#Angel Reyes x f!reader

[garbinge]

Poorly Healed

Angel Reyes & F!Reader

From these August Prompts: A Poorly Healed Injury

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Angsty. F!Reader has a kid with Angel.

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics  @narcolini @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie

“I thought you told me that wasn’t bothering you anymore?” Your voice startled Angel. 

He was standing in the kitchen, his hand over his bicep where a bullet had grazed his skin a earlier this week, his face wincing in pain as he applied pressure. But the minute he heard your voice he snapped out of it and turned to you, his face full of shock and you could see the gears in his head turning as he tried to come up with an excuse. 

“Don’t even try.” You took two steps into the kitchen before grabbing his arm and looking at the wound. It was red, while it had started to scab, it didn’t look proper, it looked like it hurt. “Jesus Angel. This shit is infected.” You were mad but more so, you were concerned. 

“Go.” You nodded towards the door in the kitchen that lead to your backyard. “Go sit on the back porch, I have some antibiotics and should have something to sterilize whatever the fuck this turned into.”

He did as you said, moving to your covered back porch, it was dusk out, but the sunset was still offering ample amount of light. The chair he sat on faced the yard which was just plain yard until a forrest full of trees filled it. The sound of the highway that was only a few miles away buzzed as white noise in the background. 

You walked out soon with two medications, antibiotics and pain meds, along with antibiotic cream and alcohol. 

“You don’t care about scarring, right?” You asked him already knowing the answer. Angel might have been a pretty boy but he didn’t care about a scar. 

“It’ll make a good story.” He smiled from ear to ear as he took his shirt off so the wound was fully able to be treated, although a simple sleeve rollup would have sufficed. Again, pretty boy. 

“Good story, huh?” You began to clean the wound with alcohol, patting it with cotton balls and q-tips. “This one time I got shot at and even though it nearly missed my heart, it sure as hell gave my girl a heart attack because the call she got from the MC was Angel’s been shot, get down to the clubhouse.” You mocked the phone call from one of the prospects who called you. 

“To be fair, that was more Bottle’s fault, not mine.” Angel defended himself. 

“It’s more the fact that you got shot, Angel.” You stopped applying the neosporin to look up at him. 

“I know, it was a stupid situation we got put in, it’s not gonna happen again. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Angel rested his other hand on your knee. 

“That’s the thing Angel, I’m always worried.” 

Your eyes were locked on eachother, faces serious now. He knew what you were saying, he agreed, but it was more complicated than that, and you knew it but didn’t want to believe it because if there was a will there was a way. 

“We aren’t kids anymore, Ang.” You inhaled and closed your eyes, softening your voice before opening your eyes to lock with his again. “We’re not 23 looking for the next cheap thrill, the drugs, the partying, the money, it was fun then, but now, its scary– it’s terrifying honestly, not knowing when you’re coming home–if you’re going to come home, we have a kid, Angel. A child. Who looks up to you. You want him to sit at that table? Look what that shit did to Guero. He’s fuckin’ drowning in that emotion, in that regret, that revenge. I’m not even around the way I used to be and I can see that shit.”

“It’s not that easy, querida. I’m trying.” Angel pleaded with you. 

“I need you to try harder.” You picked your hand up and grabbed his face. “We need you to try harder.” You referred to your son. 

He rested his forehead against yours after letting out a deep sigh. 

“I want you to be happy.” He whispered. 

“I am happy. I have a beautiful son, beautiful family, a home, a handsome man,” You added some humor in your voice to those words to make him smile, “I just want the luxury of knowing when you walk out that door the odds of you coming back home are in my favor.” 

“Shouldn’t be a luxury.” Angel’s voice got serious. 

“I know.” You agreed with him and pulled away from him to continue applying the cream to his arm. 

“EZ should have been the one to call you when I got shot.” Angel back tracked to the vague phone call you got from Bottles that day. 

“I shouldn’t have to get that call.” You retorted. 

“I know.” He repeated your words back to you. 

You wrapped his arm with gauze and a bandage. “Take one of each of these, and for the love of God, Angel, let me clean this out everyday.” 

