a way to comfort him, or at least try. “Let’s start with her parents. If they know something, they’ll tell us.”

“It’s dead, I tried turning it on but nothing works.”

“I know someone who might be able to get their numbers. But he can only help us in the morning.”

“I can’t just abandon her like that now! She’s in danger!” he cried out, finally turning around to face Emily. She nodded.

“I know, but you’re not abandoning her. You have to get some rest or else your head won’t be clear enough to deal with all of this. I promise you; I’m not going anywhere until we find her. But right now, you have to rest.”

Jake didn’t reply. He knew she was right; he just didn’t want to face it. He knows he won’t be able to fall asleep. He got up silently and helped her flip the couch back up so she had somewhere to sleep, too. He then went over to his room and threw his bag to the floor. He then let himself fall to the ground, too, and began uncontrollably sobbing.

Mar couldn’t sleep, either. There wasn’t anything else she could be doing in her tiny cell, and it was driving her crazy. She hoped jake came home already and found it in shambles. She hoped he’d started looking for her. She hoped he’d find her and get her, too. However long it took him. Her thoughts wandered towards her parents again. What were they up to now? Did they give her location out to this horrid organization? No, it couldn’t have been them. Why would they? Didn’t they want her to be safe, regardless of if she was in contact with then or not? She couldn’t think of anything that could have given her away. And.. the Director said she was special. What did that mean? Were there more vessels…? More people with stolen souls to be used by the deity? Were they even alive? Or did they die when they tried escaping? So many questions with no one to answer them. She resorted to laying down flat on the metal floor, the coolness of it somewhat comforting. Whatever it was that they planned for her, she had a feeling it wasn’t to kill her, at least not yet. The Director said she needed to be “contained”, not “eliminated”, or anything like that.

Mar suddenly gained an idea- and she tried her best to find a comfortable enough position to fall asleep in. there’s one thing she had up her sleeve that was risky, but it was a last resort, and she was willing to try.

#g/t #g/t community #giant tiny #sfw g/t #size difference #gt community #sfw gt #original characters #oc: mar #oc: jake #oc: emily #mar and jake #mar and jake chapter eleven #chapter eleven #g/t writing #g/t writing community

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demifiendrsa · 11 months ago

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Halo The Series has been canceled after two seasons at Paramount+.

“Paramount+ can confirm that ‘Halo’ will not move forward with a third season on the service,” the streamer said in a stataement. “We are extremely proud of this ambitious series and would like to thank our partners at Xbox, 343 Industries and Amblin Television, along with showrunner and executive producer David Wiener, his fellow executive producers, the entire cast led by Pablo Schreiber as Master Chief and the amazing crew for all their outstanding work. We wish everyone the best going forward.”

According to an individual with knowledge of the situation, Xbox, Amblin TV, and 343 Industries will try to shop the series to other outlets.

“We deeply appreciate the millions of fans who propelled the ‘Halo’ series to be a global success and we remain committed to broadening the ‘Halo’ universe in different ways in the future,” 343 Industries said. “We are grateful to Amblin and Paramount for their partnership in bringing our expansive sci-fi universe to viewers around the world.”

#Halo #Halo The Series #Halo TV #Halo TV Show #Halo TV Series #Halo Paramount #Halo Paramount Plus #Halo Paramount+#Amblin Television #343 Industries #Showtime Networks #One Big Picture #Chapter Eleven #Paramount Plus #Paramount+#television #live action #live action television

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eight-littlenightmares · 9 months ago

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hello!! i just wanted to say that i have finished chapter 11!! :D

#author #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #whump community #whumpblr #whump #Horror novel #teen author #neurodivergent author #queer author #author stuff #whumplr #book writing #writer #novel writing #chapter eleven #:D

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amethystskeleton · 11 months ago

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(Excerpt from Chapter 11):

The words in Liam’s throat locked up at that and he could only nod. He didn’t know how to explain to Stilinski that his nightmares consisted of what-if scenarios where Gabe’s bullets tore through Theo and he didn’t get up again. He didn’t know how to explain that he had started listening to the radio. Not because he found the news interesting, but because he had become obsessive about every single unidentified body found. Worrying himself to sleep with the idea that it was Theo’s body left unidentified in some unknown morgue.

He didn’t want Stilinski to ‘take care’ of anything. It was the first time he had seen Theo in nine months. Liam didn’t want anyone or thing to step in and scare him off again. Before he could even begin to try and put that all into words Stilinski stepped aside and ushered him out the door. Corey was waiting for him by the front door, foot tapping impatiently.

