#richie boyle

[lgwifey]

THE ALBATROSS

masterlist

Richie Boyle x Fem!reader

the lack of The Outfit / Richie Boyle content on this app and just in general is lowkey inhumane so I've decided to come out of hibernation.

🧸📱📜 (<- me)

(I have watched The Outfit at least five times in the last two days - it's become somewhat of a comfort film okay)

growing up within a mob family had its benefits, it also had its downsides. one being overprotective parents... who had access to weapons and alibis... the main downside however was the secrecy of it all.

warnings : this was all wrote by a dyslexic usually around 12:30 am - 3:30 am . this is your warning that there will 100% be at least one spelling mistake even after I've proofread it.

feel free to point it out - I might fix it, I might not. i'm running off three hours of sleep per four days here people 🫦

this is adapted from my Wattpad so if there’s any slip ups with the use of a name instead of y/n or any specific description please comment x

throughout •

violence, gun violence, swearing (shocker), mob/mafia themes, bad 1950's slang, legal age gap ? ( 19/20 & 25), LOW standards

specific chapters • (warnings given prior)

domestic violence , descriptions and mentions of blood, d.i.y medical stitches, descriptions and mentions of vomit

please comment any I’ve missed x

🔸part one

✨💥🥀 part two

✨💥part three

🥀part four

🔸part five

part six

[odiniswithus]

DYLAN O'BRIEN as RICHIE BOYLE

——–THE OUTFIT——–

[obriengf]

How would the characters react to their partner who is usually smiley and happy, stop smiling because of a bad day or something happened

please send me some dylan characters and headcanons! TEMPORARILY CLOSED

stiles: the moment he sees your saddened face, his would drop too. your smile would be his driving force and without it, all energy would be drained. stiles would be desperate to know the source of what made you lose your sparkle but he also knew that comfort needs to come first, and questions asked later. stiles loves hugs - so immediately, you would be wrapped within his arms and he would hold you until he deemed enough. if you cried, his hand would rub your back. if you were just dejected, he would whisper stupid jokes in your ear until you laughed. he wouldn't try using his detective skills on what made you upset until he knew you were looked after.

mitch: if you were his work partner, mitch wouldn't know what to do if you were sad. usually, you were kickass and didn't let anything bother you, keeping your emotions at bay like the CIA taught you both so well to do. you would finish a mission, and the relief wouldn't be evident as it usually was - and that was mitch's first clue. he wouldn't ask what was wrong, but probably pat your shoulder awkwardly, and try to distract you with promises of drinks or packing up your belongings for the jet ride home. if you were his lover, he would feel emotional distress of his own seeing you upset. he would hold you tight, and try to coax out the reason for your sadness. if it was a person, mitch would definitely handle it.

thomas: he had spent so long making sure everybody was safe and happy in the safe haven, so it was only natural that his determination continued if he saw you downhearted. thomas wouldn't ask why until you were ready, but he would try to distract you. he'd probably convince you to go on a run with him to clear your mind, stopping for a break at one of the small cliffsides up the mountain as you both took in the view. he'd try to make you smile and happy, then probably make a comment like 'there's that smile I've been missing'. after a while, he would ask what was wrong. and despite possible protests, he would do whatever he could to make sure he could resolve it.

stuart: he didn't have the best social skills, and probably wouldn't notice you were sad until someone else mentioned it and it caught his attention. he would be awkward around the situation, but he wasn't heartless. stuart just rolling his seat over to yours and sitting silently until you looked over to him - he would smile nervously, probably reach out to lightly pat you shoulder and it would make your face screw up in confusion. but he wouldn't leave you as he started making small talk, asking if you needed anything, or wanted help with work. stuart wouldn't ask what was wrong but he would try be be accommodating, and that was more than enough for you.

joel: he is extremely empathetic - if you were upset, he would be on you in seconds asking what happened. joel would want to know so he could figure out the best way to make you feel better. you need comfort? sit back and he would make you some soup to 'warm your soul'. you need consolation? he would stick to your side, hugging you or just holding you to him as he rocked you slowly. you want to be left alone? he understood that, and he would let you cool off but he wouldn't be far away as he observed to make sure you were alright. joel would never be too far away... as long as he would be able to make you smile again.

sam: sam would begin with being slightly anxious - a part of him would worry if he did something wrong, the other part would be about whether he could fix whatever was wrong. this aspect of him drove gentle questioning about what led to you being upset, and once he knew the answer, he jumped straight into caring protective mode. he would have careful movements as he held you, or led you to a comfortable place. sam getting you a warm drink to give you a bit of pep, or if you are incredibly upset he would make you drink a glass of cold water to calm your nerves. he would assess whether you need to talk it through, and act accordingly.

richie: richie doesn't always think rationally, which is why anger would be at the forefront of his mind. the fact that something or someone made you upset was utterly appalling, and they needed to be taken down. he would find out what happened, and either send someone to deal with it on behalf of him as he looked after you, or he would go deal with it himself so that they felt the despair that provoked you to collapse sad and upset in his arms. he never showed this side of him in public, but behind closed doors he would absolutely dote over you - loving hugs and reassurance, a soft tender side that only came out for you. whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and promises like 'they will think twice next time they decide to mess with my girl again'.

[anonazure]

I contemplated adding my Stilinski bros as Eli's uncles...

But you know what, I want Eli to have more questionably dangerous powerful relatives

[asterias-record-shop]

Eghem *wink wink* here comes the Richie Boyle request babe. Can I please request a story where the reader and Richie are long time friends and the reader is suspicious of Mable, but Richie is not listening to her and then moments before he gets shot the reader comes and saves the day while also getting rid of Mable, cuz we're that petty💅🏼. I'm kinda struggling with where the romantic part comes, but maybe in the end? Idk that's why I'll leave it to u since you're more creative.

Thank you for taking the time!!!

—𓆩[took you long enough]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

"Richie, you know she has a crush on you, right?"

Your words make Richie roll his eyes, taking the cigarette you both were sharing as you kicked your feet slightly on the roof of his mansion. The two of you had been sneaking onto the roof since you both were young and your parents were already talking about how you both were to be married at this age.

Your mother was already planning your wedding to be in four months time.

