No Going Back
PT. 1 - PT. 2
Pairing : f!mechanic!reader x Chibs
Summary : You’ve been dating a Son for years now and he treats you like shit, from cheating on you openly to insulting you like you're the worst person he knows. Everyone in the club knows it, including Chibs, who’s been quietly burning for you this whole time.
Warnings : Smutty but not full smut, swearing, drinking alcool, fighting, abusive/violent bf... Classic SOA content lol
A/N : First fic i'm posting on this account and my very first SOA fic ever, hope you'll like it<3
PS : thinking of doing a part 2 if ya'll want it!
I always hated how quiet the garage got after sundown.
During the day, there was the hum of engines, steel clanging, music bleeding from old speakers in the corner and the constant chatter of the guys drifting in and out. It was comforting, like noise could somehow hold me together. Now, standing alone with grease-stained hands and a half-drained coffee on the workbench, it felt like the silence said too much. I was just finishing up a tune-up on some random guy’s Softail when I heard the familiar grumble of a Dyna pulling in, I didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.
Rafe, my boyfriend. Well, if you could even still call him that… We’d been together five years, but the last two had felt like I was clinging to a ghost in a kutte. Before he patched in with SAMCRO, he was different, kind, attentive and loving. He used to wait up for me after long shifts, bring me flowers from that corner shop I liked, and trace his fingers over the grease on my cheeks while looking at me as if I was all dolled up. Now? Now he always smelled like bad whiskey, cheap smoke, and woman’s perfume I didn’t wear. I knew, I always knew. I could smell her on him before he even kissed my cheek when he bothered to do it. Still, I stayed. Pathetic, right? I’d tell myself I was giving him time, maybe the club life had just pulled him too deep. I was hoping he’d find his way back eventually, that maybe he still loved me underneath it all… Or maybe I was just scared of what it would feel like to finally be alone after five years. Suddenly, a voice broke into my thoughts, Scottish, rough but warm, like gravel under velvet; Chibs.
“You still here?”
I turned, brushing hair back from my face.
“Yeah, just wrapping up!”
He nodded, leaning against the tool cart, arms crossed, that easy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was always around, like a quiet kind of shadow. Helpful, observant, somehow safe. If Rafe was a wildfire, Chibs was the steady flame next to it.
“You don’t have to wait on Rafe, y’know.” he said, eyes scanning me in that way he always did, subtle, like he was trying not to get caught looking.
“I’m not.” I lied, holding back a sigh. “Just needed to finish up on this bike.”
Chibs arched a brow, unconvinced. “Right.”
The thing about Chibs was he never pushed. He never called me out, never asked the questions hovering in the air between us. But I saw it in the way he looked at me, like he wanted to say something, yet wouldn’t out of some misplaced loyalty to his brother. He walked over, grabbing a rag off the bench and handing it to me as our fingers brushed.
“S’late, ain’t safe out here alone.”
“I’ve got a wrench and a bad attitude.” I smirked, trying to lighten the moment. “I’ll be fine, Chibs”
He didn’t smile back, not really. His lips twitched, but his eyes stayed steady, watching me closely, reading me too well. I turned back to the engine on the lift, half-hoping he’d walk away before I cracked under the weight of his gaze. Instead, he stepped a little closer.
“Alright grease monkey, that’s enough for tonight.”
I blinked, turning to look at him again. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” His voice was firm, but the corners of his mouth lifted now. “You’ve been at it for hours. C’mon, come inside, party’s goin’ ! The guys’ll wanna see you.”
I exhaled a quiet laugh, wiping my hands on a rag.
“You know I don’t go to those.”
“Aye, I do know that.” He tilted his head slightly. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna ask.”
I looked at the clock, just past nine. I could already hear the faint thump of music bleeding from the clubhouse, smell beer and something being grilled, maybe weed, followed by laughter and voices I knew like my own heartbeat.
“I’m not really in the mood, Chibs.” I said back, softer now. “You know why I don’t…”
He didn’t interrupt. He just watched me patiently, arms folded, waiting me out as I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.
“It’s just not my scene. Not when I’ve gotta watch him... Do what he does.”
Chibs didn’t look away, but he didn’t press either. He let the silence sit between us for a beat before gently nudging my arm with his gloved hand.
“You’re one of us, you always fix our bikes, keep us rollin’.” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know more about what goes on around here than half the crow-eaters who do show up at the runs, you’ve earned the right to take a break and knock back a beer with your friends. That’s all it is, nothin’ more.”
I hesitated. I did love the guys, all of them, they treated me like family. Tig called me ‘wrench princess’, Bobby brought me coffee when he did early runs, and Juice once tried to show me how to use Bitcoin… Poorly. Even Clay, for all his gruffness, respected what I did and made sure I was safe. And Jax? He always made it a point to call me ‘part of the machine’, always reassuring me when I felt like I didn't do enough for the club. I wasn’t patched in, I wasn’t dirty and I wasn’t stupid. I knew about the guns, the runs, the blood and the deals. But they never dragged me into it, never used me, and maybe that’s why I stayed as long as I had, why I hadn’t walked away from all of it or from Rafe. Because they made it feel like home. Chibs caught the flicker in my eyes and grinned, just a little.
“C’mon, just for a while!” he coaxed, voice lower now. “If it’s shite, you can go. I’ll even walk you out myself.”
That last part, quiet, unassuming, hit a little harder than I expected. My stomach twisted again. I threw the rag down and sighed.
“You’re annoying, you know that?”
He chuckled lowly. “Takes one to know one.”
