#Baby boots and riding suits

[dickinfectionbez]

"when are you going to ask my brother out?" Cele asked, flipping the page of his book.

Bez choked on his own spit at how casually Celin asked. As if he was asking the time and not revealing that he knew Bez's deepest secret. He stared at Cele for a second before answering. "What are you talking about?" Celestino looked up from his book with a pointed look. "Okay I like your brother. But I'm not asking him out." Bez stayed still, praying the blush on his face wasn't visible. "Fine be like that." Cele said, putting his book down. "But when Pecco gets a boyfriend and you have to watch him be happy don't say I didn't push you."

He got up, book and phone in hand as he left the living room to go to his own. Celestino opened his phone and shot a text to Franky.

Cele: They like each other. Pecco said so, Bez just pretend not to. Both refuse to tell each other.

Franky: fucking idiots

The week passed on without many difficulties, Bez and Pecco connected at the hip. At breakfast they would be sitting next to each other, sharing a plate. Cele watched them, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. They spent the rest of the day on the track, racing until they got tired and flopped down on the sofa, leathers in a pile on the floor. Celin walked through the living room, nearly tripping over the pile of clothes. Reaching his wits end, he marched into his dad's room and flopped face down onto their bed.

Vale was busy with preparing for his next WEC so Marc sat down on the bed, a hand running up and down Celestino's back. "They're idiots." He said into the duvet. "Dumb as balls." Marc laughed, knowing exactly what his younger son was talking about. I know amor." He said, "it's not like we can lock them in a room and tell them how the other feels." Celestino popped his head up and looked at his dad as the cogs turned in his mind.

While Bez and Pecco slept on the sofa, tired from riding, Cele recruited the help of Mig and Franky. Together they swapped the doorknob of Pecco's bedroom to one that could only be locked with a key. Bez and Pecco woke up from their nap, joining everyone for dinner before going to bed. Celestino dangled the key between his fingers as he went to bed, prepared to put his plan into action in the morning.

Moning came with Bez and Pecco spending the early hours awake in bed. They heard a pair of keys, and then the sound of a lock turning. Bez looked at Pecco confused as the door unlocked. Cele opened the door and poked his head through the gap, "Pecco has had a crush on you since you guys were 16, and Bez has had a crush on you since you started dating that weird blonde." Celestino told them both before slamming the door shut and locking it from the outside.

Pecco stood embarrassed, face bright red as he sneaked a glance towards Bez. His friend was beet red, face in his hands avoiding eye contact. Pecco sat on the floor in silence, both of them wishing the other didn't hear what Celestino said. Pecco didn't know how long it had been before someone unlocked the door. Celestino opened the door, confused at the silence as Bez pushed past. "What the fuck were you thinking?" Pecco asked angrily. Cele froze, scared of his older brother as Pecco continued. "I fucking told you I wasn't going to tell him and now look. Bez won't even look me in the fucking eye." Celestino opened his mouth before being cut off. "Don't fucking bother Celestino." Pecco said, pushing Cele out and taking the key from bim. He slammed the door shut and locked the door, lying down on his bed, sobbing into his pillow.

The next day was awkward, nobody talking to each other. Pecco watched his younger brother slip into the kitchen, eyes looking down with guilt. He put his plate and the keys to his room on the counter and engulfed Cele in a hug. "I'm sorry." Celestino whispered, on the verge of tears. "I was just trying to help." Pecco kissed his forehead, "it's okay. I'm sorry for shouting at you." Cele sniffed as Pecco looked up to see Bez watching them. Pecco left go of Celin and gestured for Bez to follow him into his room.

Bez closed the door behind himself, the pair listening to the lock click into place. "We need to talk." Pecco said as he sat down on his bed, laying down. Bez lay down next to him. "He wasn't lying about any of it." Pecco closed his eyes at the confession. Bez's words flying over him and fluttering down onto his face. "I know." He replied as he stretched his hand out, pinky searching for Bez's. "What should we do?" Bez knocked his pinky against Pecco's. "What do you want?" Pecco asked. Bez huffed, interlocking their pinky fingers together.

"I want to kiss you."

Pecco opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Bez who was already looking at him earnestly. Something in Pecco stirred, something he didn't let himself think about. His blood felt hot and hand felt as if it was made of lead as he cupped Bez's face. Bez shuffled forwards, closing the space between them. They kissed, cautiously at first, exploring if this was right. Pecco pulled away, lips parted slightly as he looked at Bez. Bez had a starstruck look on his face that Pecco could only guess mirrored his own. Bez nodded and Pecco leaned in once more, this time a little harsher. Bez's hand snaked over Pecco's waist, sliding up his shier as Pecco's hand found itself down the back of Bez's trousers.

They continued kissing, pulling away for a split second and diving back in, unaware of their surroundings. The door opened, the key in Cele's hand as he barged in. "Papa says dinner is-" he stopped mid sentence, backing away from the pair and out the room, slamming the door shut with a scream.

[heartlilith]

WHAT THE VENUS SIGNS REMIND ME OF

🩷Oddly specific things I think about when I hear ______ venus

Aries Venus: Summer, rubies, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, rollercoasters, fast cars, the color red, vampire fangs, Saturday nights, liquor stores and gas stations, fireworks, sour candy, cool bic lighters, “you’re mine”, Mario Kart, boys who wear nail polish, fuck it energy, oversized sweatshirts, middle finger emoji, cherries

Taurus Venus: Satin pillowcases, white candles, pearls, mirrors, hand holding, walking someone home at night, vinyls, red lipstick, full lips, fancy dinner dates, the wine and dine, old romantic movies, wallets and purses, hotels, French manicures, old money, “I won’t get on my knees for no man”

Gemini Venus: Driving around at night listening to music, reading to someone, comedy shows, mimosas, Samantha from Sex and the City, libraries, nerd kink, hot teachers/student kink, emerald green, laughter, swing sets, looking out of the window and just watching, untied shoelaces, dogs and puppies, dad jokes

Cancer Venus: Soft feather pillows, a bowl of warm soup, a bubble bath, tears and running mascara, babies and how babies laugh, poetry, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be”, hot tubs, hot coffee, teddy bears, heartbeats, soft hands & skin, lotion, bagels and cream cheese, doodling in your journal

Leo Venus: Lip gloss, mojitos, getting drunk at brunch, diamond tennis bracelets, drunk texts you regret sending later, the block button, lonely nights, shooting stars, blowing bubbles, piggy back rides, art museums, glittery eyeshadow, jumparoos, birthday parties

Virgo Venus: Taking a shower, Dove soap, smooth skin, symmetry, butterflies, the smell of books, getting a facial or going to the spa, chicken caesar salads, the good tasting water, chunky headphones, acoustic guitar, running errands, getting your eyebrows done, neat handwriting, neutral colors, sushi

Libra Venus: Blush, dimples, Y2K fashion, Hello Kitty, makeup skills, those little hand mirrors, princes and princesses, cupcakes, pedicures, Margaritas, taking pictures, art, castles, Disney movies, daisies, spin the bottle, cartwheels, soft hair, bubblegum, skincare, watermelon and pineapple

Scorpio Venus: Psychology, neck tattoos, “until death do us part”, Kings & Queens, snakes, sacred sex, chess, secrets, hickeys, the feeling after you stay up all night, the feeling of being at a concert, roses, knives, tequila shots, legs intertwined, dirty martinis, sparklers, Avril Lavigne, fantasy books, true crime and dark history

Sagittarius Venus: Clouds, rock climbing, rappers, Hip Hop and R&B, going on vacation, açaí bowls and fresh fruit, sun kissed/radiant skin, the color yellow, retreats, history, yoga and Pilates, spicy food, “it is what it is”, curly hair, the smell of weed, casinos, the last day of school, Las Vegas

Capricorn Venus: Leather, red wine, the cow pattern, cowgirl boots, the color brown, espresso, dark chocolate, briefcase of money like in the movies, the movie Scarface, whiskey on the rocks, bosses, owls, turtle necks, caramel, wearing suits, lingerie, business, New York City

Aquarius Venus: Lightbulbs, telescopes and microscopes, LED lights, hamsters, college parties, glitter, peace signs, 70s concerts, food trucks, skipping school, “fuck it”, diving in the pool, the beach at night, disco balls, getting detentions in school

Pisces Venus: Mermaids, kittens, cartoons and Disney princesses, champagne, Webkinz, little kid stories like Goldilocks, 3 Little Pigs, Hansel and Gretel, clear glittery lip gloss, holographic, snowmen and icicles, swimming in the pool, flower gardens, glow sticks , picnics, bumblebees, sand castles, elementary art class, 3D movies

Book a Reading 🩷

Masterlist 🩷

[redr0sewrites]

Hi! I want to request number 17 with Jason Todd with a fem reader. Preferably nsfw and that it’s the reader who says it. Love your work!

🥀A/n: YEA OFC!! TYSM!!! sorry this took so long, schools been kicking my ass

🥀Prompt: "I wish you saw yourself the way that I see you"

🥀Word Count: 2.5k

🥀Cw: nsfw, teensy bit of angst in the beginning, praise kink, riding, handjob, oral (fem receiving) soft sex, fluff and smut, fem!reader

🥀minors dni

as Jason crawled through the window to your shared apartment, relief flooded his body at the fact that you were not only home, but awake. you were a night owl, and more often than not, you'd stay up and wait for him to return after a patrol. i just can't sleep without knowing your safe, you had whispered to him once.

it made Jason's heart ache that he worried you, especially on the rougher nights. tonight was definitely one of those. while it hadn't been physically brutal, his suit felt too tight, and his head was filled with panic and anxiety that only seeing you could quell. however, he didn't want to trouble you with his own fucked up issues- it was already hard for him to handle alone, and dumping it all on you only made him feel even more despicable. i'll only be making sure she's okay, he repeats to himself. its not selfish. i just need to see her.

you were in the kitchen, making yourself a late night snack- that you would hopefully get to share with Jason. at the familiar sound of his leather jacket being hung and his boots being tossed aside, you turn towards your lover. he was in the process of stripping off his gear, hands shaky and eyes clouded. he was robotic with his movements, and in all honesty, it scared you for his sake. you watched the way he harshly tugged at his skintight shirt for a few more seconds, before you approached him, keeping your movements steady.

"you okay, baby?" Jason's eyes snap towards you, freezing in the process of removing his clothing as he swallows hard.

"uh-huh, yea, tonight was just.. a lot," his voice cracks slightly, and he turns away. you reach for his face, and he flinches back, and you could swear that, if you focused hard enough, you could hear the sound of your own heart cracking into a billion tiny pieces. "i'm sorry," he whispers quietly. "i just need a minute.. i'll be in the bedroom."

"oh," you reply, swallowing dumbly. you were used to him breaking down like this, but you had been working on helping him to stop shutting you out. you got the feeling tonight was more than just a lot, and you wanted to hold him more than anything. you take a deep breath before handing him a plate of the food you had been making just moments prior. your careful not to brush his hands as you hand him the plate, and you can see that he notices the gesture with a small grimace.

"alright, but make sure to eat something before you fall asleep. i'll join you in a few minutes though, okay Jay?" Jason nods, taking the plate with shaking hands before returning to your bedroom. you sigh, storing the rest of the food for later and cleaning up just a bit before settling on returning to your room. the kitchen's cleanliness wasn't perfect, but you had more pressing matters at hand.

when you opened the door, Jason was sitting on the edge of your bed, eating quietly. he had changed into a hoodie and sweatpants that were almost baggy on his broad form, but not quite. his entire face lights up like a puppy when he sees you, hair rumpled and eyes wide.

"did you eat anything?" he asks, eyeing the lack of food in your hands. you curse, shaking your head. "i forgot to grab myself some, but i already refrigerated it. it's fine, i'll get some tomorrow." Jason's eyes narrow, and he offers some to you.

"you can have mine, i'm done."

"no, Jay, its fine-"

"i insist," he says stubbornly, and you can't help the little giggle that slips past your lips. "okay, okay." you take a spoonful in your mouth, swallowing hard and giving him a pointed look.

"happy now?"

Jason nods and cracks a half smile, the heavy look in his eyes fading just a bit. he moves the plate to the bedside table before opening his arms in a silent offer, which you gladly oblige. he buries himself in your chest as you wrap your arms around him, one hand sliding under his hoodie to rub his back while the other plays with the hair at the base of his neck.

"i missed you," he whispers, melting into your embrace.

"i missed you too, Jaybee. i love you so, so much," you don't slow your ministrations as you continue playing with his hair, even when Jason shudders below you.

"but.. why?"

"why what? why do i love you?" he nods, letting out a shaky breath, and your heart seizes for the second time tonight.

"Jay, why wouldn't i love you? you're beautiful, and so brave and strong, and you make me feel so safe. you know that, right?"

Jason lets out another breath, and his voice cracks as he speaks. "i- i just, you're so you, and i'm.. different. i came back wrong, a-and scared, and angry, like some- some fucking mutt or something. 'm just so afraid that i'll hurt you, o-or worse- someone else will," his admission is cut off by his own gasps as he struggles to keep himself from crying.

"oh, Jay, honey, i don't think any of those thinks. God, I wish you saw yourself the way that I see you. your so perfect, Jay, if only you'd let me show you." you lean down to kiss his forehead, and he nuzzles into your neck.

"i'm trying," he whispers, inhaling your scent. he wishes he could be one with you, that he could melt into your ribcage and stay intertwined with you like this forever. "i promise i'm trying. for you. for me. for us. i swear-" you cut him off by kissing him again, this time on the cheek. he blinks, lifting his head to look up at you and falling right into your trap. you kiss him again, this time with more fervor as you trace your lips over his jawline and up towards his nose, before leaning and kissing him on the lips.

"you don't have to try, Jay. i appreciate it, and i love how hard your working to improve yourself, but i never want you to feel as though you have to. i love you as you are," you whisper against his lips. "oh," he mumbles, pulling himself upwards to kiss you deeper. now balanced on his elbows, he cups your face, caging you in and kissing you even harder. you sigh into the kiss, and Jason moans softly as you subconsciously role your hips against his. you smile against his lips as his own hips grind softly against your thighs, mesmerized by the feeling of his growing hardness grinding against you.

you lay thicker on the praise, watching the effect your honey sweet words have on him.

"your so wonderful, so pretty and strong. will you let me show you just how much i love you, huh big boy?" you coo, and Jason's whole body shudders at your words. your hands travel down to his hips, sliding under his hoodie and toying with the hem.

"is this okay?" you ask, and Jason doesn't hesitate to nod. your hands travel up his atomach, running over his happy trail and you almost moan at the scratchy feeling. traveling higher, you grab one of his nipples in two fingers, rolling the nub gently and watching his eyes screw shut as his breathing picks up. your free hand tugs lightly on the hem of his hoodie.

"lets get these layers off, yea?" Jason nods, rolling to the side and laying flat on his back as you straddle him. "use your words, Jay," you tease, and Jason obliges.

"oh fuck- yea, yes,"

"yes what, honey?"

Jason sends you a slightly disgruntled glare, and you chuckle slightly. you can't help but compare him to a wet cat, all miffed and pouty.

"yes, you can take my clothes off."

"much better," you purr, and Jason huffs. his eyes never leave your face as you lift his hoodie over his head, and you admire just how broad he actually is. he's strong, body defined with muscle, but he still has a bit of tummy that makes you go absolutely feral. your eyes trail over his pecs, sliding down his stomach and vee line, finally catching sight of his thick happy trail leading down beneath his waistline. that sight alone makes you want to devour him, and you have to restrain yourself from absolutely jumping his bones lest you rush in too quickly.

"your staring.." he mumbles, and you giggle.

"your just so pretty, baby, can't help that i want to absolutely devour you." Jason rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush all the same.

"lets get these off, yea?" you tug at his waistband, pulling down his pants and boxers, freeing his cock. he's already half hard, precum pooling at his tip. you wrap your hands around his base, using your other hand to rub your thumb over his tip. Jason's whole body jerks, and he lets out a string of curses as you slowly jerk him off.

"im not gonna last like this," he hisses, hands flying to your wrist.

"good."

"i want to cum inside you," he pleads, and you sigh, unable to resist indulging him.

"fine, baby, but i'm gonna need to prep myself first," you warn, and Jason nods fervently. "can you sit on my face?" he asks bluntly, and you chuckle.

"yea, okay," you reply, smiling to yourself as his face erupts in delight. you immediately rid yourself of your clothes, giving him a little show as you strip into nothing but your panties. looking him in the eye, you slowly tease the waistband of your underwear, slipping it down your thighs as your free hand sensually cups your cunt. ridding yourself of your undergarments, you watch Jason fight to stay still as you spread your folds.

"don't tease," he whines, and you smirk. "you know i can't help it," you reply, and Jason groans. it isn't long before your positioned over his face, drooly cunt right above him as your thighs fill the same role as earmuffs. large, rough hands find purchase on your hips, tugging your cunt downwards.

"need you t'sit, ma," Jason mumbles, licking a fat stripe between your folds. you moan softly, rolling your hips against his face. "there she is," he drawls, one hand keeping your hips steady while the other begins to draw steady circles on your clit. "that's my girl".

his pace is unrelenting as he eats you out, licking and sucking between your folds like theres no tomorrow. his thumb never leaves your pearl, stimulating your clit so perfectly until your thighs are shaking. it isn't long before you feel your orgasm approaching, and you barely have time to warn him before it washes over you.

"o-oh, Jason, 'm gonna-" you gasp, rolling your hips even harder as his nose and finger nudges your clit. he hums something you can't make out against your pussy, and in seconds the cord in your stomach tightens as pure orgasmic bliss floods over you. Jason helps you ride out your high for a few more seconds, making out with your drooling pussy and soaking up all of your release. when you pull away, you worry you may have suffocated him from how tight he's gripping your thigh. the sight of him, cheeks flushed and eyes fuzzy with your slick covering his lips will probably be the hottest thing you ever experience. you let out a soft whine at the sight, and Jason grins.

"you sure you can make it another round?" he teases, and you scoff. "can you? mister i can't last like this..." Jason flushes slightly, hips jerking as you align his aching dick with your entrance.

"you ready honey?"

"yea," he murmurs, leaning back and watching you with lust filled eyes as you begin to sink down onto his cock.

Jason lets out a needy moan as your heat begins to engulf his length. your barely passed his tip when his hips lurch, and it takes incredible self control to keep himself from giving in and pushing his fat cock into your needy cunt. you flutter around him, adjusting to his size as his eyes screw shut.

"almost there," you mumble, thighs shaking as you clench around him. Jason lets out a wanton moan, squeezing your hips as your cunt swallows his shaft. when you finally reach the base, he lets out a pathetic whine, twitching inside you when you role your hips. his cock reaches sl deel inside you, and just grinding down against him makes you see stars. you begin to roll your hips, lifting yourself up and slamming down as you set a brutal pace. Jason mewls, hips bucking as tears form in the corner of his eyes.

"y-you're so good f'me baby, so good- can feel your fat cock all the way up here-" you drag his hand towards your stomach, where the impression of his dick can be felt beneath your abdomen.

"o-oh god-" Jason moans, eyes rolling back as his head gets all fuzzy with pleasure. his moans are borderline pornographic, and he lets out the cutest little ah ah ah's as you clench around him. you can tell neither of you are going to last much longer, and you somehow manage to increase your pace even more, lifting yourself up intil only his tip is still inside and grinding back down.

"s'too much!" Jason's voice slurrs, and you let out a breathy whine.

"yea, yea i know baby, y'so good f'me, making me feel s'good- gonna cum for me big boy? gonna make me proud?" Jason lets out a sob, chest heaving as his dick twitches from deep within your cunt.

"yes, yes please- wanna be good f'you, please please please-" he's cut off by a strangled moan as he cums, eyes rolling back and thighs trembling as you feel his seed fill your cunt. the feeling of him coming inside brings you to the edge, and you clench around him as you see stars. your orgasm lasts for a blissful few seconds, in which galaxies dance across your vision as Jason continues rolling his hips until your both mewling in overstimulation.

you collapse against him, chest heaving as he wraps his arms around you. the feeling of his warm skin against your own is so pleasant, and you couldn't possibly feel any more intertwined. he doesn't move to pull out, and neither do you, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of closeness. you fight hard against exhaustion, but you know it's a losing battle as it feels as though your eyelids are magically being weighed down.

"now do you know that i love you?" you mumble, kissing his neck. Jason hums, eyelids fluttering. "yea... i do."

"i love you s'much, Jay.." you whisper, feeling sleep overcome you.

