tommy crow

Chibs Helps With Allergies

I was dying, plain and simple. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. My nose was somehow stopped up and yet continuously runny. My eyes were puffy, bloodshot, and creating enough water to form a lake.


The banner running across the bottom of the TV read as I watched the morning news from bed, curled up in one of Chibs’s SAMCRO shirts and yoga shorts, a blanket fort surrounding me and keeping me warm.
“Yeah, no kidding!” I yelled, my voice scratchy and raw as I blew my nose into yet another tissue.
“What’re ya yellin’ fer, lass?” Chibs chuckled as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped low around his hips as he was fresh from a shower.
“Dumb tv thinks I don’t know allergies are back. Thinks they ought to broadcast it to the whole damn country!” I knew I was exaggerating but did I care? No.
“Gimme five minutes, love. I know jus’ the answer.” The Scot shot me a wink before dropping his towel and reaching for a pair of boxers.
“Oh don’t get dresses on my account, I’m just dying is all.” He laughed at my misery as he tugged on his boxers and left the room.
Five minutes later exactly, he came back wiyh a tray full of items and my heart grew ten sizes.
“Extra Kleenex, eye drops, snacks, drinks, tea garunteed to clear up yer chest, ‘nd entertainment if you dinna wan’ to come to the clubhouse la'er. Yer stuck wit’ me (Y/N).” He had a smile but his eyes were soft and I knew he truly meant it.
“I love you, you know.” His head shook his affirmation and he climbed into bed with me after setting the tray down on the beside table. I opened my arm with the blanket in my hand and he curled in close, pulling me to rest against his chest and play with my hair to soothe my headache.
“You spoil me.” I sighed, blowing my nose again and sanitizing my hands before grabbing the tea and taking a big drink.
“You’re ma woman ‘nd I look aft’ what’s mine.” He pressed a kiss to my temple, pulling me just that much closer.
The whole day was like this; being cared for and loved on while I nursed my first day of allergies and Chibs took over. He made us lunch and emptied my trash and did the little things that would’ve bugged me to no end, all without being asked. He made sure I took my allergy meds and brushed the sleepy knots from my hair, putting it back up into a loose ponytail when I decided I was good to go to the clubhouse, knowing Chibs had things to do and he could get them down if I was safe. He even helped put cream over the fresh crow tatted on my sternum.

@certifiedtwdtrash I hope you like it! And I hope the first person POV was okay, I always liked fics where it was set in first so I thought I’d try it out.

Originally posted by eternalmikaelson

Jumpy (Y/N&Chibs)