Richie didn't sleep around like everyone thought, ending every night sneaking into your room before bed and having you clean up all of his injuries of the fights he had gotten in that day. You were a nurse in the war for a while, and it was proven of use now that your fiancé was a member of a Mafia.

“You think I give two shits? The bitch is… a prude. She can’t handle me.” Richie winked at you as he watched you throw the butt of the cigarette down to the ground. “So, how are our wedding plans going, doll?”

“Absolutely amazing,” you giggled. Richie smiling at how happy this was getting you. Maybe, just maybe, you would be happy getting married to him. “Even if it’s not real, you know damn well I’m getting my big wedding.”

Richie scoffed slightly, the only thing he could do. He couldn’t let you in and say how bad he wanted it to be real, or tell you that it already was real. You had always said you would never get married if it wasn’t for love, and if that was true, why are you marrying him?

“Why’re you marrying me, doll?” Richie lit another cigarette easily with his other hand as you made sure the gauze on his arm would stay.

You paused, tilting your head up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you marrying me?” He fixed his words, trying to sound more professional. “You always said you wouldn’t get married if it wasn’t for love.”

You inhaled as you fixed the gauze, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Well, I’ve always been told this was going to happen,” you shrugged, standing and gathering your stuff. “Guess I tricked myself into falling in love with you.”

Richie doesn’t say anything as you stand, balancing yourself on the roof as you go into the room, already making yourself comfortable in Richie’s bed. He quickly finished the cigarette, standing and going into the room before someone knocks.

“Work?” You ask, the moonlight illuminating your body and that perfect satin nightgown that he always tried to sneak his hand under.

“Most likely, doll,” Richie grabs his coat and starts putting on his holsters as you hummed. “Be back soon.”

“Yeah,” you respond softly, twisting so that he couldn’t look at you. Richie hummed as he slowly kneeled onto the bed, pressing soft, playful kisses to your cheek and temple. “Ew, Richie! Leave, oh my goodness, you’re disgusting!”

He laughed as he stood, scoffing at the harder knock before fixing himself and getting his poker face back on. “Be back soon.”

“Be safe, Rich,” you whisper back, humming as you softly pushed him away. "Your daddy had a phone installed in here. Call me if you need anything, Richie."

"Same to you, doll."

You didn't expect to get a call saying Richie got shot. When you got there, you were already pissed when you saw Mable trying to stitch him up. "For fucks sake, get your hands off of me! You don't even know how to clean it right- fuck!"

"Leonard? Leonard, where is he?!" You yelled out, unable to find him just by his voice before Francis stepped out.

"There you are pretty girl; Richie's been absolutely begging for you."

"Oh, shut up!" You respond, quickly going to the back. "I got it, you can leave now."

You glared at Mable who just stared, mouth opening and closing like a fish as Richie flashed you a slight smile. "There you are doll. What took you so long?"

"Shut up," you couldn't hold back a giggle, quickly setting your bag on the table and shoving her out of the way. "Where's Leo?"

"I don't fucking know," he grunted as you opened up your medical bag, quickly pushing his hand behind your head and pulling you down for a firm kiss.

You gasped, giggling as you moved your hands to cup his face, nodding. "Took you long enough."

ahhh, you’re literally the best, my love! I loved writing this when I had to take a little break from Bingo :)

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© asterias-record-shop

[soundwavesopretty]

haven't posted about this movie in awhile 😔

[itsawhumpyroad]

Chapter 10: Pit Stop III - Waltzing with Morpheus (AO3)

Francis’ transformation had begun swiftly. He’d fought alongside Mr. Boyle, Richie and Monk — proving himself through grit and skill. Mr. Boyle had no qualms about proclaiming him soon as his right-hand man. Gone were his rough, street-worn clothes; replaced by sleek, tailored suits and perfectly knotted ties.

He’d abandoned the dingy apartment where his father had met his end and where the moldy walls still carried the echoes of his mother’s dirty secrets. Mr. Boyle had offered him a room in his opulent mansion, a grand gesture of goodwill and trust. Yet Francis had politely declined, opting instead for a condo in a quiet suburb of Chicago. He’d valued his new family, but also his independence, and his own place provided a sense of privacy amidst the chaos of his new life.

However, Mr. Boyle had welcomed him at all times, inviting him to take full advantage of the mansion’s amenities as if they were his own. Francis had accepted this offer, finding himself occasionally lounging in one of their swimming pools, wrapped in a plush towel after a steamy session in the sauna, or savoring exquisite food crafted by Mr. Boyle’s personal chef Mr. Goldrick.

Inevitably, he had also caught glimpses of Richie’s erratic life: Girlfriends fluttered in and out of the mansion with alarming frequency. Some came for the glitz and the cash, exploiting his wealth for their own gain. Other relationships were genuine and intense and craved Richie’s affection. Their laughter would often ripple through the halls, and more than once Francis had awkwardly stumbled upon them together. But what all those relationships had in common was their brevity, each one plunging Richie into heartbreak that either catapulted him into the wild swirl of Chicago’s nightlife or further entrenched him in their underworld businesses.

Read more on AO3.

[purelysober]

people are like: “my fandoms so small, we only have like 500 fics on ao3!!!”

bitch i got 1 good one.

but thank god it’s a heavenly masterpiece because less than like 7 months ago there were only 2 which were weird ships… no i did not wanna read dylan o’brien characters shagging derek hale what the fuck 😭😭

best fic ever.

[kissedbyaphrodite]

Promoting my new fic "Fire of blood"

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, major character death, rape/non-con, underage sex

Fandoms: A song of ice and fire, Teen Wolf, American Assassin, Not Okay, The Outfit

Main tags: Intersex Stiles Stilinski, Targaryen AU, sibling incest, cousin incest.

Relationships: Claudia Stilinski/Sheriff Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mittch Rapp/Anna Rielly, Mable Shaun/Richie Boyle

Summary: King Jaehaeron Targaryen, fifth son and sixth child of King Erys Targaryen and his sister-wife, Queen Maerea Targaryen; he was the only child of the couple who made it to adulthood, outliving all his older siblings. Becoming a kingslayer, a kinslayer, and usurper of the tyrannical King Erys at the age of fifteen.