#teen wolf #thiam fanfic #thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #to be led by a liar #chapter eleven #the puppy pack

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ericshoney · 2 years ago

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The Mafia Boss ~ Chapter eleven

Y/n's POV

Sunghoon just pulled up outside of my old work, its quiet, since it doesn't open for another three hours. I get out the car, heading towards the staff entrance, when I hear Sunghoon get out. I turn to look at him.

"Get back in the car." I tell him.

"No your still under watch, I'm not letting you go in there alone." He responds.

"Look I don't want to be in there more than ten minutes alright, I'll be out." I reply.

"Don't argue with me, it wasn't a choice." He said.

I sigh and just walk through the door. I can hear music playing softly in the main area. I walk through to the staff room to see Lia putting some stuff in her bag.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I ask, she turns to look at me.

"Oh hey where have you been!" She shouts, running over to give me a hug.

"Just got wrapped up, I'm getting my bits and never coming back." I reply, hugging her back. I see her bags on the chair.

"You leaving too?" I ask.

"I am, the girls and I have been given a great business opportunity so we took it, more money than this shitty place." She answers.

She then pulls away with a smile, but it quickly drops when she notices Sunghoon by the door. She pulls me to the side and whispers in my ear.

"What the hell is that asshole doing here?" She asks.

"Uh he drove me here. Wouldn't stay in the car." I tell her.

She glares at Sunghoon and grabs her bag. I open my locker and grab the jacket I left here along with a few other bits I left. As I did I realised something.

"Well that's me done, see you around sunshine." She said heading for the door.

"Wait Lia!" I shout, she turns and looks at me.

"How come you knew who Sunghoon was?" I question.

"I never said I did." She responds.

"You called him an asshole, I never told you what Sunghoon looks like." I reply.

"We've...crossed paths, but I really must go sunshine." She responds, quickly leaving the room.

I gather the rest of my stuff and head out to Sunghoon, he gives me a small smile.

"Is that all?" He asks.

"Uh no I need to get my last pay check, can you put this in the car and wait there, I swear I'll be back there's something I need to ask you anyway." I answer. He sighs and gives me a look.

"Five minutes if your not back I'm blowing this place up." He threatens.

I just nod and pass him my stuff, I head to my ex boss' office and knock, I hear him call and head inside. He's sat at his desk with some papers in front of him, a bottle of beer in his hand.

"Oh look who finally showed up!" He shouts.

"I'm not here to chit chat old man, give me my last pay check." I tell him.

"You young people are so stuck up! I'll find a better replacement for you and that other bitch!" He spits as he digs through his pile of papers. He throws me my last pay check.

"Glad to get out of your hair." I mumble as I leave.

I head outside and back to the car, where Sunghoon is sat waiting. He looks at me with slight shock as I get in.

"What thought I wouldn't come back?" I ask with a laugh.

"Not really." He mumbles.

"Well I said I'd stay and with how your behaviour has been I'm doing it for Bea not you." I reply.

"Whatever, so can we go home now? I need a whiskey." He responds.

"No we're going to the store first, then home and we'll talk about something important." I tell him.

Sunghoon looks at me and then smirks, he starts the engine and drives towards the store.

"I love your bossiness." He said.

"Shut it." I mutter as he drives.

As he did, I only thought about Lia, wondering how she knew Sunghoon.

#kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop au #enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen fanfic #mafia #au #ocs #xreader #female reader #sunghoon #park sunghoon #mafia sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #chapter eleven

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roosterbruiser · 2 years ago

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now that I've fixed all the CS aesthetics, I'm gonna start writing the next chapter aka....the REVEAL!!!

#cruel summer #my works #chapter eleven #slasher #millie writes #millie talks

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ranmacapss · 5 months ago

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[Ranma ½] ✥ Chapter 11, Bread Feud

#ranma #ranma saotome #ryoga #ryoga hibiki #ranma manga #ranma manga caps #bread feud #chapter eleven #volume two #ranmacapss #long post

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wetcatspellcaster · 2 years ago

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lovely chapter as always. THE ROOM HE BUILT FOR HER??? UNDERGROUND?????

Lol 💜

This bit is actually based on canon! The Ascendent romance dialogue where Astarion says he'd "like to sequester you in a deep chamber in my palace and keep you all to myself" etc. Figured he'd have done it as part of the renovation project he was conducting to distract himself from the break up lmao

#wip: pieces still stuck in your teeth #chapter eleven #asks #anons #what a fun chapter! just exploring/defogging the map! etc.