“Deal.” He tapped the bandage before leaning over and putting his hands around your waist to bring you to sit on his lap and stare out into the yard, the sun setting and the light dissipating as the minutes passed. 

“I think we should move to Mexico.” You had your arm around his shoulder but hand tangled in his hair. 

“Mexico, huh?” He started to caress your arm lightly with his fingers. 

“Yea, I think our boy would love it, plus it’d be nice to bring your dad back to his home, even if it's not the same town, it’d still feel more like home than Santo Padre ever did I’m sure.”

“Good luck getting him out of that house.” Angel laughed. 

“You underestimate the powers of a 2 year old little kid.” You smirked and leaned your head on top of Angel’s. 

“He’s there now?” Angel asked where your child was and you hummed to answer him. “I’ll go pick him up.” 

Angel was now standing up getting ready to head out, you were standing now too, soaking in the quick kiss Angel left on your lips before he was walking away. 

“Angel.” You called out to him, a little desperation in your voice. The fear of him not coming home haunting you like it did every time he left the house. 

“It should’ve been EZ.” You repeated the statement from your conversation earlier, it was something Angel said but you never agreed with it then. The fear of him not coming home and getting a call like you did when he was shot was eating you alive and you hoped he saw that without you needing to explain further. 

He turned around, his face looked heartbroken because he knew exactly what was going through your head. 

“I’ll let him know.” 

With that, he nodded and pulled out his phone so you’d know he was calling to tell EZ right now, it wasn’t what you truly wanted. You wanted Angel to tell EZ he was leaving, done with the club, but you’d take this. If you had to deal with the uncertainty of club life, at least you had some comfort knowing if anything happened EZ was going to be the one calling you to break the news, the right way. As if there was a right way to break that kind of news, but based on the past experience, you knew there was definitely a wrong way of doing it and you could breathe easy knowing that’d never happen again. 

[purestxblood]

𝖎 𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚, 𝖎'𝖒 𝖘𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖞, 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩 𝔯𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰

You finally had enough, finally taking your life into your own hands...starting fresh in a place where Angel Reyes didn’t exist. That is, only if Angel would let you. You hadn’t even made the full jump and Angel was determined with his I love you’s to keep you from going astray.

𝗖𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗘𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗣𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽.

𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 | 𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

You sat with your back against the wall, a quilt draped around your waist as you watched the dimly lit screen of your laptop. Beside you, discarded take out boxes from your favorite mom and pop shop and a six pack of empty beer bottles littered the tile, reminders of the last dinner in your apartment. What once felt like home was only reminiscent—now feeling like empty space, a stranger that no longer belonged.

It was about fucking time: you weren’t a coward holding on to empty forgotten promises— desperately clinging to the frail voice in the back of your head constructing what ifs. You were taking the next step forward, putting yourself first for once. 

There was absolutely nothing. Not one fucking thing tying you to the wits of Santo Padre. The godforsaken town was nothing but a painful reminder of what was, and what wasn’t. It was a reminder of love lost.

You were far too eager to high tail it out of there, ignoring the tug and pull to stay put to the back of your mind. You were anxious about leaving to where you hadn’t been able to sleep, thus here you were streaming your comfort movie; at least, you were until knocks began pounding opposite of your door.

Brows knitting in confusion, you looked at your phone. The time illuminated upon your home screen without any missed calls or texts. You waited in your make-shift bed, staring at the front door as if the person on the other side could have possibly got the wrong door or you were hearing things.

Both of which were the latter. The knocks hadn’t stopped and you groaned, hoisting yourself upward and tip-toeing to the door. You lived in a decent area and it wasn’t unheard of for randoms to go barging around the apartment halls. However, you didn’t want the person banging on your door to know you were awake and alone. This person was on a mission, their knocks growing louder and forceful with each step you took.

Pressing your hands on the wood, you leaned forward, your tense shoulders dropping when you peered through the peephole and noticed the person on the other side.

“It’s two in the fucking morning Angel,” you stated, throwing your front door open. Angel’s attention ignored your stance, his eyes roaming over your shoulder towards your empty apartment. 