—
The second I pushed through the doors of the clubhouse, the noise hit me like a wave; rock music pounding low and steady, the smell of sweat, smoke, and booze heavy in the air with voices rising over it all like some chaotic symphony only the Sons could compose. It was alive in here. Chibs gave me a small nudge as we stepped in, reminding me I wasn’t just passing through, I belonged here. I tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ears and scanned the room. Juice spotted me first and his face lit up the moment he did.
“Yo! Look who finally crawled out of the garage!”
Tig turned around in his chair, eyes going wide and dramatic.
“The wrench goddess graces us with her presence! Quick, someone pour a shot before she disappears like a ghost!”
I laughed in spite of myself. “You’re all such idiots.”
“That’s why you love us sweetie.” Bobby called from the pool table.
I gave him a mock salute and walked over as Juice handed me a beer, cold and already opened. He bumped my shoulder with his own, grinning like a kid.
“We thought you were gonna spend your whole life under someone’s carburetor.”
“I might prefer the carburetors.” I responded dryly. “They don’t talk back.”
Tig raised his drink at my words, bumping it with mine.
“Cheers to that.”
For a few minutes, it felt good, normal even. I joked with them, let them tease me about the grease still smudged on my temple, let myself laugh and not think too hard about the man who hadn’t even noticed I was still working at the garage late at night… Or so I thought. Because just as I turned toward the bar, I felt it, his sharp, angry eyes. Rafe was standing near the back corner, half-leaning against the edge of the bar, a drink in one hand and his other dangerously low on the hip of some bleach-blonde from Luann’s studio. She was giggling at something he said, her long nails tracing lazy circles into his leather cut. He hadn’t noticed me at first but now, his gaze was locked on mine, unreadable. He didn’t move, didn’t smile, just watched like I was the one out of line for showing up, for daring breathing in his world. Chibs stepped subtly closer beside me, like he’d felt the shift in the air too. He didn’t say anything, just handed me another napkin and nodded toward the couch.
“C’mon darlin’, you deserve to sit somewhere that doesn’t smell like axle grease.”
I hesitated, my stomach tight, throat dry but I still nodded, keeping my chin up as I walked right past Rafe. Right past the girl with the too-short skirt and the fake laugh, toward the leather couch where the guys were gathered. He didn’t stop me, he never did, yet his eyes stayed on me the whole way. The leather couch was cracked and worn, but it felt like the most comfortable thing in the world once I sank into it. Bobby handed me a fresh beer without even asking the moment he noticed my already empty one, while Tig had started telling some half-true story about a bar fight in Reno that ended with him singing karaoke in a stolen wedding dress. I laughed so hard my ribs ached as Juice nearly choked on his drink.
“You guys are fucking idiots!” I said again, but it came out softer this time, affectionate.
“At least we know how to have fun.” Tig shot back, raising his glass yet again. “To our girl, finally joining the damn party!”
Chibs sat beside me as we all cheered, close but not too close to me, his arm resting along the back of the couch, fingers brushing the edge behind my shoulders. I could feel the heat from his thigh against mine, even through the layers of denim. And as the night wore on, the space between us slowly started to disappear. Not on purpose and not all at once but in those small, accidental ways, like his leg pressed against mine for just a second longer than it needed to or, my shoulder brushing his when I leaned in to hear something Bobby said. My second beer turned into a third, then someone shoved a shot of Jameson into my hand, and everything got a little fuzzier at the edges after that, it got warmer even. Like I’d finally stepped out of a cold shower I hadn’t realized I’d been standing in.
“You remember the time Juice tried to wax his eyebrows?” I giggled, covering my mouth.
Juice groaned, rubbing his face with both hands.
“Why is that the memory you go for?!”
“Because you looked like a surprised lizard for three weeks, you moron!” Bobby howled, shaking with laughter.
“Babe, you’re heartless for bringing that up…”
“Did you see it?” I turned to Chibs, eyes half-lidded from the alcohol and the heat of the room. “His face was like–"
I widened my eyes comically, mouth open in mock horror.
“Aye, I saw it.” Chibs laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Almost crashed my bloody bike when I did.”
We were laughing again, and I leaned against him without even thinking, just a small tilt, a shift in weight. His body was solid and warm next to mine, and he didn’t move away. I don’t know if it was the whiskey, the steady rumble of his voice, or the way his fingers brushed the back of my neck when he leaned in to tell me something about the band playing on the jukebox. But suddenly, I didn’t feel quite so careful.
“You’re not so bad for a grumpy old Scot!” I teased, smirking as I turned my head to look up at him.
His eyes were dark in the low light, smile slow and sincere.
“I’ve been called worse.”
We were close now, closer than we’d ever been. I could feel his breath on my skin, feel the electricity in the air like the seconds before a summer storm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rafe still watching with that girl hanging on him. Yet, I didn’t care. Not right now at least, not when I was laughing like I hadn’t in months, not while Chibs was looking at me like I was worth more than 5 years of broken promises and late night lies.
“D’you want another drink?” he asked, voice rough but gentle.
“I’m good! I think if I have another one, I’ll end up singing with Tig.”
“Oh please, do.” Tig said immediately. “You owe me a duet!”
“You wish.”
I leaned my head back against the couch, letting my hand rest on the cushion between us. Chibs didn’t say anything, but a moment later, his pinky gently brushed against mine. It was such a small thing yet my heart flipped anyway as I looked at him, surprised to see that he was already looking at me. There was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen in a long time, want, yes, but also care. That quiet fire he always carried, just waiting to be seen. Rafe could burn everything down around me, but Chibs... Chibs was the warmth I’d forgotten I deserved and I was starting to wonder if I wanted to stop pretending I didn’t feel it, too. The laughter started to fade as the room shifted around us with the drinks flowing, voices rising, bodies starting to drift like gravity had changed. Bobby was mid-story when two girls sauntered over from the bar, all legs and lip gloss, giggling as they leaned in a little too close. One had her hand already on Bobby’s arm before he even noticed. Tig’s eyes lit up like Christmas.
