After a previous failed attempt due to bad health I will be jumping back in with my darker desires event for kinktober.
Exclusively for Sons of Anarchy and Mayans MC characters.
Please choose a prompt ( or two ) from the list below, along with your character ( characters, because why have one when you can have two? 😉)
And let's get creative! 🩶
As always, Anons welcome. 🩶
Characters: Sons of Anarchy.
Jax Teller
Chibs Telford
Tig Trager
Juice Ortiz
Opie Winston
Happy Lowman
Clay Morrow
Mayans MC
Bishop Losa
Angel Reyes
Ez Reyes
Gilly
Bottles
Guero
Manny
Prompt list:
1. “You look so pretty with my hand around your throat”
2. “Do you need reminding who you belong to?”
3. "Did it tell you to stop?”
4. “Shut that pretty little mouth before I shut it for you.”
5. “Look at you, so perfect with my marks all over you.”
6. “Are you gonna start doing as you're told?”
7. “Beg like a good little girl.”
8. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”
9. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”
10. “You don't cum unless I say so, kitten.”
11. “Wanna see what happens to little brats? Bend over.”
12. “Keep going, you might learn how to do it properly.”
13. "Keep making those sounds and we'll do this until you learn how to be quiet.”
Sorry. I'm on mobile again to post this, so the Spanish characters are all screwed up. This is a filler chapter, but a fun one. Few tidbits and foreshadowing.
As always- don't steal my shit. It pisses me off.
Warnings: cursing. Me stumbling through the research about service dogs half asleep and hung over. I think that's it.
Once he was certain that Megan was fully asleep, Hank stepped out of bed. He pulled the covers up high so she wouldn't feel the chill as he made his way to the en suite for a warm washcloth. After they were both cleaner, he went over to her dresser and pulled some pajamas out for her and some sweats for himself. He took care, dressing her warmly, before unlocking the bedroom door so that Rex could join them if he felt like it. When he cracked the door, the big dog lifted his head before padding in to his fuzzy dog bed.
Finally, Hank slipped into bed with his love and felt her automatically cuddle close to his body heat. He fell asleep to the comfortable feeling of her steady breathing against his tattoos.
Megan woke slowly to the feeling of her hair being stroked. "Mm... time to get up?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah, Creeper will be here in about 45 minutes. I wanted you to have time to shower before we ride," Hank murmered."We can tie your hair up so it's not wet."
"Mm Kay," she snuggled close to his chest and rubbed her eyes with her fist.
Hank chuckled and kissed her forehead. "You know that means you and I actually have to move, right?"
Megan whined softly and Hank fought not to react. It was a very similar sound to one she had made the night before. "But you're so warm..."
He laughed again and guided her face up to kiss her good morning properly. "I know, mi reina. Lemme go turn on the water for you so the bathroom's warm, too." He patted her hip gently and then slid out of bed, being sure to tuck the blankets close around her.
While he got the shower heating, Megan sat up in bed, drawing Rex's attention.
The big dog padded over for a morning greeting. She stretched and scratched his ears contentedly.
A knock on the door frame of the cracked door drew her attention.
"Morning, Chica- You alright?" Taza asked between yawns.
"Morning, Papa. Yeah, I'm okay. Not really awake."
Her father chuckled. "I figured. Did you get some sleep at least?"
Megan's face heated a bit. "Yeah. Hank got me to sleep."
"Good. Want me to braid your hair for you or are you riding with wet hair?"
"Would you go ahead and braid it, please? Just going to keep my hair dry in the shower."
"Alright, Sweetheart. Turn on the bed so I can reach and you can stay warm. We need to get a heater for in here. It's not normally this chilly in October." Taza gathered her extra hair brush and hair ties. "Warrior braids?"
"Yes, please."
By the time Taza had Megan's hair braided, Hank came out of the steaming bathroom. "Morning, Taza."
"Good morning. I've got coffee on and Creeper should be here soon." He tied off Megan's braids before going over to rummage through the heirloom jewelry box on her vanity. He came back with a set of silver hair sticks that he used to fasten her braids up out of the way of the shower water. "Just pull the sticks and your braids will come down." He kissed the top of her head. "Dress warm, Chica. We'll put on your braid wraps after your shower."
Megan yawned. "Thank you, Papa."
"You're welcome, Chica." She finally peeled herself out of bed and kissed Hank before stumbling into the bathroom for a quick shower.
Hank shook his head and smiled. "I loosened the lids on her skin stuff so she should be good."
Taza laughed. "She's still so groggy. Maybe, this once, you'd better pick out her clothes. Got a text from the Reaper. They say it's going to be chilly up there for the next few days. Might even rain."
Hank nodded and moved to the closet to grab a fuzzy pullover from Megan's wardrobe. He held it out to Taza. "Can you add that to the stuff for in the van? Gives her an extra layer option."
"Sure, Hermano." Taza took the shirt and smiled before leaving the room.
By the time he heard the water turn off, Hank was dressed in a Henley and jeans with his thick socks on. He had a hoody out as well as his rarely used leather jacket for under his kutte. He'd also laid out a layered outfit for Megan.
On the bed was a heavy pair of black jeans, her white sun shirt, a band tee to go over it and a heavy hoody. Her leather jacket was already under her kutte. Just as he pulled a pair of heavy wool socks from her drawer, Megan stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in her robe. She shivered in the cooler air of the bedroom. "C 'mere, Princessa. Let's get you dressed. I laid out some warm clothes you can layer. Your friends up north texted to be sure we knew to dress you warm enough for the ride," he said, opening his arms to pull her close. "That outfit, alright?"
Megan glanced at the bed and nodded before pressing close to take a steadying breath of Hank's scent. "Yeah. I'm nervous."
Hank tilted her face up to meet her eyes. "Why?" He didn't try to reassure her just yet. He knew she had every right to be nervy.
"My first run. And- what if the Kings find something wrong with the plan? It's my plan. If they don't take it- we're fucked."
Hank nodded. "I understand. The Kings know a good deal when they see one. I think they'll jump at this deal. As for your first run- yeah. I get that." He smiled down at her and kissed her lips softly as he rocked gently with her in his arms. "My first run, I was a prospect." He chuckled. "I'd partied the night before a big run and was so hungover I had to stop to hurl twice on the way to the clubhouse."
Megan giggled. "I can't imagine you as a prospect..."
Hank chuckled before helping her to ease out of her robe and begin dressing. "Your papa and tios have a ton of embarrassing stories about my year prospecting. They probably even have some old photos floating around."
"Who was your sponsor?" she asked as he helped ease the long sleeve over her soft cast.
"Your papa. Part of why we've always been so close."
Megan smiled and finished dressing. "I'd love to see those pictures-"
"What pictures?" Taza asked as he slipped into the room with a travel mug of coffee for Megan.
She sat on her vanity stool to pull on her socks as Hank gathered her holsters. He handed her the ankle holster to strap on, followed by her back up gun. "Pictures of Hank as a prospect. He was just telling me about his first run."
Taza laughed. "Oh, he was so hungover. He was practically green." He glanced mischievously at Hank. "Didn't you blow chunks at every stop before Vegas?"
Hank grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. And it wasn't any better when we got there and Bishop immediately made me take a shot of tequila." He threaded Megan's belt with the knife sheath at the small of her back and her small fighting knife tucked at her hip before helping her shrug into her holster. Taza grabbed her thigh bag and passed it to him, too, while Megan fastened her wallet chain and put her phone in the holster.
"He just wanted to celebrate your first run, brother."
"Bullshit. He wanted to drive home a point about parties before business and he did it well." Hank stood back to look Megan over. "I think you're good, mi amore."
"Almost." Taza held up the braid wraps they'd bought on the last trip. "What color?"