“So it’s true,” he stated, pushing his way through your arm to enter your entry room. 

You said nothing. Shutting the door as he made himself at home. “Running away,” he huffed more so to himself in assumption of observance rather than speaking directly to you. There was annoyance to his tone and his stance with his hands crossed and tensed shoulders solidified his expression.

“There’s nothing to run away from.” 

Your voice filled the void air, reminding him that you were still present behind him in the empty apartment. “Then why are you leaving?”

“Angel—” you sighed, dropping your arms. There were various reasons racking your brain yet you couldn’t bring yourself to pinpoint the truth. “Why are you running away?” he repeated.

Silence.

Angel made a hissing sound of annoyance and he shook his head. You could see the thoughts looming through his mind. His facial exterior gave way to the hateful thoughts he didn’t voice aloud and it only made you grow frustrated and annoyed with his entitlement. 

“What are you expecting, Angel?” you questioned. “You want to know the truth? I hate it here,” you admitted. “Well then find another apartment, I can help, we’ve done it…it’s not that fucking difficult, you don’t need to leave Santo Padre, I know other places.”

His words spewed a mile a minute as you watched the way his eyes frazzled, his brain working to construct the perfect solution. You shook your head, “no Angel that’s not…”

“There’s a complex,” he waved his hand, “by Gilly it’s new or redone or some shit but it looks nice you might—”

“For fucksake listen for once Angel,” you groaned and stomped your foot. Taking in a breather, you let out your breath and said each word slowly, “I hate this place,” you motioned across with your hands, “this town. I want to leave Santo Padre, okay?”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?”

You. 

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, releasing all the buried emotions and thoughts you submerged throughout the years. Rationale got the best and you shook your head, “there’s just nothing for me here.”

“Bullshit,” he said, “you have family here.”

He wasn’t wrong. The club had been your family since birth. Sure your parents were gone but you still had the club. Your answer was a mere cop out and Angel saw right through you. 

“Fuck, you have me here,” he said angry, pointing to his own chest, “I’m right fucking here.”

“That’s the fucking point Angel!” You broke, your voice betraying you as you yelled. Swollen tears begun falling down your face, “you’re fucking everywhere!” 

He stilled. 

You looked away from him, wiping your tears with the sleeves of your sweater, only to be replaced with a fresh set. “Shit,” you looked up at the ceiling, laughing at the current situation, “I said I wasn’t going to fucking do his anymore.”

“I’m so fucking tired of being a little bitch who cries over you,” you said flatly. “It’s been years Angel, I mean,” you took a breath, waving your hand as you recalled the beginning of your relationship when you were teenagers to adults, “we split years ago but this, this coming and going,” you motion between you both, “always being there, listening, helping you pick up pieces—”

“I never really thought that I would become a goddamn burden to you.” 

Angel’s eyes were fiery and wide yet his shoulders slumped. You could see the contradiction of anger rattling his bones and sadness of feeling as if he appeared far too weak towards you… an inconvenience in your life. 

He looked like a helpless child staring at you and your heart sank. That hadn’t been what you meant at all but leave it to him to take your words and twist them into something dire. Your shoulders fell and you sighed. “Angel, you’re not a burden…you know that’s not what I mean…but you…you’re the worst heartbreak I’ve ever known.”

Angel was silent, his eyes cascaded down to the bareness of your toes. 

“I’m just…” you sighed, racking your brain for the formation of words, “I’m tired–so fucking tired of–”

“I love you,” he rushed, his eyes snapping to yours. “Angel,” you shook your head, your eyes widening in shock as the three words carelessly blew. 

The last time Angel had told you he loved you was when he was drunkenly buried cock deep in you, only to tell you the morning after that he had once again got another woman pregnant and was going to try and make things work with her.

I love you’s didnt come easy. They were only of value when beneficial towards him.

Angel took a few steps forward, closing the space between you. “You know I do,” he stated, “I’ve always loved you, we’ve always loved each other, we–”

“Never work out,” you finished, “every time–”

Angel placed his hands on your lips, “you love me.”