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aurora-by-jacqui-natla · 2 years ago

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10. THE IRISH COVEN

AS ALANA AND I WALKED THROUGH THE Cullens' expansive abode, our footsteps echoing softly on the polished stairs leading up to the living room, we were unexpectedly greeted by a scene that sent chills down our spines. Gathered in the spacious room were not just any vampires, but an assembly of the Cullens, the Denalis, and Benjamin and Tia of the the Egyptian Coven, accompanied by four enigmatic figures whose presence added an extra layer of mystery to the already tense atmosphere. The air was thick with an unsettling energy, and despite our efforts to remain composed, a sense of trepidation washed over us like a cold wave.

Among the gathered vampires, two figures stood out prominently, their presence commanding attention. The male vampire stood tall and imposing, his piercing red eyes locked onto us with an intensity that spoke of both danger and authority. He towered at an impressive height of six feet three inches, his lean frame clad in a rugged attire that exuded a sense of ruggedness and strength. His short brown hair framed his angular face, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. Dressed in jeans cinched by a sturdy cowboy belt, brown mountain boots, a grey vest, and a blue shirt beneath a brown leather jacket, he emanated an aura of primal danger.

Beside him, his female counterpart presented a stark contrast in appearance. Despite her petite stature, she projected an air of quiet confidence and allure. Her shorter brown hair framed delicate features set in pale, almost translucent skin. Clad in a fitted black leather jacket that accentuated her curves, she exuded a blend of elegance and toughness. A dark blue scarf wrapped snugly around her neck added a touch of mystery to her ensemble, complementing her grey shirt and denim shorts layered with tights. Black mountain boots completed her ensemble, lending a hint of defiance to her otherwise delicate appearance.

Across the room, a woman of striking appearance scrutinized the surroundings with dark red eyes that seemed to miss nothing. Her stunning brown skin was complemented by wild, thick curls piled atop her head, adding to her untamed beauty. Despite her muscular physique, she moved with a grace that spoke of both strength and resilience. She wore a brown leather jacket over a black-sleeved top, paired with black leggings and sturdy black boots, exuding an undeniable aura of confidence and power.

Leaning casually against a stark white wall was a man whose calm demeanor offered a stark contrast to the woman beside him. His pale skin and neatly styled brown hair, along with a well-groomed moustache, marked him as a decade younger than his wild-haired counterpart. Despite his more subdued appearance, he radiated an aura of quiet authority and intellect. He wore a sleeveless black coat over a dark grey hoodie, paired with dark jeans and sturdy brown mountain boots, presenting a picture of understated strength and resilience that belied his calm exterior. Together, they formed an unlikely yet compelling pair, each embodying a unique blend of individuality and fortitude amidst the gathering of formidable beings.

"Siobhan, my friend," Alana exclaimed with a boisterous tone that echoed through the room. "This is Violet from my coven!"

As I turned my attention towards the trio of vampires, my eyes were immediately drawn to Siobhan. Her movements were fluid and graceful, accentuating every curve of her alluring figure. Her striking features were impossible to ignore—her eyes were a deep, seductive shade of scarlet, framed by long, luscious lashes that seemed to go on forever. And that smile—it could light up an entire city block, radiating warmth and confidence.

Siobhan's thick, auburn locks cascaded down her back, framing her muscular yet feminine physique. She exuded a strength that was unmatched by any other vampire in the room. Her outfit was simple yet elegant—a grey shirt with sleeves, paired with a knitted brown shawl draped over her shoulders. Her brown skirt fell just above her ankles, and her feet were adorned with burgundy leather boots. Each item of clothing seemed chosen to complement her natural beauty while maintaining a sense of practicality.

Standing next to her was a man in his prime, his chiselled features and commanding presence exuding an air of authority. Towering over Siobhan by a good three inches, his dark brown locks were peppered with stubble, framing his pale face. His piercing red gaze bore down on me, sending shivers down my spine. He donned a faded green coat over his waistcoat and shirt, with a dark brown cap perched atop his head. His rugged jeans hugged his lean frame, while his sturdy brown boots and fingerless knitted gloves completed his rugged ensemble. His entire demeanor spoke of a life spent in harsh conditions, yet his eyes held a depth of wisdom and experience.