Taking Lady Claudia Tyrell to wife at the age of sixteen, and proceeding to have four sons; Prince Maegar Targaryen, Prince Rhaekar Targaryen, Prince Corwyn Targaryen and Prince Maeraxes II Targaryen.

Out of four sons, only one made it to his adulthood.

[harringtonstilinski]

Mastermind - Richie Boyle (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Richie Boyle x Reader Word Count: 2,691 Warnings: fluff Smut: no | yes; fingering Requested: Yes! I hope it meets your expectations, anon friend!​​​ A/N: Hi, friends! After not posting for Richie for ages, I'm finally getting one out! I think this is the shortest smut piece I've ever written, lol. BUT, I hope you like this! If you do, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

May 1956. The biggest month of your life. Your third date with Richie Boyle was this month. The two of you had met at Burling’s when you were getting your father’s suit back from being tailored. 

After Leonard had handed you your father’s suit, you turned to walk back through the entry where Mable sat, only to crash into Roy Boyle’s son. He held you steady with a hand on your back, asking if you were okay, and from then on, you and Richie had a thing going.

He had brought you to his home the night of your second date to meet father, the Irish Mob Boss, Roy Boyle. Everyone was taught to fear ol’ Roy because of his background, but he showed you nothing but kindness and welcomed you into his home with open arms. Ever since then, you were an honorary member of the Boyle family.

But, tonight was a very special night. Richie had told you that he had something special planned and to dress casually but nice. Since the only thing you really wore was skirts, you opted for a black, knee length one with a pink top and your black and white Oxford shoes. 

Your hair was down and in curls that were in style. As you were touching your curls up, you heard a knock coming from the front door, so you hurried as quickly and elegantly as you could before grabbing your purse, your coat and gloves, putting your coat and purse on as you walked briskly to the door, opening it after putting on one of your gloves.

Smiling, you looked at how handsome Richie looked in his suit. “Hi, Richie.”

“Hi, beautiful,” he replied. “Damn. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said, your cheeks warming a little. “You look handsome as ever.”

“Thanks, doll.”

The nickname that made your knees weak. 

“You ready?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you smiled, putting on the other glove. 

Richie put his arm out to the side, letting you walk in front of him after you locked and shut your door. Being the gentleman that his father raised him to be, he made himself home on your right, blocking the traffic from you in case something were to happen.

The movie theater wasn’t far from your home; a couple of blocks at most. Richie had it all planned out, and executed part of his plan on his walk to get you. He put his arm around you as you walked before saying, “Listen, doll, I was thinking; maybe we'll catch a later show and go get some dinner.”

You happily groaned, carefully leaning your head back on his shoulder as to not mess your curls up. “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“No snacks?”

“Nope. I was too busy getting ready to think about food.”

The two of you hadn’t really had your first kiss as a couple yet. The closest your lips got to each other were your cheeks. So when you looked up at Richie, your heart beat just a little bit faster as he looked down at you and smirked before kissing your forehead.

Nevertheless, you smiled and looked forward, seeing a couple put their heads down and scoot to the other side of the sidewalk. The action made you sigh in defeat.

“What’s the matter, doll?” Richie asked.

“I just don’t like seeing people cower at seeing you or your father,” you answered, honestly. “It makes me sad.”

“I know. But that’s the way my family works.”

Looking back up at him, you said, “Please tell me it won’t be like that if we have a family one day.”

Richie looked down at you, seeing the worry in your eyes, and smirked. “I promise. Besides, I think Francis will take over and kick me out of my own family.”

“I’ll have to hurt him, then,” you said, a small smile on your own face.

Turning the both of you towards the door of both of your favorite Italian restaurant, Richie asked, “And how do you plan on doin’ that?”

“Kick him in his family jewels.”

The two of you chuckled as you walked inside, the host quickly grabbing two menus and leading you to Richie’s normal table. What struck you as odd as the three of you passed the tables, was seeing Mable there, looking sad and uncomfortable at seeing the two of you together.

You decided to ask Richie about after the host left the table once Richie helped you in your chair. “Hey, Richie?”

“Yeah, doll?” he asked, looking at his menu, already knowing what he wanted.

“Was there something between you and Mable before I came along? She’s here and looked quite upset.”

Sighing, Richie set the menu down, lacing his fingers together before placing his arms on the table. “Yes. I couldn’t get you off my mind after our first meeting, so I broke things off with her a couple of weeks later. I waited about two months before asking you on our first date.”

“Such a gentleman,” you replied, sarcastically. 

“You’ve seen how my Pops is with me and Francis. Treats that son of a bitch like he’s his goddamn son.”

You flinched at his use of language, something you weren’t used to yet.

“Sorry, doll,” he apologized. “But the one good thing about him is that he treats you like the daughter he’s always wanted.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” you smiled, holding your water glass up to take a small sip.

When the waiter showed up at the table with Richie’s favorite appetizer, he voiced that our meals would be out shortly, to which Richie thanked him for. 

He looked at you, a chuckle sounding from his throat at the disgusted look on your face. “What?”

“I still can’t believe you eat calamari.”

Just then, the waiter returned, setting a plate in front of you, profusely apologizing. “I am so sorry, Mr. Boyle. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine,” you answered. “Thank you.” You smiled up at the waiter, seeing a bead of sweat fall to his eyebrow from his hairline. 

He quickly smiled at you before darting off to the kitchen. 

Looking at Richie, you knew the look he was wearing all too well. “Oh, stop it, Richie. It was an accident. Maybe they didn’t have it ready when yours was. I mean, you do come here alone sometimes. Maybe they didn’t think you’d have someone with you.”

“Then why would they get two menus?”

“Rich,” you said, softly. Using the nickname only you were allowed to use, aside from his mother before she passed. “It’s fine. Don’t cause a scene.”

Richie relented, looking down at your plate. “Tomato and bruschetta?”

Holding one out for him, you smiled and said, “Here, try it.”

“Try the calamari first.”

“I have. I had a bad batch once. Turned me off of it forever.”

“Where from?” Richie asked.

Waving him off, you answered, “This little diner I used to work at. I actually think your dad used to stop by a lot.”

You looked at him while taking a bite of your food, seeing a look of confusion and thoughtfulness on his face. Snorting lightly, you covered your mouth with your hand. “What’s with the look?”