You looked up at his face, his heavy gaze making you feel like you were shrinking in size. You hated how he was using your poor excuse of love for each other as means of sticking around. 

“I do love you,” you agreed, “that’s the fucking problem.”

𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 | 𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! to stay up to date with future one shots & series. x

𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁, @Mrsstevenbuchananstark, @chazubagi , @callmejaye , @justazzie , @thanossexual , @fanfictionismyhobby​ , @esposadomd​ , @Oureternalbond .

[cloveroctobers]

Here you’ll find part ii. To my spring prompts. This will consist of all works written during the spring season of 2023 🦚🍃🪷

FEELS = Dante Torres > Series: Chicago PD + NBC

CHUCKY CHEESE = Barry > Series: OBX + NETFLIX

WORTH IT = Kiara Carrera > Series: OBX + NETFLIX

KEEP UP = Rio (platonic?!) x oc x Mick > Series: Good Girls + NBC

HOLD ME = Tommy Miller > Live Action Series : The Last of Us + HBO

ROSE COLORED LENS = Sarah Cameron > Series: OBX + NETFLIX

WATCH ME WORK = Carmy Berzatto > Series: THE BEAR + FX/HULU

BLACK MASCARA = Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes > Series: MAYANS MC + FX/HULU

BLOODWAR = Joel Miller > Series: The Last of Us (Live Action!) + HBO

SOUTHERN DELICACY = Rio x oc x Arman Morales > Series: Good Girls & The Cleaning Lady + NBC/FOX

DATING LAYLA = REQUESTED_ Layla Keating > Series: All American + The CW

TERMS & CONDITIONS = Angel Reyes x oc x Cane Tejada + FX/STARZ

PART iii.

[drabbles-mc]

Sugar

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I've ever written for, I'm aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March. We'll see how far we get!

Prompt: petals

Word Count: 423

A/N: I miss prepping craft projects for my students and somehow we ended up here 😂

You were sitting on the floor, legs tucked underneath the coffee table in your living room while you worked. The television was on but you weren't really paying it any mind as you cut out flower petals from construction paper, preparation for crafts with your students the next day. 

Above the white noise of the television, and the satisfying sound of your scissors gliding through the paper, was the sound of Angel's voice as he vented to you about what had gone down in Templo earlier that afternoon. 

“I swear to god,” he said as he went to the fridge to grab himself a beer, “I wish we were kids so I could dribble his head like a fuckin’ basketball the way I used to.” He popped the cap off the bottle and took a sip. “Bounce that shit right off the floor,” he said as he mimed a dribbling motion with his free hand. He looked over at you. “I think I could still do it.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you kept your eyes trained on the paper in front of you. “Physically? Yeah, you probably could. But do you really think it'd solve anything?”

“Pfft,” he scoffed as he came and stood by the coffee table, neck craned down so he could watch you work. “Knock some brain cells back into place.”

You shook your head again with a knowing smile. “It's like I tell my students– you get more with sugar than–”

“Than you do with shit,” he finished with a sigh. “I know but I don't think I buy that shit, querida.”

You finally looked up at him. “Salt.”

His brows knit in confusion. “What?”

“You get more with sugar than you do with salt, Angel.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I'm pretty sure–”

You set the scissors down and leaned back slightly. “You think I'd say ‘you get more with sugar than you do with shit’ to my students? My elementary students?”

A smile quirked the end of his mouth. “I mean, it's still true.”

You didn't want to laugh but you couldn't help yourself. With a loving roll of your eyes, you motioned for him to come and sit with you. “Come down here and help me out with this, will you?”

He didn't put up a fight as he plopped down beside you. “Tryin’ to distract me,” he said with a smirk. 

You leaned over and pressed a kiss against his jaw before handing him his own pair of scissors. “Sugar instead of salt.”

[bunnyreaper]

i still get jealous

pairing - gabriel reyes x f!reader, minor niran prukamanee x f!reader wc -  1414 warnings - flirting, jealousy, mild sexual content notes - niran crush is developing but... i can’t cheat on my baby gabe so here is the product of that... ill add a follow up chapter... eventually? also on ao3

"Hello there."