"i love you too."

this is unproofread bc im lazy... sorry 😭 i've been fighting for my life in school im SO sorry i havent been posting as much- my classes and job r kicking my ass ngl but i WILL be trying to push through more of the 2k event requests !!!

[drabblesandimagines]

Crash

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship

The sidewalk feels cold beneath your thighs as you stare blankly into your lap, your breaths heavy, struggling through a tight chest. You’re sat cross-legged, like a child - the nice, elderly lady had encouraged you to sit down, said you were looking pale. She’d definitely meant for you to take a seat on the bench a few steps away, but you’d just dropped, seemingly forgetting how to get from standing to sitting in any sort of graceful manner.

She’d smiled sympathetically then, offered you some candy from the bottom of her purse – kept a stash in there for her grandchildren - said you needed sugar for the shock. But you’d shook your head, feeling sick at the notion of eating anything. She asked if there was anyone she could call whilst waiting for the first responders.

You’d put your hand in your jacket pocket for your phone at her question – relieved it’s in one piece, not smashed up like the hunk of metal just out of eyeshot. You don’t remember calling Leon’s number, but you must have because now your phone’s up against your ear.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He answers after only four rings, though his voice is hushed - maybe ducked out of the room to answer. “Can I call you back in 20? Just wrapping up something here.”

“I-crashed-the-car.” You blurt out, the words running into one another. It’s not technically true, you were crashed into but this seems easier for now.

“What?” His volume amps way up and your stomach twists with the change, unsure of the implications – is he mad? Upset?

You were borrowing his car. Yours was in the garage, the brake discs needed replaced and would take a couple of days to get the parts in. You’d planned to take city transport but Leon insisted you take his car - arguing it was winter, that it gets dark so early and the idea of you walking to and from the bus stop on your own isn’t one he wants to entertain. You don’t live in a terrible neighbourhood, but you don’t have to be for monsters to be roaming the streets, after all. Plus, it made sense for him to ride his bike to HQ whilst you borrowed his SUV and he wouldn’t have to worry, have one less thing on his plate… ..or so had been the idea. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m so sorry,” you don’t even take in his questions, really. “They came out of nowhere and…“ Your breath hitches in your throat, a sob building up and threatening to overflow.

“Baby,” his tone is firm, “are you hurt?”

You can hear his shoes slapping against the floor as he begins to run, though it sounds too hard a sole for his boots... No, that’s right, he went out in a suit this morning – leather jacket on top, motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, still made the whole ensemble look good albeit it being mismatched.

“No…” That’s not true - there’s blood, and it has to be yours, but you feel numb of any sort of pain. “I don’t know.“ Your voice cracks again. “That’s okay,” he soothes, barging through a door with his shoulder. “We’ll work it out.” Nearly takes a woman out the other side with how hard the door slams against the wall, mutters half an apology as he darts around her. “Are you still in the car?” You turn to look at Leon’s black SUV laying on its side, the under carriage on full display – not the way a car should be. The driver’s side is against the concrete. You’d climbed out the passenger side, somehow, having to fight gravity itself to get the door to open, clambered up and over the leather seats. Should you have done that, or should you have stayed put? You’d just wanted out from the metal box – the windscreen was a spiderweb of cracks, creaking like it would explode in shards at any moment. “N-no, I’m on the sidewalk.”

“Okay, good. Ambulance on its way?” He’s reached the elevator, mashes the down button like it will make it accelerate to his floor any faster than usual. He feels awful that he’s interrogating you, but his training has kicked in - gather as much intel as possible – and he needs the facts.

“Yeah. Police too.” A few cars had stopped after. Someone said they were calling 911, another saying they got some of the license plate, the old lady and her purse full of candy. The other car drove off, tyres burnt with how fast they fled the scene.

“Good. That’s good, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay. Can you tell me where you are? What street you’re on?”

“Erm…” You look round, but in the shock nothing looks familiar, though it must be a route you’d driven down hundreds of times before. “I was on the way home from work, so, I’m, erm…”

“That’s all right.” He can hear the tightness in your voice, knows you’re not thinking clearly and so he changes tact. “Is anyone nearby that you could ask?” He hits the elevator button again, swears it’s been on floor 12 for far longer than necessary. Come on.

The elderly lady comes back to mind – she must’ve stepped back to give you privacy when you’d pulled your phone out. “There’s someone.”

“Great. Can you ask them where you are?”

“Yeah…” You pull the phone down from your ear, looking around to find she’s not gone far at all, hovering a few metres away. “Excuse me, where are we? Sorry.” The apology slips out, feeling more of a nuisance to her than you’d already been.

“16th Street, dearie.” She smiles, keeps her tone gentle. “Just near Jack’s Groceries.”

The elevator finally arrives – empty - and Leon positions himself between the doors, aware that his reception might drop when he starts to head down to the garage and he can’t leave you on a dial tone.

“Thank you.” You force a smile in return, hold the phone back up to your ear. “16th Street, near the grocery store, Jack’s - it’s the one with those chips you like?”

He smiles at that – it’s not your usual place to shop, but you go there sometimes to pick them up for him ‘just cos’. “I’m on my way, sweetheart. Can you call or text me if you go anywhere else?”

“Y-yeah.” You take another shuddering breath, dig your nails into the palm of your hand. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

He steps into the elevator fully, double taps the button for the garage before assaulting another to close the doors. He hopes no-one tries to grab it on the way down, cos he won’t be able to hide his irritation.

“Nothing to apologize for. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

“See you soon.”

He hears the beep, signaling the call is cut off and takes a grounding breath, though his foot taps impatiently as the elevator continues to descend. He scrolls down his contacts, thumb poised to dial as soon as the doors open again.

“Leon,” Hunnigan sounds surprised to receive his call, probably cos he’s in the same building as her and usually swung by the office if he was after something. “To wha-“

“I need a car.” He cuts across her, heading over to where the company vehicles are kept. “Any car - I’m in the garage already.”

“Right. Why?” He feels a smidge of relief when he hears her begin to type.

“Please - just give me anything. I don’t care what, I just need to go.”

There’s the clunk of a lock down the line of vehicles, a black estate vehicle’s lights flashing. “Bay C3. Keys in the sun visor as usual. Tell me later.”

“I will. Thank you.”

 --

Leon drives a little faster than he should, but it still feels like hours until he reaches his destination. There’s a couple of cop cars blocking one of the lanes, red and blues flashing, an officer stood diverting traffic around the closure and another manning the perimeter. He pulls up behind the cars and hops out, scanning for you.

There’s an ambulance parked up in the lane and his heart skips a beat when he sees you sat on the steps, a cop on one side, a paramedic waiting behind in the wings. There’s one of those silver foil emergency blankets draped around your shoulders and you look so goddamn small.

He starts to jog over, intent on getting to your side as soon as possible, when the cop manning the perimeter sidesteps in front of him, holding his hands up to get him to stop.

“Sir, I need you to stay ba-“

Leon flashes his ID in his face – it’s not something he likes to do and so he rarely does it, but he doesn’t have time to put on the charm. “Agent Leon Kennedy. That’s my girlfriend over there – I need to get through.”

The cop steps back and Leon feels weirdly grateful for once for the DSO.

As he gets closer, his eyes narrow at the fact that they’re making you blow into a breathalyzer. He clenches his fist then - you’re bleeding and they’re accusing you of drink-driving?! He wants to give them what for, but then he sees the way you’re shaking and knows him storming into the scene ready to blow is not going to help, especially with how apologetic you’d been on the phone.

He forces himself to stop a moment and breathes deeply again. You’re shook up, but you’re in one piece, conscious and that’s the most important thing.

“Thank you, ma’am.” The officer nods, noting down the reading as Leon walks over, catching the tail-end of the conversation. “Nothing to worry about there. I’ll just go update the control room – it won’t be long.”

“Leon,” you stand abruptly at the sight of him as the cop steps off to the side and the foil blanket slips off your shoulders, gauze taped on multiple parts of your arms. You’re trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come here,” Leon wraps his arms around you, coaxing you into his chest. He wants to squeeze tight, to confirm what he’s seen with his eyes, that you’re real and whole, but he doesn’t want to aggravate any injuries so he’s careful, pressing a kiss to your crown. “Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not, but maybe if you say it to Leon it’ll make it real. There’s a horrible burning sensation in your chest. You want to cry, but not here, not in front of everyone.

“Sorry, ma’am, can I get you to take a seat again?” The paramedic interrupts, emergency blanket back in hand. “I won’t be long, sir. I just need to check a couple more things.”

“No, of course.” He presses another kiss to your forehead and guides you back to the steps, encouraging you to sit and takes the blanket from the paramedic’s hand to drape back over you. “I’ll be right over there, okay? I’m just gonna go have a word with the officer.”

“Okay, yeah.”

He steps aside so the paramedic can move in and waits for the officer to come off the radio, approaching and offering his hand. “Leon Kennedy. I’m her boyfriend.”

“I gathered.” He shakes it. “Officer Jacobs. It was your car she was driving?”

“Mm-hm.” He keeps half an eye on you as he sees the paramedic shine a flashlight in your eyes, getting you to follow his finger. “What happened?”

The cop consults his notepad, flipping through his notes. “A witness stated another SUV-type vehicle went through the red light at some speed. Said it had been driving erratically for a while, so I’m figuring drunk-driver. T-boned, sent your SUV spinning and flipped onto its side after it collided with the lamp-post. The other vehicle stopped for five seconds or so, then gunned it. I’ve got dispatch sending a description out for the highway patrols. Partial registration but it’s gonna have damage, I’m sure, so should be easy to spot if it’s still in transit.”

Leon swallows, taking all the information in.

“How lucky do you think she was?”

“Truthfully,” the cop scratches his day-old stubble, looking between the SUV and you, “I think if she’d been in a different car than that, we’d be having a very different and difficult conversation right now.”

Leon’s fists clench. He’s encountered unspeakable horrors too often in his time, but the idea that some drunken jerk could just get behind the wheel and end your life is more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced. His thoughts swirl down a dangerous drain - wonders if Hunnigan can grab the partial registration from the cops, run it through her software and find the culprit, or trawl the CCTV cameras for a screengrab. He’d show up at their door, or maybe wait for them in the parking lot, revving his own engine, scare them the way they’ve traumatized you and-

“Sir?”

The thought extinguishes as he realizes the cop is offering him a slip of paper.

“Case number. We’ve got her details and we’ll be in touch if we hear anything, but just in case either of you want to follow anything up.”

“Got it.” He nods, taking it and popping it into his wallet. “Thanks.”

--

Leon wants to take you straight home – he’s got a substantial first aid kit there that’ll do the trick on the cuts that need stitching – but, honestly, you need a proper check-up and only the emergency room will do.

You’d required a few stitches from where you’d been caught by the glass from the driver’s window and bruises had started to develop, specially from where the seatbelt had jerked at the impact, but the overall prognosis was positive – you’d be sore for a few weeks, that was for sure, but armed with some painkillers and some rest, you’d be fine.

Leon doesn’t think he’s ever driven quite so carefully the way he drove to and from the emergency room. Not that will help against other assholes on the road, but he’ll be damned if he does anything that means he has to slam on the brakes and give you a fright. You’ve been silent most of the time – silent on the drive, silent in the waiting room, answering the doctor’s questions in a quiet, unsure voice, and then silent again on the drive home. He’d placed a cautious hand on your knee, squeezing it in reassurance, meaning to draw it away but you’d placed your hand on top of it, looping your fingers through his.

He pulls into the parking lot, gives your hand one last squeeze and hops out, dashing around so he can help you out the vehicle. Leon can read you like a book, he knows you’re holding it together until you get inside – you know you are too.

The elevator is mercifully sat on the ground floor when the two of you enter the lobby and Leon keeps you close as you ride up to the 12th floor and the safety of the apartment.

“Can we sit?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” He sits down on the sofa first and you drop yourself down onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s only a second before you burrow your head under his chin and, with a heaving breath, finally let out a proper sob - releasing everything you’ve held in for the last few hours. You feel stupid, annoyed, frightened, sore, relieved – too many emotions to keep track of.

He wraps his arms around you in turn, pressing a long kiss to your temple, tears burning at his own eyes.

In that moment, it hits Leon in the gut that he doesn’t know what he’d do without you, what he would have done if you hadn’t come home that night. If he’d have to come back to the apartment and not find your shoes kicked off at the door at the end of the long day, the glass with the lipstick smear on the rim near the sink from the water you’d gulp down greedily whilst making dinner.  It’s not like he takes you for granted by any means. He feels lucky every morning when he gets to wake up next to you in bed, and every night when he climbs back in, wrapping his arms around you. He’ll never let the two of you go to sleep or part ways if you’ve had harsh words or a full blown argument as all couples do, not with the risk his line of work brings, the threat that he could be called away in the middle of the night and have to bid goodbye to a turned back.

He rubs his hand gently up and down your back then, tears silently rolling down his face as he takes you all in, relishes your warmth as he cradles you in his lap.

“I’m so sorry.” You hiccup, your sobs eventually ceasing into sniffles, but still you kept your face pressed into his chest, seeking the comfort of his smell – the faint cologne and natural musk that was so uniquely Leon.

“You did nothing wrong, you hear me?” He mumbles into your crown. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Is the car a complete write-off?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” He gently lifts your left hand, presses a kiss across your knuckles. “I love you, baby. So much.”

“Love you too.”  

The day after the next – he negotiated a personal day to spend doting on you, breakfast in bed, cuddles on the sofa, takeaway for dinner – Leon goes out and buys a ring.

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[sayyestoheav3nn]

Nights Like This: Part One

Roman x black!oc

Warnings: language, fluff, smut

Word count: 2.2k

a/n: this was originally planned as a one shot, but i’m indecisive as hell, so i guess we’ll see 👀. also, tiny reminder but this is my first time writing fan fiction/ smut, so please go easy on me guys 😭

Zoe can’t fathom a better way of spending her birthday, this is truly all she could ever ask for. While she’ll never understand how she got so lucky to have Roman in her life in the first place, words can’t even begin to describe what this man means to her. Zoe in no shape or form is a materialistic person, yet somehow every year Roman manages to go all out and spoil her with shit she doesn’t need, but is still extremely grateful for.

And while this amazing day of shopping and sightseeing in Colorado is coming to an end, she’s exhausted and more than excited to get back to the hotel and gain some energy back before going out to dinner. She try’s her absolute best to ignore the fact that her feet feel worn out and in immense pain, her pride won’t allow her to show it, so she decides to keep it to herself. Especially, since Roman’s know-it-all ass told her not to wear boots with heels in the first place, but, she hates being wrong and would rather die than give him that satisfaction.

The walk to the car felt fucking eternal, Zoe couldn’t help but to sigh in relief once she was finally able to sit down. After Roman cut on the engine, he took a minute to study her, letting out a small chuckle, “I know you’re in pain baby, you don’t gotta hide it.” She immediately shot a glare at him, and rolled her eyes, “I’m not in pain, just tired.”

“You sure about that?, because when you came out of the bathroom earlier, I could’ve sworn it looked like you were limping…”, he teased. Zoe’s mouth dropped, and she playfully slapped his shoulder.

“First of all, I wasn’t limping. I was just very inspired by that Katt Williams show we watched, and decided to practice my own pimp walk…”

He couldn’t help but to let out a loud chuckle and defeatedly threw his hands in the air, “Oh so that’s what we’re doing huh?” One of the many things that Roman loves about Zoe, is her sense of humor. No matter what mood he was in, or what he was going through, she never failed to make him laugh. Roman knew her stubborn ass was lying through her teeth, but it was her birthday after all, so he decided to let it go and let her have this win.

The drive back was over an hour long, and while the beginning of the car ride was full of conversation and laughter between the two, the heater made Zoe feel extremely warm and cozy, which ended in her falling asleep.

When they finally arrived to the hotel, Roman gently ran his fingers through her hair, swiping some behind her ear, hoping he would wake her up without startling her, “We’re here, baby.”

“Shit, I don’t even remember dozing off,” she muttered. Roman smiled at her and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I’m tired too, let’s go take a nap.” Damn this man knows the key to her heart, she will never deny herself an opportunity of taking a good ass nap.

They eventually make it back to their hotel room, and as they are about to unlock their door, the fucking hotel key card starts glitching again. After multiple failed attempts, and seeing red blinks over and over again, they eventually were able to get in.

The first thing Zoe does when she makes it in the suite, is kick her stupid ass boots off. There is nothing she wants more in this moment than getting out of this outfit. As she’s digging through the drawer trying to find some comfortable clothes to change into, she suddenly feels his warm chest press against her back. He slowly wraps his big arms around her waist, his tall frame now towering over her. She couldn’t help but to let out a soft moan when she felt his breath on her neck, his prickly beard making his was down her collarbone, his soft lips showering her with gentle kisses. Her knees were growing weaker by the second, but as good as this felt, she wanted to talk to him first.

“Thank you, Roman,” she says, and before he starts to tell her she doesn’t need to thank him, like he always does she rushes and cuts him off. “Even though you never listen to me when I say I don’t need anything, the effort you make truly means to the world to me. I just wish you’d let me do the same for you.”

Roman turns her around to face him, he uses his thumb and index finger to gently guide her face to look at him. “Zo, I don’t need anything , I just need you. I need you to understand that there is no me without you. As long as I have you, there ain’t shit else I’ll ever want, or need.”

Zoe knows how Roman feels about her, but it’s something about hearing him express it, that makes her tear up. She grabs his face, pulling him in by his beard and kisses him. “I love you, baby.” He puts his hand on the small of her back and presses her towards him. “I love you more, but we should go take this nap before your ass gets cranky.”

…………..

Zoe was the first to wake up, seeing he was still in a deep sleep, she decided to quietly step away and take off her makeup that she shouldn’t have slept with in the first place.

As soon as she stepped out the bathroom and glanced towards the bed, she saw he was awake. Roman looked at her and gave that mischievous ass grin he gives when he's about to be on demon time. “Come here,” he motioned her over with his fingers, his hair was now resting on his shoulders fully out of his bun. His voice was groggy as hell from just waking up, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit how extremely turned on she was.

She wasted no time and climbed on top of his hulking body, straddling him and almost immediately feeling his erection through the thin fabric of her pants. “Looks like someone is excited to me,” she chuckled. “Baby, i’m always excited to see you,” he whispered, while lightly squeezing her ass. She began to kiss his jaw and slowly made her way down to his neck, making a trail down his chest and abs. As she started to reach for the hemline of his boxers, he flipped her over so that he was now on top of her.

“Nah baby, let me take care of you,” he growled. Before she could protest, Roman got up, took off his shirt and walked towards the foot of the bed. This had her slightly confused, but before she could ask why he got up, he grabbed her by the thighs and slid her down to the edge of the bed. His fingers gripped the top of her pants and underwear, she watched him as he eagerly pulled them down. Propping herself on her elbows, she was now staring at his hair draped over his tan broad shoulders.

Roman’s warm breath over her exposed pussy, made her more soaked than she already was. He teased his finger up and down her wet lips, causing her to instantly moan. “Mmm, daddy please.” She started to grip the back of his head when he stuck two fingers in, her hips subconsciously bucking forward once he started to curl them towards her g spot.

“Please what, baby?,” he groaned and started to pick up the pace, her pussy already dripping and squelching for him. “mmm p-please eat my pussy,” she whimpered.

“Anything you want baby, doesn’t daddy always make you feel good?” Roman flattened his tongue on her needy clit, and started licking and sucking on her essence. “You taste so fucking good baby.” Her panting becomes heavier and heavier as he feasted on her, almost as if he was starving. The combination of him eating her out and fingering her while hitting that spot, had her on the edge of coming.

“f-fuck baby i’m gonna come.” Her pussy was clenching around his fingers, he could feel it. “Come for me, right on my tongue baby,” he used his free hand to grip her thigh and bring her even closer.

Zoe, felt like she was on another fucking planet. As he brung her even closer, she used her grip on his head and started to grind her pussy against his face. “Just like that baby, give it to me,” he moaned. She let out a loud scream as her orgasm took over, her body jerked as Roman kept devouring her pussy while she rode her orgasm out.

“Such a good girl, baby.” He made his way back on top of her, and gave her a sloppy sensual kiss. Tasting herself on his tongue, made her want to come all over again.

While Zoe was catching her breath, still recovering from her earth shattering orgasm, Roman got up and brung her a rag from the bathroom and helped her clean herself. She watched him, eyeing his God like physique that she’s convinced she’ll never get used to.

Roman stood up and kissed her temple, “I’m gonna be on the balcony for an hour or so baby, I’m behind some meetings, so I gotta go make some calls.”