“Pops never stopped by any diner. Not that- wait, the one off West Randolph?” He pointed his fork at you in recollection. “The sock-hop one.”

Nodding with a smile on your face, you answered, “The Soda Hop.” You set your bruschetta down, covering your mouth while you laughed. “Such a cheesy name.”

Richie joined you in your laughter, essentially agreeing with you about the name when the waiter showed back up, bringing out Richie’s order of a roast chicken with his favorite sides, as well as your order. 

The two of you dug into your meals, laughing and chatting while you ate. When dessert came, you thought you were going to bust, but as you were walking along the sidewalk with your arm wrapped around Richie’s, everything seemed to fall into place.

To say that you were falling in love with Richie was an understatement. You were in love with him the moment you bumped into him at Burling’s. You’re thankful that your father sent you instead of going himself.

As you and Richie approached the theater, you stopped him and turned to face him. “Please tell me this is just a normal date on a normal night watching a normal movie.”

Richie took half a step closer to you, placing his hand gently against your cheek, your head tilting into his touch. “Of course it is, doll. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you’re Richie Boyle, and knowing you, you probably bought out the whole theater for only us.” You felt him stiffen slightly at that.

“Richieeeeee,” you groaned.

“I just wanted it to be special,” he said, softly.

“It would’ve been special even if it was packed full of people, babe.”

Chuckling, his eyes cast down to your lips before looking back into your eyes. “Wouldn’t be special with what I have planned for us, beautiful.”

Your core clenched at his words. The two of you hadn’t reached that part in your relationship yet, and you felt ready. You just weren’t sure if Richie was ready for that part. Well, you actually did know that he was ready. It was just a matter of time before either of you made a move in those regards.

“Come on,” Richie said, putting his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go enjoy this movie.”

You didn’t know which movie he had picked, so to say that you were excited was an understatement as the two of you walked up to the snack counter, where Richie ordered the two of you a couple of Cokes before you two went into the theater.

Finding your seats was easy as Richie had suggested the seats in the dead center of the room. Smiling as you sat down, you looked at your boyfriend, watching as he took off his coat and hat, setting them into the seat next to him before finally finding a purchase beside you on his own.

You could feel that something big was going to come out of tonight, whether it was him ending the night in your bed, or you in his, but as he laced his fingers with yours, pulling your knuckles to his lips, you didn’t care where the night ended… as long as it ended with him.

The film that the two of you were watching was titled The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit. You had absolutely no idea what it was about, but you sat through the first quarter of the movie, eyes glued to the screen as you tried to follow along with the story line.

When you felt Richie’s lips on your knuckles again, you looked over at him, watching as he kissed his way down your hand and up your arm. As his eyes locked on yours, you couldn’t help the feeling that came over you as you leaned towards him, and he to you, your lips locking in your very first kiss as a couple. 

As your lips moved in sync, you didn’t register his hand moving to your inner thigh, slowly pulling your skirt up to your mid-thigh before gliding his fingers back up your inner thigh to where you wanted him most.

“Richie,” you moaned, softly.

“Yeah, babydoll?” he asked. You could hear that stupid smirk on his face as he spoke. “What do you want?”

Resting your head on his shoulder as he barely skimmed your clothed core, you quietly whined, “You,” before looking back at him. “I want you.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Softly kissing his lips, you breathed out a sigh before whispering, “Touch me. Please.”

He looked around at the exit points for any of the employees before looking up into the projection booth, seeing a body disappear out of sight before the booth’s door and exit doors closed, leaving the two of you alone.

Richie looked back to you, seeing an already fucked out look on your face. “Damn, baby. Fuckin’ needy already, huh?” He turned his body more toward you, moving his hand from your aching core to your knee, spreading your legs a little further apart, your skirt rising up more at the action.

Bringing his hand back to your center, his eyes locked onto his hand as he rubbed and down with two fingers before looking back at your face, your eyes shut at the small amount of pleasure he was giving you. “Do you want more, baby?”

Nodding your head, you whined a little louder than before. “Please.” You opened your eyes at the feel of your panties being moved to the side, Richie’s fingers gliding up your center, spreading your lips apart to reveal more of you to him.

You’d had sex with other men, sure, but none of them made you as wet as Richie did. 

“Damn, babydoll,” he whispered, eyes moving from your wet core to your eyes. “This all for me?”

You nodded your head again, your bottom lip between your teeth. A moan escaped your throat as you watched him put his fingers into his mouth, lapping up the arousal he had gathered, a satisfied groan coming from his own throat.

Bringing his fingers out of his mouth, he said, “You taste amazing, baby,” before bringing his fingers back to your center, a single digit sliding into you with ease, pumping a few times to elicit a long and loud moan from you before bringing said digit to your clit, where started to rub your nub in circles.

“You like that, babydoll?” he asked. “You like me playing with your clit?”

Your answer came in the form a loud moan, your head tossing back slowly, the pleasure starting to course through you as he moved his finger down to your entrance, circling your arousal a few times before inserting two fingers into your heat, his thumb attaching to your clit where he rubs circles in time with the pace he was setting his fingers.

“Damn, babydoll, you’re makin’ me hard,” he whispered, watching as your hips rolled in time with his fingers, the pressure in your belly starting to form.

Picking your head up, you looked at Richie, one of your eyebrows up and the other furrowed in pleasure. “Please, don’t stop Rich.” You took a breath to speak, but your words were cut off by a groan of pleasure. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

Richie almost stopped all movements of his hand at hearing you say the word fuck. “My little innocent girlfriend said the word fuck. I’m corrupting you.”

“Shut the fuck up and make me cum,” you replied, your body bouncing with the movements of your hips. Once you felt the coil in your tummy was about to snap, you tossed your head back again, saying, “Faster, Rich. I’m gonna cum.”

Doing as you asked, Richie pumped his fingers a little faster, a yelp sounding from you as he pumped his fingers a little harder than he anticipated.

“Oh, my god,” you groaned. “Do that again. Do that a-” The word died on your tongue as Richie pumped his fingers harder into your core, the coil snapping without warning, your pussy pulsing against his fingers.

Slowly working you through your orgasm, Richie couldn’t help but watch as you tilted your head back up, looking him in the eyes. When he was sure your high was over, he pulled his fingers from you, putting his fingers back into his mouth. “Fuck, you’re incredible,” he moaned after pulling his clean fingers from his mouth.

