The Irish Tattooist

CHAPTER 9

Hey dudes, so my exams are nearly over and I was wondering if I should start posting shorter chapters more frequently, or longer chapters slowly? 

Hit me up if you have thoughts on what I should do. 

Thanks for reading and all that jazz, it would be even better if you guys could vote and things like that. 

On with the story! 

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The house was rowdy when we got back after a few more hours of bliss and lips. Ripper had his hand around my waist, his thumb drawing small circles that made me shiver. I elbowed him as we came to the door, trying to make him stop but he only grinned slightly.

Neanderthal.

Ripper looked to all the bikes in front of my house, his grin fading slowly. He stood in front of me, frame straightening, muscles coiling into the Ripper that the club knew, I placed my hand on his, drawing his fingers into mine.

He opened the door, eyes immediately snapping to us. Some of them were less than welcoming, others just blank. I shrugged and walked in, smiling at all the members I knew. Which was a good five, give or take. 

"Who's this hot piece of ass?" A man near me jeered, grey hair salted through his mane. Before I could speak up, a growl erupted from behind me, Ripper stepping in front of me. "Shut the fuck up" Tone clearly warning him any any other males in the room that might want to comment. 

Is it sad that I smiled? Dad stood up from the other end of the room, glaring at the old man before raising his eyebrows at me and Ripper. "Might wanna go an get changed sweetheart. I don't think you'd want Ripper coming to blows with the whole club tonight"

Didn't I?

Placing a hand on Ripper's cheek, I let my fingers trail down his rough face, effectively shutting up any of the women in the room and calming the angry man in front of me. "I'll be out soon. Save me a seat"

I got changed into sweatpants and a shirt I had stolen from Seamus after I saw how much better they looked on me, naturally. Seamus eyed my shirt as he sipped his coke when I came out before shaking his head and laughing. 

"Keep it"

I scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Do I need your permission, prospect?"

Dismissing his scoff and my father's laughs, I went to sit next to Ripper, leaning into him as soon as his leather clad arm came around me. 

It felt good. Real good.

The group went back to talking shop, shit about trades and disputes going on between the mc and another called 'Grim Reapers'. Deadeye sat on the other side of me, hands clenched at his sides, a sign that everyone was getting too loud.

Deadeye had PTSD, something he hadn't said out loud, but easy enough to see.

"Quiet down" I said, loud enough to be heard. The group looked to me, then to a dark Ripper at my side before their voices lowered from the shouts they had been using. If I was a triggered feminist, I would have gotten annoyed that they quietened down for Ripper instead of me- but this was about Deadeye. 

I got up, patting Deadeye on the back before going to the kitchen and getting dad, Ripper and deadeye a beer.

A woman with bright red hair a few seats away from Deadeye scowled at me, her face twisting into a mask of disgust. Her hand snapped out to grab my wrist, unseen by everyone except her and I.

"You think you're the shit don't you? Just cause you're pres' bastard and Ripper's whore" She spat. Seriously, why were people so bitter? I tried moving my arm lightly, not wanting to draw attention. But she leaned closer, the tang of tobacco heavy on her breath.