Megan looked them over and sipped her coffee. "Green, I think. To match my patch."
"Good choice," her father said as he quickly laced the leather wraps for her. "Creep got your bluetooth in your helmets this morning. And the new comms systems are ready to go on the bikes. The prospect is installing them during Templo."
"That'll make things a lot easier at the front of the pack," Hank noted as he came out of the bathroom after styling his own hair.
"Oh," Megan looked at Hank. "Is my dust scarf still in the saddle bags?"
"Yes, mi reina. And so are your back up sunglasses." He pressed a kiss to her nose making her giggle.
"Alright- Creep and I loaded the bags and blankets. He's got the crock pot and the condiments and tortillas in the van already. All that's left is to head to the clubhouse," Taza said.
In the Kitchen, Creeper was just packing up his micro-tool kit when they came out. "Mornin' Hank, Little Princess. You should be all set." He patted Megan's helmet.
"Thanks, Creep," Megan smiled and hugged him gently.
The road captain grinned. "Nah. Wasn't nothin."
"How's it work?" Hank asked curiously. "Well- you've got an earpiece since you wear a half-shell. It'll automatically be an open channel with the Princessa. If you wanna connect with the group speaker system, you'll press the button on your earbud." Creeper showed him the button. "It's got a clip to clip to your chin strap too so it don't fall out on you."
"And Megan's?" Hank asked.
"Same deal, just hers is wired into her helmet beneath the last padding layer. It doesn't look too different, but you can hear everything each of you says to each other on the bike." He tilted the helmet to show her a button on the hinge of her jaw piece of her helmet. "For connecting to the speakers."
Taza grinned." That's awesome, man."
Creeper smiled. "Wait until I finish with the princess' bike. She'll be the easiest run riding bike in the club."
After coffee refills in travel mugs, Megan loaded Rex into the passenger seat of the van. She pulled on her jacket and kutte and slid on her newly mic'd helmet for the trip to the clubhouse.
They spent the morning planning the route and trip back up to Charming. The suggestion to meet in Vegas had been shot down by the Irish Kings. They didn't want to be that far from their escape route. Instead, Santo Padre would come to them.
"Will we stay in Oakland again?" Megan asked.
"Not this time, Poquito. Your Tio Marcus has asked that Diana and Tessa focus on packing so that they can be ready to move down here as soon as possible," Bishop said as he sipped his coffee.
They'd ended up closing the bar completely so they could spread out to plan the trip while eating. With EZ on guard outside while he worked on the bikes, it was safe enough.The table in front of them had maps, coffee mugs, and dirty plates every where.
"No. We'll overnight in a motel on the way up, but once there, Charming has arranged accommodations on neutral ground," Riz explained. "They have a reservation near them as well and the tribe there have offered their lodge."
Taza nodded,"The Wahiwa are good people. They're allies to Charming, but no more than we are. Neutral enough to be safe."
Bishop nodded again. "We'll meet the Irish on Rez too. Safer for all involved."
"How many kings actually came?" Hank asked.
"Three. Brogan, Patterson, and O'Leary. Apparently they travel only in threes." Bishop chuckled.
Megan grinned a little too. "And what will my part be in this?" she asked. "Will I need to be silent or speak out if I see something?"
"Well, you'll probably have your skills challenged at some point. They'll want assurances you can do the job. And you can always speak out," her tio assured her.
"Will me being a woman cause issues? Should I act meek and mild or carry my rank?" Megan asked.
Hank snorted and drew her against his side. "The Army doesn't give a shit if you're male or female. Just that you can do the job. As for how to act- be you. If they've got a problem with it, they can get in the ring just like everyone else."
"Hank's right, Chica. Don't cow-tow to these Irish pricks. They'll walk all over you if you do," Taza nodded at the big man.
"So- like I was at the meeting with all the clubs before shit hit the fan?" she asked.
"Right. Keep your head high, but the Irish are an affectionate lot by nature. They won't bat an eye to the way we treat you. We'll introduce you by your title first before your rank. That'll make things a lot clearer to them," Riz assured her. Apparently, despite not holding office- these political games were Riz's specialty. He knew more about all the players than the others.
Bishop looked to Angel. "And Adelita? Did she reply to the message you left her?"
Angel nodded and sat forward. "She did." He cleared his throat. "She also agreed to keep the sat phone close for the entire run just in case the Kings want a conversation."
"Then it sounds like we're set. All that's left is to pack the van and check the bikes." Bishop looked around. "Brothers, this is an all hands on deck run, but it's also possibly the most important run of our lives. Don't fuck it up."
They quickly packed up all the maps and things and put the bar back together. Bishop went to give Chucky instructions about the scrapyard while Taza and Hank took Megan to get the back of the van set up as a rest area for her. She was nearly back to full strength, but she hadn't yet built the endurance for these long runs on a bike. They also weren't sure that the vibrations and leaning on the bike wouldn't irritate her healing bones over a long period of time.
They set up the back bench seat with the blankets and pillows they'd brought and stashed water bottles in a cooler for everyone as well as snacks for the ride. Megan also discovered that someone had found a dog bowl with a magnetic bottom and set it up on the steel floor of the van for Rex.
"All good, Little Princess?" Creep asked as he finished packing go bags in the cargo area.
"All good, Creep. Thanks for letting Rex ride along." Megan smiled and petted her dog.
"Course. Me and the pooch get along fine. Besides- where you go, he goes-right?"
"Right."
Hank pressed a kiss to her temple. "C'mon mi amore. Let's check the bike out. I'll show you how to do road checks for when you start riding."
Megan grinned. "Like you and Papa won't be going along right behind me checking and rechecking anyway..."
Creeper snorted a laugh and couldn't help but grin as Megan giggled.
Hank mock glared at his brother. "You stay outta this. She don't need the encouragement to sass me."
Creep threw his hands up in surrender. "Well she ain't wrong either."
Megan laughed again, "And like you won't be right behind them, Creeper."
"And half the club right behind HIM," Taza joked.
They spent the rest of the morning checking over all the bikes to be sure they were at peak performance levels. This was a long ride and the bikes had to be ready to take the wear and tear. They also tried out the new speaker systems on Hank, Taza, and Bishop's bikes. They could now communicate in more than hand signs and head nods while riding.
Bishop grinned and wiped his hands on a rag while he watched Hank guiding Megan through a basic fluids check on his Road King.
Taza joined him in watching with a smile of his own.
"He can't wait for that soft cast to come off so she can learn to ride, can he?" Bishop asked.
"No, he can't. I thought he'd be a wreck over the idea, but apparently he's not." Taza nudged Bishop with his shoulder. "You're waiting for it too. Want her back in the ring."
"You ain't wrong. Poquito and I have a blast during her lessons." Bish propped himself on his bike seat and crossed his arms across his chest. "We really do need to find someone to teach her to use those knives too."
Taza nodded. "Agreed, but have you ever seen her kitchen knife skills? Even left handed? I'm not sure la princessa was as innocent to knife work as we thought."
About then Coco walked past, snorting gleefully. "No shit. Didn't she say she hunted? Bet she could give Filipe a run for his money in a butcher shop."
That made them pause.
"Shit. Coco's right." Bishop smiled. "Another good skill to have..."
Once all the bikes were as perfect as they could make them, Bishop let out a high pitched whistle. "Let's go see Patty for lunch before we roll. We can leave from there."
Megan loaded Rex into the passenger seat of the van and kissed his head. "Be good for Creep."
Creeper ruffled the dogs ears. "We'll be fine, Little Princess. At least he won't complain about my music like Gilly does."
At the diner, Megan watched as those who didn't want to be associated with the club quickly got their food to go. In the meantime, the waitress dress code became much more risque.