Before them stood a delicate, ethereal girl, her slender frame measuring a mere five feet and two inches. Her bouncy dark brown curls framed her face in a wild halo, and she seemed almost fragile compared to the imposing figures around her. She appeared to be around the same age as Benjamin and Ayla, her scarlet eyes glancing up at me from beneath a little grey beanie hat perched atop her curls. Her outfit was a whimsical mix of patterns and textures, with a light brown coat draped over a short skirt adorned with intricate designs. Her legs were encased in emerald green tights, paired with cosy grey socks peeking out from her brown leather heeled boots. Her hands were tucked into a pair of woolly grey gloves, completing the charming ensemble. Despite her small stature, there was a vibrant energy about her that was impossible to ignore.

"Top of the morning to you, young one," Siobhan greeted me with a lilting Irish accent that was as warm as a cup of tea on a cold day. "I'm Siobhan, and these are my companions, Liam and Maggie."

I smiled at the trio, taking in their unique features. Siobhan had a regal air about her, with piercing red eyes that seemed to see right through me. Liam was tall and lean, with a rugged handsomeness that made me feel a little self-conscious. And then there was Maggie, a pint-sized bundle of energy with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Hi, I'm Violet," I said, feeling a little shy. "Have you met Renesmee?"

"We have," Liam replied, his voice deep and smooth. "But we didn't need to see her memories to know who she is."

Siobhan nodded in agreement. "We have a certain... ability, you might say. We can sense things about people that others can't."

I furrowed my brow, intrigued. "What kind of things?"

Maggie piped up, her voice surprisingly mature for someone so young. "I can tell when people are lying. It's like a little voice in my head that says 'that's not true.'"

My eyes widened in amazement. "You're like a walking lie detector!"

Maggie giggled, pleased with my reaction. "I guess you could say that."

"Well, I know who's going to win two truths and a lie," I said with a chuckle, and Siobhan joined in with a laugh. "So how do you all know each other?"

"Well, that's a long story," Siobhan answered. "My father was a blacksmith, and I was taller than any other woman in my village when I was sixteen, and taller than all men, except for her father. I was also stronger than many of them; as an only child, I helped my father at the forge. He died in an accident when I was seventeen, and so I took over his business.

"This was unheard of, and many people disapproved. But eventually, I won their approval and became an accepted part of village life. My name spread to the surrounding areas as the 'big blacksmith girl.' But that came with a price."

"How so?" I asked, eager to know more about her.

"My frame attracted the attention of a vampire named Sancar, who searched for unusual women to add to his harem. He travelled throughout all of Europe with his human servants, looking for exceptional women. Then, one night, he abducted, assaulted, and bit me, and took me back to his home while I endured that painful transformation."

Siobhan winced at the last part. Liam held her hand lovingly in his hand, and Maggie looked down sadly.

"He had difficulties in dealing with me, of course," she resumed. "I was incredibly strong, even for a newborn, and also had no love for him. He tried to keep me distracted with ample amounts of blood, but before the end of my year as a newborn, I killed him, along with three of his most faithful servants.

"After that, I travelled alone and learned the vampire lifestyle before returning home. During my travels, I learned about the Volturi and the laws they had created in the vampire world, but what made me curious the most was the extra gifts some of them exhibited."

"I'm guessing that's when you discovered your own gifts?" I asked.

"I met Liam first," she beamed at him. "I think it was six months after his transformation."

I turned my focus on Liam. "How did you become a vampire?"

"Well, I was an Irish warrior who fought in the Irish Rebellion of 1641," Liam began. "And later against Cromwell's reconquest of Ireland. I became a vampire through one of the most common types of accidental transformation, a battlefield excess. It was common for nomads to seek out human wars as an opportunity to feast."

"Nomads?" I asked.

"Lone vampires. I met Siobhan, and she instructed me on vampire rules, thereby stopping me from drawing attention from humans and the Volturi. I was very taken with Siobhan's strength and beauty. We joined forces quickly and became mates. I can be selective about my prey, and English soldiers are still my preferred victims after centuries of killing Englishmen."

I gulped.

"When we found Maggie, Siobhan wanted to make a supernaturally talented vampire of her own, but I was opposed to the idea. Partly because I didn't want the Volturi to resent the imitation, and mostly I didn't want to share Siobhan's attention with anyone else."

"He's right about that," Maggie said softly.

"However, she pleaded with him to let things play out in time and give Maggie a chance, and I reluctantly agreed. Over time, I came to accept Maggie as part of the coven and consider her as a sister."