“That’s okay, I have some emails I gotta catch up on too.” As Roman heads out the back door, Zoe goes to sit at the desk in the corner of the suite and starts to catch up on some work emails that she’s been ignoring. Not even 15 minutes in, and she’s already bored out of her mind. She closes her laptop and decides to do something productive. Other than actual work of course, because that’s obviously boring as hell.

Boom. An idea hits her. Zoe decides that she is going downstairs to talk to the hotel receptionist, and ask if they can do something about their annoying ass key card that barely fucking works. She starts by tearing the room apart looking everywhere she can think of. Roman was the last person that had it, and as much as she’d like to ask him, she knows she can’t bother him during his important meetings.

The first place she thinks to check is his wallet, when she sees it’s not there she moves on to the next spot, which was the drawers next to his side of the bed. Fail. Shits not there either, and after scrummaging around the whole suite for damn near twenty minutes, she was thinking of giving up. And that’s when her memory hits. His fucking duffle bag. Roman tends to work out twice a day, and lately he’s been making sure to put the key card in his duffle bag before he leaves, simply because his over dramatic self can’t seem to let go of that one time he forgot it, and Zoe had slept through his phone calls and loud ass knocks.

Zoe goes to grab the duffle bag from the closet and opens it, she unzips the small pouch in the inside and immediately spotted the key card, she couldn’t help but to let out a small sigh of relief. As she goes to pull it out, something falls out and she hears a small thud. Looking down, shiny gold wrappers immediately catch her eye. She bends down and examines what turns out to be, two magnum condoms that are now on the floor.

Her mind starts racing, and she immediately begins to go through his bag. As she starts to pull his clothes out, she stumbles across an empty condom wrapper that had clearly been used. What the fuck. In this exact moment Zoe felt her heart drop in her fucking stomach, her eyes instantly becoming watery. She has been with Roman for over two years, and not once have they ever used a fucking condom. And it’s in remembering this specific fact, that sends her into full panic. She starts crying uncontrollably not knowing what to do, as much as she would like to go outside and confront his lying ass, the thought of having to look at him makes her sick to her fucking stomach. Who the fuck is he using these on?

Her chest starts to feel tight, and she knows she needs to leave before he comes back inside. Zoe puts on her coat and grabs her purse, throwing her phone inside it. She runs out of the room and gets on the nearest elevator as fast as she can. Once she makes it to the main lobby, she beelines outside and manages to get a taxi within five minutes. She quickly put her phone on silent, knowing Roman would call and text her nonstop once he realized she was gone.

Zoe doesn’t even have a sliver of an idea on what the hell she was going to do. The only thing she knew in this exact moment, was the fact that she had to get the fuck out of here, and fast.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

All-American Girl - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's every part the doting dad to your daughter Tatum, but after talking to some of the other wives on base in your mom's group, you're worried he may be hiding his true feelings about fatherhood.

A/N: not me procrastinating and adding to my country music series instead of literally anything else on my list. here's sickeningly sweet bradley as a girl dad fluff based off All-American Girl by Carrie Underwood.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x wife!reader

content/warnings: sickeningly sweet fluff, Bradley as a girl dad, mentions of sexism.

word count: 1.4k

Now he's wrapped around her finger, she's the center of his whole world And his heart belongs to that sweet little beautiful, wonderful, perfect all-American girl

Bradley groaned as he jogged up the front steps, his boots heavy against the brick as he walked up the veranda to the front door. An American flag flapped in the breeze, the pole nestled in the stand attached to the pillar on the front of the house, the mid-afternoon sun striking the front yard, basking over the dozens of plants and greenery that were planted there. Bradley kicked his boots off the moment he crossed the entryway, stacking them neatly by the door. He started unzipping his flight suit, his tanned skin slicked with sweat from the training exercises he’d completed earlier that day. He thought about the list of things he wanted to do before he settled in for the night with you - a shower was the first priority at this point. 

Peeling the olive green suit off his skin, he discarded it in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. His white t-shirt and boxers followed suit, along with the thick, military issued socks. He’d plan on washing those tonight after dinner. He padded along the hallway to the bathroom, his balls of his feet sticking to the cherry wood flooring. The cool water flowing from the shower head was a refreshing comfort compared to how warm he was earlier, he contemplated asking for a transfer to somewhere colder after today - the hot Pacific coast sun was brutal, and despite having lived in California for a few years now, Bradley hadn’t adjusted. Not that Virginia Beach had been much cooler - at least, not in the summer, but it wasn’t as consistently warm as it was on the west coast. 

As Bradley stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a plush, lavender coloured towel around his waist. Shaking his caramel coloured curls dry, he approached the vanity, reaching for the pomade - the same brand he’d been using to tame his hair since he was 14. His mom had taught him that trick - using a styling pomade to keep his curls intact, but less wild than they would be left to their own devices. Part of him wondered if he just never changed brands because it was the one she’d suggested for him, one of the last happy memories of his mother that he had clung to for the last 26 years. 

“Bradley? I’m home!” you called out from the bottom of the stairs, having seen Bradley’s vintage Ford Bronco parked in the driveway. 

“Upstairs, honey!” He yelled back, his deep voice echoing throughout the empty house. 

He quickly pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a fresh, white t-shirt, grabbing his favourite floral print button-down on his way down the stairs. He beamed at you, leaning in to give you a loving peck on the cheek. He knelt down in front of the car seat you’d placed on the floor, smiling softly at his infant daughter as she stretched and yawned, waking up from the nap she’d taken on the car ride home. 

“Good mornin’ sunshine! How’s my girl?”

Bradley held his index finger out to baby Tatum, smiling as she gripped it tightly in her hand. He began unbuckling her harness with his free hand as he spoke to her.

“Did you have a fun day with Mama? What did you do, princess? You and your mama go shopping for some new clothes, baby girl?” 

Tatum let out a happy sigh as Bradley scooped her up in his arms, holding her close to his chest. He leaned his head down to kiss her forehead, his hand moving up and down her back in soft, slow, gentle strokes as he cuddled his baby. He took a seat on the couch, leaning back slightly so Tatum could recline on his chest. He smiled up at you, waiting patiently for you to start showing off the different outfits you’d purchased for Tatum. He’d always sworn that he’d never be the type of father who’d dismiss things he wasn’t interested in - whether it was baby clothes, or ballet, baby and me classes or going for walks around the neighborhood with her - he’d always try his best to be into it. It’s how his mom described his father - always interested in anything to do with Bradley when he was little. 

You delicately sifted through the array of dresses and outfits, each garment infused with your hopes and dreams for little Tatum. With tender affection, you recounted where and when you had acquired each piece, your voice tinged with a blend of excitement and maternal pride. Tatum slumbered peacefully, her soft breaths creating a gentle rhythm against Bradley's shoulder, while you poured your heart into sharing your plans for her future attire.

As the last dress found its place, you sank onto the couch beside Bradley, seeking solace in his comforting presence. Nestling into his side, you felt the warmth of his embrace envelop you, his arm offering both physical and emotional support.

“Are you happy?” you murmured softly, a trace of uncertainty lacing your words as you chewed anxiously at your bottom lip. 

A flicker of confusion danced across Bradley's features before he met your gaze with unwavering reassurance.

“Of course I’m happy, why would you ask that?”

“It’s silly,” you sighed, a moment of vulnerability surfacing before you continued, meeting Bradley’s brown-eyed gaze as you spoke, “It’s just that…you know how I took Tatum to that mommy and me group?”

"Mhmm, every Wednesday," Bradley affirmed, his attention fully focused on you.

“Right! That one. Well…one of the moms was saying how she was so thankful her baby was a boy, because her husband wanted a boy really badly and she didn’t want him to be upset if he didn’t get what he wanted…”

Bradley's brow furrowed with concern as he gently kissed Tatum's forehead, a protective gesture that spoke volumes.

“Babe, he sounds like a dick,” Bradley interjected, shaking his head as he gently kissed Tatum’s forehead again. 

“I’m not finished yet!” You said as you held your hand up. “So anyways, she said that, and a lot of the other moms started talking and saying how their husbands were disappointed when they had girls or relieved when they had sons, and then they said how lucky I was that you were happy with a girl. The one of them said her husband pretended to be, but then he was totally different and genuinely happy when they had a boy next.” 

“And you think I’m doing that?” Bradley queried as he tilted his head to the side, looking at you. 

“Well, no, but…would you tell me if you’d wanted a son instead?”

The corner of Bradley's mouth lifted in a soft smile, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. "No," he replied emphatically, shaking his head. “Because I’ve never wanted a son instead of Tatum. Not once.”

“You haven’t?” You said as relief washed over you, Bradley's words washing away any lingering doubts.

“Not for a second. I’ve wanted Tatum from the minute you told me you were pregnant - I never really gave a shit whether she was a boy or a girl. She’s mine and that’s all I care about. It just happened to turn out that she’s the second Bradshaw girl around here to steal my heart, after her mama.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm, you know that song, the one where she says about how her daddy was praying for a boy, but got a girl instead and she was wrapped around his finger? Then she grows up and  asks her husband one day what he wants, and he says he just wants a sweet, beautiful All-American girl like his wife?”

“Yeah, I know it,” You laugh softly as Bradley begins to hum the tune of the song, singing it softly as he looks down at Tatum.

“That’s exactly how I felt when you told me you were having a girl. I just wanted a beautiful little baby who looked just like you, and that’s exactly what I got. Now I have two beautiful girls who love me more than anything, and I would move mountains for the pair of you. We could have twelve girls for all I care - I’d love every single one of them just as much as I love you.”

[raggedytiger]

ragatha/agatha and pomni/penny human hcs!

(r)agatha:

is an english teacher!

yes she still loves horses. she used to ride them, & she loves old western movies.

owns cowboy hat and boots.

analytical and loves long & winding conversations.

has a very happy cat named sandwich.

patches her own clothes, doesn't have kids but if she did she would embroider their names into their belongings.

she still plays cello, she loves music in general, probably sings like an angel.

can't do any mathematics.

can drive, but like a lunatic. somehow has never had an accident though, so it's fine.

probably has a cute little baby blue/yellow car now, but definitely had a beat up offroader truck at some point that got put to good use. or maybe she still does, i'm not the boss.

total lesbian, a bit of a heartbreaker but not intentionally (women just keep falling for her)

goes to town/neighbourhood/community meetings. likely is/was in a knitting circle

absurd number of quilts in her home

pomni/penny:

is an accountant as we know, and cannot cook for shit as we know.

no pets she can barely take herself for walks. is more similar to a cat, but had a dog growing up. would love a collie or a dalmatian probably.

would name the dog something stupid like Thermometer Johnson.

she can drive, but nervously.

really quick thinker, like impressively, unless she's under HUGE amounts of stress. is literally always thinking at 100mph.

no sense of interior decor or personal style. all practical, kind of butch. really does kill a suit.

very much lesbian but not fully to terms with it. probably had short-lived relationships with men in which she was 'content' but didn't really care for it. seeing agatha as agatha for the first time was probably a crazy punch to her little gay heart. not to mention the cowboy gear.

autistic

watches 90s anime to wind down

listens to every single genre of music. passes a lot of time with headphones in, slowly making her way thru the entire world's discography

owns no band merch or anything though she just listens

can't sleep without a fan on, thunderstorm 12hr audio, blackout curtains, weighted blanket, water nearby

does not sleep a lot

both of them (going to call them pomni and ragatha for convenience):

didn't immediately recognise one another. i havent got an exact idea of how they reunited after getting out, but there were tears.

bonded in a very rare and unique way - they got to revel in the newfound joys of real life again. they got to eat delicious food, go on long, unobstructed walks in the real sun, be warmed by it, chew on ice cubes and shiver at the pain, listen to each other's heartbeats, listen to real music, read real books, smell soaps and flowers and sauces. they went to the supermarket together and read all the labels, and bought one of each type of fruit to try between them, and smelled all the candles, and touched all the blankets. spent a lot of time holding hands and kissing and i'm sorry to say, probably having sex, because holy shit, i'm real, you're real, we're real

now live together in ragatha's apartment, after pomni moved out of her small and confusingly-furnished flat.

both of them feel inadequate from time to time. this is resolved by a stern-but-loving talking-to.

sandwich likes pomni very much. pomni doesn't really get cats, but loves sandwich a great deal, and enjoys letting her sleep on her lap.

ragatha is very pleased to see her girls getting along.

ragatha cooks, pomni chops the veg. she often doesn't fuck it up

pomni cleans a lot as a 'thank you for letting me live here, i love you'. she's very much acts of service, ragatha is words & physical touch <3

they watch a lot of movies together. depending on how long they've been stuck, they might have culture to catch up on

ragatha wants to have a house with a garden one day. pomni starts germinating seeds from their fruit & veg like a weird science experiment. ragatha is delighted when she is presented with a baby tomato plant.

clothes are shared. ragatha's are bigger, but most of pomni's are ill-fitting anyway so it can go both ways. ragatha likes to dress pomni up in different outfits and have her do a little fashion show. pomni pretends not to savour the confidence boost.

pomni starts sleeping more

[artyandink]

whiskey, baby

SUMMARY: Dean’s no longer a demon, and in order to deal with the horrors of all that he’s said and done he retreated into his own shell. Drowning himself in whiskey and his own problems because that’s all there’s left to do. Then there’s you, his demon self’s esteemed fuck buddy, who comes up with a two step plan to feeling good, only for a little while. Step 1? Let you take the reins. Step 2? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

TW: MOC!Dean, angst, demon trauma, post demon!Dean, Reader’s not a stone cold bitch and actually worries about Dean in this but in her own weird way, Dean doesn’t hate her for an odd reason, smut

STW: switch!Dean, riding, oral (m + f receiving), temperature + whiskey play, lipstick play (does it count?), marking, switch!reader, thigh riding (brief), pussydrunk!Dean, fingering, face sitting, ass slapping, thigh slapping, slight overstimulation, ring kink implied, major praise kink, dirty talk, damage of clothes, vocal Dean, threat of exhibitionism

A/N: Yes, this is a sequel to lipstick, baby, and you guys can make the comparison between Dean as a demon during the smutty parts and Dean post demon and more aware. Hope you enjoy!

NOW PLAYING: RIVER - BISHOP BRIGGS

Dean felt kinda empty, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. Being a demon didn’t suit him at all, and now that it was over he was left to deal with the reality of it all. The killing, punching people’s lights out, hurting Sammy, hurting in general— he hated it with every fibre of his fucking being.

“Fuck.” Dean growled under his breath, staring at himself in the mirror and finding he just couldn’t damn do it, looking away after barely five seconds because holy hell, he wanted to smash the mirror in just to please the Mark throbbing on the skin of his forearm. “Shut up, why don’t you, you… I don’t even know what you are.” He hissed at the Mark, but it didn’t shut up or stop pulsing.

The bunker door being banged on drew his attention away from his own flaws - thank God, if the bastard even existed - and prompted Dean to walk out of his bathroom, grunting an affirmation that yes, he was coming to whoever was behind the door.

When he wrenched it open with an expression that looked like the human equivalent of a ticked off chihuahua, he saw… you. Oh, fuck, oh, shit, you. The woman that he as a demon had incredible sexual escapades that may or may not have been the star of his dreams for weeks on end after the whole demon thing got cured. Pouring the whiskey on your body, you riding him till you both were spent— it felt almost lucid.

“You.” Dean murmured hoarsely, his throat feeling dry upon the sight of you and your gorgeous, sexy self. Today you were in denim shorts and fishnet tights - of course you were in something that made his senses go wild - with the same red plaid that was buttoned up this time, tucked in and the sleeves rolled to your elbows.

He kind of felt a little out of place. Out of place in his own home— that’s the kind of effect you had.

“Gee, how enthusiastic.” You drawled, leaning against the doorframe, brown paper bag clutched in one hand. “I really thought you’d be more inclined to see me, Dean, I’m partially offended.” You gave him a cheeky smirk, then grasped what was in the bag, showing him the neck of a bottle of Jack.

Oh. That changes things.

Dean’s lip twitched up at the sight, warming up to you like he would when drinking the good stuff. Then again, he knew that deep in that roughed up heart of his, he had a soft spot for you in particular. “That’s my girl.” He took the bottle, examining it with a chuckle as he let you inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“So, Dean, how’ve you been?” You asked, following behind him, your boots clicking on the tile of the bunker’s floor. You looked around, pouting in approval at what you saw. Place was damn impressive. But you were also perceptive to Dean. The way he clutched that bottle like a vice, the slight tightness in his gait, the set of his brow. All subtle, but you’d had sex with this man enough times to know when something bothers him.

What? You were perceptive during sex too, you’re not only in it for the physical stuff. You’re not a monster.

However, Dean just shrugged, making a grumble of an ‘eh’, ambling with you towards his bedroom. “As good as a man can be, sweetheart. You?” Bullshit.

“I mean, how’ve you really been?” The question stopped him dead in his tracks, and he swallowed, eyes furtively glancing to you in a way that screamed ‘oh, shit’. But he didn’t say anything, just prompted him to trudge up to his bedroom, you following, rolling your eyes.

Dean Winchester was the sexiest man alive, but… my god, was he irritating sometimes.

“Three fingers, sweetheart?” Dean asked you as you stepped over the threshold to his bedroom, the guns and random trinkets he’d collected adorning the place as usual. His bed was messy, pillow and blanket askew, which he tried to sort out but only ended up messing it up further.

You smirked, winking as you closed the door behind you, kicking off your boots and moving to sit beside him on the bed, cross legged while he was propped on his hand, legs outstretched. “You know I can take it, handsome, don’t be shy.”

Dean couldn’t stop the visual from popping up in his head. Damn demon him for being so attracted to you. Then again, he couldn’t really say anything.

He poured you three fingers of whiskey in a glass and handed it to you with a soft grunt under his breath, his eyes flicking over you for the umpteenth time before pouring his own. “Here y’ go.”

“Cheers.” You smiled, clinking your glass with his before sipping some of it. “I know you better than you think, y’ know that? You’re struggling, even a blind man can see that one.”

Dean just grunted again, shaking his head. “M’ fine, darlin’. Don’t sweat it.”

“Don’t sweat it? Damn, you really are struggling.” You snorted, taking another sip of your whiskey. “C’mere, babe.”

Dean scooted closer, clearly not anticipating how your lips would ghost his jaw before pressing an open mouthed kiss to it, humming and sucking on the skin, making his breath hitch and eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. “Darlin’—”

“Shh.” You continued kissing down his stubble, drawing a quiet moan from him, not protesting as you plucked the whiskey from his hands and set it on the bedside table, guiding his hand to your hair.

Fuck. This is what he gets, for not having a woman’s touch in a while.

“Mm, baby.” Dean couldn’t help but groan, especially as your hands pulled off his flannel — wait, when did you unbutton that thing? — and tossed it aside, his back hitting the mattress, eyes hazy and hands flying to your soft thighs as you straddled him.

Not like he was roofied, he just felt so drunk. Not on whiskey, but on you, your lips, your gorgeous body.

Now he saw why his demon self liked you so much.

He exposed his neck to you, which earned a hum of approval from you, your hand cupping the side of it as your thumb brushed his pulse. “Attaboy.” You whispered, one hand smoothing back his hair (the whimper that left him was almost embarrassing). “Lemme take your mind off things.”

You returned the favour from the first time, grabbing the whiskey glass and pouring the contents on his chest, the cold compared with your warm body making Dean shiver.

His belt clattered to the floor.

Jeans went after.

And your tongue was on his chest.

Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen something filthier in his life, it rivalled the likes of Casa Erotica— your tongue flattening against the divots and ridges of his muscle as you collected the burn of the whiskey on your tongue, moving down and down, kissing his v-line, nuzzling his thighs.

“Don’t you stop, sweetheart.” Dean pleaded, voice strangled, hips bucking as your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and freeing his cock, which was already needy for you.

Damn, the effect you had on him was ethereal.

You chuckled, licking from his base to his tip while your thumb spread his precome, his hips bucking into your hand with a needy whine. “Not gonna stop, don’t you worry.”

“Gonna taste you,” He panted, his skin glowing already with a thin layer of sweat as his hand twisted in your hair, “when this is done. Mark my words, pretty girl, gonna eat you dumb— son of a bitch.”

“Looking forward to it.” You murmured before you took him into your mouth, working him fast while grinding into the bed.

The sight of him with his head tossed back, eyes rolled and freckled cheeks flushed like that was incredibly hot, ok? Don’t blame a woman.

You pulled off him to suck at his tip, which had him fisting the sheets, eyebrows furrowed in bliss. “So good, handsome. Taste so good.” You murmured, which earned you a sinful whimper.

Praise kink. Noted.