A smooth, eloquent voice cuts through your thoughts, diverting your attention from spectating the bartender to the man that's appeared at your side. When you turn, the last person you expect is the VIP, the man of the hour himself.

"Oh, hi!" You offer him a bright smile, somewhat taken aback by how radiant he is close up, and how he somehow manages to appear delicate and imposing at the same time. "Niran, right?"

His handsome face splits into a grin, his eyes lighting up with joy. "The very same. I assume you've heard of me?" He purrs, as if the entire party isn't dedicated to his arrival.

"You're all anyone will talk about around the base." You reply, taking a quick sip of your drink.

New arrivals are always welcomed with open arms, especially when they seem to be gaining adoring fans at an alarming rate. 

When Kiriko was brought to the base, everyone was happy, but with news of Niran's arrival, most of the women and plenty of others were going absolutely nuts. 

As he takes a seat next to you, his scent catches up to you—uniquely floral, a good balance of delicate notes and unforgettable aroma.

"Good to know that I've made quite the impression." He sends a wink your way, which you hate to admit makes you blush. 

You sip desperately at your drink, hoping the alcohol will chase away the fact that, from a purely objective standpoint, he's incredibly attractive. 

He looks good in pictures, but you never quite got the appeal until now, as he sits before you and steals your attention. "I'm sure you're more than used to that." You comment teasingly, as you know there's no way he's clueless about the effect he has on people. 

"Perhaps." He chuckles, an angelic sound leaving his lips. "You never told me your name." 

"Y/N." You offer, giving him your hand to shake, more as a formality and act of politeness. 

"A beautiful name for such a beautiful flower." He coos, a certain look in his eye as he takes your hand. Peaking through fluttery lashes, he presses a kiss to your skin. "It's a pleasure to meet you." 

"You too, Niran." As you begin to laugh. 

Indulging him with some seemingly harmless flirting was one thing, but he was clearly a man on a mission. 

This would make a great story later. 

"How are you enjoying the party?" Niran asks, cutting through your thoughts once more. 

"It's nice, I'm a little dead on my feet from extra training today, but, commander's orders..." You sigh, giving him a shrug and a smile. 

He leans in, coming even closer into your personal space, in a way you find both amusing and suffocating. 

"Your commander likes to work you hard?" He asks, a genuine spark of interest in his eyes. 

"Oh, you have no idea." You giggle, taking more sips of your drink.

In fact, you could say the Commander has it out for you personally. 

"I can help with that." His voice is flirtatious once more, and the offer takes you by surprise. 

"Oh?" 

Niran leans back, a beaming smile on his face as he conjures a sparkling, ethereal pink rose, before he offers it to you like he would a lover. 

"It's so pretty." You gasp, fascinated and transfixed by the display. 

The flower sits gently upon his fingers, magically persisting despite having appeared from nowhere—you've obviously not seen his use of Biolight in person before.

"Take it. You'll find you feel quite rejuvenated." 

You hesitate, wondering about the implications of accepting the rose, and yet fascinated by the chance to experience its healing effects for yourself.

You reach out and take the stem, and as you cradle it between your fingers, the pain in your muscles seeps out of you. "Wow." You gasp. 

"Am I interrupting something?" 

You don't need to turn to know Gabriel has chosen the perfect time to make his appearance at your side. 

"No." You supply quickly.

"Yes." Niran speaks at the same time, and you can't help but laugh. 

"Niran, this is Commander Reyes." You fight to keep the smile off your face, finding some amusement in both the realization Niran is about to have, and the jealous waves rolling off of Gabe. 

"Oh, the martinet you mentioned earlier." He retorts, without skipping a beat, and yet the smile he directs at Gabriel is perfectly polite. 

You thread your arm around Gabriel's waist, pulling him closer to your side. You welcome the feeling of him so close. "And... my boyfriend." 

"Oh!" Niran gasps, and you expect his expression to fall, yet his smile seems to beam wider. "Well, I suppose it makes perfect sense that such a beauty would be spoken for, and by such a fine specimen, too." Niran's sultry gaze turns back to Gabriel, unperturbed by the frown on the older man's face. 