“Well, hello, trouble.”
“And make it double.” Bobby added, looking at them up and down.
The girl beside him twirled a strand of platinum hair and smiled.
“You boys look like you need a little company…”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Tig purred, hand already on her hip. “I always need a little company.”
And just like that, they were gone, Tig and Bobby disappearing into the din with their new toys, trailing tequila and cackles behind them. Suddenly, Juice stood up, phone to his ear, catching my eye briefly.
“Jax needs me.” he said, already heading toward the hallway. “Don’t drink all the good stuff without me!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I murmured back, snickering.
And just like that... it was just me and Chibs. The music seemed louder now that we were alone. A slow, pulsing beat vibrating through the floorboards, some heavy blues track, the singer’s voice gravelly and low, remonding me of the smoke curling around the walls. I shifted on the couch, stretching my legs out in front of me, boot toe grazing his. He didn’t move, didn’t speak as he just sipped his drink while he looked at me with those dark, heavy-lidded eyes that had started to feel too intimate. Too dangerous.
“You always watch people like that?” I asked, lips curling slightly around the rim of my bottle as I took another sip.
“Only when I want to.”
The way he said it wasn’t flirty, well not really. It wasn’t playful either, it was a quiet punch to the ribs, a statement laced with something rougher. He didn’t lean closer, didn’t touch me, he just looked, like he was trying to memorize every angle of me under this low yellow light. I set my drink down slowly, pulse quickening. My leg was still brushing his, that tiny point of contact sparking like live wire. The air between us had shifted completely, thick with unsaid things and bad ideas that suddenly didn’t feel so bad.
“You know…” I started, voice a little husky now. “You’ve got a habit of looking at me like that.”
His brow lifted slightly. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying not to say... Something.”
His jaw flexed, just a little.
“Maybe I am.”
I leaned in slightly, slowly, until the scent of him was all around me, a mix of leather, soap, whiskey and the faint smoke from the joint someone had passed around earlier. I didn’t touch him, but I was close enough that I felt his exhale ghost over my cheek.
“You never say anything.” I said quietly.
“Would it matter if I did?” he asked, voice deep, as if the words were being pulled from somewhere he didn’t want to open.
I swallowed hard, heart pounding like a drum behind my ribs. I didn’t answer because I didn’t have one. Instead, I let the silence stretch again, the weight of it settling between us like gravity. His hand was still resting along the back of the couch, fingers just inches from my bare shoulder. I didn’t move away, I didn’t want to. His gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered there for a second too long, making my breath hitched just a little, just enough for him to notice. Everything about this moment was unsaid, and yet so loud. My skin felt too tight, like my body was suddenly aware of itself in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. I wasn’t even sure whose move it was, maybe neither of us would make it.
But god, did we want to.
The tension didn’t feel like air anymore, it felt like heat, the crackling of something that could burn the whole damn room down if either of us dared to light the match. He leaned in, slowly, deliberately, just enough to bring his lips close to my ear.
“You smell like motor oil and sin, darlin’.”
A laugh escaped me, breathless and shaky, even though I didn’t feel like laughing. I turned my head slightly, and we were too close, lips only inches apart. One shift and we’d be done pretending.
“Maybe I am.” I whispered back.
His eyes flicked to mine, and there it was; want. Clear and dark and unfiltered. His fingers twitched against the back of the couch, as if he wanted to reach for me but was holding himself back with the thinnest thread of control. He tilted his head slightly, voice thick.
“You’re playin’ with fire, love.”
“I don’t care to be burned.”
He didn’t move, he just stared and for one unbearable, electric second, I was sure he was going to kiss me. But then, the door to the clubhouse creaked open again, laughter, footsteps and fresh air spilling in behind it. I jerked away instinctively, breath catching in my throat, heart slamming into my ribs like it wanted out. The moment broke. Chibs leaned back slightly, his hand slipping away from the back of the couch like it had never been there. Yet his eyes stayed locked on mine, still dark, still burning and still wanting. And mine? Mine were doing the same damn thing. Chibs shifted like he was about to speak, his lips parting, brows tightening just slightly. Something unreadable moved across his face but I didn’t let him finish as I picked up my bottle, still cool but slick with condensation, and took a long, slow pull. My throat burned from the heat of it, or maybe from the heat of him. I didn’t know and I really didn’t want to know.
“I’m getting another one.” I said flatly, setting the bottle down harder than I meant to. “Bar’s calling.”
He didn’t stop me, yet his eyes followed every single step I took. I moved fast, like the bar was some kind of safety, as if the burn of liquor could wash away whatever the hell had just passed between us on that couch. It had happened. That thick, charged air, the way my skin was still buzzing, his breath on my cheek and the gravel in his voice when he said I was playing with fire… I didn’t want to admit how much I liked it, how much I wanted more and how starved I felt by it. No one had looked at me like that in years, with such need and respect, like I was more than something to use and discard the moment something younger and easier came along. But it wasn’t just about how he looked at me, it was how I felt when he did.
I made it halfway to the bar, heart thudding against my ribs like I was still back on that couch with his thigh pressed to mine and his gaze hot enough to melt steel. And then, a hand. A large, rough, too-familiar hand clamped hard around my upper arm that yanked me, the sudden force jerking me backward. The voice hit me like a sharp slap.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rafe hissed, face twisted into a snarl like I’d just betrayed some sacred rule I hadn’t agreed to.
I jerked my arm, but he didn’t let go.
“I work here, remember?” I said coldly, yanking harder. “You know, the job I show up for everyday?”
His eyes were bloodshot, jaw tight, and I could smell the cheap beer mixed with even cheaper whiskey on his breath even through the haze of the room.
