Jun 28
Wild Eyes
A/N: Just a little thought I had of Chibs 🤭
Pairings: Chibs Telford x Female!Reader
Warnings: Smut!, cowgirl
Words: 278
No use of Y/N
SMUT 18+ MDNI!
Divider credit: @cursed-carmin
seen from Denmark
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Netherlands
seen from Netherlands
seen from France
Wild Eyes
A/N: Just a little thought I had of Chibs 🤭
Pairings: Chibs Telford x Female!Reader
Warnings: Smut!, cowgirl
Words: 278
No use of Y/N
SMUT 18+ MDNI!
Divider credit: @cursed-carmin
Who would you most want to see a Goth!reader fic about?
Michael robinavitch
Spencer Reid
Jack Abbot
Chibs Telford
Happy Lowman
She Gets Jealous | Chibs Telford x reader | one shot
A/N: Chibs Telford and jealous old lady energy? Yeah… this one wrote itself. Warnings: jealousy, physical fight, aggressive behavior, sexual language, crow eater drama, possessive behavior, biker club chaos 🖤
The clubhouse was packed, broken glass, burnt cigarettes and crushed snacks covered nearly every surface while the place had already turned into half an orgy. Half naked crow eaters where making out with each bikers on top of couches, against walls, even the pooltable wasn't safe. A clearly drunk crow eater giving a sloppy triptease on the bar while a few men where yelling and whistling at her.
For about 5 fucking minutes, you had left your old man alone with a few of his brothers, while you went to get the both of you another refill of Whiskey. The woman behind the bar slipped two fresh glasses of whiskey to you, right between the legs of the girl dancing on top of it. The moment you grabbed them, you had to quickly duck aside to avoid getting hit by the bra the woman tossed carelessly onto the floor.
A bed and a home (Chibs Telford/Sons of Anarchy)
Tags: situationship, argument, p in v, cumming inside, that's about it. Chibs had a hard night
The feeling of your bed dipping under someone's weight made you lift your head. Blinking through the darkness, you made out the all too familiar reaper patch before closing your eyes again. It only meant one thing, Chibs.
The only man that had a key to your house, the only person that would come sneaking around in the middle of the night.
"Chibs?" your voice was soft and low, sleep laced in your tone. You could hear his heavy cut hit the floor, together with his shirt as he crawled into bed next to you.
"Ay, go back to sleep." you could hear from his voice that it had been a rough night and you knew that that was exactly why he was here. Every hard day, rough night, this was where he ended up. Your bed was a safe haven, your house a home and yet his relationship with you was undefinable.
It had happened more than once that you found him sitting in your living room, cigarette smoke filling the space as he stared out in front of him. You knew enough about his life to know better than to ask. He'd tell what he needed to, when he needed to. But that choice was on him and that was why he liked it here.
"Do I wanna know?" you asked, turning to face him in the bed. Exhaustion filled the lines on his face, his eyes downturned and sad. You reached forward, your hand stroking over his face. His eyes shut as he leaned into your touch, his own hand finding it's way to your waist.
"I wish I didn't know." he sighed, pulling you closer. All he wanted was to feel you. The heat of your body, your soft skin under his rough fingers, it all helped with grounding him.
"Alright, I won't ask." you started, feeling him nuzzle his face into the side of your neck. His beard always tickled you when he did that, sending goosebumps up and down your back. "Maybe tomorrow you'll tell me."
"Don't count on it." his lips ghosted over the skin of your neck and you felt yourself lean into him more. "You should really go back to sleep."
Double Trouble (Chibs x Plus Size Reader x Tig)
Super self-indulgent fic comin' at ya live! No use of Y/N :) WARNING explicit smut lies ahead (loss of virginity, blow jobs, fingering, p in v) MDNI!!!
Part of the Christmas 2025 choose your own. As always 18+
“Need something kitten?” he cooed as he undid his jeans and slid the head of his cock through your already wet folds. "That why you been texting me all those naughty pictures during the party?"
The Scotsman | Chibs Telford Fanfiction
{SOA} — Chapter 11
Chibs x Reader
Disclaimers: hey everyone!! we're nearing the end. this chapter is the last "actual" chapter before we end this. there's a time jump, beware. thank you so much for following along, i hope you liked it! tw; violence, depictions of ptsd, mentions of blood, firearms, strong language, plus all the usual for the soa universe!
