#viskovie

[drabbles-mc]

(for ur ask game) dyed-hair!chibs in soa or full-head-of-grey!chibs in mayans mc??

I will take Chibs any way that he is served to me 🤤

Lmao but, as much as I LOVED his look in Mayans, I have a love and sentimental attachment to his look in SOA. Like. That's my Filip, you know? 🥰

Make me choose between two things!

[magickhajiit]

Hazer in Chief- Chapter 1 (SOA)

This hasn't been beta read so please forgive any mistakes my sleep deprived mind has made.

Chapter 1

After a long afternoon in the garage, fixing a beamer that some college kid had sent off-road, Chibs was ready for a drink. Pulling on his kutte he wanders out of the office, soon as he passes the doorway he can hear it; the low thumping of music pouring out the clubhouse. When he gets closer he can hear a variety of whoops and cheers stemming from behind the metal door, so much for his quiet drink.   

Noise hits him the moment he steps into the room, it takes his senses a moment to adjust before he can take note of the people around him. A few out-of-state brothers sit in the leather seats, Chibs can recognise Happy Lowman amongst them showing off to those nearest a new smiley face tattoo, inked neatly onto his stomach. For the surrounding men, one of their croweaters acts as entertainment as she swings around the pole, her clothing leaving little to the imagination.   

Most of his own charter brothers are scattered around the bar area, the neon signs on the back walls turning them into a palette of blues, greens, and reds. In the middle of the madness sits Tig and Half-Sack. The former is lent with his arms braced on the bar, a grin on his face. At this stage of a party, he’d usually be in the back with some women, but apparently he’s found the one thing he likes more than pussy, tormenting a prospect.  

Half-Sack’s on the other side, sitting on a stool, he’s leaning over the bar, Chibs assumes to stop himself tumbling over. A row of shot glasses lines the bar’s surface and whilst a good half of them a filled with an amber liquid, the others sit empty.   

Feeling the weight of the day already lifting off his shoulders Chibs walks a little closer, just within earshot but further enough away to avoid notice.   

‘’The Sons have charters in how many countries?’’ Tig asks. A drink has already been picked up and he’s ready to push it into the boy’s hand. The game is unfair really, everyone in the room knows it. They know Half-Sack isn’t the brightest bulb, he’s more street-savvy than their last prospect but lacks any more academic intelligence than a wild ferret.   

Speaking of their last prospect Juice is one of the surrounding men, his expression part amusement and part relief that Tig and his tormenting nature have now found a new victim. Right now, he’s the only one to have noticed Chibs hiding in the corner watching the fun from afar.   

Both their attentions are pulled back to the game when a round of mocking remarks and laughter starts up again. Whatever Half-Sack answered clearly wasn’t right. Taking the glass he knocks it back, wincing when the sharp tang first reaches his lips.   

It takes another two wrong answers for Chibs to venture over. When he does Half-Sack looks at his sponsor for help, Juice used to give him the same lost puppy look whenever Tig was picking on him, sometimes he would intervene, sometimes he wouldn’t. Snatching the whiskey bottle out of Tig’s hands he sends the group a withering stare.  

The charade is shattered when he breaks out into a grin, before asking the prospect, ‘’When was Sambel founded?’’ The question is punctuated by him refilling the shot glasses to a chorus of laughter.

@viskovie decided to turn that idea into a quick fic.