"He is fine, isn't he?" You giggle, your hand slipping down to squeeze his ass teasingly. 

"Doesn't sound like that's what you were saying earlier." Gabriel mumbles as his gaze breaks with Niran's and he faces you, a quietly annoyed look in his eyes. 

"Well, you are a hardass too." You laugh once more, and keep your hand on the aforementioned hard ass. 

"You make quite the couple." Niran comments, seemingly leaning in to both of you. "Are you open to another?" 

A choking sound leaves you in an instant, as Gabriel's eyes go completely wide—shock is not something you're used to seeing on him.

"Uh, we'll get back to you on that." You reply, struggling to hold back your laughter. You rise from the barstool, and thread your arm in Gabriel's as you intend on tugging him away. "It was nice meeting you, Niran." 

Your tone is polite despite your clear intention to leave.

"You too." Niran grins, still unperturbed, his eyes flicker to Gabriel once more as he offers the man one final sultry look. "Both of you." 

You and Gabe weave through the throngs of people until you make it to a more secluded area of the room. 

Gabriel still looks a little taken aback. "Did he start flirting with me too?" 

"I... think so, yeah." You respond before finally letting free your laughter. 

"Huh." He comments absentmindedly, before he turns and tugs you closer to him. He peers down at you, a questioning look on his face. "I didn't know you were into prettyboys." 

The way he says prettyboys is quite clearly derisive. 

"What gives you that impression?" You giggle, really taking pleasure in Gabriel's possessive display. It's not the worst he's been, or the most dramatic, but it still riles you up nonetheless. 

"The doe eyed look you were giving him, your little giggles." His jaw tightens as he talks. 

You know he trusts you fully, yet you also know there are just some emotions that overwhelm him easily. 

"Somebody's jealous." You coo, as you rest your hands on his chest and cast him a cheeky look. 

His arms wrap around you, holding you tight and close. "Not jealous, territorial." 

"Don't worry, my real type is still tall, dark, handsome, and called Gabriel." You beam up at him, as you truly wouldn't even consider actually entertaining anyone else's affections.

In the arms of your love, you feel completely at home. Looking up at him now only reminds you that you're right where you belong. 

"Good to know." He replies, then begins to haul you away by your arm. "But just in case, I think you need a reminder." 

"We're ditching?" You ask, as you struggle to keep pace as he heads back through the crowd.

He comes closer as the two of you move, his head dipping down beside your ear. "Oh, you'd rather stay at the welcoming party of your new friend?" 

"No Gabe." You still him for a moment, as you return his whispers. 

"Good." He grunts, resuming your journey once more.

When you're out of everyone's earshot and on your way to your quarters, Gabriel slams you into the wall of the hallway. 

His hands come to your waist, pressing you in as he traps you against the hard surface. His eyes are dark and stormy.

"I'm gonna fuck you until you forget his name." He growls. "And your own." 

He presses his growing erection against you, as he comes to whisper to you once more. 

"My name will be the only one you remember." 

[luvrsux]

Gabriel Reyes x Reader ✩

✩ self insert is gender neutral !!

✩ blackwatch/overwatch reaper !!

Fluff!! ✩

summary

↳ You’re a repair//mechanic agent in Overwatch headquarters. There’s rumors going around of a vigilante group that does what Overwatch doesn’t. To your surprise, it was a fellow agent under in your headquarters that was secretly apart of it. ♡

𓆩⟡𓆪 word count┆- 1880

𓆩⟡𓆪 characters┆- lena//tracer (mentioned), angela//mercy, genji (mentioned), cassidy (mentioned), gabriel//reaper

Heavy rain poured over one of the buildings of Overwatch. Of course, it was dark and hazy but someway, somehow, you loved the rain. It was fairly early in the afternoon, so you just peacefully watched the raindrops waterfall down the windows.

Faint footsteps echoed behind, which were the regular Overwatch agents doing their daily business routine. You, on the other hand, was just a mechanic that helped in repairs for the more braver agents, like Lena or Angela. Working on the sidelines was always a better lifestyle for you since it kept you safe and sound.