The club settled at tables as usual and were swarmed by the wait staff. Megan found herself in a familiar position at the inside of a booth with Hank beside her. Across from her sat Taza and next to him was Bishop.
After ordering from the little blonde Hank put in her place before, Bishop sat back in his seat and looked at Megan. "So, Poquito, how's the panic attacks?"
Megan smiled. "Much better Tio. Haven't had one in a while. Well- an unprovoked one at least."
"Yeah. Galindo causing that one doesn't count. Not having the same trouble when you can't see Hank or Taza?"
She shook her head. "No. I think..." she paused and looked at Taza. "I think, knowing that Palo is dead and he was the last threat from my old life... I think that settled something inside me."
Hank slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently. "She still doesn't like crowds, but she's no worse than Coco."
"And Rex really helps," Megan said, petting him under the table. Patty had allowed him to come in once Taza explained his purpose to her. They were going to look into getting him the training to qualify him as a service dog. He already was task training himself.
"He definatly seems to keep her calmer," Taza agreed.
Bishop nodded again. "Good. Keep him close. Don't let this meeting interfere. The Reaper understands your situation. The Irish will as well."
"I'll just stay close to my anchors. I shouldn't need to be out of sight of all of you at once, surely."
Taza thought a second. "You shouldn't need to be, but is there a Son you'd feel comfortable with, just in case? Venus won't be there. Not for club business anyway."
Megan tilted her head as she considered. "Happy, I think. I might do okay with Chibs too, but Happy is the most likely one."
Hank chuckled. "Well, he did give you his number, mi Princessa. Why not shoot him a text and ask him if he'll be there?"
"No reason he wouldn't," Bishop said. "He's SAA. He'll stick close to the Scot while the Irish are in town."
Hank shrugged. "Still can't hurt for her to ask. I'll talk to him either way when we get there." He smiled down at her before kissing her forehead. "Go ahead, mi amore. Text him."
The blonde waitress returned with their drinks as Megan texted the Son. Talk turned to plans while they were in Charming. The elder bikers were planning to keep the younger ones out of the Sons of Anarchy's way as much as possible. That meant keeping them away from Diosa and Red Woody unless it was a club function.
Before their food came out, Megan's phone buzzed on the table. She turned it over to check it and laughed a little.
"What's up, Chica?" Taza asked with a grin.
"I said I was checking to be sure he'd be there in case I need an anchor in the Reapers. He replied with a picture of, what I assume, is his anchor tattoo." She showed it to Hank, who confirmed it was. "Guess that's a yes."
Hank chuckled. "I'd say so, Princessa."
"So la princessa de los Mayas is also becoming fast friends with the Sons Sargent at Arms." Bishop shook his head ruefully. "Who'd have thought that nervous little thing that we met at the casino would become one of our clubs greatest assets."
Megan blushed and sipped her soda.
The food arriving broke the mood. The men all had cheeseburgers and mountains of french fries. Megan had ordered a patty melt and fries as well. They all dug in cheerfully. Hank watched in satisfaction as Megan finished her sandwich while chatting with Bishop about his plans to continue to upgrade the boxing ring at the clubhouse. She almost finished her fries as well before she pushed the plate away. She'd eaten well at breakfast too. He was proud of her returning appetite.
Once everyone was done eating and Bishop had paid, it was finally time for the entire club to head North to Charming.
"Alright, mi amore. I know we're mic'd now, but the signal if you need to pull over is the same-" Hank said, fastening his helmet before zipping Megan's leather jacket and then her kutte. "Three taps at my waist and I'll pull over as soon as it's safe to do so."
Megan grinned." Okay-" She pulled her helmet on and automatically lifted her chin for Hank to snap her chin strap.
Taza chuckled at her motion as Hank did up her strap. He couldn't help but notice that she always fastened her own helmet when she rode with him.
Hank handed her a pair of stretchy wool gloves. "Here. Use these since you can't wear your leather with the cast."
She pulled them on and giggled as she realized everyone else was already on their bikes and they were just waiting on Hank to leave.
"Good girl." He kissed her knuckles and handed her her sunglasses before getting on his bike so she could mount behind him.
"Ready?" Bishop asked with a smirk. Megan lifted a hand to give him a thumbs up.
The bikes started with a roar that sent gooseflesh down Megan's spine. Bishop gave the signal and started out with Taza and Hank with Megan next. The others all fell into formation with Creeper and Rex in the van guarding their six.
Megan and Hank enjoyed the new bluetooth system immensely. They were able to hold a full conversation on the bike and that made it the best thing ever. In fact they were so involved in their conversation about the books they were currently reading that Megan jumped when the new speaker on the bike echoed in her ear.
"Alright lovebirds. Ready for a fuel stop?" Bishop asked.
Hank chuckled and touched the button on the side of his earpiece that opened the wider channel. "Sure. Give la princessa time to stretch too."
He closed the channel and signaled to Coco behind him. Taza passed the signal back to Angel at the same time.
Megan giggled softly in his ear. "Didn't realize we'd been riding that long."
"Me either," Hank replied. "How ya doing? Any pain?"
"Stiff, but no pain. My legs might cramp though. Won't know until I get off."
"How chilled are you?" he asked seriously. "The wind is kinda brutal today."
"My legs are pretty cold and so are my hands, but the layers and being behind you are keeping my core pretty warm."
"Alright." Hank reached to open the comm channel again. "Can we let Megan warm up when we stop? The cold's cutting straight through these gloves."
This time it was Taza that answered. "GPS says the gas station has a coffee place next to it. Let's stop in there."
"Yeah. Could use a cup myself," Bishop agreed.
A few minutes later, they pulled off the highway at a tiny fuel station. As Hank pulled up to a pump, he guided Megan off the back of the bike. To both their surprise, her legs didn't spasam as they had her first long ride. They'd been going for over two hours.
"You good, Ma?" Coco asked from behind her as she removed her helmet.
"Yeah. I'm good, Coco. A little surprised at how good to be honest." She gunned at the sniper.
He chuckled. "Nah. Told you you'd get used to it."
As Hank filled the tank, Megan checked her cell phone. There were a few texts from Letty checking in and one from her Tia asking her to call when they stopped for the night to talk to Tessa. She quickly replied to those. There was another text from an unknown number though that didn't make sense.
It simply read "We're watching".
Megan frowned. She saw Taza was finished fueling and went to show it to him. "Papa- look at this."
Taza took the phone and frowned. "What the fuck?"
"I don't know. I don't know the number either."
Bishop joined them. "What's up?"
Taza passed him the phone. "Any idea who?"
"Nah. But it could be a burner phone too." He shook his head. "But why would they be texting Poquito? And on her personal?"
"No clue. Who all has this number, Chica?" Taza asked, handing it back.
"The club, Mama, Venus, Tia Diana, Letty, and Happy," Megan said as she tucked it back in her phone holster. "Anyone else has my old number- my burner."
"Don't answer it. It could be a wrong number," Bishop said.
"Or it could be someone trying to track your cell phone movements," Taza said. "Either way- ignore it. Once we're on the Wahiwa land they won't be able to track it anyway. Not without tribal jurisdiction."
Megan nodded. "Alright. I'll let you know if I get anything else."
"Good girl." Taza tucked her into his side while they waited for Hank. "You doing alright?"
"Yeah. Kinda chilled, but I'm not struggling like last time." She leaned into his warmth.
Bishop gently chafed her good hand. "Your hands are like ice, Poquito."
"I know, but my leather gloves don't fit over my soft cast. These wool ones help but the wind cuts right through them."
Angel sidled up to them just in time to hear that last bit. "Shit, Shorty. Your man's got kutte pockets for a reason. Put them hand-sicles in them as you ride." He smirked.
Everyone stared at the tall Mayan.