I looked over at Maggie. "And you?"

"I was born in 1832 in Ireland," young Maggie began. "I had difficulty dealing with authority, on a parental and community level. I already had that gift to sense when someone was lying, and in those situations, I felt compelled to point out the lie. My accuracy made people uncomfortable around me, especially close ones. Though this often led to punishments, sometimes quite severe, I did not relent in my nature. Certain people thought of me as a devil because of my gift."

"That sounds awful," I said.

"The Great Famine decimated my village, and my family was forced to leave for America in search of a better life. They didn't have enough money to transport every member, and I was subsequently left behind to take care of my maternal grandparents, mainly because they felt uncomfortable with my sensibility to lies."

Her eyes glistened with a melancholic hue as she gazed upon me. The pain of being an outcast, encircled by those who claim to love you, must have been excruciating. I could empathize with that feeling, for I too had experienced it prior to finding solace in my own family.

"Siobhan and Liam found me alone on the road to Cork, nearly dead from starvation," Maggie continued. "I was almost immediately able to recognize them as non-human. Siobhan offered to make me strong enough to live. I sensed that she was telling the truth and so agreed.

"Liam was not convinced about having me with them, but Siobhan persuaded him otherwise. I deeply enjoyed their company because they were routinely honest both with themselves and each other. Over time, even Liam warmed up to me. So whenever we encountered another vampire or human, I could use my gift to sense their honesty, and so Siobhan and Liam trusted my judgment."

I glared at Maggie and then at Siobhan and Liam. A smile curved on my face, and they smiled at me back. "How do you know the Cullens?"

"We're very good friends with Carlisle," Siobhan replied. "We were quite taken with their unusual generosity. Carlisle noticed that I seemed to possess some subtle gift to influence reality, but I didn't believe it. Maggie and I met Carlisle and Edward around December 1919.

"Carlisle and I shared a happy reunion, and he introduced Edward. I thought he created the boy out of interest for his gift, not knowing it was pure coincidence." Siobhan sighed and looked down at me. "Enough about us. What about you? How do you know the Khotlers?"

I told them everything: from my transformation to my powers. It seemed Siobhan took a liking to me, and Maggie seemed to just be happy because I hadn't told a lie throughout. I liked this coven.

Then, a tall, rangy vampire with eager ruby eyes approached me.

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nightfall-by-jacqui-natla · 2 years ago

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11. EPPING FOREST

AS WE MADE OUR WAY THROUGH THE twisting paths of Epping Forest, the only noise that could be heard was the gentle purr of the engine. Eventually, the car came to a stop in the desolate car park, encircled by the eerie blackness of the trees. It was evident that no one would willingly enter this void, but we had a different purpose in mind.

The engine sputtered to a halt and the headlights dimmed, enveloping us in complete darkness. Stepping out onto the ground, our feet sank into the soft soil beneath us. The forest stretched out before us, a vast realm of shadows and enigmas.

The moon remained hidden, obscured by the dense foliage above. This was a relief, as we knew the Children of the Moon would not be in their true state tonight. Nevertheless, we proceeded cautiously, our senses sharp and alert. In this forest, anything was possible.

As we ventured deeper into the impenetrable thicket, the symphony of nature's whispers grew louder, the rustling of twigs and the crunching of leaves beneath our feet echoing through the towering trees. Gabriel led the way, his footsteps resolute and self-assured, cutting through the dense undergrowth with purpose. Suddenly, he came to an abrupt halt, and we mirrored his actions, our eyes fixated on his every move as he pivoted to face us, his gaze filled with a mix of caution and anticipation.

"Deer are abundant in this forest," Gabriel declared, his voice calm and composed. "We usually capture three or four every month."

Intrigued, I couldn't resist but inquire, "Aren't they endangered due to hunting?"

Gabriel chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Not in this forest. The deer population here is carefully monitored and managed to ensure their survival. We only take what we need, and we do so with respect for the balance of nature."

As we continued our journey deeper into the forest, I couldn't help but marvel at the harmony that existed between man and nature in this secluded wilderness. Gabriel's knowledge of the land and its inhabitants was truly remarkable, and I found myself eager to learn more about his way of life.

Gabriel's gaze bore into me, filled not only with concern but also a hint of fear. It was as if he could sense the insatiable hunger that gnawed at my insides, threatening to consume me whole. His voice, laced with urgency, pierced through the silence, "You must learn to control your thirst."