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･
The morning sun hits the front of the townhouse just right, warm light pouring through the arched windows and bouncing down into the foyer. You’re standing barefoot on the porch, hands on your hips, a smudge of paint in your cheek, looking inside through the open door, now painted sky blue like the mailbox and the flower pots.
It’s quiet around here. Just a few kids riding their bikes and an older woman tending her garden. So quiet you can even hear the birds chirping from the trees, humming around you.
“You sure this place will hold up with our lot comin’ and going?” — Chibs says from behind you, teasing and low, climbing the stairs to haul an old and heavy-looking toolbox in from the truck.
“It better,” — You laugh. — “She’s got good bones.”
“Aye, like its owner.”
He’s kneeling on the ground to work on something, but looks back at you with that teasing grin you can’t resist, and you roll your eyes at him.
“Flattery before 10 am? Dangerous move, Telford,” — You chuckle, standing back to watch him work. There’s something insanely attractive in seeing him like this, wrench in hand, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and grease stains on his knuckles. — “I might want to make it a habit.”
He hums out a laugh. — “I’m happy to flatter you every day, love.”
Leaning against the railing, you take a moment to rest under the warm sun, letting it kiss your bare shoulders. — “Glad I can count on you to keep me humble, darling,” — You smile, shutting your eyes.
“You really shouldn’t be doing all this,” — Chibs frowns at the paint cans and brushes scattered around the porch. Wiping his hands on a rag, he stands in front of you.
Flattening both hands to his warm chest, you lean forward to steal a long kiss from him, the way to victory in every argument between you. He sighs against your lips, knowing you’re stubborn enough for the two of you.
“I want to be useful, Filip. This is my house too.”
He laces your hips with his arms, pulling you close. — “And you are useful,” — Chibs traces the deep scar on the side of your torso, right over your left hip, with the pad of his thumb. — “But you can be useful from the couch.”
Chibs buries his face in the crook of your neck to sink his teeth into the skin of the shoulder, his stubble sending a deep shiver down your spine, and you laugh.
“Not a chance you’ll stay put, huh?” — He asks.
You shake your hand, still laughing. — “Nope.”
The rumble of motorcycle engines cuts through the neighbourhood in a sharp roar as SAMCRO pulls in a convoy of three bikes and a black van.
You glance back just in time to see Juice get a box from the back of the van and nearly tip it over, while Tig yells out instructions that make no sense whatsoever.
“Oh no,” — You mutter, a laugh stifled in your tone.
Chibs smirks, watching the two of them fight over who’s right or wrong. — “Brace yourself.”
They come onto the porch with a crunch of heavy boots against old wood. — “Movin’ day, baby,” — Tig hollers, carrying an odd-looking lamp you definitely didn’t pack. — “Where’d you want this antique thing?”
You follow him into the house with narrow eyes. — “That’s not mine,” — You look over at Chibs, and he vehemently shakes his head to say it doesn't belong to him either.
“Sure, it is now. Consider it a housewarming gift.”
One by one, the guys filter into the house.
Bobby and Piney with tools, Jax and Kip hauling in the couch, Opie already halfway through fixing something you didn’t even notice needed fixing. The place fills with voices and laughter.
Even Gemma shows up, a basket of cleaning supplies in hand. She doesn’t say much, gives you a half-smile, and heads into the kitchen.
And for a fleeting second, you stop in the middle of the chaos and just look around.
The boxes, the laughter, the sound of Chibs’ low voice as he bickers playfully with Juice over a crooked shelf. It all feels like something you never thought you’d get again.
Family.
“Oi, watch the bloody wall,” — Chibs shouts from the kitchen when a loud thunk echoes down the hall.
“Relax, man, it’s fine,” — Juice calls back, clearly lying.
“It’s not fine, you muppet,” — Chibs’ accent thickens when he’s annoyed, which only makes Juice just snicker louder.
You’re sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, sorting through a box of old photos, when Tig plops down beside you, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“You realise we’re way too sentimental for a bunch of outlaws, right?”
“Yeah. But it’s been fun watching you all pretend you know how to use a screwdriver.” — You grin.
Tig gasps dramatically, bringing a hand to his chest. — “You wound me, sweetheart.”