Your signature scarlet lipstick smeared on him — good — and left your mark, sucking and licking until Dean came, spilling into your mouth, but you’re a trooper, so you swallowed the whole thing.

Before you could register, however, you were being yanked up the bed and Dean’s hands were undoing your shorts, shoving them down — ripping your panties — and taking your fishnets to your knees, hauling you onto his face and barely letting you register before his tongue fucked into your soaking pussy, your eyes rolling back like his did, moaning in sync as one hand shot to the headboard and the other his hair.

His hands were so fucking reverent, gliding up your thighs, kneading them, one moving to deliver a light smack and grope to your ass, moaning when you began to grind down onto his tongue because you just couldn’t help it.

And then his hand slid up your back, around to your front, unbuttoning your plaid so his fingers could pay extra attention to your nipples (you would obviously show up to his house braless, y’all out there’d understand) as one long, thick finger thrusted up into your pussy, ring pressing against your g-spot in a way that had his name tearing from your throat.

How was normal Dean better than demon Dean? Or Deanmon. Whatever, either way, he was fucking you right.

“What if Sammy comes back, huh?” Dean growled into your cunt, licking every inch of it while he pushed a second finger into you, then a third, stretching you out and sending vibrations and electricity through your body. “Gonna give him a show, sweetheart? Show him how much you fucking need me?”

He ripped an orgasm from you, drinking it up like he was parched before flipping you over, getting your plaid off and entering you in one clean stroke while his mouth enveloped your nipple, sucking and nibbling.

“Shit, Dean!” You cried out, the first coherent sentence you could make since you rode his face and even that meant don’t you dare stop. And if any other man threatened you with exhibitionism you’d probably slap him and leave.

But this was Dean Winchester, so you’d make a thousand exceptions as long as he fucked your legs out.

He marked your neck, pounding into you like he just couldn’t help it, entwining your hands and pinning them above your head. “F-Fuck, baby girl. So tight— shit. Could fuck this pretty pussy forever.” He rolled over, putting you on top, and you took the cue to ride him, moans in tandem as Dean reached down to rub your clit. “Ride me, baby, c’mon. Give it to me, need it all. Please, need all’a you.”

Well, how could you say no?

“So good,” You panted, which earned a whimpering moan from Dean. “Gonna give it all to you, promise.” You clenching around him and his cock’s ride brushing your g-spot and all of it reaching places you didn’t know you had sent you over the edge, and before you’d realised it, he’d come before you with a strangled grunt of your name, hands moving to your hips to help you through your high despite being in it himself.

Once you’d come down from your high, and he his, you pulled off him, collapsing on the bed next to him, both of you flushed red, panting and so damn satisfied.

“C’mere.” Dean rasped, holding a hand out to you, and you were confused. The hell is he doing? “C’mere, baby.” He looked positively wrecked — you most likely did too — but that didn’t distract you.

“Why?” You tilted your head, pushing sweaty strands out from your face.

“To cuddle, why else?” Wow, he was a secure man, saying it outright like that. “I wanna hold you, sweetheart.”

He didn’t hold you as a demon. Nobody had.

So you scooted up to him, laying your head on his chest and allowing his arm to rest around your waist, other one acting as a pillow underneath his head.

Dean felt upset that demon him hadn’t taken the courtesy to hold this gorgeous woman, but now’s not the time to address that.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” He kissed your hair, “I needed that.”

𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[luveline]

hotch baby blurb about the other members of the bau figuring out they’re dating/nearly dating,, reader as a bau member maybe and like he’s just a bit more protective on cases, always watching her and things, or letting her ride shotgun in the car, or bringing her coffee,, you’re a fantastic writer and i have a burning love for aaron hotchner <3

Thank you, and thank you for requesting lovely!!

It's Aaron's fault that the team find out. It happens on a case. Serial killer, Philadelphia, three days and counting. You don't share a hotel room, you haven't kissed in two days and sixteen hours, and you're honestly going a little crazy. You call shotgun and he drives. Emily and Morgan trade theories in the seat behind. 

"It's clearly psycho sexual," Morgan says. 

"And clearly a white male," Emily adds. 

"The sophistication–" You begin. 

"Clearly older. Late 40's." 

You glares at him playfully, too playfully considering you're in company of your colleagues, but he's getting too big for his boots — he's admitted that he cuts you off because he knows it irks you and that he likes how your brows pinch together when you're mad. He's flirting with you, and he isn't as casual as he thinks he is.

"You're so rude," you lament. You shouldn't, but Emily and Morgan are still talking. 

"Were you saying something?" he asks.

"False apology doesn't suit you, Hotchner–" 

"Mm, and what does?" 

Your lips part in shock. "Hotch." 

He laughs, and it's his fault; he laughs, and Emily and Morgan fall silent. You're about to clear your throat and reinstate the professionalism you're both sorely lacking but Aaron has not gotten the memo, he reaches across the console, his hand drops onto your knee, and he squeezes it like he always does when you're haunting his passenger seat outside of work. 

It's too bad you are not outside of work. 

"Oh, handsome," you murmur, pitying.

Funnily, it's your use of a pet name that snaps him out of it. He stills completely, eyes glued to the road, and slowly, slowly, removes his hand. 

"...Garcia owes me so much money," Morgan says jovially. 

You're so relieved that it isn't you (you'd both thought, undoubtedly, that you'd be the one to give it away, because Aaron is usually an impassive wall of stone) that you can't find it in yourself to be generous. 

"It wasn't me," you gloat, tone light with awe. "I can't believe it wasn't me. What did you say to me? You said–" 

"I know what I said, Agent." There's a slight hint of hoarseness to his chiding. 

"Don't be shy, Hotch," Emily says. "We're all friends here." 

"Some of us a little more than that," Morgan adds. Their amusement is crystal clear. 

Aaron clenches his jaw. You reach right on over and stroke his tensed muscle, because the cat is out of the bag. You worry for a moment, and then his lips quirk up into a reluctant smile. 

"I can't believe it was me," he says. You pat his cheek. 

[storiesfromafan]

He's My Husband, I'm His Wife - Benny x Reader

A/N: Alright, I am back with a follow up to She's A Spitfire, after a comment from @redwitchbitch1 :) I have also got another 2 parts in mind, I may have dropped the names in my Master List haha.

I wrote this last night while watching The Crow and Beetlejucie, in anticipation of the new movies coming out in the next few weeks. I was also listening to Sabrina Carpenter's new album too while writing.

Warnings: a few swear words, sass, bitchyness and a bit of petty.

Six weeks. Forty-two days. One thousand and eight hours. That’s how long you’d known Benny before you became Mrs Cross. A whirl wind of a romance. Yet it felt completely right. From the bike ride after dealing with Troy, to Benny popping the question a few days ago while taking a ride just for the fun of it, and everything in-between. It’s like Benny was your drug of choice – and you his – and neither could get enough.

When you weren’t working at your hairdresser job, Benny was there, picking you up or taking you wherever you or he wanted. You’d go with him to Vandal meetings, drink and play pool at the bar, picnic’s. Even spend days in bed, wrapped around each other. How someone felt so right in such a short time was beyond you and him, but you both embraced it. Which is why Benny wanted to seal it with making an honest woman of you, his woman. Now and forever how long you’d have him.

Your wedding day had been something to see. Nothing fancy. You in a while baby doll dress that came to your knees, white go-go boots and a short white vail, just for laughs. Benny wore a button up shirt, jacket with his colors, black jeans and dirty boots. You didn’t need him to be in a suit or tux, for Benny looked good in anything, even better in nothing. It was a simple courthouse wedding, as many Vandals in attendance that the place could hold. But the main ones where up front; Johnny, Brucie, Cal, Corky, Wahoo, Danny – who didn’t miss a beat taking photo’s – etc. Along with their respected others too. You didn’t have anyone on your side, and you couldn’t care less.

“Do you Benjamin Cross” – there were snickers from most of the men upon hearing Benny’s full name, but he didn’t care – “take (Y/N) (L/N), to be your wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her, forsaking all others, for so long as you both shall live?” the Minister asked.

Benny, holding your hands, looked you right in the eye, never wavering. “I do”.

The Minister then asked you; “do you (Y/N) (L/N) take Benjamin Cross to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor him, and keep him, forsaking all others, for so long as you both shall live?”

You looked into Benny’s eyes, not wavering either, as you held his hands firmly. “Oh, I do”.

Your groom smirked at how confident you were. He knew this was it, for the both of you. No one else. This was end game. Now and always. Plain and simple.

Next was rings, or rather a ring. You didn’t expect Benny to wear a ring, but you wanted one. A simple band would be enough for you, to show whomever that you were taken. Benny made sure to get you a band with a stone in it, he’d promised you something better later on but you told him that this band was enough, it was perfect, as it was from him. Before slipping the ring on your finger, he made sure to place a kiss upon that finger, a symbol of his affection. And then that band locked it into place.

With a few more words, which you both didn’t pay mind too, as all you were focused on was each other. Drinking in this moment. Savoring how you both felt joy, excitement and contentment. Only coming back when you may now kiss the bride was spoken by the Minister.

Without skipping a beat, Benny pulled you to him by your locked hands. One hand moving you cup your cheek before leaning down and claiming your lips in a firm, but loving kiss. The cheers from the Vandals gracing your ears, bringing a giddiness to you. As you pulled apart, you both chuckled at the men.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife” declared the Minister.

With that, and a few legal formalities, Benny led you from the courthouse with you under his arm, while numerous Vandals patted him on the back. Outside the courthouse you all gathered around, with you and your husband in the center. There was talking, joking and lots of laughter. If you had a dollar for every time a Vandal called you Benny’s ball ‘n chain, you’d be sitting pretty, or have enough for a decent honey moon.

Eventually it was time to move on, the club deciding to take a long ride. Giving Benny a bright smile, your husband led you to his bike, that sported a few cans tied with string. He got onto the bike, kick starting it without a problem. Holding out his hand, Benny helped you get on the bike behind him. And waited patiently for you to tuck your dress under you, so it wouldn’t fly about or flash anyone. Once set, you wrapped your arms around your husbands waist, hands gripping the shirt over his firm stomach.

“All set wife?” Benny asked with amusement.

You moved up and placed a kiss upon his cheek. “I’m peachy, husband”.

With that, Benny pulled away from the curb, along with all other Vandals after. He held back so that Johnny could take the lead, and off you all went. With the wind in your hair, vail flying behind you, you threw your small bouquet without a care in the world. That was the start of the next chapter in your life. Only if you’d known a part from a past chapter was to come back in the future, you would have made sure to write it out.

A few weeks later...

It was a beautiful sunny day. And with such lovely weather; the Vandals, their significant others, your husband and you had showed up to a car show two towns over. You noticed the stares the Vandals got from those that didn’t ride, but chose cars. They didn’t look too pleased, but weren’t brave enough to say anything. Along with them were other biker clubs. They were more welcoming, as they understood the life of a motorcycle rider.

You were seated with a few of the other partners of Vandals, enjoying the sun with a drink. Talking about your significant others; the good, the bad and the ugly. You’d even talked about the small honey moon you and Benny took. It was just a weekend away, but it’s not like you’d left your room or anything. You both enjoyed your little wedded bubble. Taking every moment to say husband, wife and Mrs Cross. The last being Benny’s favorite. He loved you being his wife. He loved you. Just as much as you loved him.

You looked to your gorgeous husband, as he stood around with Corky, Wahoo and Danny. They were all talking, probably all bullshit of some level. Benny was smiling that melting smile of his, eyes shining with humor at whatever Danny said. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were. And it all happened on a similar day to today. If you’d hadn’t put yourself on show, would your panty dropping, now husband have noticed you? You weren’t too sure. But oh so glad he had.

“Ain’t you over the honey moon faze yet!?” Laughed Betty, as she playfully slapped your arm.

You turned to look at her, with a bright smile. “Nope. Doubt I ever will with my husband. He really sparks my spark-plug”. You wiggled your eyebrows, the women around you laughing.

“Give it time, the novelty will wear out” she replied shaking her head.

You looked back to Benny. “Hmm, no chance of that happening”.

Sensing he was being watched, Benny looked around only to find your eyes locked on to him. A dreamy, yet confident smile upon those luscious lips he’s kissed and bit numerous times. Among other things those lips had done to him and his body. Just the thoughts that crossed Benny’s mind, had him wanting to drag you off and away from prying eyes. But he had to behave himself, even just for a while. A pleasant smirk graced his face as he shot you a wink. Which only made you smile bigger. Yes, Mrs Cross was everything he needed. After the club, of course.

How did he get so lucky? Benny didn’t know. But wasn’t going to question it. He took a stab in the dark when he spoke to you a few months ago. Nor did he expect something that seemed to be fun at the time, would lead to him being married and over the moon with you. He loved his spitfire wife. He loved the sass, and he loved the lack of filter you have. It had made the time with you the more fun. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

You got up from your spot, saying you had to use the restroom. Crossing the open grass area, you headed to the public restrooms. After a short wait, you finally relieved yourself before washing your hands. Just as you were about to head back you heard your name being called. The voice sounding familiar. Turning to your left you spotted the person; Pam.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” you said with a genuine smile. Beside all the drama the last time, Pam was the nicer of the three women you once socialized with.

“I was about to say the same” she laughed. You both briefly hugged.

“How ya been?” You asked.

Pam sigh. “Yeah, same old. How about you?”

By now you both began to walk the way you’d come. “A lot has happened” you replied, about to continue before spotting two more familiar faces; Dani and Becky.

Pam noticed where you were looking, her smile dropping and a look of unease cross her face. “Maybe we should move somewhere else” she said with worry. “They weren’t too happy after that day...”

Unfortunately you both were spotted by the two women. They looked unimpressed before striding over to you and Pam. They plastered on fake smiles. Greeting them, they replied, and you shared a quick awkward hug with them. Just because they seemed icy, didn’t mean you had to be. You made your choice, and it was the best thing ever. And you couldn’t wait to rub it in their faces.

“Wow, haven’t seen you in, what – ages?” Becky said like the mean girls from high school. “Who would have thought we’d run into each other!”

You held it together, stopping your eyes from rolling. “I know! I’ve been busy with Benny and work” you replied just like her. “We were bound to run into each other, I’d have just hoped it would have been years from now”.

Poor Pam, she looked so uncomfortable. But you weren��t going to back down to these two harpies. Looking back at the time with them, you could see how fake they had been with you. So now you were going to give them it back ten fold.

“Oh, so you’re still with the Vandal, huh?” Questioned Dani, crossing her arms and popping her hip. “Thought either you’d dump him or he’d have found another chick by now, of course the later more so”. She and Becky chuckled.

You gave them a bright smile. “Sorry to burst your bitch bubbles, but we’re still together. Even better then ever really”. The look that crossed your face was like the cat that got the cream.

“Oh? Whys that, huh?” Becky asked curiously.

Without missing a beat, you drew forward your hand that held your wedding band. “He was man enough to lock me down. And it’s been the best decision I’ve made”.

Shock crossed their faces, with a touch of envy. You stood taller, feeling absolutely wonderful at their reactions. You watched as they tried to process it all. Their mouths opening before closing. Ha, take those apples, you thought feeling elated.

“Congratulations!” Pam said genuinely happy for you.

That seemed to snap Dani and Becky out of their short circuited moment. They stood stiff, putting on a cool, uncaring look upon their face, though it was obviously far from how they were feeling.

“Let us guess, it was a shot gun wedding?” Becky said snidely. “He knocked you up, right?”

Dani laughed at her friends words, while Pam protested it all.

You laughed. “Oh no, he hasn’t knocked me up. But I’d gladly give that man a kid if he asked. But till then I am thoroughly lovin’ the practice”. You smirked when they shot you a dark look.

Dani scoffed. “Of course you enjoy being on your back, a whore does”.

“You’d know, right?” You retorted, earning a growl from the woman.

You thought Dani was about to go you, and would have welcomed it, even if it would have been two on one. You could have taken them, easily. But instead a man came up, wrapping his arms around Dani, face moving to rest in the crook of her neck and shoulder. Her hands automatically coming to rest over his.

“Mmm, I wondered where ya went” came another familiar voice. When they lifted their head, you were greeted to Troy. Dani smirked with satisfaction.

Oh how you wanted to laugh in her face. But decided against it. Let her think she’s got one up on you. It will make bringing her down all the more sweeter. Troy noticed the woman in his hands not paying him any mind, turning his head he was greeted to the sight of you. His face fell, a blank look upon his face.

“(Y/N)” was all he said. No hello or anything.

“Troy” you replied.

“I just ran into (Y/N), babe, and we’ve just been catchin’ up” Dani said coolly, leaning back into your ex.

You clicked your tongue. “Huh, see you’ve moved on. Hopefully poor Sam wasn’t too heartbroken by this” you mused, unfazed.

“He’s fine” Troy said, tightening his hold on Dani.

You nodded. “That’s good. He still part of your club?”

“No, he handed in his colors...a little after this” he said gesturing to them.

“Mhmm. Alright, guess he got rid of two lots of trash” you said offhandedly. That hit a nerve.

Troy glared at you. “What was that?”

Back with Benny; he had been sitting with Johnny and Zipco. All three in conversation when he had seen you walking with one of your old friends. You looked happy, having a good time catching up. But then it changed when the other two showed up. He continued to keep any eye on you while talking and drinking his beer.

He knew you would hold your own with those women, so he had nothing to worry about. It was when Johnny said his name, did he look at the Vandals leader.

“Huh?” He asked putting his beer bottle on his bike.

Johnny lifted his head in your direction, worry on his face. “Might want to go to your wife, she might need ya”.

Confused, Benny turned to be greeted with Troy holding one of the women facing you. The scene looked a little stiff and painful. Getting up from his bike Benny kept his eyes on Troy, more then anything because he didn’t trust the guy.

“Yeah, I’ll be over there. Thanks for the heads up” Benny said, before slowly making his way to you.

“We’ll keep an eye out, if ya need us we'll be there” called Johnny. Benny just nodded his head.

He kept his eyes trained on the scene before him. Watching how Troy reacted to you, and eventually he could hear the conversation, coming in as you called them trash. That was his girl. He smiled at that no filter of yours. But he would be there if you needed protecting. Benny would always step in and guard you.

“Oh, trash?” You asked tilting your head. “I wasn’t clear? Sorry. I was implying – it means strongly suggest the truth – that you and Dani were the trash, and Sam leaving, got rid of you both. Ya follow?”

Benny smirked, shaking his head.

Troy and Dani, flustered, tried to sputter out a comeback but failed. You smiled wider at this. Knowing it was best to join you, Benny stepped up to you, wrapped an arm around your waist and drew you close as he planted a kiss to your cheek. Recognizing your husband from his hold and smell, you chuckled at him.

“Benny!” You squealed, grabbing his hand that rested on your stomach.

“Hey baby” he said sweetly in your ear. “Found ya”.

You knew that meant he’d seen what’s going on. And was here in case you needed him. You turned to face him, looking into his baby blues, silently thanking him. Before leaning up and kissing his full lips.

“Yes, ya found me, hubby” you replied sweetly, left hand coming up to caress his cheek.

You didn’t see Troy’s face, but the shock in his voice when he spoke told you everything you needed to know. “What the fuck?! Hubby?!”

You turned your gaze from Benny, a look of fake confusion on your face. “Sorry?”

Troy scowled, as he released Dani and moved forward. “Hubby?!”

You looked to Benny and then back to Troy. “Oh!” You turned your body forward, extending your left hand to Troy.

He looked down at your hand, seeing the band on your ring finger. He looked confused, before realization washed over his stupid face. “What the fuck! What’s this!”

You smiled contently. “It’s a wedding band” you replied simply. “It means he’s my husband, I’m his wife”. You said it slowly and clearly. Only infuriating the man before you further.

“I get that! By why him!?” Troy said in a raised voice.

Looking to your husband, you gave him the brightest, warm smile while staring into his beautiful blue eyes. Benny returning your smile right back at you. “Isn’t it obvious? Benny’s perfect”.

Feeling prideful, Benny lent down and planted a loving, knee weakening kiss on your lips. That was him telling you he felt the same about you. He wasn’t one to always say what he was thinking or feeling, but happily showed you it. And right now he was, along with everyone else watching.

Pulling back, he saw that twinkle of mischief in your eyes. Here it comes, that unfiltered mouth of yours. You turned back to Troy, Dani and Becky, shoulders squared as you stared them down. Now to really hit them where it hurt.

“Beside, Benny’s the best ride I’ve had” you said matter-of-factly. “Both on his bike and off”.