The ache in my gut intensified, a constant reminder of the void that needed to be filled. My parched throat begged for relief, aching with every swallow. Desperation washed over me, and I instinctively reached for my throat, hoping to ease the discomfort that plagued me.

Joseph interjected, his voice steady and matter-of-fact, "You'll have to go hunting."

With a resolute nod, we ventured into the depths of the forest, our bodies moving with an otherworldly grace and fluidity. The world around us blurred as we sprinted at an astonishing speed, our senses heightened to an extraordinary level. The symphony of nature enveloped us, the vibrant colors and melodious sounds of the forest captivating my senses. I couldn't help but marvel at the intricate tapestry of life that surrounded us.

Finally, we arrived at the precipice of a cliff, the vast expanse of nature stretching out before us. Gabriel's voice, gentle yet commanding, broke through the tranquility, "Close your eyes."

I obeyed, trusting in his guidance, as the world around me faded into darkness.

"What do you hear?" he inquired.

I focused intently, my ears attuned to the hoot of an owl, the chattering of a squirrel, and then...the gentle rustling of a deer. Its heart raced at their own pace and rhythm and as I opened my eyes, I beheld the creature serenely grazing nearby. The scent of its blood wafted towards me, enticing and warm, and I knew what I had to do.

With a deliberate, unhurried motion, I crouched down and crept towards the deer, my heart pounding in my chest. Gabriel, Joseph, and Simon followed closely behind, their eyes fixed on me, their expressions a mix of anticipation and caution. The forest was alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant bird calls, but all I could focus on was the majestic creature before me.

As I neared my target, the scent of animal blood filled my nostrils, overpowering and intoxicating. It was a primal instinct, one that I had tried to suppress for so long. Gabriel's observation echoed in my mind, reminding me of the truth I had been denying - the allure of the hunt, the taste of fresh kill, it was something that surpassed any human experience.

I could feel the hunger gnawing at my insides, a hunger that had been dormant for far too long. The predator within me was awakening, its primal instincts taking over. The deer, unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows, continued to graze peacefully, its senses dulled by the tranquility of the forest.

With precision and unwavering focus, I embarked on my hunt, determined to capture my prey. The exhilaration of the chase surged through my veins, heightening my senses and keeping me on high alert.

However, just as I was poised to make my move, an unexpected interruption shattered my concentration. A captivating and intoxicating scent wafted into my nostrils, diverting my attention from the deer I had been diligently tracking.

It was the unmistakable aroma of humans, a group of cyclists traversing the forest. My acute senses detected the presence of at least five distinct scents, each one alluring and tempting in its own unique way. But then, fate intervened as one of the cyclists tumbled from his bike, sustaining an injury that released the tantalizing scent of fresh blood into the air. It was an irresistible allure that I simply could not resist.

The deer's scent faded into oblivion as I lifted my head, inhaling deeply, my body trembling with anticipation. My focus had shifted entirely, and now, my sole motivation was fixated on the human cyclist and the sweet nectar of his blood.

Simon's urgent plea fell on deaf ears as I ignored his warning. Gabriel and Joseph's alarmed expressions only fueled my determination.

I couldn't resist the primal urge that consumed me. With my black hair billowing in the wind, I charged towards the injured cyclist.

Every fiber of my being was alive with the thrill of the hunt. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, propelling me towards my target. Like a shadow, I raced towards the unsuspecting human, ready to pounce.

The wind howled in my ears, urging me forward, urging me to unleash the predator that lay dormant within me. I could feel the power surging through my body, propelling me faster and faster towards my target.

The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, intoxicating and irresistible. It mingled with the earthy aroma of the surrounding forest, creating a heady cocktail that fueled my desire. It was a scent that triggered a primal response, awakening the ancient instincts that lay dormant within me.

Halting suddenly, I fixated my gaze upon the unsuspecting human, my predatory instincts kicking in as my body coiled, ready to strike. However, just as I was about to unleash my attack, my attention was diverted by a mysterious presence concealed within the dense greenery.

Emerging from the shadows was a figure, shrouded in a mystifying silhouette resembling that of a man, his eyes emanating an eerie crimson glow. The details of his attire and appearance remained elusive, leaving me intrigued and uncertain.

Silently, his gaze shifted from the injured cyclist to me, as if we shared a common prey that one of us would ultimately feast upon. Despite my instincts screaming at me to flee, I found myself inexplicably drawn to him, a strange sense of curiosity and fascination taking hold of me.