Before you can reply, there’s a loud crash coming from upstairs, followed by a very distinct ‘shit’ coming from Juice.
You and Chibs lock eyes instantly, but he’s halfway up the stairs before you can even stand. — “What did you do now?” — Chibs barks, voice echoing down the hallway.
“I didn’t do anything!” — Juice protests, standing over a toppled box and a mess of clothes and papers.
Chibs kneels to start picking things up, muttering under his breath — until something squared and glossy catches the light. Before he can spot it, Juice grabs it.
“Oh boy,” — He mutters.
You finally get upstairs in time to see Chibs freeze on the ground and Juice holding what looks like a black and white picture between his fingers. His eyes dart between you and Chibs, squinting before realisation dawns on him.
He’s holding the ultrasound.
Wide-eyed, he extends the ultrasound towards Chibs like it’s burning him. He feels terrible for breaking into something personal. — “I didn’t see anything. I didn’t touch anything. This– This didn’t happen.”
But, of course, his panicked voice has already drawn a crowd. Within seconds, half the club is gathered at the top of the stairs.
“What’s going on?” — Jax asks. His eyes land on the ultrasound in Chibs's hand, and the arched brow turns into a wide grin. — “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Wait,” — Tig leans in, squinting, and then lets out a low whistle. — “Oh, hell yeah. Didn’t waste any time, did ya, Scot?”
Chibs doesn’t even roll his eyes; he just smiles all proud of the life you’re growing together, even if you’re both still sort of freaking out about it.
You, especially.
Crossing your arms, you shoot Juice a mock glare that makes him take an extra step back. — “You really couldn’t keep your hands off that one box, could you?”
“It fell on me,” — he points helplessly at the mess on the floor. — “I didn’t mean to.”
Juice seems genuinely worried, so you step forward to hug him from the side and lean your head briefly against his chest. — “It’s okay, Juicy.”
After congratulating Chibs with a hug, Jax chuckles excitedly. — “So, how far along?”
You glance at Chibs, who gives you a subtle shrug. You’ve been keeping this between you, waiting for the right time to make it known. But in reality, there couldn’t be a better time than one where the family’s all together.
“Almost eleven weeks,” — You smile softly.
There’s a small pause. No one was expecting this news, but they’re very welcome, so the room erupts in cheers, whistles, and congratulations.
Tig kisses your cheeks tenderly, Opie claps Chibs on the shoulder so hard he nearly drops back, and even Bobby brings you in for a hug.
Gemma’s voice cuts through the noise as she appears at the top of the stairs, holding a basket of towels. — “What the hell’s all this noise about?”
“PJ’s got a bun in the oven!” — Tig grins.
Gemma’s face lights up, blinking quietly for a moment. — “Well, about damn time somebody around here gives me good news,” — she mutters, reaching a hand to caress your face. — “I’m happy for you, sweetheart.”
Then, she kisses Chibs’ face. — “And you, Filip.”
“Thanks, mama.”
Chibs steps closer, slipping an arm around your waist as the chaos continues around you — Tig still babbling, Jax teasing, Juice promising to “never touch another box again.”
“Guess the secret’s out, love, — Chibs leans down to murmur in your ear, his voice low enough that only you can hear.
You rest your forehead against his shoulder and smile. — “I’m happy it’s out. This is family.”
He smiles down at you. — “It is,” — Then, he rests a hand on your stomach, thumb softly running over your shirt. — “We are family.”
༊*·˚
Later at night, the house quiets down. It’s just the two of you in the new house, half-empty cardboard boxes stacked in a corner of the living room, filled with stuff you’re both too tired to put away.
A pizza box lies on the glass table, and you’re curled up on the couch in one of Chibs’ cotton shirts, legs tucked under a blanket, warm yellow light coming from the lamp near the couch. The house smells of fresh paint, but it doesn’t bother you.
You like it — the scent represents a new beginning. A page turned over in the book of your life. A new meaning to the future. You’re both very terrified and insanely happy about what’s to come. Being in a relationship with an outlaw won’t ever be easy or safe, but at least now you’re no longer chasing the danger like it might save you.
And Chibs will take care of you. That’s for sure.