“I meant in here, in the goddamn clubhouse! You know you’re not supposed to be—”
“Not supposed to be where?” I cut in, voice rising. “Around the people I’ve known longer than you’ve been loyal to anything? Around the only ones who actually treat me like I exist?”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed, and his grip on my arm tightened.
“You’re my regular!” he spat, leaning in close. “You don’t parade around here like some thirsty little—”
“Finish that sentence.” I snapped, heart slamming in my chest. “I dare you.”
For a second, we just stood there, locked in this battle of stares, breath, heat, and rage. His jaw twitched again. He didn’t finish it.
“You think I didn’t see you? Sitting there all cozy with Chibs like a fucking biker groupie?” he spat again, lower now, more venom than volume.
My laugh was sharp and bitter as my heart skipped a beat.
“Oh, now you care? What happened, did the porn star’s mouth get tired?”
His face shifted, something ugly behind his eyes while his body tensed like a coil pulled too tight.
“You don’t talk to me like that!” he growled, and his hand moved from my arm to my wrist, gripping it hard enough to make my fingers tingle. “Not in front of them.”
I tried to yank away again, harder this time, but he wouldn’t budge. His body was pressed too close, voice too low, and every alarm in me was going off now.
“They’re not watching, they’re too busy to glance your way.” I responded through clenched teeth, trying to twist free. “And you don’t scare me, Rafe–”
“You should be fucking scared of me!” he shot back, face inches from mine now. “Because you don’t walk into this room, make me look like a fool and get away with it, you bitch.”
My heart thundered, but I didn’t let it show. I glared at him, breath fast, anger burning like acid in my throat.
“Let. Me. Go.”
He didn’t and his grip tightened as an anwser. Not just in his fingers, but in his whole body, like something in him was about to snap. Even though I’d stood up to him before, this was different. He was losing control and right know, I didn’t know if he cared who saw it. Rafe’s grip kept tightening, his thumb pressing into the inside of my wrist so hard I felt the pulse there stutter. His face was flushed, jaw locked, the tendons in his neck straining.
“I said, what the fuck are you doing in here?!” he barked, voice loud enough to cut through the music, heads starting to turn.
The room didn’t go silent, not yet, but it shifted, the kind of shift that happens before a fight. That low crackle of tension rolling through the air like a warning siren. I saw Bobby’s head turn from where he sat at the bar while Tig froze mid-laugh, hand still on that girl’s hip. Even Jax, halfway across the room near the pool table with Juice, looked up with a slight furrow in his brow. I tried to pull my arm back again, twisting hard this time as I tried to keep calm.
“You’re hurting me, asshole!”
“Then maybe listen for once!” Rafe snapped, voice rising to a full-on shout. “Instead of crawling around this place like some clubhouse slut—”
“Let her go.”
The words cut through everything, low and deadly. Rafe froze. I didn’t even have to look, I felt him and recognized that voice a little too well, the sound of it making me shiver slightly. Chibs. He was standing behind Rafe, weirdly calm. The calm that meant danger with that heavy stillness. Rafe turned, still gripping me, still full of that shitty, drunken pride.
“Back off, old man.” he groaned, sneering. “This doesn’t concern—”
Chibs took a step forward, voice dropping an octave.
“I said, let her go.”
There was no arguing with it. The command in his tone, the weight behind every syllable and something in Rafe knew it, too as his jaw twitched, eyes darting around like he was suddenly aware of the eyes now on him. Tig had stepped away from the blonde while Bobby was half-risen from his stool. Juice was at the edge of the room, watching like he’d only need one word to come here, even Jax was moving in slowly now, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Rafe looked back at me then at Chibs and finally, with a muttered curse and a shove of my arm, he let go. I stumbled slightly but didn’t fall, my skin throbbing where his fingers had dug in, but I straightened fast, chest heaving. Chibs didn’t look away from him, not once. Rafe squared up like he wanted to push back, like that dumb, drunk part of him still thought he could win. Chibs just took one more step, voice still eerily calm.
“You touch her like that again…” he started, his accent thickening, rough like gravel. “And it won’t be words I use next time.”
Rafe flinched and he didn’t respond, not verbally at least, his eyes did all the talking. Just gave Chibs one last, filthy look, then turned and stormed out of the room, shoving past Jax on his way out the door. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind him as silence hovered, thick and electric. Then Chibs finally looked at me, eyes scanning my face, then dropping to my wrist and upper arm. His jaw clenched when he saw the red marks.
“You alright?” he asked, voice still low but gentler now.
I nodded quickly, too quickly.
“I’m fine.”
The truth was, I didn’t know what I felt. Anger? Shame? Relief? A mix of those three. And under all of that... the way I was still shaking inside. The way Chibs had stepped in without hesitation, like it wasn’t even a question, like I mattered to him. The silence hadn’t lasted long. The door banged open again, harder this time, the metal rattling in its frame. Rafe stormed back in, rage written all over his face but now, his right hand gleamed with brass knuckles, clenched tight at his side like he’d been waiting his whole life to use them.
“You think you can humiliate me?!” he yelled, voice cracking, pointing straight at me as he stalked forward. “You think you can disrespect me in front of the Sons and walk out like it’s nothing you ugly bitch?!”
Shouts erupted instantly. Bobby stood so fast his stool clattered to the floor as Juice stepped forward, hands already raised. Jax moved from the pool table in long strides, voice sharp and warning.
“Rafe don't!”
But Rafe wasn’t listening. He was zeroed in on me, like nothing else in the room existed. His lip curled, his fist raising, brass catching the light, as he shouted.
“You think you can make me look weak?" He screamed, eyes bloodshot from rage. "You wanna act like one of the guys? Then take it like one!”