He readjusted your panties and skirt, your legs back in their proper place. Once your head was resting against his shoulder with your hand around his arm, you sighed in content, noticing the movie was almost over with.

Looking up at him, you smiled. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Once he looked down at you, he smiled back and asked, “For what?” “The best night of my life… you little mastermind.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N 2: let me know what you thought!

Additional Note: i hope i did richie justice! 

~~~

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Posted on January 31, 2024

[lgwifey]

THE ALBATROSS

part one | series masterlist

richie boyle x fem!reader

summary : growing up within a mob family had its benefits, it also had its downsides. one being overprotective parents... who had access to weapons and alibis... the main downside however was the secrecy of it all.

warnings : violence, gun violence, swearing (shocker), mob/mafia themes, bad 1950's slang, legal age gap ? ( 19/20 & 25), LOW standards

Chicago, Illinois

1956

December.

Over-hairsprayed hair somehow managed to swayed in the wind as y/n slipped her key into the black door, a stare of caution prominent against her soft features.

As soon as she stepped into L. Burling Bespoke, the door slid closed and the catch slipped itself automatically on.

"Mr English ?"

The high pitch of her voice rang through the closed door, the elderly gentleman that employed her appearing murkily through the cloudy glass. The brown doors slid open enough for him to walk through to the front door, faltering shut slightly but not fully as he gave the young girl a calming smile.

"Y/n ! You're early for once."

Her hair stood high on her head, a smile gracing her features once again now that she was safely in her workplace.

Not only was the December morning biting at her flesh but she could feel a tension in her lungs. Y/n didn't see herself as a superstition person - but this gut feeling was driving her nauseous.

"My Pa dropped me off 'round the corner - he didn't want me walking."

The girl turned around, slipping her structured beige trench-coat off her shoulders, quickly rushing to the other end of the building to discarding it over a hook on the cloak stand in the corner. On her way back to the front room, she readjusting her hair over her shoulders as she made her way to her chair behind the receptionist desk.

"I don't even know why, I only live a block away and I'm twenty ! Well... next month. Either way, I'm a grown woman."

"I'm sure he's just looking out for you Miss, you are his only daughter after all."

She gave a huff, following the sharp dressed gentleman into the second room. Her black dress clung to her stockings as she strolled, her manicured hands pushing the cotton material down to where it's supposed to sit - an inch above her knees - once she'd reached one of the chairs and lounged herself down.

"He has three other kids he could worry about but no, I get all the caution. 'Don't wear your hair like that y/n it'll attract attention' 'when are you going to settle down with a nice, Irish man' 'don't be walking about by yourself in the evenin'."

The irritated girl deepened her voice, the mocking comments being finished off with a loud scoff.

"It's not exactly like anyone's gonna try anything. I'm a Y/L/N !"

The comment hitched Leonard's stitching, a quick hum being sent the girl's way as he tried to change conversation topics.

For someone trying to stay out of everyone's way, the gentleman had very much screwed up all his plans.

He didn't particularly want to know any of Chicago's underworld business. Sure, he provided suits and a place for the Boyle mob to exchange whatever it was they were exchanging, but he made sure he kept his nose to himself. He didn't want to know anything.

Saying that was difficult would be an understatement and a half with Roy Boyle's right-hand man's daughter as his receptionist and occasional apprentice.

It was well known throughout Chicago's that Y/F/N was protective of his third child, his only daughter. What wasn't well reported on was the soft spot the mobster held for the nineteen year old girl. Whilst he kept his lips very tightly sealed and a mask of terror to everyone else in the world, including his wife, the man couldn't help but keep his daughter up to date with everything he knew, which was quite a lot considering his position amongst the Boyle's.

Unfortunately for Leonard, y/n y/l/n had no filter with any information she gave.

Only the prior week, she'd accidentally blurted out about 'the outfit'. She'd slapped a hand over her mouth straight after, her boss just giving his usual 'I would rather not know any details.'

"Have we got any deliveries today ?"

"Urm... lemme go check the book."

The girl thought for a moment before pushing herself off the leather armchair in the corner of the room. Her short, black, pump heels gave delicate clicks against the pure wood flooring before a pause could he heard and then the clicks returning.

She reappeared through the doors with a thick notebook in her hands, a pencil resting in between her index and middle fingers as she looked over the open page.

'None that I can see. But my Pa did ask if we had space for a fitting next week."

Y/n dropped herself back into the hold of the armchair, resting the open book on her knee and the unsharpened end of the pencil tapped against the page.

"Well we always have time for the Y/L/Ns here, don't we."

The young girl just sent a bright smile back, fingers flicking to a new page and check through for a time she knew her father would be available for.

"It's not actually for my Pa, it's for Drew. It's his fifth birthday in February so my Pa wants to get him his first 'proper suit' y'know. My mom wants to wait closer to the time because, well toddlers grow faster than snowfall in December !"

As she spoke, her hand waved the pencil about dramatically, a flare she always carried with her no matter the day's mood. After finding a time that she knew would work for her younger brother and father, she delicately wrote in 'Y/L/N - fitting'.

"I would just bring the measurements in for you but last time somehow got the chest and shoulders wrong."

The nineteen year old bit the inside of her cheek in embarrassment, looking up from the book to find Leonard smiling to himself, eyes still down and concentrating on the fabric he was sewing together.

Even though she knew that when it came down to her career she would end up being a stay at home mom for someone within Roy's organisation or as a marriage connection to another group, she had asked the cutter to teach her the basics of his trade. She had started helping him mark out fabric with templates, then stitching and more recently he had been teaching her how to measure.

The day passed like usual, all kinds of men walking into the shop. Some offering a polite greeting her way whilst she sat happily at her little wooden desk with a notebook and a few pens and pencils, most however just walked past straight to where Leonard was stood in the second room.