"What?" Bishop asked.
"La princessa should ride with her hands in Hank's kutte pockets. It's what I make girls do when they say the wind bothers their hands." Angel shrugged.
Taza shook his head in wonder. “Why didn't we think of that?”
Once they were all refueled, they moved their bikes to the coffee shop next door. While they sat at tables, EZ went up to order for them.
Megan leaned into Hank's side in a booth and petted Rex contentedly while the cold seeped out of her bones.
"Excuse me," a voice broke into their conversation, "but there's no dogs allowed in here." It was a barista with a sour look on her face.
EZ came back with a tray with everyone's hot drinks on it. "He's a training service dog," he said matter of factly. "He's a PTSD dog. You can't deny him entry."
She wrinkled her nose. "Yes, I can."
"No. You can't. There's no licensing for a service dog, just training, which he's doing right now. He's not being disruptive or damaging property. He's training with his person. Legally, all you can do is ask two questions- is he a service animal trained to perform tasks and what tasks he's trained to perform." EZ said as he handed out drinks. He winked at Megan. "I did my research."
The barista huffed off.
"Nice going, Prospect," Taza grinned.
"Well… I also may have covered our ass and enrolled la princessa's pooch in an online training course for service dogs." He shrugged a bit. "His patches are in the mail."
Bishop frowned. "You did that without consulting anyone?"
EZ held the open edges of his kutte. "Yes sir. I did. But this way no one can stop Megan from keeping Rex with her all the time."
"And who's paying for it?" Taza asked.
"I did." The prospect shrugged a bit uncomfortably. "I didn't want her denied access somewhere because of him."
Hank frowned. "You should have come to us, Prospect."
Ez nodded. "I'm sorry if I overstepped. I just knew that everyone else was tied up with this run and club business. I didn't want anyone to worry about it if I could just fix it for her."
Megan squeezed Hank's hand and looked up at him "He was only trying to help."
Bishop sighed. "Initiative is a wonderful thing- but don't do it again. Put it to at least one patched member first next time, Prospect."
EZ nodded again. "Yes Sir."
"And let me know how much it was for the course." Taza said "I'll reimburse you."
"Of course, Taza." EZ smiled at Megan. "l'll go over what to say to people like that with you this evening when we have downtime."
"Thanks, EZ."
They finished their drinks and loaded up to ride again. They stopped once more for fuel, but the third time they stopped they pulled into the parking lot of a motel. Megan stretched her back tiredly as Bishop took Angel inside to arrange for rooms for them all. As the new Secretary, this would be part of Angel's duties on long rides like this. The sun was setting and Megan shivered as she unzipped her kutte and jacket.
"You alright, mi reina?" Hank asked as he locked the bike down.
Megan yawned a little and grinned as Creeper released Rex so he could run across the parking lot to her. "Yeah. Tired and stiff, but I'm okay." She squatted down so Rex could sniff her ears.
"We'll be inside soon. We'll probably have to double up from the looks of this parking lot." Hank rubbed the back of her neck gently. The new Kevlar kept her from feeling more than pressure through her kutte.
"It's just for one night. We'll manage." She leaned against him when she got back to her feet.
Bishop returned triumphantly with Angel trailing behind as the lighted vacancy sign went out. "We got the last five rooms they had, but one room is a king and not two queens." He smirked at Megan and Hank. "Think you'll survive sharing a bed?"
Gilly snorted a laugh. "I think they'll live."
"Just keep it down. You're right in the middle of the block," Angel said laughing.
Megan and Hank got their backpacks and the one packed for Rex from the van before accepting their key from Bishop. They were between Bishop and Taza and Creeper and Riz. Coco and Gilly roomed together leaving the brothers to share as well.
Megan immediately put out and filled both of Rex's bowls when they got inside. Only after he was eating did she remove her kutte and leather jacket.
Hank chuckled and put their backpacks on the dresser. "Now, how sore are you, really?"
She smiled at him as she tried to work the buckles of her thigh bag to remove it. "Not too bad..." Hank gave her a long look and her facade crumbled a bit as she grimaced. "I feel like I've been worked over in the ring. Like I'm one big bruise."
He nodded. "About what I thought. You really should have taken a break in the van."
"But I was enjoying myself riding with you."
He drew her into his arms and stroked down her back soothingly. "I know, mi amore. I was too. But you shouldn't push yourself. Tomorrow, why don't you ride in the van for the first leg at least? You can try to nap with Rex and then ride with me later."
She grimaced again as his rubbing hit a particularly sore spot. "I don't want to give up."
"You aren't." Hank kissed her softly and cupped her chin. "Do you know why Creeper drives the van on long runs, Princessa?"
"He's Road Captain. Road Captain drives the van."
He moved to sit in the chair in the room and guided her to sit with him across his lap. "That's true here, but not everywhere. Creep drives the van because he has an old shoulder injury from a gunshot. It doesn't effect him on the day to day, but on long runs- the vibrations of the bikes put him in a lot of pain. Your Papa and tio noticed and made that rule." He cuddled her against his chest and nuzzled her hair. "There's nothing wrong with allowing your body the time it needs. The guys will agree with me."
She huffed a sigh. "My shoulder really hurts. My wrist too."
"Then you should rest them." He lifted her chin to kiss her. "Let's pin your braids up so you can take a hot shower. I'll ask your papa to bring us back dinner when they go out."
They did just that. After she got in the shower, Hank stepped out to knock on Taza and Bishop's door- leaving Rex on guard.
Taza opened the door, straightening the collar of the fresh shirt he was wearing after his own shower. "All good, hermano?"
Hank nodded. “All good. Megan overdid it a little bit today. I've got her showering now, but I'm going to try to get her to take some pain meds and rest. Can you bring us back some dinner when you guys go?"
Bishop appeared behind Taza worriedly. "Of course we will. Is Poquito alright?"
"She's very sore. Nothing some rest won't help."
"Why didn't she ride with Creeper part of the way?" Taza asked.
"She said she was enjoying the ride too much. She's going to start tomorrow in the van, though. Give her body a break before the ride into Charming." Hank rubbed his hair and sighed. "She said she didn't want to give up. I told her about Creep."
Taza blew out an exasperated breath. "Good. We'll bring back food. You go sit on her and make her rest tonight."
"We won't start too early tomorrow either. Not before nine. Try to get her to sleep in if you can," Bishop added.
"I'll try."
Back in the room, Hank found Megan on the floor using Rex as a pillow to read her book. He couldn't help but smile at the massive dog curled around her like a puppy. His head had shot up when the door unlocked, but he relaxed at the sight of Hank. "Comfy, mi Princessa?"
Megan smiled up at him from her cozy spot as she put down her book. She'd put on the sleep shorts and tank top with Harley Davidson logos all over them and topped it with his hoody. "Yeah. Didn't want to lay down on the bed and fall asleep in case we need to go anywhere else."
He settled himself near enough to her to touch without disturbing her. "Nah. Bish and Taza are going to bring us some dinner from wherever they end up eating."
Her shoulders relaxed a little. "Good. When are we leaving tomorrow?"
"Bish said he wasn't rolling his ass out of bed until at least nine, so we should sleep in." He leaned over to kiss her softly. "I think you should take some of the ibuprofen tonight, Princessa. Help with the pain some."
She wrinkled her nose at him.
"I know- but it's better to be ahead of it than to chase it. And we need you sharp tomorrow when we get to Charming. You can't be at your best if you're hurting and tired. It won't make you floaty either."
"I know. I just hate taking damn pills."
Hank retrieved the pills from inside his kutte and handed her two. "I know, but not as much as I hate seeing you in pain." He opened a bottle of water and watched her swallow the meds. "Good girl. Let me shower and then we'll see what's on this crappy t.v. until your papa gets back with food."