Trigger warning: Attack 

It was late evening by the time you arrived home from your shift at the hospital. The day was long and dreary, but there was a bump in action when a patient pulled a scapel on you while you were debrieding the wound. Thankfully, you were able to disarm the patient but in the struggle, you did suffer a small laceration to the neck. Thankfully, the wound was superficial, but the event had left you incredibly jumpy. Even the slightest touch from a co-worker sent you sailing for the ceiling. The nursing manager decided that you would serve the Emergency Department best by doing triage and that is where you spent the rest of the night until 2300 rolled around.
As you pulled into the driveway of your house, you noticed that your old man’s bike was not in the garage. Hmm, club business, you thought as you shook your head. Usually, you were perfectly okay coming alone to an empty house, but tonight was different; and even though it was only recnelty that Chibs had started staying at your house, you had already become accostmed to falling asleep while listening to his breathing. As soon as your feet crossed the threshold of the house, all the lights in the house was turned on. Empty. Silence. Once you felt safe, you plopped down onto the couch, turning on the tv to the lighthearted channel of cartoons. Soon enough, the darkness crawled into your eyes and you feel asleep.
The door closing brought you forth from sleep so fast you almost hit your head on the small side table siutated dangerously next to the couch arm. The lights had been turned off and silently you cursed the high tech that Juice had installed into your house recently. Creeping off the couch, you reached into the side table’s drawer and removed the knife that Chibs had gifted you for your birthday. Feeling around for your gun, you muttered a small curse when you realized it was not in its place. Heart pounding. Footsteps, loud footsteps. Crawling out of the living room, you found your way into the hallway, the front door just within reach. The footsteps were now in the kitchen, just inches behind you. Deep breath. You ran, feet padding loudly against the floor. Suddenly, a hand reached from teh darkness and grabbed your arm. A shrill scream left your throat as you slashed at the figure, blinded by darkness and fear.
“Fuck lass!” The figure finally said, dropping your arm. That voice. Dread filled your entire body as you flicked the hallway light on. Hands flew to your voice, in front of you stood Chibs, a small bleeding cut to his right cheek and an irated twitch at the corner of his mouth. The knife fell to the floor as you locked eyes with your old man, suddenly feeling very small.
“Chibs, I…I am so sorry! I thought you were an intruder!.” You croaked. Chibs shook his head,
“Ye forget ye gave me a key?” You stared at his cut, and slowly started to nod your head,
“Yes.” Chibns sighed and walked into the kitchen flicking the lights on. He grabed a beer from the frige, popped the top, and sipped it. “Yer owe me one lass.” Nodding feverously, you went straight to the cupboard and removed your medical kit. The next few moments were silent as you cleaned his wound, making sure that each touch was gentle but well placed. Chibs looked at you from the corner of his eye and finally grabbed your hands.
“Lass, yer shaking.” You shook your head, too embarassed to share anything. Chibs huffed and grabbed your face gently, “Lass, tell me.” The tears started.
“I am so sorry I cut you. I…had a bad day at work. A patient pulled a scapel on me and nicked my throat…”
“ Motherfucker. Who?” Chibs interruppted, irritated and fuming, his grip on your face tightening as he turned your head up to look at your wound.
“A…a patient. The security guards already took care of it.” You stuttered. Chibs released your face and suddenly slammed his lips against your so hard a bruise was sure to happen. The kiss was chaste, but still meaningful. When he pulled back, he leveled his face with yours so that he could look you straight in the eye.
“Yer mine. The crow on yer your shoulder? That means something. If someone hurts ye, that’s slight against me. Yer my woman. No one is allowed to hurt ye and get away.” Chibs stated, his voice low and dangerous. Eyes filled with tears as you threw yourself into his arms.
“I love you Chibs.”
“I love ye too lass.”

Okay so @misanderousmisfit replied to my post with “Awkward locker room encounter after the events of the last episode” and honestly how can I resist?


Jonathan loathes gym class; in fact he doesn’t think he’s ever hated a class as much as gym. Even math couldn’t compare to the tragedy of gym. The coach made him participate in everything, and considering he wasn’t the most athletic in the world, it was like a death sentence.

“Byers, you’re supposed to catch the ball with your hands not your face!” The coach blows his whistle as the other boys laugh and taunt him, and he drags himself off of the dirty floor. “That’s game point, hit the showers!” The man snaps, and Jonathan watches them all head into the locker room.

Not to be a cliché, but the locker room was like a personal hell of his. There was no teacher around to supervise so Jonathan often had his towel yanked off or even worse he was snapped with one. Since Will had come back, he’d been admittedly happier, but nothing could make him enjoy the gross locker room.

“Careful guys, better keep your towels on, the fag is here!” He hears Tommy H crow, the others snicker and laugh as Jonathan scowls. The guy had it out for him since elementary, but it’d only gotten worse after the fight in the alley.

“At least I’m not the one pulling other guys’ towels off, Tommy.” It’s a direct call out, and he’s not sure what’s gotten into him. But he realizes his mistake when he’s grabbed and shoved into a locker. One of the problems with being 5′8 and skinny was that he still fit into the lockers somehow. When the door slams shut, he tries to push it back open to no avail. The other guys in the locker room are howling in amusement, a few tap on the locker door tauntingly on their way out.

He could fight a monster from another dimension but he couldn’t keep himself from getting shoved around by pretty much every upperclassman (and some of the larger underclassmen) in his school.

The kids filter out; Jonathan wonders how long it’ll take for the coach or the janitor to come let him out.

He’s in there for a few minutes, legs starting to cramp and shoulder aching from the position it was in. Then there’s suddenly someone whistling as they step into the locker room.

“A little help?” He calls, humiliation washing over him as the whistling stops and footsteps come closer. Then, he spots who it is through the vent in the top of the locker, and he wishes he’d never spoken at all.

The locker door opens and Jonathan stumbles out ungracefully. He stares at the lockers, the floor, anything but the person across from him.