Chibs comes back from the kitchen and hands you a cup of black tea, keeping the other for himself. He sinks beside you, draping one arm over the back of the couch and exhaling tiredly.
“I still can’t believe Juice found the ultrasound like that,” — You smile faintly into your mug, shaking your head. — “He was terrified of you. I felt bad.”
Chibs laughs, shoulders jiggling. — “Fuckin’ love that kid,” — He says, and the sentiment is sincere. — “But it could’ve been worse. I thought there’d be more tears involved.”
You smile at that. The club may not be perfect. It’s dark and rough, but there's one thing you can’t take away from them: the brotherhood. The shared love. The companionship.
Scooting closer to him, you sit cross-legged and sideways on the couch to face him. — “Filip,” — You start softly. — “Can I ask you something?”
Chibs turns his head toward you, expression open and curious. — “Always, love.”
“Does it ever bother you that I’m younger than you?”
Chibs narrows his eyes for a moment, almost as if trying to figure out where the question is coming from. — “No,” — he says simply. — “And you?”
“No, of course not.”
You sigh, and he reaches over to squeeze your knee. — “What’s this really about?”
“I don’t know,” — You exhale deeply, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You search for the words, but everything you come up with in your head just sounds stupid.
“I never thought about being a mom, y’know? It’s not that I was against the idea. I just always figured it wasn’t for me. There was too much chaos in my life, too much risk,” — You pause to take a sip from the tea under his observant dark eyes. — “But now that it’s real, I’m overwhelmed. I’m terrified of not being good enough and at the same time my heart’s bursting with something I’ve never felt before.”
Chibs runs his thumb over your knee, warm raspy skin touching yours. — “I know it’s a scary thing. Brings out every fear you didn’t know you had.”
“Yeah,” — You nod. — “And I get stuck in a loop of intrusive thoughts about us. How we met and how it all evolved so quickly. It’s not that I regret it, I really don’t. But you’re mature and wise, and I’m a fucking mess still trying to figure out how life works.”
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing most of the time, love.”
He’s so sincere that you can’t help but chuckle. — “But you’ve done this before. You already have a kid, so you know what to expect.”
Chibs straightens up and turns toward you, moving to grab your hand and weave your fingers together. He looks down, gazing at the silver ring he gifted you before speaking again.
“I also know the things I’d change if I could. I failed a lot of my father duties. I wasn’t there for Kerrianne the way I should’ve been. Not her fault. Not her mother’s either. My life… pulled me away. Every decision I made to keep her safe pushed me farther from her. And nothing will ever change the way things went. Nothing will make it right. But I plan to do a better job this time around. A better father. A better partner.”
You reach out, fingertips tracing the back of his hand. — “You’re not that man anymore.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his silence is louder than words. So you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder and letting him surround your shoulders with his arm, pulling you closer. The other hand rests on top of yours, right on the yet small curve of your belly.
“We’ll be okay,” — You murmur.
“Aye,” — He kisses the top of your head.
You laugh quietly, the night settles, fears fading away with it, and for the first time in a long while, peace feels like something you both deserve.
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The Scotsman | Chibs Telford Fanfiction
{SOA} — Chapter 10
Chibs x Reader
Disclaimers: after this one, there's two chapters left. tw; violence, depictions of ptsd, mentions of blood, firearms, strong language, plus all the usual for the soa universe!
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･
The door creaks open slowly, white light flooding in from the hallway. You’re still groggy from the anesthesia, but you can make out the sound of his heavy boots and the jiggle of the chain hanging from one side of his pants.
It’s overwhelming how much you crave him and his touch. The safety of his presence. The warmth in the pit of your stomach when your eyes meet. The feeling that kept you grounded in life.
Chibs stops at the door of the bed. He’s breathing quietly, afraid to startle you. Brown eyes loaded with tension soften with relief when they see you awake and okay – for the most part, at least.
“Hey,” — You whisper, voice hoarse and throat dry. You’re warm under the white blanket, but crave the heat from his arms. — “You look like hell.”
The corner of Chibs’ mouth twitches into a curve, and he exhales a shaky laugh, moving to the side of the bed and closer to you. — “How’re you feeling?” — Finding your hand over the blanket, his thumb brushes gently over the inside of your wrist, where the rope burns still linger.
You show him a tired smile. “Like I got shot.”