Megan giggled and picked her book back up. "Okay."
Gilly Lopez x F!Reader (Soldier Reader)
Summary: Pre-canon fic where you think the worst as a black town car approaches your home but are pleasantly surprised by whose home.
A/N: Posting this fic I've had in my docs finished for a while now. I hope to start getting back in the swing of things soon. I know a lot of people have been commenting/messaging/reaching out about my Bear series and I promise I'll update that soon, but for now enjoy my first Gilly fic from Mayans :)
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Cursing, mentions of war, bootcamp, training, army, army rangers, PTSD, trauma, death, grief, dishonorable discharge. Lightly angsty? Or maybe I'm numb to angst and its like medium-angst level lol. Light fluff.
The clouds were rolling in, you heard the thunder in the distance as you sat on the back of your wrap around porch staring out at the ranch in your backyard. You pulled your cardigan tight around you out of instinct as the breeze from the storm on its way in, blew past you. The dark clouds casted a shadow on the large land of property that made up your backyard, the free-range chickens you owned had retreated into their coop, the two horses you took care of were nestled safely in the barn you had just 500 feet away from the house, and your dog was alert on your left hand side as he stared up at the rumbling sky.
“Come on, boy, let’s get inside before it starts coming down.” You stood up and opened the back door and nodded for your dog to go inside.
Your timing was impeccable, just as you closed the screen door, the rain started. The living room walls were filled with windows, you could see the droplets throughout every window on every window that surrounded the room. The sound of the water pelting against the roof and the deck filled the house, it was loud and mixed with the rumbling of the thunder. It needed to be drowned out, so you moved over to the record player you had set up by the front of the living room.
The memory of the last time you used the record player was coming up short, but seeing the Sam Hunt record in the player made you smile. Placing the needle on the record, it scratched for a minute before the music started playing. It brought you back to a time in your life, there wasn’t much other way to describe it besides a time. It wasn’t something you’d describe as the best time in your life, not in the slightest, but there were some moments that weren’t completely horrible.
“Come on! Grab your drink!”
Those were the famous last words your bunkmate said before she dragged you onto the dance floor. You remember the beat of the banjo playing so loudly as you moved to the beat. It was the last night of Ranger School, you had graduated earlier in the day, your friends and family had come and gone already to wish you well before they shipped you off to your assignments.
You weren’t alone on the dance floor, you were in Georgia, so when Sam Hunt was playing, the crowd tended to thicken up a bit. The noise got louder from people singing along, and although it wasn’t your go-to selection, it was fun in comparison to everything training had put you through. You remember feeling beer dripping down your jeans as you jumped up and down with the mix of Ranger graduates and town locals, but you didn’t mind one second of it. You just loved having the excuse to wear something other than your green service uniform.
As the song reached its last minute, you had started to sing along to the lyrics, your laugh was contagious by those around you as you enjoyed the celebration. You were drunk, there was no two ways about it, and you weren’t alone in that, everyone around you was too. Some people attempted to line dance, because choreographed moves were the perfect thing for a bunch of drunks, but everyone seemed to make it work. Except him. And you heard his voice in your ear as you were trying to keep up with those around you in the last moments of the song.
“Can you show me how to do this shit so I don’t make a total fucking ass of myself?”
You smiled at the comment, and turned to him. Lopez. You had worked with him over your summer of training, but to say you knew him well would have been an exaggeration.
“And you think I know what I’m doing?” You chuckled as you looked back at him. “I’m just following everyone else. It’s like a kick kick step step turn thing.”
“Right.” Gilly was trying to catch up as he moved next to you. It was hilarious to watch but it was also nice, having someone else with you that didn’t exactly know what was happening. “Man, I wish they’d turn this country shit off.” He whispered to himself as he tried to follow along with his feet.
As the song came to a close, you spoke up to him. “Didn’t peg you as the line dancing type.”
“I’m running a bet with the guys.” He pointed back to his group of friends. “Longest one to stay out on the dance floor, actually trying, gets their tab taken care of.”
“You do realize we’re in a bar full of locals who love buying drinks for anyone in the service?” You frowned at him.
“Yea but there’s just something really fulfilling about Timmer paying my tab off for me, you know?” He was laughing back with you.
Now that, you understood. Timmer was a real asshole, said things that got under everyone’s skin so if that was what was on the line, you’d help Lopez out. The song changed, it slowed down. A crowd of people left the dance floor, while a new crowd also filled it. Gilly looked around and saw just one person he was in on the bet with left on the floor with someone in their arms.
“Need a partner?” You spoke up, hand extended out to him. Out of nerves, he laughed and took your hand in his, your other arm moved to hang around his shoulder loosely as you both began swaying to the music.
“Thanks for helping me out.” Gilly said to break the silent tension.
“Look, anything to make Timmer get the shit end of a stick, but I’m thinking I should negotiate something out of this deal for myself.” You made a face as if you were thinking.
“I mean, fair is fair.” Gilly said as he took the lead and moved you around the dance floor. “What’d you have in mind.”
It was a tactic, but it worked, it had you shocked for a minute that he had taken the lead.
“I want my tab covered, too.” There were likely a million other things you could have negotiated from this, his dessert during meal time, laundry, literally anything but you were so caught off-guard you just said something quickly.
“Deal.” He agreed quickly.
Both of you stopped talking and continued to move slowly, swaying back and forth, the silence between you both allowed you to hear the lyrics of the song.
“You and me, wild and free. Way out in the woods, nobody for miles.”
Those lyrics brought you back to the present moment, in your shared home with Gilly that way out in the woods, nobody for miles. Now, some probably would have said that was the night that started it all between you, but after those dances, and a few drinks, both of you went back to your respective bunks and didn’t speak to each other until a week later when you were both deployed to the 2nd battalion in the 75th Ranger Regiment, and well, that bonded you two differently. Those two months on the home base in Washington is where the both of you fell in love, whatever that meant for two active duty Rangers. After those 2 months, they shipped you out to your tour assignment, where things got dark.
You stood there, getting lost in your thoughts as your brain wrapped itself around a new set of memories, ones that were heavy and hard to even think of. The memories of being on combat duty, seeing things that were burned in your mind as a souvenir of your two tours, and the one that constantly replayed in your head. The memory of being dishonorably discharged because you refused to follow orders. Before you could think further on it, you jumped at the sound of your dog barking. Your eyes moved to the driveway, the sound of the gravel crunching was mumbled under the music and the rain but it was still prevalent. The rain distorted the view out of the window, but you could see the black town car rolling down your driveway, which was otherwise empty. You lived easily 30 minutes from town or any person, neighbor, or establishment, and that was purposeful. When you got discharged, Gilly got sent backshortly after on leave with you for a week. The two of you were already married but had no place to call home and with you being done with the military, it was time to set down roots. Roots that wouldn’t push you into a PTSD fit constantly, you liked being off the beaten path, you liked being unbothered, on your own. On your own. Those three words instantly meant something completely different now as you stared at the black car in the driveway. Everyone knew the black town car pulling up, unexpected, to the home was the news. The news no one wanted to get, but being deployed yourself prepared you for it in a way that explained the solitude in your heart and lack of panic. You moved away from the window before anyone exited the car, you took the few minutes you knew you had before someone rang the bell to kneel down and be eye to eye with your pup.
“I wish you were going to understand what was about to happen, buddy.” Your hand scratched behind his ears. You saw his nose wiggle as he sniffed the air, and he let out a little whine while looking at you.
You let out a sigh, and closed your eyes. That’s when the doorbell rang. As your dog ran to the door, you knelt there for 30 more seconds, preparing yourself mentally to hear the news.