“(F/N),” A calm, angelic voice sang behind. You jolted your head to the voice, only to smile at the stunning angel.

“Have you seen Gabriel? We’re about to depart to a mission and I can’t seem to find him anywhere” Angela’s accent was thick but able for you to comprehend. She innocently peered over her shoulders to find the missing agent but no avail.

“I’m pretty sure he’s in his cabin room, I’ll go look for him” You smiled. Angela beamed back in reciprocation. She truly was an angel.

Your shoes echoed throughout the halls. It was quite ominous considering it was quiet and empty. Everyone was in the front quarters ready to board the plane. You approached Gabriel’s cabin up front. The doors were identical to the next. With a deep sigh, you drummed on his door.

“Gabe! Everyone needs you upfront!” You hollered. No response, but instead you heard shuffling. Clearly he was in there. You couldn’t help but raise a brow in utter suspicion.

Nothing stopped you from swinging the door. Time was at its essence and it was quite unusual for Gabriel to be this late to a mission. To your surprise, he darted his eyes to the door with a terrified expression. His attire was… different.

“Gabri-“

“Not a word!”

He rose his hand up to partly shield his body. You made eye contact with his hazelnut eyes, but quickly scanned his former attire. It was black, with a mixture of gray. You felt your brows furrow inward.

You guys stared at each other with awkwardness and silence. ‘It couldn’t be’ you thought, but his attire matched it perfectly. ‘Blackwatch’. You scrambled to shut the door once you heard voices approach.

You and Gabriel had a stable friendship, but he was always sour and cold that it never really sparked anything more. To your surprise, his cheeks grew red. Seemingly enough, he was embarrassed by your sudden abruption.

“I—,” He began. You stared, waiting for any answer to explain any of this. He cleared his throat.

“I can explain”

“Oh, please do”

He rubbed his jaw with his palm, which was covered in a black glove. You could hear the scruffiness from his goatee.

“Yes, I’m apart of Blackwatch” He gave in, his voice tired and defeated. The news didn’t phase you, considering it was blatant enough.

“Please don’t tell the rest” He spoke once again. The pressure came to sink into your skin once your body crashed into a nearby loft. Gabriel watched in embarrassment.

“Why?” You suddenly asked.

“Well,” Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck with a puzzled expression that was somehow mixed with hesitation. “It’s a long story, but I’m not the only one on this crew” He confessed, which only caused more pressure on your shoulders.

“I won’t tell a soul…” You rubbed the side of your toned arm with anxiety. This information could break the internet, and even Overwatch as a whole. You ran your calloused fingers in your locks from stress.

“Good…”

Gabriel sat next to you. You felt the soft loft sink beside you as he did. You couldn’t help but turn your head to gaze upon him. He was quite the charmer. Without the hat, his curly, brown locks flowed freely. You analyzed his jawline and realized how sharp it was. His side profile was drop dead.

“How do you feel about it?” Gabriel finally asked, turning his head towards you. You felt your face flare once he caught your gaze.

“If it’s for a good reason…” You shrugged, ripping away your soft eye contact. “I chose not to tell anyone because I do care about you”

Those words shocked through his core. It was foreign to hear such kind words from someone and direct it towards himself. He’d spent most of his time bickering with Cole Cassidy whenever they’d go on their more secret missions.

“You mean that?”

“Of course”

With that, you two slowly drifted eye contact with one another. You didn’t realize how close you two were up until you made eye contact. You got a better look at his eyes and other flattering features.

“I—… We,” He stammered, clearing his throat. “Think that Overwatch doesn’t do much justice” He explained further, his expression more serious than what he usually has. You felt a sting in your chest. You couldn’t help but sympathize with the tanned boy.

“That explains a lot” You kept your gaze. Gabriel looked somewhat defeated once he became transparent with you. His body tensed once you comfortably caressed his back.

“If the rest find this out, you’re in deep shit…” He grumbled. It seemed as if he deeply cared about you, as if he regretted even telling you in the first place. You felt touched, curving your lips into a small smile.