Instead of either of us making a move towards the cyclist, we stood there, locked in a gaze, as if engaged in a silent battle of wills.

I could feel the power emanating from him, a force that both intrigued and intimidated me. His presence seemed to command respect and fear simultaneously, a paradox that left me feeling both drawn to him and wary of his intentions.

As we stood there, a silent understanding passed between us, a recognition of each other's strength and capabilities. It was as if we were two predators sizing each other up, each waiting for the other to make the first move. And yet, there was a strange sense of camaraderie in that moment, a shared understanding of the primal instincts that drove us both.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as I stood there, lost in a whirlwind of emotions. Soon enough, Gabriel, Joseph, and Simon caught up with me, their voices harmonizing in a chorus of concern. "Violet, please, just stop!" Joseph's voice boomed with authority, yet beneath the surface, I sensed his own frustration and exasperation.

"I'm sorry," Gabriel's voice carried a tinge of remorse, though it failed to quench the burning curiosity within me. "I didn't realise there will be anyone far from the paths."

Once again, the scent of the cyclist's blood wafted into my nostrils, momentarily causing me to forget about the enigmatic figure. "Just... let me bite him," I pleaded, my voice dripping with desperation.

"You're out of your mind right now," Simon's voice remained resolute, his gaze locked onto mine. "You're not thinking clearly. You're not considering the consequences that will follow."

But I couldn't bring myself to listen to reason. The primal urge within me was too strong, too overwhelming. I could feel the hunger gnawing at my insides, demanding to be sated.

"Violet," Gabriel spoke, his voice soft yet commanding. "You must resist. You are stronger than this. You are not a slave to your instincts."

I bristled at his words, feeling the anger and frustration building inside me. "You're reacting as if I've committed a crime," I spat out, my voice dripping with venom.

"You're on the brink of it," Joseph's voice was firm, his gaze unwavering. "If you take a human life just to quench your thirst, with others as witnesses, word will spread and you'll face the consequences."

I glanced at the human cyclist, the desire for blood still pulsing through my veins. Yet, Gabriel's gentle words reached me, calming the tempest raging inside.

"Violet, please hear me out," he murmured softly. "Carlisle shared what happened when you were near Bella. If you could resist then, you can do the same with others."

I gazed at the human before me, struggling to maintain control over my primal instincts. Memories of Bella and the Cullens flooded my mind, intertwining with the words Gabriel had spoken. And then, it hit me. I hadn't attacked Bella.

Why had I resisted sinking my teeth into her flesh, despite being commanded, or rather, forced to do so? It was the very purpose of my transformation into a creature of the night. To become a monster, seeking revenge for her. For what had happened to her true mate. Victoria never showed any concern for our existence. She didn't care if we lived or died. I bet she wouldn't hesitate to let the Volturi destroyed us.

These thoughts led me to contemplate an alternative scenario. What if the newborns emerged triumphant? What if the Cullens were defeated? And what if I had taken Bella's life? Would Victoria have embraced us, keeping us close like a cherished family? Or would she have discarded us like a stray pup, desperately searching for a place to belong? Perhaps she would have slaughtered us, just like the Volturi or the Cullens did. Or maybe, like those wild wolves.

I shut my eyes tightly, desperately trying to suppress the primal instinct that threatened to overpower me. Gabriel's words echoed in my mind, reminding me that I had resisted this urge in the past, and I could do it again.

Inhaling deeply, I turned my back on the human cyclist and made my way back towards Gabriel, Joseph, and Simon. Speaking softly, I acknowledged, "You're right. I'm sorry."

As I stole a quick glance at the humans, a pang of guilt washed over me. They had rushed to help the injured cyclist, proving Gabriel's point that not all humans were deserving of fear. If I could resist the allure of Bella's blood, surely I could do the same with other humans. However, the mere thought of staying any longer in their presence made my skin crawl.

"I need to get out of here," I muttered through clenched teeth, the urgency evident in my voice.

Gabriel acknowledged my sentiment with a nod. "I can assist you," he offered.

Before he could react, I bolted towards the forest in a sprint. The deer awaited me, their eyes shimmering in the shadows. I could almost sense them teasing me, challenging me to catch them.

I crept closer to the deer, hidden by my invisibility cloak. They roamed around, completely unaware of my presence. In one swift movement, I attacked. The deer tried to react, but it was futile. I had already bitten into its flesh, consuming its life essence.

As I indulged, I could feel my strength returning, my hunger satisfied. The deer's blood was a delicious treat, and I relished every sip. After I was done, I deactivated my invisibility and cleaned the blood off my lips.