The words rattled in your brain before anyone even said them to you, it was your brain's way of preparing you before you got up to answer the door. The commandant of the Army Rangers 75th Regiment and Second Battalion has entrusted me to express his deepest regrets that your husband, Gilberto Lopez, was killed in action. It was then that you realized you’d find out when and how, and that’s when you held your breath. It’d affect you differently, because you knew the logistics of things, how to read between the lines of what was told to you. Before another thought filled your head, you were standing up and making your way to the door and opening it wide.
Immediately your dog was out the door whining and jumping on the person in front of you. You thought you felt your breath hitch, I mean you were seeing a dead man, or what you convinced yourself in the last 5 minutes was a dead man, standing in front of you but you were frozen, until he spoke.
“Hey buddy boy, I missed you, yea, hello.” He spoke to the dog, his backpack still on but the other bag was discarded to his right as he let your dog greet him joyfully. “You been takin’ care of our girl, right?” He said as he stood back up and you felt the breath you were holding release and suddenly you were launching into his arms.
He let out a woah mixed in between a chuckle as he steadied himself and wrapped his arms around you to embrace you back. You both hugged for what felt like eternity, eventually he moved both of you into the house to avoid getting anymore wet from the rain. You still had your hands wrapped around his neck, your heads were next to each other when he whispered something to you.
“What happened? I’m gone for a few months and you got that country shit playing?”
When the laugh left your mouth it’s when you realized you were crying.
“Hey, you’re not allowed to say that when it’s our song.” You pulled away so you could look at him now.
“See, country music’s got you crying.” His thumb moved to wipe your tears away, the smile on his face was big, he was happy to be home, happy to not be thinking about everything– anything.
“I thought you were dead.” You said as his hands cupped your face.
“I’m surprised I’m not.” His face hardened almost immediately as he shifted to talk to you seriously.
“You back for good?” Staring into his eyes, you looked for an answer, but were only coming up with pain and exhaustion.
“I’m back for good.” He nodded and moved to place his backpack down.
“It’s hard being home.” You said, hating to break the moment but you knew it was inevitable to talk about.
“It’s hard being deployed.” Gilly answered.
You looked into his eyes again, it was obvious to you that they were eyes that had seen a lot. You knew that since your eyes looked the same when you were sent home. The difference between him and you was he was there longer, whatever happened when you weren’t there was going to haunt him.
“Back for good.” You repeated his statement, trying to wrap your brain around what that meant, what you both were in store for but you were quickly interrupted by a kiss.
As your eyes closed, you melted into the touch. His lips on yours brought you back in time, to your first kiss, your wedding day, then the day you were sent home, saying goodbye to him. But now he was home, and he was kissing you hello.
“You and me, wild and free.” He said the lyrics from the song that brought you two here as he rested his forehead on yours.
Being the sister of an addict, you are always waiting on that phone call. The one that says she needs you. Sometimes it's needing money. Sometimes it's needing to be bailed out of jail and sometimes it's needing a place to crash. But there's one phone call I hope I never get. The one that says I need to come and identify her body. I pray every day that I never get that call. My sister, Hope, and I are as different as night and day. She's my half sister. Same dad, different mom. Dad split on both of us and we're not even really sure if he's even still alive. Her mom was an addict and she was born addicted. My mom wasn't much better. She didn't chase that high like Hope's mom did. My mom chased men so as soon as I was old enough, I left. Never lost touch with my sister though.
Where my sister dove head first into her addiction, I went to college and busted my ass to pay for it on my own. I am a nurse, specializing in addictions. I am certified to help addicts through withdrawals and overdoses.
I'm sitting on my couch, after a long shift at work and my phone rings. I look at the number and see it's my sister. "Hope?" I ask as I answer. "Is this Joy?" I hear a man's voice ask. "Who's this?" I ask, getting worried. "My name is Gilly. Your sister said to call you. That you'd help." he says. "Is Hope okay?" I ask. "For now. She needs you." he says. "Text me the address. I'm on my way." I tell him. "Thanks." he says and I hang up. As I'm getting into the car, my phone chimes with a text of the address. Santo Padre? What's she doing there?
I pull up to the address and grab my medical bag out of the back seat before rushing to the door and as I get there, a man meets me on the porch. "Where's my sister?" I ask. "Inside." he says simply before leading me inside. He leads me to a bedroom and I see my sister and another man laying on a bed together and see a girl sitting in a chair next to the bed. The girls stands up and asks "The fuck is this?" I look at her and say "Joy. Hope's sister." I say. "You a fucking junkie too?" she asks. "No. I'm a nurse. This your brother?" I ask her. "Dad." she says and she's a little more calm. I look at the one that I figured out is Gilly and ask "What are they on?" He looks at me as I am going through my bag and says "Took them from Meth Mountain." he tells me and I look at him shocked. "You took her from Butterfly?" He nods and I slump over, looking back at my bag. "Thank you." I say and he doesn't say anything.
I give both Hope and the one he said was Coco, shots of something to help them come down and tell them that all we can do now is wait. While Hope and Coco are resting, Letty, Gilly and I are in the kitchen, sitting at the table. "Sorry about earlier." Letty says. "It's fine. You were worried about your dad. I get it." I tell her. "Thanks for helping. I mean, I know you'd help your sister but you don't know my dad." she tells me. "I know who your dad is. My sister loves him." I tell her and she smiles softly. "Why wouldn't she leave Meth Mountain?" Gilly asks. "She's scared of them. She knows Butterfly won't hurt her. He won't touch anyone. He has his lackey doing everything for him and she's terrified of his lackey. Some junkie that was kicked out of an MC because he uses. Thinks he's this tough fucker. But he has her convinced that she can't live without him and Butterfly." I tell them. "Well, Butterfly let her go but his lackey took a shot to the throat." Gilly tells me and I look at him shocked. "You killed him?" I ask. "Coco did." he tells me. "Coco was a sniper when he was in the military. Still a good shot even with his eye injury." Letty tells me. "Wow. Thank you for helping her. Both of you." I tell them.
A little later, Letty is in the bedroom, watching over Coco and Hope while Gilly and I are sitting out on the porch, getting some air. "You okay?" he asks. "Yeah. I've spent so long just waiting on that phone call. The one where they tell me she's gone." I tell him. "Shit, and I called her from your phone." he says. "Yeah." I say. "Sorry about that." he tells me. "No, it's fine. How did you guys meet my sister?" I ask. "When she was in Stockton, she was being fucked with by a couple of crooked cops. She helped us figure out which one killed one of our brothers and we tried to protect her." he tells me. "Wait, is one of your brothers named Angel? EZ?" I ask. "Yeah." he tells me. "She told me about you guys. I owe you guys." I tell him. "You're helping Coco. We're even." he tells me. "Um...guys...they're awake." Letty says from the door.
We go inside and to the bedroom to see them both sitting against the headboard and I rush to my sister and hug her before the tears start falling. I pull back and cup her face and say "I can't lose you." and she's crying too. I look over at Coco and say "Thank you." He nods and I pull away to get more meds and I feel Gilly stop me. I look up at him and he wipes my tears away and I nod. I give Hope and Coco more meds and over the next few days, Gilly doesn't go far from me.