That was it. That was the straw that broke the camels back. Troy made a move to go for you, thankfully Benny anticipated it. He managed to move you back and stepped in front of you. He grabbed at Troy’s jacket, as the other man grabbed Benny’s. The women moved back as both of them held onto the other and pushed, trying to push the other back or over onto the ground.

Dani and Becky were calling out for Troy, trying to get him to stop. You should do the same, but you knew it was pointless. Troy had made a move to put his hands on you. That triggered red in your husband. So now all he saw was red. And it wouldn’t go away till he was happy with Troy on the ground and bloody.

Benny removed a hand, only to swing his fist to Troy’s face. It made hard contact with his cheek, sending the males head to the side. Yet neither let go of the other. Once more Benny striked, making contact. This time Troy stepped back, grip going slack. Which was enough for Benny to push him and have Troy release his hold. From there Troy took swings at your husband, a couple making contact. It was back and forth with them. They scrapped around, Benny tackling the man to the ground.

They rolled around, going back and forth with blows. All the while the women screamed, more people noticing the pair and coming closer. Included were some of the Vandals; Johnny, Zipco and Cal standing front and center. They were keeping an eye on the pair ready to pry them apart if it got too much.

Finally Benny ended up on top of Troy. Hard blow after blow to his face. Blood – from Troy or your husband – covering the man on the ground. Benny looked wild, uncontrollable as he waled on your ex. Finally Johnny and Zipco pulled Benny from on top of Troy, taking pity on the guy, who had gone up against their friend. Benny struggled against the two, but with words from Johnny, a bit of a flash from the past, Benny began to settle. Breathing heavy he spat out some blood to the side, eyes still watching the man on the ground.

Dani rushed to Troy’s side, worry on her face as she touched his face. He groaned, telling you that he was still alive, unfortunately. You watched them and thought they deserved each other. One bad apple with another.

You moved to Benny’s side, both Johnny and Zipco releasing their friend when you came to him. You placed a gentle hand on his arm, drawing his attention to you. He was still trying to catch his breath when he shot you a bright, victorious smile. You smiled, shaking your head. This man, he was just as bad as you. You with your mouth, and him with his fists. The pair you made was crazy, but in a perfect way.

You grabbed your husbands arm and started to pull him back to his bike, but looked back to Pam. “Sorry about this Pam. It was nice to see ya. Maybe we could catch up for coffee, or a drink sometime?”

She looked at you in shock, before coming somewhat back to the present. “Ah, sure?”

You smiled at her and said you would. From there you led your brave husband, followed by Vandals, back to your spot. You had Benny rest against his bike while you fetched some water, cloth and something to wrap his hands with. Once back with supplies, you cleaned and wrapped his hands, knuckles split from the beating he’d given. From there you moved to clean his beautiful face, which was starting to discolor. Meaning he’d had a fee shiners for a while. Nothing new really. What were a few shiners and some blood? Nothing new to you.

You were mindful when cleaning his split lip, hands gentle when wiping and applying pressure. While you worked away, Benny watched you closely. He wondered if you might be upset with him to some extent. He knew, you knew that he’d step in if needed. But he wasn’t sure if you were fine that he beat the shit out of your ex. On some level you might have still cared for the guy.

You cupped Benny’s cheeks with your hands, eyes moving to look into his deeply, searching. “Ya alright baby?” You asked softly, just between you both.

That brought him back. “Yeah, I am baby”.

You smiled softly at him, planting a soft kiss to his lips, being careful of the cut. “You sure? You looked deep in thought”.

Benny slowly nodded. “Just...you ain’t mad with me, are ya? For how far I took if with your ex?”

You looked at him, eyes blinking a few times. “No Benny, why would I? You stepped in to protect me, baby. I’m more proud then anythin’”. You smiled brightly, lovingly at your husband.

Benny sighed, a relieved smile washing over his lips. “Good. I was worried you’d be mad. As ya got history with the guy-”

You cut him off. “That’s just it, history. It’s in the past. You are my present and future. I’m your wife, wholeheartedly”.

Benny pulled you to him, hugging you closely, face resting in the crook of your neck. How could you know what to say to make him so happy? You giggled wrapping your arms around your man, holding him tightly. Knowing he needed reassurance you were his, and no one else’s. And you always would be.

You ran your hand through the hair at the base of his neck. “You’re stuck with me Mr Cross, no getting’ rid of me now”.

Benny chuckled, it tickling your skin, before pulling back and staring deeply into your eyes. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Mrs Cross”.

He then lent in and kissed you. It was hard, loving and toe curling. And when he deepened it, tongue entering your mouth and dancing with your own, you were a puddle in his arms. The small noises he elected from you was driving him crazy. Finally drawing back for air, Benny rested his forehead against yours. You stared at each other, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. History repeats itself, and you still had Benny there for you. And always will.

“Let’s head home spitfire. I think I need some tender, love and care” Benny whispered huskily in your ear.

You smiled. “Oh, I can do that for you, baby. Anything for my wild, crazy husband”.

A/N: I am still working on my Benny x Tomboy!Reader, I haven't forgotten. Or Cal x Sweet!Reader.

[gorgeys]

riding maeve's hero suit...

she's lying on the bed in her full costume, minus the boots, after just having returned from a long day of dealing with vought and few nasty criminals. now, she finally gets the chance to relax with a joint between her teeth and her hands comfortably behind her head as she intently watches you make a show of sliding your shorts down your hips.  a smirk plays on her lips as her eyes ravage your body, now only dressed in your panties.

then you're on your hands and knees, crawling from the foot of the bed all the way up to your girlfriend.  she pats her bare thigh, signaling where she wants you, and you can't deny her.  it's only a few moments before your straddling her stomach, the cold metal armor of the suit sending waves of pleasure through your core.

she takes the joint between her fingers on one hand while the other trails from your knee, up your thigh, and finally finds its usual place on your hip.  smoke pours from her nose and the slight opening of her mouth.

"been waiting so long for you, baby" she says, licking her lips.  "show me what you can do."

you certainly don't need to be told twice as you lean forward and roughly press your lips against hers.  one of your hands grabs her chin, steadying the intense kiss, while the other clutches onto her bare shoulder, steadying yourself as you grind your cunt harshly into the metal.

"missed you, maeve," you whisper against her lips, rolling your hips against her once more.

she carelessly drops the joint on the nightstand so she can grab your body with both hands.  her hands loosely decorate your skin, not helping you create any friction, so you're left to languidly drag your pussy against her suit in a slow, agonizing pattern.  you leave maeve's lips and sit upright again.

she's always loved watching you.  she watches you arch your back to hit just the right spot.  she watches you lull your head back and grip her shoulder tighter.  she watches your desperate face that's practically screaming for more pressure.  she watches as your eyes never leave hers.

"fuck," she whispers, perfectly content to stay like this forever.  her hands move back to squeeze handfuls of your ass.  "don't need these, do we?" she says, a finger sneaking below the waistband of your panties.  she waits for you to shake your head before she tears them in two with the slightest tug of a single finger.  perks of dating the world's strongest woman.

she pulls the panties out from under you and tosses them aside.  she looks down to where your cunt meets her stomach and she audibly moans when she can see the wetness leak out of you and onto her suit.  you moan at the feeling of the cold metal against your bare clit and make an extra effort to press your pussy harder and faster against it.  that only lasts for a few seconds.

"easy, tiger," she says, suddenly applying an iron grip on your hips, instantly halting your movements.  after a moment, she guides you to start riding again at a slower pace, except this time she assists you by pressing your body harshly into her, eliciting a louder moan from your lips.  she watches your breasts bounce with each push and pull.  "that's it."

your hips keep rolling but she controls the pace and pressure, ensuring that you're whining incessantly for her to let you fuck yourself faster.  your pleads do nothing to help the situation, only leaving her more satisfied with herself.

it's only when you reach back under her skirt with one hand, pushing her panties aside and sloppily rubbing her clit in time with your movements that she falters, allowing your name and a string of curse words to fall from her lips.

"come on, maeve.  wanna make a mess on you," you say, your fingers trailing down her chest, lingering in between her breasts, before finding their way to her breastplate.  "if i come, then you can come too."

her grip on you tightens as she rocks you a little faster, noticing the way you groan and the way your fingers speed up on her clit.

"yes, right there," you moan with your head thrown back.  it encourages her to replicate the last stroke, using her big hands to move you like you're just her limp doll.  which you are.

she wraps a hand around your throat and pulls you down toward her.  you drop onto your forearms, placed on either side of her head, and kiss her once more.  it's so messy with saliva dripping everywhere as you moan into each other's mouths, but she wouldn't want it any other way.

your hips involuntarily buck against her before she feels your legs tighten around her stomach and your grip on her suit grow stronger.

"you gonna come so fast?" she asks while forcefully rutting your hips against her suit even faster than before.

you can only nod as you try to focus on rubbing maeve's clit in tight circles, which has her teetering on the edge.

"wanna walk around and smell your pussy on me wherever i go," she whispers in your ear.  "come all over me, baby."

those words do it for you and your suddenly spasming around her, clawing onto every part of her that you can grab as loud, ungodly moans of her name rush out of you.  you arch your back at an impossible angle, squeezing your eyes shut while maeve watches the cum leak out of you.

that sight finally allows her to come on your fingers a moment later.  she groans loudly and grabs onto your hips so hard that her nails nearly break your skin and you can already feel the bruises forming.  it's not as bad as that time when you first start dating that she fractured your wrist when she came.  she's learned to control her strength better since then.

"god, you really did make a fucking mess," she says, punctuated with a laugh, after you've both come down from your highs, though you're still panting like a dog in heat.  she strokes your cheek with the backside of her hand.  "now get on your knees and lick it off of me."

[dickinfectionbez]

Baby Boots and Riding Suits Masterlist

On ao3 now!

Full Length Writing

Paddock Fashion and Baby's first steps

But Papa, I love you.

Oh my son, I always will love you

Guys we're fucked (Motherfucker!)

Childhood's simplicities

Victory incarnate

Nobody messes with our brother

Late night realisations

Asks

The Backstory

Pecco and growing up

Reason for divorce

Miscommunication and insecurity

Family ties

Friends by Blood, Brothers by choice

Reunion

Deja vu

Names

Vale, Pecco and Pregnancy

Vale, Celin and Pregnancy

Championships

Thunder and lightning

Baby Nurseries

What could have been on the wall

Nearly lost

Gaining friends

Nesting instinct and crochet competitions

Fake Tweets from the Timeline

A Normal Week

When worlds collide

Hair dye Shenanigans

Songs and snippets:

Baby boots and riding suits - the playlist

[mama2bears]

Guardian In The Night - Part 1

Parings: Tyler/ F. Reader (former rodeo star/ now a veterinarian)

Warnings: Injury, Angst, a few swear words, talk of death, fighting

Summary: You have known Tyler Owens for 15 years, meeting him while you both were on the rodeo circuit. Five years ago a tragic accident tore you apart. You never expected to see him back in your again, but here he is. Is there still a fire burning between you two? Will Tyler be your guardian when a prowler lurks outside your home?

A/N: I had planned for this to be a short one shot...but here we are already 20 some pages in, so it will be a two part story.

** SIX MONTHS AGO **

You had just returned home from a local farm, where you helped deliver a new baby colt. The miracle of life always amazed you, rather it be animal or human. As the local veterinarian, you most definitely saw more animal births then people ones, and that suited you just fine. You always kinda preferred animals over people.

Pulling into the drive, you saw a red Dodge Ram sitting in the drive and sighed. At first, you thought it was someone bringing their pet to you. Then, you recognized the truck, equipped with drills and rocket launchers. You had seen a few of his YouTube videos...but you never expected to see him again.

“What the hell you doing here?” you asked, jumping from the truck.

You first met Tyler Owens about fifteen years ago. Your father had been a retired bull rider and you had grown up on the rodeo circuit and was a pretty well known barrel racer. Everyone knew and loved your father, so they naturally knew and loved you as well. Tyler's uncle had brought the farm across the street from yours, and Tyler was often over at your house getting bull riding tips from your father.

“Well, hello to you too.” he quipped, “My uncle died, I figured you would know that.” he glared.

“Oh do I ever! I am the one taking care of his animals. I am just surprised that you show up. It's been what, five years now, Tyler?”

You and Tyler became best of friends rather quickly when you first met. Then, that night happened. You didn't leave his side until he pushed you away. Even after that, you called every day...until one day, you realized he was just never going to return your calls. You moved on with your life and out of state to go to collage. Tyler had moved as well and neither of you kept touch. You went five years without seeing or talking to each other. That was until now...

“I am here for the funeral...” he paused, “And I inherited the farm. I guess that makes us neighbors again.”

“You mean you actually are staying this time? Or are you going to run away like last time.”

“You ran away first.” he glared, then sighed, “Listen, I am not here to argue. I plan on staying. I just have to travel for work a lot...”

“Yeah yeah. I know. The YouTube famous tornado wrangler.” you glared, “And for the record, I only left after months of trying to talk to you and being shut out each and every damn time. Why would I stick around? You told me to get the hell out, so I did.” your eyes narrowed in anger, “So what do you want from me now?”

“I know you're the vet, and I know you have been caring for my uncle's animals.” Tyler said, “He told me how big of a help you were to him. I just wanted to know how much I owe you for taking care of the animals...and I want to keep you on as the vet and pay you to look after things when I travel.”

“When did you start talking to your uncle...or anyone else for that matter?” you glared, tears threatening to fall. “It's been FIVE YEARS Tyler! Do you know how many times he tried to call you? How many times I tried to call you?”

He shook his head, looking at the ground as he scuffed his boots across the dirt, “No...no I don't. I was an asshole and I apologize. I've been talking to him for about a month. I was planning on coming back after this season and help him around the farm...the doctors called me the other day and told me about his heart attack. I got back as quickly as I could.”

“He needed you.” you whispered. “He talked about you all the time. He became a father to me after my father died. I was left alone with no one. I tried calling you, but you never called back. Your uncle was the only one there for me.”

Tyler bite his lip, “Y/N...I am sorry.” Tears brimmed around his eyes, “I have no excuse for how I acted. I am trying to make it right. I am trying to get back on track. I am not asking for forgiveness or understanding. I just want to know if you are willing to stay on as vet and care taker for the animals. Just bill me or whatever. You don't even have to see me again if you don't want.”

“Of course I will take care of the animals. I have been taking care of them for the past two years, ever since I graduated from veterinarian school.”

Tyler took out his phone, “Give me your number and I'll tell you the days I'll be out of town. Call if you need anything and I'll pay you each time before I leave.”

“You won't owe me until you return. I normally just send a bill out to my clients once the work is done.”

“In my line of work..I like to pay ahead of time.” he stated.

You two exchanged numbers and he tipped his hat at you, “Good to see you, Y/N.” and with that, he was gone.

* * * Present Day * * *

You were sitting on your porch when you heard the music. You could hear country music blasting from the loud speakers before you even saw the truck. Tyler Owens was back in town, and he was making sure the whole town knew it too. It had been six months since he came back into your life. While at first, your meetings were very short and only about business, gradually, you began have friendly conversations, a few times Tyler called you from the road just to see how you were doing.

“Hey neighbor!” Tyler called, bringing you out of your thoughts. “We're back in town for a few days at least.”

“Really? I would have never known.” you flashed him a grin. “Horses are all good, but I think Tex misses you. He was laying on the porch this morning, staring down the drive way.”

Tyler grinned, “Aw, he's just lazy, that's all. He is always laying on the porch staring down the driveway. Hey, what you got going on tonight?” he asked.

“Nothing that I know of. Same old same old. I got some bills I need to mail out, but other then that, nothing.”

“The team and I are heading down to Big Mo's Bar tonight. Wanna meet us there for some drinks, maybe a game of pool?” he asked.

You thought for a moment before finally saying, “Yeah, sure.”

“Alright, see you then.” he tipped his hat and sped back down the driveway in a cloud of dust.

You finish your coffee and head into the house to do the paperwork you needed to do. If people didn't pay you what was owed, you couldn't keep the place running.

As you got started on your work, you left you mind drift back to about five years ago.

Tyler was the hottest thing on the rodeo circuit. You two had been the best of friends for the past ten years. He was about eight years into his career and on his way to possibly moving up into the PBR. You were on the top of your game in barrel racing.

It was a hot summer night near Little Rock. You on your horse Cisco, waiting to be called out for your barrel run when Tyler walked up to you you. “Hey sweetheart. Wanna go grab a few beers tonight?” he asked, his green eyes staring up at you from under his cowboy hat.

“Is this your way of asking a girl out?” you turned and glared at him.

You have had a crush on Tyler since about the first time you met. He would flirt with you and you'd flirt back, but nothing ever got serious between you.

He shrugged and flashed you that lopsided grin of his, “Yeah. I guess. You wanna go out with me tonight?”

“And next up is Y/N Y/LN...”

“We'll talk later.” You smiled down at him and gave a swift kick to your horse and sped out into the arena.

Your dog, Jack barking out on the front porch brought you out of your thoughts. “Alright boy, what is it?” you mutter, going to the front door.

Tyler was riding up your drive on his horse Thunder, and was leading the other horse, Tequila. 'Now what.” you mutter to yourself.

“What's wrong?” you ask.

“Thunder and Tequila want to go for a ride.” he grinned. “I can only ride one at a time. Want to help a cowboy out?”

You sigh, “Didn't I just tell you that I had paper work to catch up on? If I don't send my clients bills, they don't pay me. They don't pay me, I can't keep this business running.”

“Just a quick ride? For the horses!” he smiled.

“Alright. One quick ride. For the horses.” you agree. It had been just over a year since your horse Cisco died. You couldn't bring yourself to get another horse, not yet. You had missed riding, and quick frankly, it always freed your mind. Maybe, a ride was just what you needed right now.

You take the reins and quickly mount Tequila. Your farm was only about ten acres, but Tyler's was a bit over forty.

“Where to, cowboy?” you asked.

“You remember where that big oak tree is, by the lake on the back side of my property?” he asked.

“Yeah..”

“Race you there!” he yelled, kicking his horse into a gallop.

“Come on Tequila. Let's get 'em.” you kicked the horse up, quickly moving into a full run.

Tyler grinned as you passed him and he kicked up his horse a little faster, coming up along side you.

You held onto the horses mane and eased up on the reins, giving her free rein to run. You leaned forward, letting the wind blow though your hair. You felt wild and free and left out a long howl.

Tyler kept pace next to you, falling back just a few steps as the horses slowed and you reached the tree.

“See, just what you needed, right?” he was laughing. Chasing tornadoes was the thrill of a life time, but second best would be on a horse, riding free though the open fields, not a care in the world.

“That was awesome.” you smiled.

“Think that was great...you should try chasing tornadoes with me!” he smiled.

“Yeah, I don't think so.” you dismounted and left the horse graze freely near the lake and Tyler did the same with his.

“Remember this place?” he asked, biting his lip and glancing over at you.

“I do.” you nodded. “we probably had known each other three years or so at the time. We rode out here and you carved our names in this tree.” you laughed, “I told you that you couldn't carve our names in a tree if we weren't even dating.”

“But I did it anyway.” he grinned looking at the tree, “And they're still there.”

You sighed, “yeah, but you never did ask me out, so it don't count.” you playfully punched his arm.

“Hey, to be fair, I tried.” he pointed out.

“Yeah? When?” you glared. “Because I would have remembered that. I was waiting for you to ask me.”

“I asked you. Remember, I asked if you wanted to grab a few beers that night...the night of the..accident.” he trailed off.

Of course you remembered, you just didn't think he was really asking you on a date. It sounded like a friend asking a friend to grab a beer after the rodeo.

“I remember that night.” you said softly. Silence filled the air between you as you both recalled your last night together.

Right after Tyler had asked you to grab a few beers after the rodeo you had said “We'll talk later,” and took off to do your run. You were halfway though the run when a bull tried to jump a gate. The gate fell over and suddenly, there was a bull charging at your horse. You seen the movement out of the corner of your eye and took off in a full run to get out of the area. Your horse spooked, rearing up and throwing you. Tyler seen you on the ground and that bull charging straight for you. Without second thought he had ran and threw himself between you and bull. You vaguely remember someone grabbing your arms and pulling you out of the area as the bull turned on Tyler, kicking him in the head. You were screaming his name as the bull continued it's attack on Tyler, stomping and headbutting him. The rodeo clowns scurrying to get out there and distract the bull. Cowboys racing out on their horses with ropes. You would never forget the look of Tyler's limp body laying in middle of that area, the ambulance rushing in. Tyler never rode bulls again after that. You never barrel raced again either.

“I went to see you in the hospital, you know.” you told him. “Every single day for the two months you were in a coma, I was there.”