Chibs frowns. — “Don’t ever do that again,” — He says, tone between an order and a plea. Your hand grazes his fingers, weaving beneath them.
“I thought you’d be mad at me.”
“I’m bloody furious,” — He says with that deep Scottish accent that you like so much, exhaling a gentle laugh. — “I really can’t wait for us to fight about this, darlin’. So get better soon.”
You laugh. A soft, cracked sound that turns into a wince when pain radiates from your abdomen. Chibs’ hand shifts to your side, right over the white bandages, pressing your skin softly.
“Easy, love.”
There it is again. Love.
“You called me that before,” — You whisper, slowly breathing through the pain until it softens.
Chibs runs a hand through your hair, cold metal from his rings touching the skin of your scalp. He meets your gaze, steady and quiet. Everything slows for a moment: the beeping of the monitor, the ticking of the clock, even the hospital noise outside. Shutting your eyes for a minute, you focus on the sound of his breathing.
“I thought I lost ye,” — He admits finally. — “I’m sorry, love. I should’ve protected ye. I won’t ever let anyone or anything hurt ye again. That’s a promise.”
He leans down to be closer, and you reach up, brushing your fingers against his jaw. — “I know you won’t,” — You whisper, letting your fingers weave slowly through his hair. — “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
He sits sideways on the bed, one hand still cradling your side while the other holds his own weight, and leans until your foreheads are touching. He doesn’t kiss you, but he doesn’t need to. He's talking to you through his breathing, thumb moving slowly in circles over your hip.
When Tara comes in a while later to check up on you and take your vitals, she pauses at the door. You’re asleep and Chibs has moved to the armchair by the bed, but he’s still leaning close to you, hand caressing your head, watching you sleep.
She doesn’t say a word, smiles, and shuts the door quietly.
༊
Drifting awake, you inhale the scent of cologne impregnated into the white sheets. The sun rays seep through the curtains, catching on the dust specks floating lazily in the air.
For the first time in days, the world feels normal. You’re back at the clubhouse. Back at home. You never thought of saying those words, but it’s true. It’s ironic considering what happened, but you feel safe within these walls.
And you feel trusted now. You’re no longer under protection because you’re a liability for the club, but because they care about you.
You haven’t felt cared for in a long time.
“Mornin’. Did ye sleep okay?” — Chibs’ leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower, buttoning his black shirt. He looks tired, with dark circles shadowing his eyes, but the stiffness on his shoulders has eased.
“I slept great,” — With a soft smile, you try to sit up, but your side protests. In a blink, Chibs’ shadow crosses the room in a quick stride, steadying you.
“Easy love,” — He mutters, one arm curling around your waist to help you up, and you chuckle softly, cheek brushing against his chest.
“I’m not made of glass, Filip.”
Something changed in the last couple of weeks. You’re ‘love’ and he’s ‘Filip’. It’s easier now – the way he kisses you in front of everyone, and they all just know there’s something more growing between you.
“Ye scared the shit outta me once,” — He grumbles, both arms lacing your waist to pull you closer. You hook your arms around his neck, smiling against the rough edge of his jaw.
You take in the scent of cologne mixed with shower gel and the faint hint of his morning cigarette. One hand brushes softly through his greying beard.
“You smell good.” — You whisper.
Brushing his lips against yours, Chibs lets out a low hum. — “Aye?”
“Aye,” — You repeat, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. His lips find yours, slow, deep, and careful. You sigh happily when the kiss breaks. — “Can you help me change? I wanna go downstairs for coffee.”
You’ve barely finished the sentence when his hands slide under the waistband of your sweatpants. — “Love, ye don’t need to ask me twice.”
༊
It takes you a while to get downstairs. You’re out of breath just from crossing the hallway, but it helps that Chibs is supporting some of your body weight, one arm looped around your waist, while guiding you carefully through the last steps.
“Hey, look who’s finally up!” — Juice chants from across the room, making them all look toward you.
Bobby’s behind the counter, flipping pancakes on a griddle that has probably been through more club wars than he has. — “Well, well,” — He grins. — “Thought you’d be napping forever, sweetheart.”
You laugh weakly and tiredly, shaking your head. — “Ah, you’d miss me too much.”