Coco is in the shower and Gilly is gone to get us all food with Letty when Hope asks "What's going on with you and Gilly?" I shake my head and say "He's just helping me take care of you guys." I tell her and she shakes her head. "He's barely left your side." she tells me. "And he's just helping me." I tell her again. "I call bullshit." we hear from the door and Coco walks back in. "Why's that?" I ask. "I know my brother. I know when he's into someone." he tells me and I shake my head no. "You don't want that?" Hope asks. "It's not that. He's been supportive. He's funny and easy to talk to..." I say and my sister cuts me off "But?" she asks. "But when you guys get better, he'll go back to his life and I'll go back to mine." I tell them. "You keep saying you hate the company you work for. So quit and find something here." she tells me. "It's not that easy Hope. Where would I live until I found a job?" I ask. "I have an extra room." We hear Gilly say from the door. I look at him as he puts our food down on the bed and says "I have an extra room and Prez was saying a couple of weeks ago that we needed someone we could trust to patch us up when needed." he says. "Are you sure Gilly? I mean...you don't even know me." I say. "I know enough." he tells me and he takes my hand and pulls me closer to him as he laces his fingers with mine. I snuggle into him and he wraps his arms around me and my sister and Coco just smile at us. Maybe Hope and I have finally found our family.
“This is Halloween! This is Halloween!” I woke up as the song started blasting through the house. I glared at the bathroom door as Gilly started singing along to it, I groaned and hide my head under the pillow. I was going to kill him, he was going to die a painful death. His singing got louder and I growled as I got up before going to the bathroom door.
“Gilly! You’re going to die a horrible death!” I threatened as I threw the door open.
“Oh come on, baby girl! It’s the 4th of Halloween!” Gilly popped his head out of the shower, the song still blasting from the phone.
“I was asleep!” I glared at him, putting my hands on my hips.
“But now you’re not, so why don’t you come join me.” Gilly wiggled his eyebrows.
“Is that why you decided to blast Nightmare before Christmas? To get me in the shower?” My jaw dropped.
“No, but it is a plus.” Gilly smiled.
“I hate you.” I pouted.
“Let me make it up to you?” Gilly got a devilish look in his eyes.
“No.” I flipped him off.
“Come on, baby girl. We gotta spooky playlist, the water is nice and hot like you like, and I would love to run my hands over your naked body.” Gilly smirked.
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes but a smile started forming on my face. I slipped out of Gilly’s shirt that I slept in and got into the shower with him. He pulls me under the water and I giggle as he kisses me. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“Mmm, I love you too.” Gilly smiled as he looked me over. “I’m the luckiest man ever.”
“I guess I’m pretty lucky too.” I smiled and kissed him softly. “I’ll take waking up to your voice than not waking up to it.”
“Yeah?” Gilly asked with a smile.
“Yeah, you have a great voice and I love hearing it.” I told him, his hand gently ran up my body before brushing my wet hair back. “You going to keep singing to me?”
“You want me to?” Gilly chuckled.
“Of course!” I smiled and grabbed my shampoo. “Serenade me while I shower.” I started giggling as the next song that came on was Kidnap the Sandy Claws and Gilly did a full on performance.
Girl I was so happy to see your Christmas post!! May I request the prompts....
☃️Supposed to be spending Christmas alone & #9
for my brick wall of a man Gilly? 💜💜Please and thank youuuuu!!
Gilly had told everyone — everyone — that he didn’t mind spending Christmas alone this year.
Said it with that easy, shrugging smile of his.
Said it like it truly didn’t bother him.
Said it like he hadn’t quietly decorated his place anyway because the silence was too loud without the lights.
He’d planned it out: a simple night, some leftover enchiladas, maybe a bad action movie, bed early. No fuss. No pressure.
Except you.
You, with your stubborn warmth and your uncanny ability to see straight through the “I’m fine” he threw at the world.
Which is how Gilly ended up opening his apartment door on Christmas Eve and freezing mid-breath.
You stood there on his doorstep in the swirling cold, bundled in an oversized coat, cheeks pink from the wind, holding a wrapped present with paper so bright it practically glowed.
“Oh,” he said, blinking. “Uh… hey.”
“You weren’t answering your phone,” you said, brushing snow from your hair. “So I assumed you were ignoring me on purpose.”
“I wasn’t ignoring—”
“Gilly,” you said, stepping inside before he could protest, “you were absolutely ignoring me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Didn’t think anyone would… y’know. Worry.”
You looked around at his apartment — tidy, quiet, faintly lit by a single strand of multicolored lights he’d halfheartedly thrown over a bookcase. It was cozy, but lonely.
Your voice softened.
“Gilly… you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
He shrugged, but this time it faltered. “It’s just another day.”
You stepped closer, holding the present out toward him.
“Then just open the damn present.”
He stared at you — then at the box — then back at you.
“Now?” he asked, as if the idea was radical.
“Yes, now. Before you start acting all big and stoic about it.”
His lips twitched into the smallest, reluctant smile.
“Okay… okay.”
He took the present carefully, like it was something delicate. Something that mattered.
He sat on the couch, the cushions dipping under his weight, and you sat beside him — close enough your knee brushed his. Gilly paused, watching you, something gentle and uncertain flickering in his eyes.
“Go on,” you whispered.
He tore the paper slowly, almost shyly. And when he lifted the lid, he froze.
Inside was a hand-knitted blanket — thick, soft, deep winter green. Clearly hours and hours of work. Clearly made for him.
“I know you always complain your couch blankets are too small,” you said softly. “And you’re always cold at night. And… I just wanted you to have something warm. Something that feels like—”
“Like someone cares,” he finished quietly.
Your breath caught.
Because the way he looked at you then was warm enough to melt every snowflake on the roof.
He set the box aside and reached for the blanket with both hands, feeling the weight of it. Then he glanced at you — hesitating only a moment before he draped it around both of you and pulled you in under it.
His arm came around your shoulders. Solid. Gentle. Secure.
“That okay?” he murmured.
You leaned into him, head resting against his shoulder. “More than okay.”
Gilly let out a breath that sounded like release — like something soft inside him finally unknotted.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, voice thick. “For coming. For… this.”
“You don’t have to spend Christmas alone,” you whispered.
He pressed his cheek lightly to the top of your head.
“I’m not,” he murmured. “Not anymore.”
You shifted closer, your body fitting against his side like it belonged there. Under the blanket, his hand found yours, warm and careful, lacing your fingers together slowly like he didn’t want to mess it up.
Outside, snow kept falling.
Inside, Gilly held you like the best gift he never thought he’d get.
And maybe — just maybe — he’d stop pretending he wanted to spend Christmas alone ever again.
The blanket was warm.
But Gilly’s arm around you?
That was warmer.
His thumb brushed once—soft, almost absentminded—over the back of your hand.
You felt him swallow.
Then again.
Then he breathed in like a man about to step into cold water.
“Can I tell you something?” he mumbled, voice low, almost shy.
You tilted your head just enough to see his face.
Even in the dim, his cheeks were tinted pink.
“Of course,” you whispered.
He looked straight ahead, as if eye contact might undo him.
“I wasn’t… actually fine,” he admitted quietly. “About being alone tonight.”
Your chest tightened.
“I know,” you murmured gently.
He huffed a soft, embarrassed laugh. “Figures you’d see right through me.”
He adjusted the blanket around your shoulders, tucking it in with such careful hands, like he needed to make sure you were warm and safe before he said another word.
“I’ve… been wantin’ you here.”
A pause.
“Not just tonight.”
Your heart thudded softly against his ribs.
Gilly finally turned his head, meeting your eyes—just for a second, but it was enough to see all of it. The nerves. The hope. The softness he kept tucked behind muscle and tattoos.
“You make things feel easier,” he said, voice rough with honesty. “Lighter. Like I ain’t carryin’ everything by myself all the damn time.”
Your fingers curled around his.
“Gilly…”
He shook his head gently, like he wasn’t done.
“And when you showed up tonight?” He exhaled, slow and shaky.
“It felt like… like maybe I matter more than I let myself think I do.”
You shifted closer, sliding your free hand to rest over his heart. It thudded hard beneath your palm.
“You do matter,” you whispered. “More than you know.”
Gilly’s eyes softened—so full and vulnerable it made your breath catch. He leaned his forehead gently against yours, letting the blanket cocoon both of you completely.