“Yeah, I know. They told me.” Tyler said softly. “Then you left not long after that.”

“Because when you finally woke up, what did you tell me?” You fought to keep the tears from falling.

He sighed, “I told you to get the hell out, that I didn't want to see you anymore.” his lower lip quivered and he turned away, before you could see the tear that fell.

“That's exactly what I did. I couldn't go back out on the circuit again. I was haunted by nightmares of that bull getting lose, attacking you. So I went to Texas to study veterinarian medicine. I tried to call you every day. I left a number of messages for you. One day, my daddy told me that you had moved out to Oklahoma. I didn't see or hear from you again until a few months ago, when you moved back here.”

“They told me I could never ride bulls again.” he said softly. “I needed a thrill, so I went to Oklahoma for a bit to get a degree in meteorology and chase storms. Met my team, became tornado wranglers..moved back home after my uncle passed...and here we are.”

“I missed you.” you whisper. “I really could have used a friend after my dad died.”

“I didn't know about your dad, until last month when I started talking to my uncle again. He told me.” Tyler said slowly. “I would have came back for you, if I had known.”

“Yeah. Your uncle said he tried calling you. I had tried calling you too, for at least the first two years, until you changed your number.”

“I'll always regret that. It was a bad time in my life. My purpose had always been riding bulls and when I couldn't, I was lost. I was trying to make a name for myself. Trying to become somebody...” he trailed off. He wanted to say 'trying to become somebody you could be proud of' but those days were long gone. There was no need to bring up old memories. “I guess we just weren't meant to be.” he sighed.

“Life goes on.” you brush it off, hiding the hurt in your eyes, “at least we are still friends now.”

“Yeah. We've got that.” he gave you a hug.

“We better get back. I got to get this paper work done if you still want me to meet you guys at the bar tonight.”

You both collect the horses and mount up, riding back slowly this time. “Anything I can do to help?”

Laughing you shook your head, “I wouldn't trust you with math problems, Tyler Owens.”

“How about I make us some burgers for lunch. I'll bring them over to you so you can concentrate on your work.”

“Thanks. That would be great.” you flash a smile.

* * * * *

Later that night, you walked into the bar, and quickly spotted Tyler with his team.

“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” he waved at you.

You join the team at the pool table. “Y/N, meet my team. This is Dani, Lily, Boone, and Dexter.” he introduced them.

“Nice to meet you guys.” you nod.

“Wanna play a round?” he asked.

“No, not right now. I think I am just gonna grab a drink and watch you guys. Maybe do some line dancing.”

“Alright..maybe next round?” he asked.

“Maybe.” you agree, going to the bar to order your drink. When you return, you stand next to Tyler as it was his turn to shoot. He pocketed two balls at once.

“Woo! My good luck charm!” he grinned, giving you a hug. “What about next round we make teams. You're on my team.” he smiled.

“Or it can be boys vs girls.” you raise an eyebrow at him.

You watch for a few more shots, then finish your beer and head out to the dance floor to join a group of line dancers. Tyler watched you leave, then turned back to the game.

“So that's Y/N. The girl you told us about?” Boone asked.

“Yeah. Don't say anything in front of her, please.” Tyler said.

“So, this is the girl that you were too shy to actually ask out, even though she had been your best friend for almost ten years, right?” Lily said.

“Yeah. And the girl that I threw myself in front of a bull for. She's the reason that I left the rodeo circuit, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I couldn't just stand there when she was in the path of that bull. I figured it would kill me, but I didn't care. I'd rather it be me then her.”

“Why didn't you ever call her or anything man?” Boone asked, “I mean..she is hot.”

Tyler shot his friend a look, “I didn't know what I was going to do with my life. After I got out of the hospital I had to go though therapy. Then I didn't have a future in the rodeo anymore, but I needed a thrill. I couldn't just do a regular job. I just didn't know what to say to her, and I certainly couldn't ask her out when I didn't know what kind of future I had. After I got started as a storm chaser, years had passed and I figured she had moved on. I didn't need to come back into her life and disrupt whatever she built for herself.”

“You should have called her man.” Dani shook her head. “Why haven't you asked her out since coming back? She is still single, isn't she?”

“Those days are gone, okay? I am just thankful that we are still friends.”

“Well, if you aren't going to ask her out, I am.” Boone teased. “Come on man, you don't think she's hot?”

“Boone, don't talk about her like that. She's beautiful, not just hot.” Tyler said, his gaze landing back on you as the song finished and you left the dance floor.

“So she's a beautiful friend that you just aren't into...okay. I got it.” Boone nodded.

“Shut up.” Tyler hissed, not wanting you to over hear their conversation.

“So, who's winning?” You ask.

“I am. You were my good luck charm, so just stay here. Maybe I can win in another shot or two.” Tyler grinned, taking his turn. He failed to score.

“Guess your luck ran out.” you grinned at him as a guy approached you.

“Excuse me, Miss. Would you care to dance with me?” he tipped his at you.

You thought for a moment, not normally being one to dance with strangers at a bar. He was cute and he seemed to be a gentleman, so you agreed. “Sure. I'll give you a dance or two.”

Tyler looked heartbroken as he watched the stranger take your hand and lead you onto the dance floor. He put one arm around your waist and held your hand as he guided you across the dance floor.

“See, that could have been you.” Boone said.

“Drop it, Boone.” Tyler warned. He no longer was paying attention to the game. He kept watching you on the dance floor with the stranger.

The song ended and you nodded to the man, “Thanks for the dance.”

“Hey...one more?” he asked, squeezing your arm a little too tightly, making you feel uneasy.

“No, I think I am going to go back over there with my friends. I need a break.” You give him a smile, trying to be nice.

Tyler was watching, noticing the stranger holding your arm, but unable hear what was being said. He sat his pool stick down and started to walk briskly over to the dance floor, his eyes never leaving you.

“I said one more dance! Don't be a tease!” the stranger pulled you roughly against him, and grabbed your ass with his hands.

Tyler took off running to the dance floor, grabbing the man by the shirt and slinging him to the floor in one brisk movement. “Keep your damn hands off of her.” he roared, towing over the man.

“And who the hell are you?” the man jumped up, getting into Tyler's face.

“None of your damn business who I am. I said keep your hands off of her. Get the hell out of here!” he took a step towards the stranger.

The man threw a punch towards Tyler, which he ducked, grabbing the man by the neck and slamming him against the wall, “You best be getting the hell out of here, before I take this out to the parking lot.” Tyler seethed.

“Okay Okay. Whatever.” the stranger muttered, putting his hands up. “She was just a big tease anyhow.” he mutter.

Tyler took the man and tossed him to the floor, ready to throw another punch when you walked up to him, putting a hand on his arm. “It's okay. Let him go.” you whisper as the man scrambled to his feet and headed for the door.

“You okay?” Tyler asked, wrapping an arm protectively around you.

“Yeah, but I think I am done for the night. I am going to head home.” you say.

“Alright. Give me a minute to pay our tab and I'll follow you.” Tyler said, “Make sure that creep isn't out there or tries to follow you or anything.”

“Thank you.” you give him a smiled.

“Anytime, sweetheart.” he winks.

You heart flutters a little when Tyler calls you 'sweetheart.' That used to be his nickname for you all those years ago. You never did allow anyone else to call you that. You wait at the door while Tyler talks to his team, pays the tab and then places a hand on your shoulder as you both walk out the door together. He walks you to the car, checking all around the parking lot to make sure there was no one standing out there.

Tyler waits until you are safely in the car with the doors locked, “Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?” he says.

“Yeah, maybe.” you nod.

“Alright, wait until I get my truck started and I'll follow you home.”

You nod and Tyler jogs to his truck, firing it up. You pull out of the parking lot and he is right behind you. Once you reach your drive way, he honks his horn and seeing no other cars on the road, pulls into his own drive.

Chapter 2

[norman-fucking-reedus]

So… Scud riding fem!reader’s strap-on?

YES YES YES YES YES FUCKING YES

UGHH When I tell y’all Scud fucking LOVES to ride. It puts so much power into his little hands he doesn’t even know what to do with himself

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER IM GONNA ACTUALLY WRITE THIS OUT BC yall dont even understand the way this consumes my brain. Bottom Scud is for life I’m sorry hes my baby and my baby deserves to be fucked

“Fuck I almost forgot what the apartment looks like!” Scud sighed heavily as the door creaked out, kicking off his shoes and stretching as he walked over to the couch, dropping himself down onto it. You shut the door behind yourself and toe off your own shoes, leaving them in a messy pile right next to Scud’s.

You peeled off your coat and hung it up, keys following suit before you padded into the tiny kitchen “Do we have any food?” You groan as you open the door, fridge mostly empty and stuffed with mainly leftovers.

“We can get some takeout, fuck, I’d kill for a burger right now” Scud spoke as he moved onto the floor, banging on the shitty TV to boot it up and plugging in his PS2 controllers. “We don’t have enough money” You frown slightly, walking into the living room and plopping down on the couch, legs on either side of Scud’s head. He almost purred contently when your fingers began scratching his scalp.

Scud easily turned into putty at the faintest touches, slumping against you as you massaged his head. “Mmh, can we smoke a bowl?” He muttered, and you’d be crazy to deny.

“I think we only have a little left” You said as you leaned over the arm of the couch, grabbing a grinder and Scud’s bong. You tapped whatever remains were left in the gringer into the small glass bowl, reaching down to fish out the small bag you bought to better preserve the bud. “When’s Blade paying us again?”

Scud shrugged, fingers tapping and flying against his controls as he played some fighting game, leaning himself comfortably against your leg as he spoke. “Hopefully soon. I should asked for a raise” You stick a few sticky nubs into the grinder, twisting it around a couple times until it was finely grinded up into keef.

“Like he’d ever give you one” You snort, snatching a lighter and half dranken waterbottle off the coffee table. You pour the rest of the water into the bottom of the bong, sticking the long bowl inside and holding it steady by the long neck, gapping your lips through the whole at the top, flicking the lighter and bringing the flame down onto the small bowl on the side, inhaling until the water started to bubble and smoke started to form, swirling up and filling the long bong, your lungs shortly after.

It was a huge hit, the smoke turning a slight yellow color as it was built up and burning your chest where you held it in for a few seconds, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Hey no fair!” Scud snapped his head around and pouted at you, because he wanted you to shot gun that right down his throat.

“I’ll give you the next one” You comb fingers through his hair as he whines softly. You bring the flame back down to the bowl, inhaling and watching the yellow-ish smoke form inside and climb up into the neck, down into your lungs.

You held it in for a few seconds as you tilted Scud’s head back, pressing your slightly agape lips against his and exhaling your hit into his mouth, smirking softly at his tiny moan as he inhaled.

Scud sighed around his exhale, staring up at you from his upside down position. “What?” You mumbled, cupping his face with a small smile. “That make you happy?”

He nodded, leaning up to kiss you before turning his attention down to the bong in his lap, not wanting to knock it over. You handed him the lighter, and glanced over at the clock.

“We should just order a pizza” You murmured, rising to your feet and stepping around Scud who was mid-rip. He followed you with his eyes, taking a massive hit and coughing out, exhaling a huge cloud that fogged up your small living room more. “I thought we didn’t have money?” He croaked out, beating on his chest a little.

As he said that, you rummaged through your purse, fishing out your wallet and opening it, raising a brow. “I’ve got ten bucks”

Scud pats his pockets, digging through them and pulling out a few crumbled ones. Better than nothing. You took the bills out his hand and grabbed the landline, plopping back down on the couch as you clicked through the numbers, eventually landing on the local pizzeria.

Stoned, showered, and stuffed, you watched with half lidded eyes as Scud needily bounces on your strap, loud moans and whines coming from him.

“Feels so fucking good, mommy feels so fucking good, want her to fuck me so hard” Scud babbled, sobbing as he totally fucked himself stupid, fingers curling into the cushion of the couch. You watched, rocking your hips steady against the small vibe pressed to your clit, throbbing from all Scud’s sweet little sounds. “You don’t need my help pretty boy, you’ve got it” You coo, sliding your hands across his hips, running them up his shirt and wrapping them around his throat, squeezing tightly. He wheezed out a gasp, clenching around you and whimpering the best he could in your grip.

You pulled him down for a hot and sloppy kiss, Scud breathlessly panting into your mouth as his back arched, rolling his hips down and up against you. He was a complete mess, choking on his moans and grunts as he started to ride your dildo harder and faster, rocking his hips back and whining desperately. “Good boy. Ride me like the dirty little whore you are, hear how disgustingly wet you are for me baby?”

“Y-yes, love b-being so wet for mmngh!–mommy, always s-so ready for her” Scud gasped out his words, your grip around his throat still so blissfully tight that he was starting to become lighthead, shifting himself a little before grinding back down, a loud and choked off whimper tearing from him. “There! Please, please fuck me there- need mommy to fuck right there” Scud desperately cried, bouncing on the spot with all the strength in his body. You gripped his hips and thrust up into him, Scud heaving a groan as he caught his breath. You ruthlessly pounding into him from underneath, watching Scud’s pretty face twist and turn in pure pleasure.

His fingers tightly gripped the couch cushions, toes curled and his head rolling side to side, so utterly destroyed. “Ohh fuuck” He bit down on his spit-soaked bottom lip, loud moans and whimpers escaping past anyway. Each hard jab of your cock was sending him flying off the edge, his own cock twitching and oozing a mix of cum and pre-cum, the tip turning a cherry red as it start to swell up, painfully hard.

“Gonna cum aren’t you, Scud? Or do you need mommy’s help with that too?” You ghosted your hand near his cock.

Scud trembled like a leaf in your lap, “Can’t do it by myself– I can’t–“ sobbing as he pushed back against your thrusts, the head of your strap bumping the bundle of nerves inside him. “Need mommy to help, need her so bad” He rambled, continuing to rock back against you. His face was soaked with tears, sweat, and drool as he was almost riding you again, loud drawn out moans tearing from his chest as each snap of your hips took him further and further. “You poor little thing, begging for help cause you can’t get yourself off on my cock?”

You started to slow your hips, rocking into him at a quick but lazy pace. Scud whimpered and desperately pushed back against you, chasing the blissful build of his orgasm. “Hnnghh– I need- I can’t- Ughhh fuuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” Scud was so entirely gone, so very far gone. It felt like there were a million bees buzzing against his body, tossing his head back with a loud, broken and shaky sob of sheer pleasure, only a few more hard bounces before his jaw went totally slack, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his untouched cock spasmed and twitched lewdly as he came, warm shots of white painting his shirt and landing on yours.

Scud slumped down against you, dropping his head onto your shoulder breathlessly and overfucked. He twitched slightly, and whined when you slipped yourself out, leaving his hole to feel uncomfortably empty.

You combed fingers through his hair, kissing his sweaty face and holding his limp body flush against yourself. “Wanna go to bed?” You whisper, kissing his cheek and letting your lips linger there. Scud nodded, but groaned when he realized that meant he had to get up. “Comfy” He mumbled, snaking his arms around you and squeezing, burying his face in your chest.

"We need to change, babyboy" You kiss the top of his head, feeling his sticky cum starting to seep through the fabric of your shirt. Scud whined, arms tightening.

You sighed, tired, high, and a little hungry again. Scud was starting to feel really heavy in your lap, pressing his whole weight down onto you. The clock in the kitchen ticked, and an idea crossed your mind, grunting as you pushed yourself up onto your feet suddenly, Scud flailing and scrambling to wrap his legs around you, eyes wide at the change in position. "Bed" Was all you said, hoisting him up and carrying him into your single shared bedroom.

When you went to drop your boyfriend down onto the bed, trying to get him a clean shirt, he tugged you down with him, rolling you onto your back and straddling you once again, staring down with a flushed and needy face. "Wanna go again, wanna ride mommy again" He huffed, grinding back against your strap. His skin burned, and the fabric of his shirt was uncomfortably sticking to his skin, leading him to pry it off, tossing it somewhere in the room.

You did the same, nothing wrong with sleeping naked, and moved a hand down to steady your dildo, holding it so that Scud could lower himself down, drawn out moan leaving his lips. Being so full of cock made him happy, especially when he could feel the hot drag of silicone against his walls.

Scud lifted himself up and almost immediately dropped back down, a shaky groan coming from his chest as he wasted no time eagerly bouncing his hips against you, whole body on display. You ran your fingers across his bare legs, up his jutting hips, and across his tattered belly, tickling his scars under your soft touch which made him giggle. He wasn't really one to feel insecure. Your fingers danced across his sensitive nipples, a tiny whimper in response.

“Such a spoiled little brat, aren’t you?” You coo as you watch Scud’s nude frame grind against yours, his cock bouncing and smacking against his abdomen. Scud whined and nodded, rolling his hips. It was true that he was very spoiled as saying no to him was genuinely the hardest task of your life. You could deny him, but never flat out refuse. In the end, Scud always got what he wanted, and right now, he really wanted to cum again, leaning down to needily kiss you.

You took the chance the place your feet on the bed, thrusting upwards into Scud who moaned into your mouth, gasping against you as you pounded into him. “Feels so good, mommy makes me feel so good” He slurred out breathlessly, moving to bury his face in your soft tits. He whimpered as you nailed his sweet spot, his cock rubbing against where it was sandwiched between your bodies.

Scud simply moaned and clung to you, dragging his tongue over one of your nipples and sucking it. Each rough snap of your hips lurched him forward, his hums vibrating your tit and his cock leaking all over your stomach.

He groaned and squirmed ontop of you, his hands squeezing the squishy flesh of your chest, pressing his face into their warmth. “Gonna cum, feels so good ‘m gonna cum” Scud babbled, his words muffled. You pressed his front closer to yours, making him rut his tender cock against you which each hard thrust. It was all that Scud needed to totally fall apart, whimpering out sobs as ropes of cum spurted from him, landing on both your stomachs.

You dropped your hips and completely pulled out of Scud, running fingers through his hair when he whined at the loss. “You made a mess of us both, Scud”

“M’sorry, just felt really good” He mumbled, head now pillowed on your chest, one of his hands mindlessly fondling a soft breast. “Can we take a bath?”

You smile softly, even though you had both just showered an hour ago. “Only if we make it bubble one”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

[honestsycrets]

hi sy! first things first, you’re a fantastic writer. i am in LOVE with your western series! second, may i request an idea? it’s the 1920s, and miguel is one of the top mobsters in nueva york, while the reader is his mob wife. after an attempted hit from one of miguel’s rivals that nearly kills her and gabriella, the reader decides it’s time to her and little girl to skip town, but miguel will be damned if his family tries to leave him. cueeeee angst, drama, the whole shabang!

canary I: a threat | [miguel o'hara x reader x gabriel o'hara]

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x reader, gabriel o'hara x reader

❛ type | double shot; 5k

❛ tags | non-monogamy, some angst, 1920s inspired piece, irish clan inspired piece, bootlegging and mention of hits, explicit, a depiction of killings, some jealousy, some trad-roles elements, f!reader, 1920s slang and Spanish not translated, time period birth control (cervical cap).

❛ sy’s notes | i have spent weeks staring at this piece. it's a bit longer than my usual works and for that reason i decided to split it up into two chapters. this piece takes on a little bit more of a generalized irish mob approach rather than italian. this chapter is more domestic than the subsequent one will be.

Miguel O’Hara hated it when his kills ran. No matter how many alleyways they ducked into, shoddily constructed fences they tumbled over, or crappy cars they tried to hitch a ride in, he always found them.

His fingers were blisteringly tight around his kill’s throat, sure to leave certain bruising if the man made it out alive. He wouldn’t. Not based on the blood that seeped over Miguel’s tanned hand. He gurgled underneath Miguel’s hand, the kill messier than he imagined. Any number of his hitmen could have carried out this contract but instead, his crisp white top was slathered in the contract kill of the week. He recalled the sudden memory of his hand on your slight waist, the kiss on the top of your head with the promise of his night. He snarled the memory away.

Should’ve just shot him, Miguel thought. Mierda.

With the fading of the man’s life, his choked grunts drifted into silence. Miguel allowed the man to slump over. Silence fractured, his world bursting with sound. The salt-laden wind whistled past his hair as ships sailed into the pier, carrying cargo, and his latest shipments. Bootlegged booze had its own benefits-- poor training and numbers among agents, for example. A crackle of an engine sped down the road was followed by the bright beams of an electric headlamp.

“¡Oye, Miguel!”