I knew that I had to be careful not to leave any evidence of my presence behind. The forest was my hunting ground, and I had to maintain the delicate balance between satisfying my hunger and not drawing attention to myself.

As I rose from the earthly ground, I reflected on the nature of my existence. I was a creature of the night, a predator who relied on the life force of others to sustain myself. It was an existence I still need to get used to, and now it were only ways to survive.

I knew that I would have to hunt again soon, as the hunger would inevitably return. But for now, I was content. The taste of the deer's blood still lingered on my lips, a reminder of the power that coursed through my veins.

With the blood satiating my thirst, my mind wandered to the mysterious figure with glowing eyes that had watched me as the human cyclist bled. There was an inexplicable pull towards that shadowy presence.

I couldn't shake the feeling that there was a connection between us, a shared understanding of the darkness that consumed us both. It was as if we were kindred spirits, bound by our insatiable hunger and the secrets we carried.

As I ventured deeper into the forest, my senses heightened, searching for any sign of the enigmatic figure. The moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor. Every rustle of leaves, every distant howl of a wolf, seemed to whisper the presence of the mysterious being.

I followed the trail of my own scent, a mixture of the deer's blood and my own essence, hoping it would lead me closer to the figure. The forest seemed to come alive around me, the trees whispering secrets and the wind carrying whispers of ancient knowledge.

Finally, I caught a glimpse of movement in the distance. A figure, clothed in darkness, stood beneath a towering oak tree. Its eyes, glowing like embers in the night, locked onto mine. There was a silent understanding between us, a recognition of the shared burden we carried.

Approaching cautiously, I felt a strange mixture of fear and excitement. The figure remained still, its presence commanding and mysterious. As I drew nearer, I could see the faint outline of a smile on its face, a smile that held both wisdom and a hint of danger.

Gabriel, Joseph, and Simon soon discovered me, their expressions a blend of shock and admiration.

"Well, I must say, I'm impressed," Joseph remarked, giving me a hearty pat on the back. "You managed to resist the urge for human blood during the hunt."

"Even the most experienced vampires struggle with that," Simon chimed in.

"But you have shown remarkable self-control," Gabriel added, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at their words. I thought it would be years of discipline and training to reach this point, to be able to resist the primal urge that coursed through my veins. The hunt had been exhilarating, the scent of fresh blood filling the night air, tempting me at every turn. But I had managed to suppress the hunger, to rise above my instincts and maintain my humanity.

"I was afraid you had lost yourself," Joseph remarked.

Attempting to shed light on the situation, I began, "There was this mysterious figure..."

Curiosity evident in his tone, Gabriel inquired, "What do you mean, Violet?"

I gestured towards the spot where the figure had been standing, only to find it had vanished. "It was right there, observing me."

Simon's curiosity piqued, he questioned, "What did it look like?"

Unable to provide a clear answer, I replied, "I couldn't see its face, but I did catch a glimpse of its piercing red eyes."

Gabriel's eyebrows furrowed in concern as he processed my words. "That's concerning."

Joseph's voice held a hint of skepticism as he chimed in, "Are you sure you weren't just imagining things, Violet? It could have been a trick of the light."

I shook my head adamantly, my heart still racing from the encounter. "No, I'm certain. It felt so real, like it was watching me with intent."

Simon leaned forward, his eyes filled with curiosity and a touch of excitement. "This mysterious figure, did it say or do anything?"

I paused, recalling the chilling moment. "No, it didn't speak or make any sudden movements. It simply observed me, almost as if it was studying my every move."

Gabriel's eyebrows furrowed even deeper, his concern evident in his furrowed brow. He leaned in closer, his voice laced with worry. "Violet, this doesn't sound like something we should take lightly. We need to be cautious and alert."

I nodded in agreement, feeling a shiver run down my spine at the memory of those ember eyes.

"It's time to go back," Gabriel interjected, breaking the tension. "Our family must be wondering where we are."

We got into the car, the smell of deer blood still lingering in the air. Driving away, a sense of liberation washed over me. Perhaps I could resist the temptation of human blood after all.

Yet, the image of the shadowy figure lingered in my mind. I didn't know its intentions or identity. It observed me from the shadows, its ember eyes haunting my thoughts. They spoke of caution and vigilance, but I couldn't shake off my concern for the figure's fate if discovered.

Fear gripped me, but curiosity also tugged at my mind.

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