He raised his fist. I didn’t even have time to move as Chibs did it before me. He was a blur as he shoved Rafe back hard enough to send him stumbling a step, and in the same breath, his fist connected clean with Rafe’s jaw, the crack of bone-on-bone echoing through the clubhouse. Rafe reeled then roared as quickly as he received the punch. Before anyone could stop him, he twisted around fast and swung. The brass knuckles connected with Chibs’s cheek with a sickening crack.
“No, stop it!” I shouted as I watched Chibs go down, the force of the blow knocking him to the floor. “You piece of shit—”
He hit hard, rolling onto his side with a groan, blood already trailing from his temple. Tig snarled, grabbing me and dragging me back behind him with one strong arm, shielding me as chaos erupted. Rafe didn’t hesitate. He charged straight at me the moment our eyes locked again. But this time, he didn’t get far; Jax slammed into him from the side, tackling him with a grunt while Juice grabbed his other arm. Happy, silent as a shadow, appeared from nowhere and landed a hard elbow to Rafe’s ribs that made him stagger.
“Enough!”
The voice was gravel and command. Clay. He stepped into the center of it all, the room seeming to still the second he did, like the walls themselves respected the weight in his voice.
“Everybody fucking STOP!”
Breathless silence. Rafe writhed, still trying to break free, blood on his lip now, eyes wild. Chibs groaned on the floor, pushing himself up slowly, blood dripping down the side of his face, the bruise on his cheek already swelling. I was frozen behind Tig, every nerve in my body firing. I could still feel the phantom heat of Rafe’s fist in the air, like he’d almost reached me, like I’d come that close to… I swallowed hard, shaking. Tig turned slightly, eyes scanning my face.
“You okay?” he asked gruffly, voice low and tight.
I nodded at him in response but my eyes were locked on Chibs still on the floor, still bleeding and trying to get back up. In this state, because of me. He stepped in when no one else had moved fast enoug because he didn’t even hesitate for a second. At that thought, something in my chest clenched so hard it almost hurt.
—
The harsh fluorescent light buzzed faintly above as I slammed the bathroom cabinet open, rifling through the clutter inside like it was the damn thing’s fault Chibs was bleeding. Gauze, alcohol wipes, a half-used tube of antibiotic cream… I grabbed them all with shaking hands. Behind me, the toilet lid creaked under his weight as he sat, elbows braced on his knees, blood trailing from his temple, staining the collar of his shirt. His face was already swelling, red, purple, angry and I hated it.
“I told you not to get involved when he gets angry like that!” I snapped, not turning to look at him yet, focusing instead on tearing open a pack of sterile gauze like it’d personally offended me. “I told you I could handle it–”
“Didn’t look like handling from where I was standin’, lass.”
Chibs let out a soft grunt that might’ve been a laugh or a wince, probably both. I finally turned, brows furrowed, jaw clenched. He looked like hell; blood drying in streaks, one eye already darkening around the edge and even like that, my stomach twisted when I looked at him.
“You didn’t have to get hurt.”
I stepped between his knees and dabbed at the gash above his temple with a soaked cotton pad, maybe a little harder than I needed to. He flinched slightly but didn’t stop me.
“Didn’t exactly plan it…” he muttered, the thick rasp of his accent curling around the edges of his voice. “Wasn’t gonna stand there and let the bastard swing at you.”
“Well, now you’ve got a busted face.” I pressed the gauze harder. “So congratulations!”
“Always wanted a shiner.” he said dryly, lips twitching at the corners. “Girls love ‘em, yeah?”
I scowled, glaring down at him. “You think this is funny?”
His smile faded, noticing how serious I was.
“No, I think it’s fucked.”
I slowed, hand hovering for a second before gently dabbing again. This time, more carefully.
“I’m serious, Filip. He could’ve really hurt you.”
“He did hurt me but I’ve had worse.” he responded with a flash of teeth. “And if it meant keeping him off you… Worth it.”
I froze for just a second, heart thudding hard in my chest, fingers tightening slightly on the alcohol pad. I stared down at the gash, at the soft stubble along his jaw to the blood I was wiping off like it was mine to take care of. The silence stretched.
“You didn’t need to protect me.” I said finally, voice lower now. “Not like that.”
He looked up at me, just one eye clearly focused, and it burned through me more than I wanted to admit.
“Yeah, I did.”
Something in the air shifted. I turned back quickly to grab more gauze, something, anything to keep my hands busy. But my pulse was sprinting now, my face was hot and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his body had moved in front of mine like it was instinct to the way he hadn’t even blinked before stepping in.
“You’re stubborn.” I muttered, voice tight.
“You’re worse!” he shot back. “Tryin’ to tell me not to get involved when some arsehole’s about to knock your teeth in...”
I swiped ointment across the gash and tried to ignore the way his breath hitched when my fingers brushed too close to his damp skin.
“You’re lucky he didn’t crack your skull.”
He tilted his head slightly, smirking, even though it pulled at the swelling.
“Skull’s tougher than it looks.”
I met his eyes again and this time, I didn’t look away. Neither did he. The bathroom suddenly felt too small, too full of everything I hadn’t let myself feel all night.
“Idiot.” I whispered, not moving.
His grin faded, but that heat in his eyes didn’t.
“No, just not willin’ to watch someone treat you like trash.”
The words settled into the air like smoke; heavy, lingering and clinging to my skin. My heart thudded so loud I could feel it in my ears, pulsing in time with the silence that stretched out between us. I was still standing between his knees, his breath brushing the fabric of my shirt. Close but not close enough to push past the ache that had been building in me for what felt like months, years… Forever. I stared down at him, chest tight, jaw clenched, my hands still smeared with blood that wasn’t mine but somehow was. His blood. Because of me. He was looking at me like he was holding himself back with both hands and a locked jaw, like he was fighting something bigger than pride or timing. Something deeper, and I hated how much I wanted him to lose that fight.