Of course. Under the bright moon that shone arrogantly in the dark sky, the figure came into focus. His polished suit was just a tad too big for his toned, but hardly muscular frame. Even in the darkness, he had the kind of smile that made people feel like they were the special ones. It matched the gentleness in his eyes behind that swoop of chestnut brown hair. If the feds published men of their color on army recruitment posters, he’d certainly make the cut. Handsome, but not too handsome. Strong, but not too strong.

“Gabe,” he breathed. “The lights.”

“Lights? The lights!” Gabriel looked back at his shiny black car. He bounced back toward the car, bellowing. “This a Spot boy? You did a number on him.”

“You sap. Could you be any louder?” Miguel threw aside. “Why are you here?”

“Thought you could use me tonight, big shot,” Gabriel said in that sugar-dipped tongue of his. It works less on Miguel than it had on you. It was oddly discomforting. As the days wore on, he loathed his brother’s silver tongue.

“I could use someone watching my girls.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I was. They're sleeping." Gabriel booted the man, more than minced meat when Miguel was done with him. “You had some beef with him, huh?”

“No.” Miguel mumbled, looking at the man’s body rather than his own, something sharp hovering there. There was nothing he wanted less than to stand in the biting cold listening to his baby brother prattle on a moment longer. He wiped his blade on his once-was-crisp slacks and slid it back into its sheathe. “Let’s hit it.”

“Jake,” Gabriel said, an annoying rendition of an okay. Gabriel was full of shitty terms from his stint in the big house. Almost as many as he picked up at Miguel’s speakeasy.

“Say. Miguel?”

Gabriel’s voice was soft, almost strained. Miguel caught his eyes, knowing subconsciously what his brother would say. He sucked in a breath to calm himself from a reaction to thin, sharp words. They balanced on the point of a knife as Gabriel spoke them into existence.

“They're our girls.”

This setup wasn't going to last. One day, you'd probably settle with Gabe. Miguel jerked up to the sensation of your fingers ghosting his chest, twiddling around his inky black chest hair, gliding across scars. He senses the source of his disquiet, your small frame draped over his side, watching him with a foreign curiosity.

“Muñeca?” he murmured sleepfully, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “What's it? Did Gabriel sleep in?”

He finds it hard to believe that his chirpy brother would do such a thing. Mornings were notoriously his favourite part of the day. Unlike Miguel, who shunned the light that streamed in from your thin curtains.

“Coppers took him in for questioning,” you murmured, leaning in to lay a small peckish kiss on his lips. That was quick. His eyes swept down to your lips, lingering there as you spoke. “Gabi said you’d come with me to iglesia.”

“Chingado. He passed the buck onto me.” Miguel groaned, dropping his head back onto the pillow, weighed down by such a stupid request. You thumbed the golden necklace he’d forgotten to take off, gliding one of your legs up his hirsute thighs. He finds himself hiking your leg higher up his thigh. “That’s what you woke me up for?”

“‘Course not,” you muttered. “I missed you last night. Where’d you go off to?”

“To finish intake.”

You didn’t believe that.

“Promise it didn’t have nothing to do with what Gabi got carted off for?” He holds you in a working gaze, something that tells you he isn’t about to answer something like that. You are his woman. Yet, some secrets aren’t ones that he’s willing to disclose. It could put you in a compromised position. Most men, namely the Italian boys, had enough sense not to drag a man’s family into problems between the mob and the clan but in this world, not everyone had sense.

“Miguelito, you’re scaring me.” Your breath quickened, palpable with your chest against his. His large hand encompassed the middle of your back, guiding small, consolatory circles.

“Some things you’re better off not knowing,” Miguel worked at an explanation. Some things like the amount of hits he was getting for Spot boys. The booze going missing from the speakeasy. Some of his girls licked off the street. Just-- some things. “Got it?”

“Long as it’s not another dame,” you mumbled, fisting his necklace around your fist, dragging him forward for emphasis. A smile tugged at his lips, somehow pleased with your response. “What? You been out the house more times than not.”

“I share you with my brother,” Miguel worked the back of his neck. “Better that I skip town than hear you moaning for him. Might hem him up one of these days.”

You laugh-- but Miguel doesn’t find a lick of it funny.

“You got me now,” your hands drifted up to Miguel’s massive shoulders. “How ‘bout this. You fill me all up for church, wear that spiffy dark blue suit. Then we take Lyla out to get her some cherry coke at the apothecary’s. Maybe I’ll even sing you a whole song today if you’re lucky.”

Church, again. Miguel rattled a groan. Of course, he couldn’t have one day off from frateurinizing with people who hated the fuck outta him. Church folk. He didn’t know why you insisted on going with people who openly called you loose.

“Can do without one of those things.”

“If you want me, you go to iglesia, Miguelito.”

West-Side Violence at All-Time High! Italian Enforcer found dead! The West clan’s Gabriel O’Hara facing added charges on suspicion of--

Tch. You interrupted the scowl on his face with a well-placed kiss to his cheekbone, sliding a piping hot mug of Joe before him. Wafts of steam warmed his cheeks. You set down his morning’s breakfast, a plate loaded with fats. No tamales today, but baked beans from a few well-established Irish wives in the area. You wiped your greasy fingers off on a dirtied apron. Miguel stabbed a hunk of sausage as you spoke.

“Gabi’d never do that. They’re trying to hem him up like that capo last month,” your voice quaked, strutting back toward the cabinets. “It’s too personal. He’d… fill ‘em up with lead sure, but a stabbing? It just don’t make sense.”

Sure didn't. Miguel dropped the paper to the side of the oak table, tracing lines of worry that grew into spiderwebs of panic across your forehead. You spoke so feverishly in defense of Gabriel, whose absence was palpable. He often talked about the latest hired singer, sneaking behind your waist for kisses on your nape when Miguel could barely drag himself out of bed in the morning after pulling all-nighters.

“I have someone on it.”

“I bet Papa did it.” His daughter-- or Gabriel’s-- they were never quite sure. He glanced to his foot where Lyla sat. A full seven-year-old, Lyla was a spitfire of a thing, her hair in a bouncy bob topped by a silky ribbon. She glanced up from the dreidel she was spinning around and around. His lips pulled into a minced smile. “What? He’s a liar.”

“Miguel.”

Couldn’t even eat in peace.

“Lyla,” Miguel gestured toward the door. “Go wake up Maeve. Go on kid, get.”

That kid had a smart mouth. He watches her roll her eyes, only budging when you supply her with a hunk of pan dulce. She takes a mean bite, eyes locked on Miguel as she hopped out, somehow less bothered than she was a few seconds ago. You closed the metal door behind your daughter, a hand balled up on the bend in your waist as you watched her skip down the stairs and out of view.

“Most girls don’t talk like that about their papas,” you mumbled. Your arms crossed one over the other for support. “Does she hate him that much?”

“Most girls don’t grow up in the life.”

“Mi culpa.”

With his breakfast all but spoiled, Miguel pushed the plate away. His hand was soft on your waist, nose burrowed into your hair, tracing the notes of jasmine and rose, vanilla and sandalwood. The scent was unmarred by the stench of speakeasy smoke so early in the morning. Your hand came over his, steadying yourself from the rushing thoughts by leaning into his touch.

“I need a girl at the speakeasy tonight.”

Unlike his brother, Miguel’s requests rarely offer a tone of choice. It rolls off his tongue dry and hits your ear like a spike. Nothing about your relationship with Miguel was easy-- it was marred by the rivalry among the brothers-- and as you suspected-- interloping from your grandfather.

“Y Lyla?”

“Maeve is her nanny.”

“How can I step in there without Gabi?”

“He’d want you to. And I want to see you out of this dumb apron.”

“It isn’t dumb,” you pursed your lips, somehow more convinced despite your reservations. Most days, you spend the day in the house-- isolated from any life you came to Nueva York for. Any half-formed excuse that was on your tongue flopped. He nearly has you. “It is right dumb, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. What happened to my canary?”

“She met a pair of terrible brothers who don’t care for pulling out.”

“Don’t blame me.”

He pushed himself against your back, twiddling your fingers against the pantyhose that clothed your thighs. A smile tugged on your lips as Miguel leaned over to kick the front door shut, dipping onto his knees. It wasn’t often that he allowed you to ruin his perfect face before work. Today is a special treat.

But… if you thought back, you really should have.

Took a long time to get any mail from the island. Almost impossible.

In your hands is a sloppily penned letter-- You should be married to one of those boys-- your grandfather. He isn’t stupid enough to think that you’re opening this for the first time tonight, here and now, right in front of him. If you’re ‘reading’ it, you must be wanting him to take a hint. Miguel bent down, placed a kiss on your temple, gliding his hands over your own to place the letter onto the vanity.

He used those very same hands that were meant for maiming against the clasp of a set of pearls around your neck with gentle precision. His fingers coursed along the curls at your nape as he clasped them together.

“How long before your set?”

“Half an hour… maybe.” You stood to face him, pursing ruby-red lips, whispering in his mother’s tongue. He never liked it when his mother barked at him in Spanish, but when it's off your tongue, he knows how sweet it could be. Your hand inched its way over his chest, tracing the fat knot against his throat.

“What’s the issue?”

“I don’t-- feel very perfect. You have all these shebas out there--” women who not only knew how to sing but weren’t terribly mottled by stretchmarks or burdened by the eviscerating effect of motherhood. They’re beautiful, free canaries when they sing in his speakeasy. As much as you loved singing-- you felt shy on that ruby-red stage lately, before a dozen ruby tables and the hopping band.

“They’re to bring in the sugar.”

“Uh-huh, bring in the sugar until they take you away.”

“I’m satisfied.” Miguel took a step up, communicating the way he knew how, by settling his large hand over your jaw. His strong hand glided to your chin, urging you to look him in the eye. “I’m not going anywhere. Tied me down with Lyla as it is.”

“Words are just words. Why buy the…”

“Cow if you can get the milk for free, sí, I know what your grandfather says.” He slips into your chair. “Què quieres?”

“I don’t know, Miguelito. A promise. A marriage. Algo.”

“You want me to wife you up? Don’t remember ever talking about this.” He gestured you to come closer. You stepped up, knocking between his legs. Miguel’s gaze falters, chasing the glint of your tassels as they come to a stop.

“What’s the issue?”

“Nothing. I thought you’d ask Gabe.”

“Gabe gets around.”

“You believe those rumors.” You slap his large hands groping up your thighs, climbing over his lap like it was your throne. His massive frame eclipses the chair, suppressing your comparatively smaller frame. “And don’t think I do?”

“Do you?”

“No,” he laughs. Or, not recently. It’s hard being a father-- harder when he has a whole ass business to keep on top of. Most women wanted those things: jewels, a new pair of silk knickers, and a home. “If that’s what you want, you got it.”

“Oh Miguelito,” he suckled your neck, drawing horrendous marks to the surface. Marks of his ownership in the absence of a ring. He hears the pleased hum of your voice, low and sweet, and knows that’s exactly what you wanted to hear.

“I haven’t put in my cap,” his fingers danced across the outside of your thighs, slipping past your stockings to your silken shorts. He slotted his fingers underneath the fabric, grazing his fingers through your neatly kept curls. Your breath came in deeper bursts as he melded his hand over your vulva, expecting you to grind back on him. You did, ever so eager for him.

“Don’t bother me with that,” he said in a low, husked voice. “You know how I feel about your birth control.”

It was your idea, primarily. Gabe was ever too content to simply be with you-- he didn’t need a large family like the rest of Miguel’s Irish clan. Four, six, sometimes more. Unlike Gabe, Miguel wanted the exact opposite. You shifted over his thigh, obeying his desire to have you ride him. Miguel urged your hips down, working his thumb over the precious button as you did. Miguel’s leg trembled up against your slit, bursts of warm friction warming your hungry body. With his slacks freshly cleaned, you worry about soaking them, soaked in lubricant as you were.

“Come here,” you surrendered a soft moan to him, leaning forward now, less to ride his thigh than the bulge in his slacks. He does not quite care for the idea of ruining himself inside the confines of his pants, but if you want to feel him, he has no reason to deny you. You’re wonderfully spoiled, juddering your hips over him like any whore walking the streets in exchange for a coin or two. What he’d give to have this to himself.

It donned on him-- he could have it to himself. This time, he’d be certain of who the child belonged to. He adored his Lyla, though his irritation with her quips was ever palpable, this-- right here, the ability to fill you and be certain filled him with fat hunger and possessive need to burst into his slacks.

“Stop-- Muñeca-- stop,” Miguel tipped his head back, gathering his focus by digging his hand into your hair, stopping you immediately. His harsh grip loosened, followed up by loosening the button of his slacks and shoving them below the curve of his ass. His cock slapped your silken shorts, beads of his desire dripping from his cockhead. “Take those off. I’m finishing inside.”

“Miguelito,” you slipped onto shaky feet, enough that Miguel could force the shorts underneath your dress to the floor. “We agreed that babies would be--”

“You asked to be my wife. Ain’t this what wives do?”

“I know bu-- not there, deja, let me,” you stopped. His cockhead clumsily poked here and there, until finally, your hand guided him properly. Your mouth fell into a hazy moan when Miguel’s cock shoved forward, breaching your cunt with a snap of his hips. You seated yourself back onto his fat cock, reminded of the absence of your cervical cap in your cunt.

For all your talk, you ached for him, dipping your intertwined hands down to your mound. The rhythm was as sloppy as whatever singer was on stage right now, her voice giving way into a distinct crack. Whatever-- if it bought him more time to properly seed you, he didn’t mind.

He buckled forward as you clenched down upon him, holding him prisoner deep in your body. Liquid soaked his slacks-- and Miguel huffed, puffs of hot air warming your back. That was going to be fun to walk out in. His wife’s cum soaking his crotch.

“Hold still. It’s almost showtime,” Miguel’s voice was thin, his hand splayed on your waist as he used you less like his woman and more like a toy for his pleasure. It didn’t take long for Miguel to find a proper rhythm, his muscles flexing against your back. You were preoccupied as it were with the pain of Miguel’s teeth sinking on your shoulder, spiking hot as his pleasure crested. Soon enough, you felt his warmth fill your core, your head lulling back against him only after his thrusts ebbed.

“Don’t clean up, go on stage leaking.” Miguel held out his hand for you to take, allowing you to pull your shorts back up your ass, nestling his leaking cum in the fabric. It helped ease the anxiety of having you on stage, somehow, to see you in such a state.

“When you knock me up, you’re telling Gabi. I... can't.” You told Miguel, smoothing your dress over your shorts. There was a nervous flush in your eyes-- shame, he placed the emotion. He scrubbed the smile from his face. He had at least a few weeks.

“Sure thing.”

There was a certain delight in seeing you dressed up in that little black dress, all bright red lips, and sultry song. Not that you didn’t look tasty in that stupid apron you wore not to dirty any one of the pretty dresses you wore to church-- like you weren’t a heathen for warming the bed of two O’Hara boys. The people knew it. The church knew it. Damn well, the town knew it.

“Pal, that’s her on stage,” went an Italian boy. An allied family through nothing but contract killing and coin, he was safe here for the time being. One little lapse in a contract could shake it all. “That’s their kitten.”

“She married?”

Miguel turned his gaze back to you for a long moment. Your warm, sweetly lidded words slipping off your tongue, making his mind sluggish and relaxed after a long day. He captured your eyes, minding how your hands fell to the tasseled ends of an already short skirt, daring to expose your skin obscured by pantyhose to the crowd. You knew the game, how far you could lift your skirt without your would-be husband jumping his cage.

“Don’t be goofy. Miguel’d get sore if Gabe tried. She has ‘em both around her finger. Has a kid by one of them. No one knows whose. I got my money on--”

Stupid kids.

“Kid, I’m gunning for another.” Miguel cut the boy off, eyes crinkling at the edges. Something in the way you moved on stage reminded him of Lyla’s pregnancy, perhaps the glitter in your eyes when you met him at his table, instead of backstage, holding his large hands in your own. Some sparkle in your eye, a ginger announcement in his ear. Half elation, half… something else. Something, not quite fear, swirled in the boy’s eyes. Miguel watched with a keen interest as the boy flushed.

“Right on, big shot.”

Miguel brought his cigarette to his lips, letting his eyes flutter closed and his mind wander to the past. He should have known you were hands-off from the moment Gabriel wouldn’t beat it with the idea of adding another girl to their speakeasy.

The best time to tell Miguel about his new girl in the speakeasy was when he was in a good mood: catching any bootleg thief put him in a good mood. Not that he was particularly partial to grey matter and blood spraying him like a fresh pinata, but… he was more partial to money in his pocket and a good reputation. His boys cared for much of the violence in the West of this shitty little town.

“You hired a new girl?” Miguel repeated, drawing a long hit of his cigarette with blood-smattered fingers.

“Spanish girl. Like us. We don’t have a Spanish girl in this joint.”

“Gabe. Most of our clients are Irish. They don’t speak Spanish.”

“You should see her Miggy. She’s got this angelic little face,” Gabe whacked his elder brother, his grin growing ear to ear. There it was, his baby brother got blinded by his dick again. “When she sings you-- well, you get all twisted up.”

“Angelic face,” Miguel mumbled under his breath, tapping excess off of his cigarette. For the price he paid his girls, she had better have the face of Mary herself. The last few Gabe had pulled were mistakes. Some drug-addicted. Others whose husbands always caused a mean stir. He drags his hand down his face, weighing the costs. “She another dumb--”

“She’s Daniel’s littlin’. You remember Daniel? Taught you how to use a kn--”

The sigh that sat in his chest dissipated like vapor, perfusing into his tissue. Miguel looked at the paper Gabriel set in his blood-tinged fingers. He rotated it, gave it a look with his tired eyes. Talk to Gabriel. That old man knew just what Miguel would have said: get your ass back on a boat and go home to whatever rinky-dink island you foolishly sailed off of for this shitty city.

“Lemme see her sing.”

He doesn’t pay attention when Gabriel introduces you onstage for the first time, focusing on the paper ledgers Peter arranged for a review. Unlike his Italian connections, he don’t mind mixing it up with the Jewish boys. They’re twice as smart on the books and twice less likely to be hauling in trouble. Bootleg booze was one thing— the opium, the heroin, the cocaine, and morphine another. It packed too much heat from the coppers.

He hadn’t meant to look up.

It didn’t occur to him that you could have a sickly sweet voice, tempered by the rich Spanish on your tongue, only rivaled by those beautiful looks. His abandoned ciggy threw smoke into the air. He slumped back into the chair with a heavy thud, unclenched his tense jaw, and listened to a siren’s song that felt both familiar and distant all the same.

You had the sort of eyes he swore he’d met before, despite knowing he’d never seen a face like yours around. He’d remember sinking his teeth in that delicate neck that sat under pearls that he supplied most of his singers for their performances. His eyes hungrily cantering down your tassel dress. Not one he provided, no, he knew most to all the pieces in the back. There was a simple beauty in the gown.

You were trouble. He caught your eyes with an intent expression and expected you to blush and look away. You smiled. He wasn’t sure if it was for him or Gabriel, who flicked a grade-A smile, and a twiddling wave of your little fingers. He wants to feel them scratching down his back.

“--anyone home? Miggy? Miguel. Don’t tell me you’re already stuck on her.” Gabriel teased, elbowing Miguel in the arm. “You are! Told you she could sing.”

“Pipe down.” He jammed his ciggy in the dish.

“Sorry.”

He watches you a moment more, the slide of your legs to the tune of the band. The way your laugh resonated through the speakeasy when a patron stumbled onto the stage for his take on some stiff-legged swing. Most women would push them off, look to him for help in the swing, but you ran with the twirl the drunk led you into. He hated to admit that Gabriel was right. Among all the girls in his speakeasy, you brought a lightness to the life of a drunkard he’d not seen in a while.

“Gabe,” he mumbled, standing up and whirling his suit jacket over his broad shoulders.

“Yeah?”

I told’ja so, Gabriel’s voice sounded in his head. He could already feel the stiff annoyance that would be Gabriel’s fist connecting with his shoulder. Why did Gabriel have to know him so well? Miguel spoke with an undercurrent of annoyance.

“Let’s keep her.”

“You don’t gotta tell me twice.”

A hail of loud pops ruptured his sweet, distant memories. He reaches out to snatch his gun from the table, settled between the fresh flowers he plucked for your show. For an instant, his world wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t sounded out by the deafening assuredness of a kill, but very real panic under the singled out by the shrill of your scream.

They're going to push up on us, Miguel told Gabe. He never did take anything outside the speakeasy seriously.

Except tonight, there was no Gabriel. Miguel clasped his hand around his gun, whirling for the source of the flame. The barrage of gunfire is put down as quickly as it began. With a host of Irishmen in the bar, he should be so unsurprised. One of the Italian kids slumped over on his table.