She had the occasional gross, flirty comment from the older men or non-locals who weren't aware of her family. She didn't mind them too much, it could be worse. Anyway, if it came to it her Pa, Roy or Richie would just shoot them for her.

"Knock knock ."

Y/n was drawn out of her daydreaming - she was supposed to be writing up notes from the last client's fitting - by the shop bell chiming infront of her. The smirk entering giving his usually sarcastic greeting.

Speak of the devil.

Her smile shot up to either side of her face as she pushed herself up from the desk, strutting towards the smart dressed brunette entering.

"Alright y/n/n ?"

" 'm good Richie."

The twenty five year old pulled the younger girl in for a tight hug, the beehive haired girlmuttering her response to him before giving him a peck on the cheek as he loosened his arms and moved through the second room to the end of the building.

Francis had walked ahead, a slight scowl directed to the receptionist. Y/n had to hold back from tripping him as he passed her.

"How business English ?"

"Evening sirs."

The girl followed slight behind the mobsters, body resting against the dark doorframe between the rooms. A manicured finger twisted a few strings from the front section of her hair, eyes drifting through the room, locking slightly on the light grey coated man in the corner.

She held her look of distaste back, only letting her eyes roll momentarily.

What Roy saw in him she would never know, in her eyes he was the most obvious person in America. She genuinely would rather have her youngest brother managing the laundering than Francis.

"Oh wow ! That's a nice one, that's really nice. You making that for my Pops ?"

If she wasn't trying to be subtle, she would've hit her head against the wall at how bad Richie was at being the distraction. You genuinely couldn't get more obvious if you told someone directly what was going on.

In their defence, y/n hadn't actually found out what was happening within the organisation. She made it her mission to find out by the end of the day though.

"Not this one ."

"You're making those fine dreads for somebody else ? Who !"

Richie leaned heavily on the table in the centre of the room, occasional touching his hat as he tilted his head to keep an eye on Francis.

Leonard just carried to stitching.

"Master Richie, you know I can't talk about my gentlemen."

"Huh ? Is that what we are, your gentlemen."

A snicker came from either side of the room, the brunette looking up her his shoulder to see the eavesdropping girl hiding her mouth behind her cardigan clad hand, the smile lines around her thickly lined eyes giving her away almost instantly. He just sent her a click and a smile back before turning back to Leonard.

"Wow ! Get a load of English, keeping his lips shut tight."

"Richie ."

The older boy knew his name was a warning from the y/l/n girl so he bit his tongue. He sent a quick glance Francis' way.

He needed 'wannabe-Boyle' to hurry up working through the mail, the more he had to distract the tailor the more he was going to upset y/n - which would not work in his favour later that evening. She was already annoyed enough at the rude behaviour that she'd moved herself back to her desk on the other side of the building.

"Your father was here ."

"Oh yeah ?"

Leonard gave a hum, even from her desk y/n knew he still hadn't looked up from his work.

"Yesterday. He said your business is going under some manner of expansion, he says I should plan on making you a new suit to celebrate ."

"Francis what do you think ? New threads as long as we're here."

"Not tonight ."

Francis' voice came out harsh and low.

Y/n could not stand that man's presence. Not only because he was constantly narky and rude to others for no reason but also just because she got a bad feeling whenever she was around him.

"Aye com'on, we got time."

"Not tonight ."

The end room suddenly went quiet, nerve filling the girl in the front room as she heard a rattle of paper and a few mutters off Richie.

She knew something was definitely going down in the underground when she heard Richie suggest to Leonard that he should see if she needed any help at the front.

When had she ever needed help ?

"Would you excuse me gentlemen."

She heard the doors draw behind the older man, and his footsteps coming towards her and the final doors being drawn shut.

A smirk rested lightly on top of her full smile, an array of envelopes upon her desk and her notebook ontop of them.

"Wanna talk about it ?"

"Any mail ?"

The girl let out a small laugh, adjusting her seat and leaning her head off her hand, a raised eyebrow testing his impartial cover.

"You just got given the boot. In your own shop."

"Any mail ?"

He just repeated his question, y/n giving a sigh as her smile dropped to be tight lipped.

"Nothing interesting."

Her reply was short and blunt, dropping a few pieces of paper into the bin under her desk before pushing back off the desk and falling to her feet.

She wondered around the front of the shop for a bit, Leonard having took a seat in the leather sofa against the left wall as soon as the conversation started. Eventually she settled on leaning against the wall closest to the first set of doors, quickly realising that she couldn't hear the boy's conversation through the walls but also knowing she could starting walking around again with the noise her shoes gave off on the flooring.

She gave a click of her tongue before speaking again, Leonard already having his attention on her as she'd wondered around.

"They're so obvious it's painful. Even my baby brother would make a better racket than those two."

Unfortunately for Y/n’s bored brain, her boss didn't take to her mocking quips of the men in the next room. She could also swear she went tense when she mentioned them being racket boys, just giving her a small "I'd rather not discuss it Miss y/n." in reply.

"Of course, sorry Mr English."

The nineteen year old drifted through the room again, settling on sitting at the edge of her desk. Her white frilled socks and shiny black heels swayed back and forth through the desk's midsection as she tried to make conversation again.

"Richie says I speak too much for my own good."

"Yes, well Master Richie may have a point there."

She gave another smile to him, the older man giving her one back before they heard the second doors dragging open across the floor, Leonard pushing against the sofa's arm to get himself standing for when the boy's came past.

"Speak of the devil ."

Richie's head shot towards the older man, clearly not understanding the context of the wording.

"What's that now !? "

"Just an expression sirs. Excuse me, I meant no offence."

With a slightly warned look in his eyes, the Boyle boy gave a small tilt of his head to the shop owner, a farewell and a 'see you tomorrow' following. Pivoting on the heel of his brogues and heading towards the girl who had moved to hold the door open when Francis had overtook Richie again.

"And I will see you later Doll-face."

With a simple wink, one of the most dangerous men in Chicago left the tailor's shop, a sway in his step that Francis would definitely kill within the minute.

part two

masterlist

[odiniswithus]

two gangsters

[obriengf]

OH how would the guys react to seeing reader in something sexy for the first time