“Damn right,” — Kip adds from the couch. Judging by the new patches on his cut, he has officially been patched into the club and is no longer a prospect. You’re happy for him. It’s dangerous, but what he wants. — “Good to see you up, PJ.”
“It’s good to be up.”
Chibs guides you to the closest barstool, hand steady on your back, and Bobby sets a steaming mug of coffee in front of you before you can even ask. It’s perfect. Black and very sweet, just like you usually like it.
“Lookin’ good, sweetheart,” — Tig nods at you, showing a grin more caring than he’s ever shown since you’ve been here.
It seems like he finally warmed up to you. Guess all it took to prove you intended to take a bullet for his Scottish brother.
Your eyes flick toward Chibs, whose only answer is a quiet smirk, and watch you sip the hot coffee.
“Ahm,” — You clear your throat, setting the mug down on the counter before turning to face the group. They’re all scattered around the main floor, but their eyes are on you. — “I wanted to thank you guys for coming to my rescue. Despite my wrongs against the club, you protected me. I hope I can repay that gesture somehow.”
“Darlin’, you did more than enough,” — Jax says, appearing from their Chapel room, a soft smile tugging at his lips. — “You’re family now,” — He looks between you and Chibs. One of his mentors. — “And we protect our family. You’ve earned that place.”
They don’t even know how much those words mean to you. The concept of family has been complicated for you in the last couple of years, but it’s nice to feel like you belong somewhere.
“Maybe next time don’t go so far as to catch a stray bullet,” — Opie adds with a teasing grin.
“Yeah, don’t need to go all out and be the center of attention,” — Juice taps your foot gently with his, mocking you like an older brother as usual,” — “You owe me a jacket, but the way. You bled out all over my favorite one.”
You throw him a napkin, and the room fills with laughter. Real laughter. Even Chibs lets out a quiet chuckle, finally relaxing his shoulders.
Jax approaches you after the clubhouse quiets down. — “There can’t be any more secrets, PJ. None. To keep you safe, I need to know what to expect and what I can count on,” — He speaks softly.
He’s so different from the Jax you knew from school. Grown-up, rough around the edges, but at the same time carrying the same softness behind the blue eyes.
“If there’s anything else we need to worry about, you gotta tell us so we can take care of it.”
“No more surprises, love,” — Chibs nods.
“There’s nothing else, I promise,” — You shake your head, feeling Chibs’ fingers sneak under your shirt and gently caress the skin of your lower back. — “Now that I know what happened to my brother, I can bury the subject and just grieve his death. I won’t tell my mother. She doesn’t need to know her son carried the blood of an innocent family on his hands and died at the hands of a coward,” — Your voice breaks a little, and Chibs leans closer to you. — “I would rather he remain a hero in her memory.”
Jax nods knowingly. — “Turning that stone would just make it more painful.”
“Yeah,” — You shake away the heaviness of the subject and then look up at him again. — “Other than that, I just have that little problem with the Mayans.”
“You don’t need to worry about that anymore,” — Jax says, and both you and Chibs narrow your eyes at him. — “Alvarez is backing off. Lin was playing him the whole time, and things have split over now.”
“Peace talk is actually working, then?” — Chibs asks, taking a sip from your coffee.
“Maybe,” — Jax shrugs, tone cautions but lighter. — “They’re focusing on their own turf for now. No bad blood with us, at least for the time being.”
You exhale, relief washing over you. For the first time in weeks, you won’t be looking over your shoulder all the time. The Mayans are backing off, the war is cooling down, and the club – the same one that once saw you as a dangerous pawn – is now your home.
And maybe, just maybe, this can be the start of something that isn’t chaos. Something that feels like living again.
༊
Later that night, Chibs finds you out front in the quiet parking lot. The rest of the guys have either left for their own houses or retreated to their rooms at the clubhouse, so it’s just the two of you and the hum of the crickets.
“Ye shouldn’t be out in the cold, love.”
“I know. But it feels nice,” — You smile softly, leaning your head against his shoulder when he sits next to you on the picnic table. — “Peaceful.”
Chibs hums, retrieving something round and silver from his pocket. — “Here,” — It’s one of his rings, the thick one with the Celtic cross, and he hands it to you. — “I’d like ye to keep this one.”
You turn it over in your fingers, the metal warm from his touch. — “Why? I know this ring means something to you.”