“You shouldn’t say shit like that…” I sighed, shaking my head, voice tired.
He tilted his head slightly, a lazy flicker of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Why not?”
“Because you say it like it means something.” I whispered, barely able to breathe.
His smirk faded, and his gaze locked with mine, so sharp and so bare that I could hardly stand to look at it. That heat that was always there under the surface was fully alive now, crackling between us like a live wire. His eyes dropped for a second, slow, dragging down my face to my lips, then back up as my whole body tensed under it, like he’d just touched me without laying a hand on me.
“It does mean something.” he responded, softer now. “Don’t pretend you don’t know that.”
God, I did know. I felt it every time our hands brushed over a socket wrench, every time his voice dipped low near my ear when he asked for a part, every time I caught him watching me like I was something he wanted to memorize. I swallowed hard, heart threatening to crack open right there in that bathroom.
“You don’t get to say that. Not when I’m still with him.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked as he took a deep breath, trying to hold something back in before he exhaled, words spilling out from his lips the moment he did.
“You think I don’t hate that?” he rasped, finally breaking. “You think I don’t lie awake at night, knowing he’s next to you? Knowing he’s got what he doesn’t deserve, while I’m out here pretendin’ I don’t want to rip his fuckin’ throat out for touchin’ you?!”
The breath caught in my lungs. I couldn’t move.
“I see how he looks at you.” Chibs went on, voice thick with barely held control. “Like you’re a thing he owns, like he can break you down until you’re too tired to walk away.”
He leaned forward slowly, deliberately, until his face was just inches from mine. I could smell the blood and whiskey and the heat of his skin.
“But I see you, lass. I see you. And you’re not nothing. You’re not small. You’re… fuckin’ brilliant. You shine, even when he’s trying to snuff it out.”
My fingers curled at my sides as my whole body trembled.
“You need to stop.” I breathed, even though I didn’t mean it. “Please.”
His voice dropped to a near-growl, deep and soft like a warning and a confession all at once.
“Tell me to stop lookin’ at you like this, and I will.”
I stopped for a moment, trying to get the words out but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because he was still staring up at me like I was the first calm after a storm he asked for. His hands stayed by his sides, fists clenched like if he let go, they’d end up on me while mine twitched toward him, just a little, like instinct. The silence was a held breath between us, thick with all the words we weren’t allowed to say. Longing was a living thing in that room and it was devouring us both. I forced myself to look down, to focus on what I was supposed to be doing; cleaning the blood, keeping my hands busy and pretending like I could control the way my pulse was thrumming in every inch of me. I dipped another pad in antiseptic and pressed it gently to the cut on his cheekbone, even though my hands were trembling. He didn’t flinch this time, he just watched me, eyes burning into my skin like fire. I grabbed the gauze and tore it open, the sound loud in the thick quiet between us. My breath hitched as I pressed it against his skin, gently taping it down, pretending I didn’t feel the way his thigh brushed my knee, acting like my fingertips weren’t shaking from being this close to him. But then, he spoke, desperate.
“Tell me to stop.”
My hands paused. His voice wavered, like it hurt to say it.
“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t feel it. Tell me to fuck off, and I’ll walk out that door and never bring it up again. I swear to Christ, lass!”
His accent was thick, every word soaked in restraint and hunger and something rawer than I could handle. It felt like it was tearing him open just to ask. I looked at him, really looked this time. His bruised face, his split lip, the blood I’d cleaned and those eyes, pleading with me now. Like he was begging me to rip his heart out, or save it. He didn’t care which as long as I did something to it.. I opened my mouth to lie, to keep pretending. But for the first time, my mouth didn’t obey.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
His breath hitched, sharp and shaky, like a man resurfacing after being held underwater for far too long. A sound caught in his throat, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, as his eyes closed for half a second like he needed to feel that moment sink in, as if my words hit somewhere he hadn’t let himself hope existed. Then his hands were on me. One slid around my waist, warm, rough and claiming, the other gripping my hip like he’d been waiting years to touch me. I didn’t move, I couldn’t. My heart was too loud. He pulled me in slow, tugging me closer between his knees until the heat of him pressed against me and I felt every inch of what he’d been holding back. His voice was low when he spoke again, barely there, more breath than sound.
“Say it again.”
I swallowed, my hands still hovering uselessly with the roll of gauze.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
His forehead dropped forward, resting against my stomach for a second, the weight of it all finally catching up to him. His hands tightened on me, possessive and reverent all at once, and I felt something deep in me splinter under the force of it. His lips brushed the fabric of my shirt as he spoke, breath hot and ragged.
“Christ, you don’t know what you do to me…”
And God help me, I wanted to know, every inch of it. His forehead stayed against my stomach, the air between us thick and barely breathable while one of his hands slid from my hip to my lower back, pressing me in just that little bit closer. My hands had fallen to his shoulders, half-forgotten bandages still dangling from my fingers, and I could feel the tension in him, coiled and hot beneath his skin. When he lifted his head, it was slow, as if he didn’t want to miss a second of me. His eyes roamed up my body, dragging heat with them, until they landed on my face again and this time, he didn’t try to hide what was there; want, hunger, need… Underneath all of it, something deeper. Something that made my chest ache just looking at him. His hands moved again, both sliding up to my waist now, fingers digging in like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold me like this but couldn’t stop himself. I could feel the warmth of him through my jeans, the flex of his thighs against mine, the bruised, bloody heat of his breath ghosting just below my lips. He didn’t move fast, he didn’t need to. The space between us was already burning.