omg i loved this - please send me some dylan characters and headcanons!

stiles: his jaw would quite literally drop to the floor, eyes staring shamelessly. you were probably going to a party and lydia gave you some unnecessary fashion advice, but you started rethinking just how necessary it really was when you saw stiles' reaction. he would have the equivalent of cartoon heart eyes, and an obvious trail of drool down his chin. constantly babbling about how good you looked, how beautiful you were. scott would need to give him wack over the head to break him out of his admiring daze.

mitch: this depends purely on the situation. if it were casual, he would wolf whistle loudly. probably make some small remark about how sexy you look, how he was desperate to get his hands all over you. holding your hand above your head and prompting you to twirl for him. if it were on a mission, however, he would stay silent but he can only control himself so much. you're undercover and he didn't expect the tight material, but he would stare, like really stare... especially at your ass. most likely thinking very dirty things.

thomas: the first thing he would do is curse under his breath, very taken aback. he would be drawn speechless after that, but it was his eyes that did all the talking. they trailed every single inch of you, slowly and with purpose. when he focused on a bit of skin you can guarantee that he would be biting down hard on his lip, trying to hold back a moan. thomas wouldn't be able to stop thinking how soft your skin would be, and you better believe that he has the image of you burnt in his mind forever.

stuart: he would need to be coaxed away from his phone or laptop screen, but damn, when he did he would forget that they even existed. his face would contort into a faux-drunken expression as he took you in - eyes blinking constantly, wondering if this was a dream. you'd be talking to him about going out with neha and some other friends, but he wasn't listening in all honesty, just absolutely mesmerised by how hot you looked. then he'd probably snap out of it and remind you to take one of his jackets to stop pervs from staring at you too.

joel: it'd be a hot day, a really hot day, as you wandered across the surface to get to jenner beach. joel would be ahead of you, face peering down at the map, talking aloud but mostly to himself. it wasn't until he turned around to ask you something that he saw that you had shed some layers - your jacket gone, shirt rolled up your torso, shorts cuffed even shorter. you were glistening from the heat and perspiration of the environment. he could hear boy barking at him, and he could see you reach out, but joel was so taken by how you looked that he didn't notice the hole behind him - one step too far, eyes focused on you, and joel fell deep, and hard (play on words, hehe).

sam: he first saw you standing across the bar from him - he'd definitely spoken to you before, in fact, you were one of his many tinder dates, but he never called you back. sam didn't remember that though as he drunk in your tight clothes that hugged you just right, and how your hips swayed as you walked, your body perfect as it stood before him. sam's obliviousness forced him over to you as he leaned on the bartop, tongue lapping at his lips, a silent groan settling in his chest. he threw a compliment your way, and next thing he knew, your drink was thrown back in his face.

richie: he would be so proud that his partner looked that good. it was a thing of richie's to focus on appearances - he had to, always being in the spotlight. not to be mistaken though with the fact that he loves you for being you, your kindness and huge heart is what captured his. but he never would've expected your clothing to be that figure-hugging, especially within this day and age of conservative, but expensive, dressing. you were both at a gathering and richie definitely showed you off, you were his and he wanted everyone to know it. after enough gawking, though, he took off his coat and draped it over your shoulders - not to be removed until later tonight, in his bedroom.

[spilledinkandtearstainedpages]

Now I can’t stop thinking about everything character Dylan has played to be siblings

Another commission, this time of Stiles introducing his boyfriend Derek to his older brothers, Colim, Mitch, and Richie

It's a regular Dylan-verse

[madwomansapologist]

So It Goes… x Charles Boyle or Richie Jerimovich?

Taylor Swift Writing Challenge: So It Goes

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Charles Boyle & More Richie Jerimovich | #taylor swift writing challenge | AO3

synopsis: A night out, with alcohol and the man you want.

warnings: read this while listening to So It Goes.

— AND ALL OUR PIECES FALL RIGHT INTO PLACE.

• Everyone had promised Holt they'd be on their best behavior, but he should have known better than to expect his squad to miss out on Cop-Con. While he was preoccupied with a presentation, his attempt to annihilate Jeffrey Bouche, all the police officers were partying in one of the hotel rooms.

• So much drinking, so many games, at some point the sobriety faded into a murky blur. The world was no longer the same, no past or future to think about. All you wanted was for Boyle to keep making you laugh, and for the alcohol to keep filling you up. You were caught up in the moment.

• It was cold, but you both didn't mind that when you decided to leave your hotel room. Unable to walk in a straight line, words mixed in both your mouths. Boyle caught you when you stumbled, your laughter finding its way into his chest. You just wanted silence, Boyle just wanted to follow you. There's only so much noise you can take after so many tequilas. You didn't count how many drinks you had, but honestly, baby, who's counting?

• With a bottle half empty, you found a path in a garden. Life is so complicated, but walking around with Boyle aimlessly and talking about anything that comes to mind, it's so simple.

• Boyle said something about a robot, you thought you were hallucinating because at that moment nothing made sense anymore, when you passed him the bottle. Boyle stopped walking to take a sip, so you pulled him by the tie. He gasped, which made you laugh, and used his free hand to grab you around the waist. He pulled you close, and not even the drink stopped you from blushing.

"We don't need to hurry", Boyle took another sip. His body was so warm. "We have all the time in the world."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, Boyle practically kept you on your feet. At that moment, Boyle was wearing you like a necklace. "We have?"

"W-We do."

You pulled away, walking backwards as he glared at you. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed when to stop walking. You smiled, and Boyle felt like he'd been shot. His chest was burning. "Then come here."

Boyle approached, his hand caressed your face as if it were a soft cloud. Charles smiled when he felt your hand on his. And when his lip was against your, your bodies intertwined, you dropped yourself into the pool.

And Charles followed you.

— GETTING CAUGHT UP IN A MOMENT LIPSTICK ON YOUR FACE.