There’s blood-- a lot of blood. Hysterics bound all around, some soothed by their partners or friends. The other Italian boy just stares-- lips slightly apart-- jarred by whatever horror was before him. Miguel finds it hard to believe that he hasn’t seen worse. Others burning his ears like the morning sun in his eyeballs every day you forgot to pull the curtains closed.

“God damn it, Peter.” Standing there is the scrawny little devil of a bookmaker himself, smiling cheesily.

“Hope that’s a good god damn it.”

He shoved his way from the tables, numbing out the complaint of the Italian boy. You were long since gone, probably a good thing that you weren’t here, that’s for fucking sure. It’d been the first time since Gabe’s incarceration he managed to drag you out of there and now… you were somewhere, undoubtedly frightened. Maybe even hurt.

“Boy, wonder who this kid crossed. Say, about Gabe, I got good news--”

He seized a chair, flicking it past Peter, a sure hiss for him to shut the fuck up about his baby brother in the can. Peter put his hands up reflexively, tracing Miguel’s rising shoulders.

“She ran to the back.”

The slender hallway down to his office is cold, only illuminated by the occasional pull-pin light bulb swinging overhead. He came here most days that he wasn’t on shift, taking a hit, or caring for his boys. Keeping track of everything was the best way to stay ahead. And even still-- he missed something from one of Spot’s boys.

You didn’t bother to close the door, balled up in a corner of his small office. He has a glorified cot for a bed in a corner, a heavy desk that nearly killed Gabe trying to hike it down the stairs years ago, and a rack stuffed with any number of books.

“It’s me,” his voice filled the room. You peered up from behind your arms, wrapped around your knees. What a stupid oversight, he thought, whoever was in charge of the damn door let someone in that was… going to be a problem. He was good with Lucky’s crew. Now he was gonna have to pick up that wired phone and tell him some kid was dead.

Your heels scratched across the ground, scooting back to the cool wall. You weren’t hurt-- just, sort of shocked. Maybe being conned into church with you panned out somehow.

“Muñeca.”

“That ain’t… ever happened with Gabe before.”

Gabe. Dy by day that he heard his brother’s voice, it became more of an annoyance. It wasn’t fair to make the comparison-- Gabe caring for most things that went on in the speakeasy, Miguel caring for interpersonal deals and security. With Gabe away, he’d not… it didn’t matter.

“It won’t happen again.”

“If Lyla were here--” You’re a shark-- going after the one thing you knew would hurt. The little girl back at home who he went to great lengths to make sure was safe. She was… his, even if he felt was his brother’s, putting more salt into an ever widening sinkhole that was his irritation.

“She wasn’t.”

“But what if she was?”

“Cállate,” he barked.

“Fine, I’ll beat it. You can holed up all alone down here like you like to be, you-- you-- big lug.” You recoiled for an instant, before forcing yourself up, rubbing at heavily fallen tears in your pursuit of the door. Your cheeks were kissed by raw agitation, all pink and in any other situation, beautiful. Miguel swayed to catch your elbow.

“Discúlpame,” he murmured, a rare apology if you could even call it one to begin with. There was a long pause, and he wondered if you would be upset with him for the rest of the day. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

He knew he made it damn hard not to.

That was the thing about Miguel. He made it hard to get close, but even harder to leave. No matter what he did, you wanted to stay there right by him-- because he was the complicated brother. The one who… well, hell, you wanted to be about. Gabe was good and easy, your Miguelito was…

“Dios mio, Miguelito. This hinky stuff ain’t happening again. Or-- Or I’ll leave you both. Take Lyla right back to the island I came from and marry a man who isn’t in wrong with the police.”

You should have known the day that you gave birth to his daughter that something like that wasn’t going to happen.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (9)

IX. Longing

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your husband is away from you, and you are away from your husband

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, allucinations, complications in pregnancy, arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, might miss some warnings, this chapter might contain triggering content as its features threats to a pregnant woman, from someone who is supposed to be deceased, ghost much? jeje

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3,7 k 

Notes: I really want to think Northerners are not like they were portrayed in the last seasons of the Got shitshow. I did not check this for errors, I'm so excited to post it jeje sorry

It felt like your baby knew, as soon as Cregan left, you started showing, you had been married to Cregan for more than six moons, but it was complicated to tell which of all those numerous times he bed you did the trick, but the Maester believed you were almost four moons now 

Further than you expected

But also, as Cregan left, you felt terribly lonely, especially at night, your treacherous mind would draw sinister figures in the corner of your vision. You had trouble sleeping, only able to do so if there was at least one fire lighten in your room

You didn’t want to feel like this, you really didn’t, you wanted to be relaxed, for your child’s sake 

But it was proven really difficult, your tricky eyes would draw shapes of people in corners that were not really there, when you turned too quickly or even in the corner of your eye. You besides dealing with issues of a healing Kingdom, you wanted to keep your mind busy 

“Have you seen Vhaelar flying over the city this past week?”, you asked Ser Arryk

“No, your grace”, he informed dutifully, as he was commanded to keep an eye on your dragon

“I want to see her”, you inform him, he looked at your belly doubtfully, but when he looked back into your eyes, and the decision made, he didn’t question you, he just nodded

“I’ll get the dragon keepers and some of the guards to escort you, your grace”, he said and almost ran to fulfill the command 

You could feel how nervous they were as you were walking dangerous steps amongst the coast of King’s Landing.

You had put on your riding gear, even though you weren’t sure you were going to actually take a fly, but it is the only “suit”, that allowed you to wear pants without looking strange, and boots so you won’t slip in the rock and hurt yourself

Vhaelar never liked the Pit, and now that it was mainly destroyed, she nested in the cliffs near the castle 

You could hear her even before you saw her, you looked back at your escort and they stopped moving to allow you to get close to the huge cavern she rested in

“Vhaelar!”, you called, and you hear her acknowledgement in form of a more soft growl, you placed your hand on your belly excitedly, as you took a torch a dragon keeper offered you and walked inside

The cavern was huge, dark and moist, humid, it hit you like a slap, the smell of hundred of dead animals, burnt, devoured by your huge dragon

it was an issue, before you paid farmers for cattle and the cattle was taken to the Dragon Pit to feed the dragons, but now that Vhaelar roamed freely, it was harder to paid the farmers back for their troubles, but the crown did

Vhaelar’s huge head appeared in front of you 

“Rytsas, ñuha dōna riña, emagon ao issare ruaragon?”, [Hello, my sweet girl, have you been hiding here?]

“issa verdagon iā lenton, aōha dārōñe”, [She is nesting, your Grace], muttered a brave Dragonkeeper that followed you inside, you looked back over your shoulder, he was one that knew Vhaelar and how to interact with her, so she didn’t even move a muscle

“verdagon iā lenton?“,[Nesting?], you asked, excitedly, the man nodded, your hand went to your belly, you looked back at your dragon and you found her huge golden eyes looking down at your belly, and then at you

“ñuha dōna riña”, [My sweet girl], you whispered, placing your hand in her snout, and petter her until she purred almost 

Your dragon was going to lay a clutch of eggs, or egg, for your baby, they were right, there was a special connection between dragon and rider, you smiled warmly at the very thought. It also wasn’t strange, there was still some dragons in Dragonstone, the Cannibal for example, dragons she can mate with. 

This had certainly lightened up your mood for the rest of the day, as your guards were relieved that you decided against taking a short flight.

Vhaelar was to be left alone if she was indeed nesting 

It is indeed a wonder she didn’t burn you to a crisp

But now… as soon as you entered the castle, you felt like a dark cloud was on top of you and wouldn’t let go 

Cregan had done all he could to make the place nice for you again, there was a few weeks in which he would walk by your side and watch you carefully, everything you looked at and flinch, he would change for something else, all the tapestries and furniture, all of it, he would trade it for others, he even went as far as commissioning paintings from Lys to change the colors of the rooms

But still, it was still an impregnable fortress. Designed to not let anyone in… or out…

You tried to go about your day, but it didn’t take long, as the sun was hiding, for the shadows to start taking shapes.

Oh how you wished Cregan was there with you

You placed your hand in your belly

Cuddling you every night, placing his big hand on your belly like you were doing now, to feel your unborn child

Protecting you, making the shadows go away

You dismissed your ladies as soon as they took out your dress, and you put on your night shirt. You felt skittish about people touching you in your condition, you felt like you were cheating on Cregan somehow, by letting someone else touch your pregnant body. 

You got on the bed, and drifted off to sleep strangely quickly 

You woke up in the middle of the night, without apparent reason, you didn’t remember what you were dreaming about, but you woke up distraught, relieved that you actually woke up… and even a bit disoriented… and then… when you looked in the corner of the room.

You gasped, a tall figure was there, with his usual pose, hand grasped behind his back, standing up really straight, his long hair combed to perfection,  his eyepatch seemingly cutting his face in half, his remaining violet eye looking at you, with malicious intent 

Aemond was there, a smirk on his lips.

“Aemond? you are dead”, you whined, your hand on your belly protectively. In a quick movement he unsheathed his dagger hanging from his belt and made the knife dance in his hand 

Why him? of all of them, why was he presenting himself in front of you like this? because it's probably a dream, it couldn’t be real, he was dead! He was dead, well, they never found his body but he was dead, Daemon took him out with him in an incredible battle over the God’s Eye

Then you saw it

Dark sister, the sword, hanging from his belt 

“You would like me to be, wouldn’t you?”, he asked, his eye then traveled down your body to your small baby bump. He chuckled darkly as he saw your protective stance 

“My my, my little bastard having bastards of her own”

“He is not going to be a bastard”, you defended, “I’m married”, he chuckled again

“Oh yes, married and ruling the seven Kingdoms… Would you look at my pretty little bastard niece, how far she’s come”

Your breathing got heavy, you tried to sit on the bed, you did so slowly, your eyes never leaving his form

This couldn’t be real, he wasn’t here, this was some sick nightmare

But why does the hot tear that fell down your cheek felt so real?

“What are you doing here?”, you asked shakily, still, not being able to believe your own eyes, this felt way too real to be a dream, but it had to be, right?

Right?

He was quick on his feet, he had always been and he ran towards you who couldn't get out of bed and grabbed you by the neck, the dagger still on his hands

“Guards!”, you screamed but nobody came to your rescue 

“Is of no use”. he mocked, shaking you, you only could grab into his wrist, your other hand still protecting your belly from his anger, “nobody will come to save you. not even your idiotic husband”, he mocked then

“Cregan!”, you cried, as he could hear you, but you had sent him away, thousand miles away

He chuckled darkly

“Nobody is coming”, he threatened, “this feels like just old times, doesn’t it?”, he kept teasing, mocking you, provoking you, he didn’t squeeze, but he had you on a chokehold, you wouldn’t move  as he threatened your cheek with his blade, “me, sneaking into your rooms, late at night”

“Fuck you”, you grunted, “nothing ever happened, you just wanted to torment me”, you recalled

“Mhm, just like now”, he purred, he really hasn't changed since the last time you saw him, the dinner? was it? He looked older, perhaps, more tortured 

“What do you want?”, you whined

“You dead, me sitting on the Iron Throne, as is my right, bastard”

“They will never take you”

“They took you, didn’t they?”, he mocked, squeezing. You whined, scared not of him, but for your babe, your unborn child

“My baby”, you whined

“Ah, don’t worry, I’ll carve it out and leave it for the Stark to find if it concerns you such”, now you whined and twisted in the bed 

“No! my baby, he isn’t at fault!”, you were growing desperate, you looked to the side and found a heavy looking chandelier in the night table by your bed, at arm’s reach, you tried to grab it, making it drop to the floor with a loud “clang”, he then squeezed, tighter, and tighter, until you couldn’t breath, you thrashed and pushed but he wouldn’t let go… and everything went black 

You woke up taking a huge breath, like you had been shaken awake

You look at all directions, scared out of your mind

Gods… were you dead?

No… you were still in your room

it had all been a dream, a nightmare more like it

A horrible, gut wrenching nightmare…

Gods, what were you thinking? sending Cregan away like this?

You had been childish, keeping this important information away from your own husband, you couldn’t be like this, he was never going to let you flight up there, but… you wanted to tell him, you missed him, and even though that by your calculations he had been back home for at least a couple of weeks, you really hoped deep down, and in a very selfish way, that he’d return for you, for your unborn child.

You hated yourself for being so weak, so dependent, but… you would not live with yourself if he came back a year from now to an already grown child, his child, which he didn’t know anything about. 

So you rose from the bed even before the maids got to you, took a quill to paper, and started writing a heartfelt letter to your husband. Revealing your state, telling him why you hid it from him, and promising, if he so wishes, to go visit him.

After you finished writing it, you took it to the Maester yourself to be send at the earliest convenience 

If only you saw the chandelier on the floor before the maids return it to its rightful place 

. . .

Cregan took a long breath as he looked down at Winterfell, he smiled brightly, it felt so good to be back home, he spurred his horse on and started galloping, he couldn’t wait no longer, he felt like a little kid

But is his own child he wanted to see

He sent word before his arrival, so it was to no surprise that the entire castle habitants were waiting for him in the courtyard

He was finally home

After a huge march, after a bloody war, after taking the freaking capital, after marrying the Queen of the seven kingdoms, after all of that… he was finally back home 

“Our Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and King Consort to the Queen (Y/N) of House Targaryen, his Grace Cregan, of House Stark”, chanted a soldier and he felt goosebumps in his arms when he heard all those titles 

He tried to look solemn, not like a twenty four year old who just got home after two years away, but as soon as he saw them, his family, all the solemnity went away 

There, at the long steps that led inside the castle, was his sister, his bastard sister Sara, and by her side, holding her hand, was his son, Rickon. He was… so grown, taller, his face was the one of a boy, not a babe like the last time he saw him, his dark curls… his big grey ghostly eyes just like him… He looked like his mother. 

He jumped off his horse and went straight for him

The boy seemed skeptical of him, but he didn’t care and he grabbed him in his arms and hugged him tightly

He was barely a boy of 6 name days

He had him so young and yet… he was his son and heir, his blood

“I missed you my boy”, he whispered against his head

“I missed you papa”, he answered, his voice choked, and still the one of a child

He released him then, and turn to his loving sister

He greeted the rest of them, all of them, he knew every face and every name still, they were his people, and before he could finally enter his home, he looked over the walls of winterfell… The gray wolf on cream and green field was no longer alone. The three headed red dragon with four legs stood by its side.

As he walked amongst the hallways he noticed that everything stood the same, like it had been for the last thousand years and it surely will be for the next 1,000.

The first thing he did was talk to the maester, to see if he had received any ravens from the capital. He couldn’t hide his disappointment, he hadn't had words from you since he left a moon ago.

But to no matter, he was home now, he needed to focus on what he was doing, he couldn’t be with you wishing he was home, and then in his home wishing he was with you. Your beautiful, golden, resented heart probably still ached for his departure, he could understand that, he read you better than you ever believed he did, he was going to give you time and write to you himself. 

He called his sister Sara to his private audience room, he needed to get acquainted with everything that happened here since he left 

Sara presented himself shortly after, with a silly smile on her face, now, she was his sister, not the Lady Regent of Winterfell

But as he saw her face… he sighed 

“Why do I feel you are somewhat disappointed?”, he asked with a mocking tone

“Well, I’m not gonna lie, we wanted to see her”, she said with a smirk

“Her?”, he asked

“Our Dragon Queen”, Sara said with a smile, “and her Snowy dragon”, Cregan chuckled

“I wish she could hear you”

“Is she as beautiful as they say?”, she asked enthusiastically 

“She is”

“Is she as strong…?”, she asked then

“She is”, he said then

“Can her dragon burn people to a crisp?”

“She can”

“She is a girl? so amazing!”, she said, “So… how are things… King Consort of the Seven Kingdoms?”, it didn’t take her long to start teasing him

“They are still working on the title, they believe the husband of an acting Queen shouldn’t be named King, but merely Prince, or something else”

“Whatever they call you, you still married the QUEEN!”, she said with her eyes wide and her smile broad. Cregan chuckled

“I did”, he said with a smile.

“Do you miss her?”, she asked then, “Is she coming here?”

“I hope so”, he said with a sad smile, “and I do miss her”

“Auw! my brother is in looove”, she teased

“It’s too early to talk like that”, he said, trying to return to his more authoritative facade

“You are married to the Queen! is actually too late to talk about love”

“We need to discuss what is happening in my Kingdom”, he said then, “I might be the king consort, but… I’m still Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North”, he said with a short smile

“Well… let’s start with the fact we don’t have any more men because after the war they decided to settle in the Riverlands…”

So as soon as he arrived home, he started the long process of audiences and meetings with his lords to attend to the most urgent matters of the North…

So as days turned to weeks, he started to worry, he send a raven to King’s Landing, communicating you of his arrival safely to his home, and asking for your well being

He wanted to see you

Perhaps he was being selfish, but… he requested your presence, perhaps you could take to the skies and visit him, it was not a strange idea, you were his wife, you were a skillful dragon rider who assisted in the war and burnt armadas to the bottom of the narrow sea. And the sunset sea like when you saved him and the rest of your small council

You could easily pay him a visit, right?

So you were expecting his answer, and he was expecting yours, two ravens sent weeks away from each other, but only one was set to arrive at their destination, not the other.

It was a few weeks until Cregan received word back from the you

The letter was vague and distant, claiming you were not going to be able to travel North due to important matters that required your attention

He couldn’t prevent feeling truly disappointed, he wanted to see you

You in turn, thought he had received your letter, and gave no answer but a request for you to travel North, without even acknowledging what it would be the greatest news for your marriage and the future of The Kingdoms, so just answered back that you couldn’t make the journey

You were heartbroken, but understood that maybe he was angry with you, and he had the reason to. 

Another moon went by, and another 

Cregan was teaching his son how to use the bow, that he had commissioned specially for him, when he received a letter, not from King’s Landing, but from Driftmark

A letter from the Sea Snake himself

Cregan found it amusing, and was truly curious about what Lord Corlys may want

Searching for a way in? most likely

Did he want to propose a union between their houses? Did he have a young girl he wanted to present for his son’s hand?

But Cregan never would have expected the news that came inside that letter

He was livid

Why had Corlys Velaryon written to him, congratulating him for the unborn prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne?

Why would he be expressing his concern, chiding him as he was a child, of the dangers of his absence by his wife’s side?

Why was that nosy old bastard expressing his concern for the wellbeing of the royal marriage?

You were pregnant…

… With his child…

… You didn’t tell him…

… He was half the continent away…

What was he thinking? leaving you like this, without making sure you were not with child?

Why didn’t you tell him?

Why did you hide this from him?

You could have known after he left, but the thing is, you didn’t write to tell him…

What were you thinking? 

Allowing yourself to be left alone in these circumstances?

He called in Sara immediately

“Make preparations, I need to leave for King’s Landing as soon as possible”

“Did something happen?”, she asked, alarmed

“The Queen is heavy with child, my child, I did not know, I have to be with her by her side…”

“When do you want to leave?”, she asked, concerned

“As soon as possible”

“The preparations will take weeks”

“I’m aware, I will take Rickon with me too”

“Really?”, she asked, concerned, “But Cregan, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell”, he smiled, sliding a large parchment over the table towards her

“It’s going to be you”

It was a decreet, to make her legitimate, signed by you

He was going to return south, to you, and he was going to take his son with him, even though he didn’t think it was going to be a good idea, for his son to be influenced like this, but still, he wanted you to meet him, and if you were not going to come to him, he was going to take his son to you

Perhaps, he didn’t think he was going to be able to leave him again, not after everything, not after missing two years of his short life

Adding to the stress and problems he had at home, now he had to add his unruly wife, who hid her pregnancy from him, and a unruly Lord, who purposefully send him that letter with ill intent, passively revealing against them

Corlys Velaryon was acting with a spoiled child whom his parents paid no attention anymore

What was he to do with him?

What were you going to do with him?

As he looked out the windows of his rooms to the vast valley in front of him, his home, he couldn’t help but release a single tear that fell from his cheek.

He was overwhelmed, now sad, that you mistrusted him so much, you must truly hate him to keep your pregnancy from him

He was now himself divided, South and North, Lordship or Crown, his son or you and his unborn child

A child that was going to be the next Queen or King of the Seven Kingdoms…

and his people needed him too, so much, they were also healing from the war, and losing a great percentage of his male population.

But he then smiled

Oh his child, his unborn child, a baby, made from you and him…

He couldn’t help but giggle a bit 

Despite your beautiful, but resentful heart, oh he couldn’t wait to see you all fat for him, because of him, because of your and his child

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