“Hey, Jonathan.” Steve greets hesitantly, Jonathan nods his head and waves feebly. “I’m guessing Tommy?” He asks quietly, and Jonathan nods once more. “Yeah, he’s been giving me shit too lately. Take my advice, hang behind after class under the bleachers until they’re all gone.” He explains. “That’s what I do.”

“Yeah, right.” He agrees warily, glancing up through his fringe to find Steve’s gaze much more sincere than he expected.

“And next time, try to stick next to me in dodgeball. It’s painful watching you take a pounding like that.” He pats Jonathan’s shoulder awkwardly, and Jonathan ducks his head, hoping that Steve will just go away so he can be miserable in peace. “By the way, Nancy’s been trying to get ahold of you. We wanted to know if maybe you wanted to sit with us at lunch?” He suggests, and Jonathan looks up in surprise.

“We?” He asks, and Steve smiles.

“Yeah, man. Monster hunting buddies for life, that’s a bond nobody can break.” He grins, and Jonathan is stunned as Steve ruffles his sweaty hair and turns away to head back into the showers.

Okay, so maybe gym wasn’t so bad.


It was that time of the year again, spring cleaning, well, more like end of summer cleaning.
With your hair tied up, old faded jeans, and a torn up tee thrown on, you were ready to get shit done.

Home alone, you blasted the radio, bobbing your head, and moving your hips to the beat.

When Chibs walked in, he found you arm deep in a box of old magazines, your body seductively rolled to the music, your hips doing little circles.

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fic update: Let Your Heart Be Light (Olicity, chapter 7/15)

Let Your Heart Be Light (29095 words) by callistawolf
Chapters: 7/15
Fandom: Arrow (TV 2012)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Characters: Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, Thea Queen, Roy Harper, Tommy Merlyn, Moira Queen, Walter Steele, Laurel Lance, Sara Lance, Malcolm Merlyn
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut
Summary: Oliver and Felicity spend Christmas Eve with the family and like all good families, they have meddling down pat.
Author’s Note: I’m so glad that everyone is happy to have this story to help them recover from the midseason finale.  That was rough, wasn’t it?  Thank you for all the birthday wishes too, I had a great day!  I got Arrow s2 blurays and one of Stephen’s Fuck Cancer sweatshirts! YAY!  Anyhow, here’s more.  Caution: Fluff Intensifies

You can also read this chapter on Ao3 or FF

When dinner was over, Felicity offered to clear the table and Oliver was quick to volunteer his own services.  Thea and Roy took over at the sink, soaking the serving and baking dishes and rinsing the plates before stacking them in the dishwasher.  

Tommy joined Walter and Moira in the living room, getting ready for the evening in front of the tree they would enjoy after the dishes were done.  That involved raiding the wine rack and setting out various cookies and candies and other goodies to nibble on.  When they finished, they joined the group in the kitchen to help with the cleanup. 

As Felicity and Oliver went back and forth, carrying plates, they crossed paths and at one point, Thea let out a squeal.  

“Stop, you two!” she cried. 

Keep reading

Olicity fic bang: something inside this heart has died (you’re in ruins), 13/15

(art by @screamlikeacanary)

Word count: 6,388
Rating: Teen

Summary: It’s finally time for Felicity and Oliver to say goodbye. But he’s not leaving without one last bash and one last surprise.

Author’s note: It’s my birthday! And to celebrate, I’m posting my favorite chapter of the whole story. Hope you enjoy. :)

Read on: AO3 |

Chapter 13

It was Oliver’s last day. He was shipping out that evening, right at 11 p.m.

I was trying desperately not to think about it.

Luckily the hospital was helping with that. Tommy and Thea both informed me that under no circumstances was I allowed to skip out on Oliver’s going away festivities, but they didn’t start until six p.m. That gave me a whole twelve hours to bury myself in work, checking up on patients, stitching up emergencies and removing infected body parts.

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“Nah, we don’t sell that here.”

               His voice was distant —— uninterested —— all but 
 forced as his eyes remained lazily glued to the paper
                        locked in his grasp; a passive aggressive attempt 
                                                  at telling each and every customer to kindly exit
                                       his hearing space

                     ((   Tommy Crowe, hmm?   ))

              He was fully aware of the sign; the pesky written
                       confirmation that he did, in fact, sell that particular
                                   item in the store. Admitting so, however, would also
                  require him to…..for lack of a better phrase.…get
         off his ass and fetch it.