“You sure?” he asked, voice rough and low like smoke curling up from something on fire.
“Yeah.” I nodded, breath hitching. “I’m sure.”
His eyes locked on mine for a heartbeat longer, like he needed to feel the truth of it, then he leaned in, so slow it made my stomach twist in anticipation. He kissed me just once, soft and careful, like it was the first time he’d ever kissed anyone in his life. But then he pulled back a breath’s width and looked at me like that wasn’t nearly enough and it wasn’t. The next kiss was deeper, his mouth opening against mine as he tugged me down toward him, hands gripping my hips tighter, like he was finally letting himself feel. My fingers slipped up into his hair, careful of the cuts, but hungry for him all the same. He groaned softly against my lips as I pressed closer, knees brushing the outside of his thighs, the warmth of him pulling me under. His hands slid up my sides, dragging under my shirt just enough to make my breath catch, palms rough and warm against my already burning skin. My hips rocked into his, instinctive, and the way he gasped into my mouth made my knees go weak.
“Fuck.” he murmured, lips barely leaving mine. “I’ve wanted this for so long…”
I kissed him again, deeper, slower, our breaths tangling as I straddled his thighs right there on the closed toilet lid, his hands sliding up to my back like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go. Our bodies pressed flush together now, hot and desperate, like we were trying to make up for every second we’d spent pretending we didn’t want this.
“Filip…”
I breathed his name into his mouth, and something in him snapped just slightly, his hands gripped me tighter, mouth kissing mine with more heat now, more need, tongue sweeping against mine as his fingers slid under the hem of my shirt, gripping bare skin and pulling me impossibly closer. The kiss deepened, stealing breath and thought until there was nothing left but the sound of our panting, the scrape of denim against denim, and the way his hands felt like they’d been made to hold me. He broke the kiss first, just barely, lips brushing against mine as he looked at me, eyes wild and wanting.
“We should stop here.” he murmured, voice ragged and full of fire. “Unless you tell me otherwise.”
I stared at him, from his swollen lip, bruised cheek, the way he was still bleeding just a little from under the bandage I’d pressed on too hard. I ran my fingers over the line of his jaw, heart thudding.
“I’m not ready to stop.”
His mouth curved, slow and dark, eyes gleaming with something raw and real.
“Then I won’t.”
He didn’t wait for another word. His mouth crashed into mine like he’d been starving for it, like the dam had finally broken and everything he’d kept inside was pouring out all at once. His hands gripped my hips hard, dragging me down against him so I could feel every inch of the tension he’d been holding back, every ragged breath and barely restrained groan. I gasped into his mouth as he ground against me, slow but heavy, making it impossible to think. My fingers twisted in his shirt, fisting the fabric tight like it was the only thing keeping me upright, and I rocked down in time with him, chasing that pressure like I couldn’t breathe without it.
“You feel that?” he growled against my lips. “That’s what you do to me, every time you look at me like you don’t even know you’re killin’ me.”
My head tipped back as he kissed down my jaw, rough stubble dragging over my skin in the most delicious way. His lips found the hollow of my throat, slow and warm and open-mouthed, and I whimpered, actually whimpered, when he sucked gently at the skin there like he wanted to leave a mark just for him. One hand slid up under my shirt, spreading wide against my bare back, heat blazing from his palm as he traced the line of my spine with his fingers. The other hand stayed firm on my hip, holding me in place as he rocked me into him, again and again, every movement feeding that slow, desperate burn that had been building for far too long. I felt drunk on him, on the way he touched me like he couldn’t believe he was, on the way he looked at me like he’d dreamed of this and didn’t know if it was real. His lips found mine again, hungry and hot, kissing me deeper now, tongue brushing mine in slow, languid strokes that made my toes curl. I could feel him, hard and wanting through his jeans, and when I shifted just right, the groan that tore from his chest nearly undid me.
“Tell me what you want, love.” he breathed, forehead pressed to mine, breath hot and desperate. “Because I swear to God, I’ll give you everything. Just say the word.”
I looked at him, bruised, panting, flushed, and felt something deep in me crack open, raw and wanting.
“I want you.” The words came out like a confession. “I need you.”
He kissed me again, hard and deep and aching, and it felt like everything I’d ever kept locked away was finally being answered in the heat of his mouth, the grip of his hands, the fire burning between us. But even as his hands roamed and my shirt lifted slowly over my hips, there was a reverence to it, like he wasn’t just undressing me, he was unraveling me piece by piece. He pulled back for half a second, his gaze dropping down the curve of my body as if he was memorizing it, hands trailing after the fabric while he peeled my shirt off and tossed it to the side.
“Jesus Christ.” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You’re beautiful.”
And when his hands came back to me, rough and reverent, it wasn’t just heat that flooded my veins, it was everything. Every moment we’d ignored, every touch we’d denied, every time we’d looked away. Now, we weren’t looking away anymore. His hands returned to my skin like he was learning me by feel alone, palms trailing up my ribs, fingers splaying wide as if he needed to cover every inch. He looked up at me, still seated between my thighs, and his eyes… God, those eyes. Dark and fierce and starving as if he couldn’t believe I was really here, acting like if he blinked, I’d vanish. His hands slid to my back again, pulling me closer so our chests brushed, the friction unbearable in the best way. I felt every shift of muscle beneath his grip, every breath stutter through him as I rocked down again, my thighs bracketing his.
“For fuck sake, lass…” he groaned, his lips brushing against the swell of my chest, “I’ve dreamed about this more times than I care to admit.”
“You could’ve fooled me.” I murmured, breathless.
“I didn’t think I deserved to touch you like this.” His grin was crooked, a little dangerous, but softened by the flush of heat in his cheeks. “Didn’t think I had the right.”