• It was a tough day to work at The Beef. A tough week. Month. Semester. Well, it can go on and on forever. Carmy almost had a heart attack five times. Sydney was on the edge of crying in front of everyone. Tina bruned your broth and Marcus held you down when he realized you would resort to violence. And Richie was a dick the whole time. As customary.

• But this time... it was the last straw. It wasn't just a shit day or a exhausting work, it was Beef's birthday. So Carmy decided everyone should get out tonight. Nothing fancy, just a bar where everyone could eat and drink and forgot that they hate their lives. Nice.

Tina spend the night talking with Marcus, just gossiping. "You noticed how they hate one another?"

Marcus camly agreed. "Richie knows how to be a dick." He at some of his fries. "Even the way they look at each other..."

"One day they will fight", Tina bet.

At the bottom of the bar, in a dark room that was definitely not made for customers to enter, were the two of you. His jacket on the floor, lipstick on his face. Sitting at a cold table with your back to the wall, all that existed was the man holding you.

Cold fingers sliding down your thigh. You wear his hand like a necklace. Scratches on his back. And so it goes.

"They will notice", you whispered against his mouth. There was clear meaning to what you said, but you made no effort to pull away.

"They can get fucked."

"I'm serious. They will notice we leave at the same time. And they will talk." The kisses on your neck made you stop. "But you don't care, do you?"

Richie backed away. Looking deep into your eyes, his blue eyes giving you goosebumps. He pulled you closer, a smile escaped his mouth. "You're mine to keep."

You smirked. "Then I'm yours to lose?"

"Never to lose." Richie caressed your hands. "Now come here."

— SO IT GOES...

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

BROOKLYN NINE NINE: @flowercrowns-goodvibes @notanalienindisguiseblink @vyctorya

THE BEAR: @flowercrowns-goodvibes @notanalienindisguiseblink @vyctorya

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[danikriatura]

"Exuma, the Obeah Man, was born in Cat Island and christened as Tony McKay. He grew up on Canaan Lane, off Shirley Street, Nassau, Bahamas.

Drawing on the traditional Bahamian folk songs, the infectious beat of Junkanoo, ring play, myths and linguistic idioms, Exuma, through his musical recordings, performances and paintings, has promoted Bahamian heritage and extended Bahamian music throughout the world more so than any other contemporary Bahamian recording artist.

Exuma left The Bahamas in the early 1960s to study architecture in New York. After running out of money, Exuma started to perform around New York during the rising sentiments against the war in Viet Nam. Soon thereafter, Exuma started to perform, using Bahamian rhythms in the Greenwich Village folk scene.

In the village, Exuma often performed along with Bob Dylan, Richie Havens, Peter Paul and Mary, Jimi Hendrix and Barbara Streisand at the Café Wha on Third and McDougal Streets, Café Bizarre on McDougal Street and Café Bitter End on Bleeker Street — all in Manhattan, New York.

Exuma landed his first major recording contract with Mercury Records, which released two albums by him: ‘Exuma, the Obeah Man’ and ‘Exuma II’. Later, Exuma signed a recording contract with the Kama Sutra/Buddah label, which released four albums by Exuma: ‘Reincarnation’, ‘Snake’, ‘Life’ and ‘Do Wah Nanny’, and the single, ‘Bam Bam’. In pursuit of artistic independence, Exuma established his own record producing labels, Nassau Records, through which he released ‘Rude Boy’ and ‘Going to Cat Island’.

In the early 1970s a song from Exuma’s first album entitled ‘You Don’t Know What’s Going On’ was used on the soundtrack of the movie ‘Joe’ that starred Peter Boyle and Susan Sarandon.

​Exuma’s compositions and arrangements are also very much in demand by other top artists. For example, Nina Simone recorded three of Exuma’s compositions: ‘Obeah Woman’, ‘22nd Century’ and ‘Dambala’. Also, Jimmy Castor Bunch recorded Exuma’s compositions ‘Bam Bam’ and ‘Do Wah Nanny’. Many contemporary Bahamian recording artists, including Eugene Davis and the National Youth Choir, have recorded and performed many of Exuma’s compositions, such as ‘Going To Cat Island’, ‘Exuma, The Obeah Man’ and ‘Bam Bam’.

As a performance artist, Exuma has carried the unique Junkanoo sounds in his arrangements and pictures of Bahamian cultural life, folklore and myths in his lyrics to the major concert halls of the world. Exuma has performed at Avery Fisher Hall in New York, opening the show for Patti LaBelle; at the Bitter End Club in New York City with Curtis Mayfield; he opened for Rita Marley at the New Orleans Jazz Festival and at the River Boat President; toured with Peter Tosh; performed with Toots and the Maytals at the New Orleans Jazz Festival; opened many times for Sly and the Family Stone, Bush, Spirit, Steppenwolf, X and Black Flag.

Between the years 1978 through 1991, Exuma performed each year at the New Orleans Jazz Festival and regularly performed and toured with the Neville Brothers.

In 1974 Exuma was invited by the Queen of Holland to perform for her with the Edwin Hawkins Singers. Under the patronage of the then Prime Minister of Jamaica, Michael Manley, Exuma was invited to perform in Jamaica in the National Arena in 1975, where he was invited to record a reggae album, under the direction of Clancy Eckles, in collaboration with some of the leading Jamaican recording artists. In 1982 Exuma was invited to perform at the Nancy Jazz Festival in Nancy, France, along with the Neville Brothers. Exuma’s contribution to Bahamian and Caribbean music was recognized by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II in 1978 when she awarded him the British Empire Medal. Exuma is also the recipient of The Bahamas Tourism Award.

As a self taught painter, Exuma paints in oils scenes of everyday Bahamian life – children shooting marbles in the yard, a man on the dock enjoying a kalik beer, etc. In 1992 the Baltimore Museum authenticated Exuma as a folk artist. His paintings have been exhibited in 1990 at the Key West Lucky Street Gallery in Florida, in 1990 at the Piccadilly Restaurant, Parliament Street, Nassau, Bahamas and in 1993 by Antonius Roberts at the Bay Gallery, Bay Street, Nassau, Bahamas. Exuma’s paintings have been purchased by many art lovers, including the well known movie director, John Demme, director of Silence of the Lambs. Exuma conveys the mystique and beauty of Bahamian life as stunningly in painting as in song. A Bahamian visionary, humanistic philosopher and people’s poet, Exuma gives expression to the beauty and power of the cultural life of The Bahamas — the people’s every day experiences, folklore, myths, stories, Junkanoo, rake ‘n’ scrape, pain, joy, struggle and survival.

In the late 1980s, he suffered a heart attack in New Orleans. Bahamas Tourism Officer Athama Bowe recalls visiting McKay in hospital. "His skin was coated with olive oil and candles were burning all over the room for 'the sperrits'. He was mixing modern medicine with Obeah."

Exuma spent most of his time writing songs, painting, and fishing, living in both Miami, Florida, and in the childhood home his mother had left him in Nassau. He died peacefully in his sleep in 1997."