“Consider it a loan,” — He shows a thin smile. — “Something to chase ye for if ye ever leave. And also a token. Something to keep me close, whatever ye are. Always.”
Your heart flutters at that. It’s the sweetest and most meaningful thing someone has ever done for you. And coming from him, it means a whole lot more. — “I didn’t know you were a spiritual man.”
He tickles your thigh and you laugh quietly. — “It’s just— I’m not a man of big words, Phoebe. I’m terrible at it. But I want ye to know that what we have means something. That I care about ye.”
You slip your index finger through the silver loop. It’s a little big on you, but you’ll make do. Maybe wear it on a necklace chain around your neck. Then, you lay your hand on top of his.
“You won’t have to chase me, because I won’t be going anywhere without you.”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple. — “That’ll make things easier for me, love.”
You stay there for a while, leaning against each other and staring at the night. But then you look up, almost feeling euphoric. — “Take me for a ride.”
Chibs raises a brow. — “Ye just got out of the hospital. Ye got shot, remember?”
“And I didn’t die. So take me on a ride.”
He laughs, shaking his head, but he knows you’ve already won. With minutes, he’s fastening the helmet under your chin and helping you onto the back of his bike, careful of your bandages. When you're both settled, you circle his waist with your arms and lean forward, chest pressed to his back.
The engine roars to life in a low rumble, and the night air rushes around you – free, cold, and alive. Wrapped around Chibs’ torso, you feel weightless and timeless.
༊
When he slows down about an hour later, back at the clubhouse lot, neither of you moves. The world around you feels muted and quiet. The ticking of the engine as it cools down, the whistling of the crickets, and your heart thudding, trying to catch up with the calm.
Chibs reaches back to squeeze your knee, turning his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder. — “Ye alright back there?”
You hum behind him, cheek still resting against the leather cut, enjoying his body warmth. — “Better than alright. Thank you, Filip.”
Chibs swings his leg over and then helps you off. Your feet have gone to sleep, and your knees wobble, but he catches your waist before you can even lose balance. Chibs steadies you like it’s instinct.
“See?” — You tease softly. — “I’m alive.”
He chuckles, that deep and gravelly sound you’ve grown to crave. You smile up at him, hands still holding onto the front of his cut. The silence between you stretches – not awkward, not heavy, just full of everything left unsaid.
Gratitude. Relief. Love.
The slow, creeping, and warm feeling that’s been simmering under your skin for weeks.
“Ye did good,” — Chibs murmurs finally. — “With everythin’. Most people wouldn’t come back from all of this, but… ye’re stronger than ye look. And ye even managed to keep ye’re smart mouth.”
“Someone’s gotta keep you humble.”
“Aye. Guess I’m stuck with ye.”
You tilt your head, pretending to think. — “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not a chance,” — His hand lifts to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing your jaw before his lips meet yours. He kisses you slowly and deeply. Grounding and real.
He meets your hand that’s on his chest, squeezing your fingers gently, especially the one looped under his silver ring.
“What happens now?” — You whisper.
“Now?” — Chibs hums, eyes flicking to your lips again before he shows a smile. — “Now ye rest and heal. And let me take care of ye.”
“Yeah?”
He nods, stealing another brief kiss from you. — “Aye. Ye’re one of us now, PJ. Always will be.”
You don’t answer right away. You just close your eyes and let his words settle in, the sound of them melting into the quiet night.
You think about how it all started — walking into this clubhouse as a stranger with secrets, how much you wanted to run from this place, from them, from him.
And now you can’t imagine yourself leaving.
“Am I an Old Lady now?” — You ask with a light chuckle under your tone.
“Ye can be whatever ye want to be. As long as ye’re here,” — Chibs squeezes your hand gently before leading you back toward the clubhouse. — “Come on, love. Let’s get ye inside before ye freeze.”
Inside, the lights are dim and the bar is empty. Someone left a record spinning on the old jukebox — slow blues humming through the silence. Chibs drapes his cut over your shoulders before sitting beside you on the worn leather couch.
You curl up next to him, legs folded under you, head on his shoulder. He rests his cheek on your hair and sighs.
“Filip?” you whisper.
“Aye, love?”
“I think I could get used to this.”
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･