“And now?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
His fingers dug into my hips, dragging me in again, somehow closer.
“Now I’m past givin’ a damn.”
His mouth was back on me before I could breathe, fevered and hot, his lips trailing from my collarbone to the edge of my bra, tongue teasing just enough to make my fingers knot in his hair. I arched into him, a gasp escaping before I could catch it. The sound made him growl low, the vibration thrumming through my chest as he kissed me again, deeper, slower, like he needed every second of it burned into his skin.
“I could stay here forever…” he sighed against my throat. “You feel like home.”
The words hit something in me so deep it ached and I knew he meant it. This wasn’t just lust or adrenaline, this was years of stolen glances, swallowed feelings, biting down on want and pretending it wasn’t there. But it was, it always had been. I reached down, my hand slipping under his shirt this time, feeling the ripple of muscle and some old scars. He hissed softly at the contact but didn’t stop me, instead, he leaned into it, like the pain meant something if it was from me. Our foreheads touched again, breathing each other in.
“I don’t want to stop.” I whispered, voice trembling as my thumbs swept over the planes of his chest. “But I’m scared.”
He nodded once, his fingers brushing the side of my face, thumb gently tracing my cheekbone.
“So am I.”
Somehow, that made it better. Because this wasn’t something we were rushing into. It wasn’t reckless. It was a slow burn that had finally reached its flame, and we were both standing in the fire, choosing to stay.
“I’ll wait as long as you need. ” he said quickly, looking me straight in the eyes. “But I’m not walkin’ away again, love. Not unless you tell me to.”
I pressed my lips to his, soft this time, just a slow, searing kiss that said all the things I couldn’t speak yet. When I didn’t pull away, when I let my fingers trail down the curve of his ribs and he let out that broken, needy sigh against my mouth, we both knew; there was no going back.
“For now, all I know for sure is that I need you.”
His hands trembled as they moved to the button of his jeans, the soft click of it opening louder than it should’ve been in the quiet heat between us. I didn’t stop him. My breath hitched, but my hands were already working at the hem of my own jeans, fingers brushing his as we fumbled together, too caught in the burn to care.
“Fuckin’ hell…” he muttered, eyes locked on mine like even now, he needed permission.
I gave it without words, just a slow lean in, my lips brushing his again as I rolled my hips down against the hardness pressing up through his jeans. His breath stuttered, one hand gripping my thigh like he was holding back a quake. Every part of me felt alive under his touch while his rough palms smoothed up my sides, one slipping around to cup the back of my neck as he pulled me into another kiss, deeper now, more urgent. It wasn’t gentle anymore. The kiss turned hungry, almost wild, lips colliding like we couldn’t get close enough as I moaned into his mouth, his other hand sliding down, fingers curling into the waistband of my jeans, tugging me closer until I was pressed flush against him. My pulse thundered, there was no space left between us, no hesitation, no shame. Just heat, needy hands, shaky breaths and desperate need. I started to unbutton my jeans, working them down inch by inch as our mouths refused to part. I could feel the heat of his skin where my shirt had ridden up, his fingertips trailing lower, feather-light but burning all the same. He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes glazed, jaw tight. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower while his chest rose and fell like he’d just run five miles.
“Tell me if this isn’t what you want.” he insisted, voice hoarse, wrecked. “Tell me now. I swear to God I’ll stop.”
But I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t ever want him to stop. I answered by sliding my jeans down another inch, watching the way his pupils blew wide. He sucked in a breath like I’d knocked the wind out of him, head tilting back slightly as if the sight alone was enough to undo him. I leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
“I want this.”
His whole body shuddered under me, that was all he needed. He pushed his jeans lower, finally freeing himself from the tight denim, groaning as the cool air hit him and I was right there, knees bracketing his thighs, the heat between us unbearable. He gripped my hips again, guiding me slowly toward him, his mouth trailing fire down my neck as I rocked forward, both of us chasing that tension, finally giving in. It was slow, fevered. A push and pull of restraint and raw need. And then—
Knock knock.
“Hey, everything okay in he—”
Jax’s voice froze mid-sentence as Chibs and I froze with it. It was like the whole goddamn world screeched to a halt. Jax stood in the doorway, hand still on the knob, eyebrows slowly shooting to his hairline as he took in the sight of me straddling Chibs shirtless, jeans half-down while Chibs sat there, lips kiss-bruised, shirt pulled up, hand still clutching the waistband of his own pants.
“Jesus Christ.! Jax yelped, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the situation. “Well, that answers that.”
“Get out Teller!” Chibs growled, voice rough and tight with tension.
“Hey, I knocked!” Jax raised both hands, still smirking. “I was checking on the bruised-up Scotsman you dragged into the bathroom, not looking to catch a porno.”
My face burned so hot it could’ve lit a match. I reached for my shirt blindly, barely able to breathe through the shock and mortification, while Chibs let out a long, slow sigh through his nose, clearly trying not to explode. Jax started to back out, chuckling under his breath.
“You two can go back to pretending you’re ‘just friends’ later. Clay wants a word when you’re, y’know, done.” He winked, laughing. “Try locking the door next time.”
Then it finally clicked shut.
Dead silence. I stared at the door like it had personally betrayed me. Chibs groaned, head falling back against the wall behind the toilet.
“Fuckin’ hell.”
I let out a breath that turned into a laugh, my forehead falling to his shoulder as my whole body shook with it.
“That was so bad.”
His hand ran down my back, a warm, heavy glide that still held heat despite the absolute disaster that just occurred.
“Still worth it.” he sighed, voice low and honest.
I pulled back to look at him and even with everything, my jeans still half-on, my heart still hammering, I saw it in his eyes. He wasn’t joking, he meant it.