“I like you,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “More than I should. More than I planned. Hell, more than I know what to do with.”
Your lips curved into a small, warm smile.
“Good,” you whispered back. “Because I like you too.”
He froze. Blinked.
Then that slow, dimpled smile spread across his face—soft, relieved, disbelieving.
Gilly lifted a hand, cupping your cheek with careful fingers as if you were something fragile and precious and his.
“Best damn Christmas I ever had,” he murmured.
And then—tentatively, reverently—he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there like he wanted the moment to last forever.
Under the blanket, his arms wrapped fully around you, pulling you into a gentle, full-bodied embrace, holding you like you were the gift he’d been waiting for without even knowing it.
If its not too late...Can I request 3. "Did it tell you to stop?” for Gilly Mayans?
Oh, Gilly! 😍❤️
Enjoy love!
Gilly had been in a foul mood all week. Snapping short in church, silent when the guys tried to joke with him, and rougher than usual on runs. Even at the clubhouse, where the whiskey flowed and the music was loud, he sat brooding in the corner, nursing a beer he wasn’t really drinking.
“Jesus, hermano,” Angel muttered, leaning on the bar, “you’re wound tighter than Bishop’s fuckin’ cut. When’s the last time you got laid?”
Coco snorted, elbowing him. “Look at him — it’s been a while. He’s about three days away from startin’ fights just to get the edge off.”
Gilly grunted, eyes narrowing, but didn’t rise to it. Just took another sip, jaw tight.
That was when she appeared — one of the crow eaters, long legs, short skirt, perfume cloying as she perched on the arm of his chair.
“You look like you could use some help with that scowl,” she purred, tracing a finger along his bicep.
He gave her a look, sharp and impatient. Normally he brushed them off. Tonight, though, the restless ache in his gut was too heavy, too loud. He needed something — anything — to shut it up.
Her hand slid to his thigh. He caught her wrist, holding her still. His stare pinned her, hard and unblinking.
“You really wanna help?” he asked, voice low, dangerous.
She nodded quickly, lip caught between her teeth.
Gilly’s jaw flexed. He stood, dragging her with him by the wrist. The room was too loud, too drunk for anyone to care where they were headed. He pushed her down the hallway, past the chapel, and shoved open one of the side rooms — dark, quiet, the door slamming shut behind them.
“On your knees.” His tone brooked no argument.
She dropped instantly, wide-eyed, eager.
Gilly unzipped, pulling his cock free, thick and already hard in his hand. He stared down at her, eyes shadowed, voice flat.
“Open up. I don’t got the patience tonight.”
She opened her mouth eagerly, tongue out, eyes flicking up at him like she was expecting praise. Gilly didn’t give it. He just shoved forward, the blunt head of his cock pressing past her lips, sliding heavy over her tongue.
She gagged when he hit the back of her throat. He groaned, the sound low and ragged, one hand fisting tight in her hair.
“Yeah,” he muttered, hips rolling slow but forceful. “That’s what I fuckin’ needed.”
Her hands came up to steady herself on his thighs, but he slapped them away. “Behind your back.”
She obeyed, fingers lacing together as he set a brutal rhythm, fucking her mouth like it was just another place to bury his frustration. Spit ran down her chin, slicking her chest as she choked on the thick length filling her throat.
When she tried to pull back for air, his grip tightened. He yanked her head forward, forcing her nose against his stomach as she gagged.
Her muffled whimper filled the room, but his response was a growl, sharp and dangerous:
“Did I tell you to stop?”
Her eyes widened, watering, and she shook her head as much as his fist in her hair allowed.
“That’s right.” His hips snapped harder, his teeth clenched, voice rough. “You don’t stop ‘til I’m done. You wanted this — you fuckin’ take it.”
He used her throat without mercy, every thrust deep and punishing. Her mascara ran in black streaks down her cheeks, spit dripping from her chin to the floor.
Gilly groaned, head tipped back, hips rutting faster. For the first time in days, the tension in his shoulders started to bleed out — burned away in every gag, every tear, every broken sound she made around his cock.
When he finally pulled out, she collapsed forward onto her hands, coughing, spit and drool glistening down her chest. Gilly didn’t give her a second to recover. He hauled her up by the arm, turned her, and bent her hard over the nearest table.
“Skirt up,” he ordered.
She fumbled to obey, panties dragged down around her thighs. Gilly shoved them lower with one rough tug, his hand flattening against the small of her back, holding her pinned.
His cock, slick with her spit, slid along her folds once before he slammed into her in a single brutal thrust. She cried out, the sound high and sharp, her palms slapping the table.
“Shut up,” he growled, his hips snapping hard, fast, punishing.
Every thrust rattled the table, the wood creaking under the force. His grip bruised her hip, dragging her back onto him with every rut. She tried to lift herself, to ease the angle, but his palm cracked across her ass, sharp and stinging.
“Stay the fuck down.”
Her whimper only spurred him harder. He leaned over her, chest pressing into her back, his voice a hot rasp against her ear.
“You think I’m here to make it nice for you?” His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, the sound of their bodies slamming together obscene. “Nah. I needed to get this out, and you’re here. That’s it.”
Her nails scratched at the tabletop, knees shaking as he used her. Every time her cunt clenched around him, he groaned, his breath ragged.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he muttered, pace unrelenting. “So tight, so wet. You’re takin’ it, just like you should.”
Her cries filled the room, muffled against her arm when she buried her face, the table digging into her hips.
And Gilly just kept going, rough, focused, pounding every ounce of his pent-up frustration out of his body and into hers.
His thrusts grew harder, faster, the slap of skin echoing sharp in the small room. Her body shook under him, cheek pressed to the table, nails digging grooves into the wood as he drove into her without a hint of mercy.
“Fuck—” Gilly’s groan tore from his chest, guttural, raw. His hips snapped rough, pace breaking, each thrust heavier than the last. His hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back so he could hear every cry she made.
“That’s it,” he growled, breath hot against her ear. “You take it ‘til I’m done. That’s all you’re good for right now.”
Her cunt fluttered around him, tight and messy, soaking his cock. The sound of it was filthy, wet and lewd with every rut. Gilly grunted, slamming deep one last time, holding there as his release spilled hot inside her.
His jaw clenched, groan low and heavy as he filled her, his grip keeping her pinned, grinding to make sure she took every drop.
When he pulled out, cum dripped thick down her thighs, staining the insides of her legs. She sagged against the table, trembling, her chest heaving.
Gilly stepped back, tucking himself in, zipping his jeans like nothing about him had changed — except his shoulders, finally loose, his jaw no longer tight.
He glanced down at her, bent and wrecked, the mess of his frustration running out of her.
Then he turned, grabbing his cut off the chair, shrugging it on like she wasn’t still dripping on the table behind him.
Here you go! If you haven’t read the first one, this won’t make much sense yet. Read Lost Princessa or search for #masterlist on my blog.
This picks up about a week after the accident. Megan and our favorite Mayans have a new adventure ahead of them that involves Charming.
There will be warnings on each chapter. This is not intended for audiences under the age of 18. I never know what I’m going to end up writing so let’s get that out of the way right now. If you’re under 18 - scram.
Enjoy and be responsible for your own media consumption.
Tagging a few people who might be interested. @drabbles-mc @jemmakates @iamthegraham @delightfulheroshoeflap @xeniarocks (it won’t let me tag you for some reason)
@maysdigitalarts did these banners a long time ago and put them out there for people to use. I just found where I had saved this one to use in my next fic, but it won't let me tag them. They may have changed blogs.
Also- please feel free to use this as inspiration for whatever medium of art you do. If you do fan art or moodboards, please feel free. I'd love to see what everyone else sees when they read my work.