“I’ll be alright, not like I’m a super popular agent like Genji” You formed a chuckle and jerked your hand away from his back. He couldn’t help but curve a smile.

“You’re one hell of a repair person” He complimented. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and a smirk. It caused you to flare up in your cheeks, you were sure it had swarmed to your ears at this point.

Being this close made your heart flutter. There was no denying it, Gabriel was quite attractive even in his cold sour moments. Despite that, that’s what you loved. His deep, dark, somewhat raspy voice. He noticed your blush and you could’ve sworn is tan skin tinted as well, similarly to yours.

It was a small moment of both of you staring at each other with scrambled minds. You didn’t know what else to do, but you hadn’t realized your faces were growing closer and closer. You’d catch Gabriel glancing down at your lips which sent your nerves straight to an abyss. He’d catch you doing the same. Nothing stopped you from cocking your head to the side to get a better positioning if your lips crashed onto each other.

To your surprise, he quickly shifted his face away from yours. You felt a sudden sense of disappointment once you realized he wasn’t mere millimeters away from your face anymore. Duties always came first.

Gabriel stood up from the loft and cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed about the whole ordeal. He wanted to, truly he did but his head was too clouded to even think straight. He was afraid of sending you mixed signals without knowing it.

“I should finish getting ready for the mission” He had a hand placed on his hip as he turned his body away from you. You felt guilt, as well as embarrassment, wash over your body. You had no reason to stay on the loft and stood up.

“Of course…” You slightly stammered on your words from the sheer embarrassment. You shakily approached the door that was closed. Upon resting your palm on the handle, you inhaled. Despite the weird interaction you two almost shared, you still empathized with his tangled heart and crowded brain.

“Y’know Gabe,” You began. You turned to see him flinch at your voice. “If you need anything, and I mean anything… Don’t be afraid to talk to me” You made sure to smile sweetly and genuinely.

He turned his head to face you, a raised brow. You could still see the slight tint of red plastered on his cheeks. Clearly he wasn’t over the tension.

“Why?” He asked. You lowered your smile as well as your palm that rested on the handle. You hummed with confusion.

“Why do you… Care?” It seemed as if he wasn’t trying to sound rude or cold, he tried to sound genuine. You quickly caught onto it and stepped away from the exit.

He pensively watched you slowly approach him. Nothing prevented you from staring deeply into those hazelnut eyes while you formed yet another comforting smile.

“Because you mean a lot to me, and I understand that this may be a lot to handle” You began. Your soothing tone melted Gabriel and his tainted heart.

“I’d hate to see someone close to me constantly hurt when there’s someone there to help” You insinuated to yourself as that ‘someone’ Gabriel can go to.

There was a strong silence in the atmosphere after your response. The tint on Gabriel’s cheeks grew slightly brighter after comprehending your words. A tight feeling gripped his heart once he analyzed your own features. He couldn’t pin point what he was feeling, it was completely unknown and foreign to him.

You prepared to leave, mainly to avoid the sudden wave of awkwardness, only have your shoulders restrained by two gloved hands. You inhaled sharply. Gabriel had held you tightly, which was a total shock.

You watched him crash is lips against your own without hesitation. It took you several seconds to process what was happening, but before you could melt into the blissful kiss, he jolted away quickly.

“Sorry, sorry I-“ He stammered, releasing his firm grip he had on your shoulders. You watched him frantically breathe, but it didn’t stop you from yanking the collar of his gray hoodie to continue wherever you left off.

He made an abrupt sound once you replayed the remark he did once before, but it didn’t take long for him to relax and snake his hands to your face to make the kiss more comfortable and passionate.

The exchange made your stomach form butterflies. Your heart skipped several beats as the kiss went on. You felt like it lasted for ages before you both agreed to pull away to breathe. You couldn’t help but sheepishly smile.

“That was… nice” You chuckled, wiping your lips. Gabriel chuckled, a genuine smile forming his lips. He nodded at your remark.

“Indeed…”

You and the hispanic boy were still fairly close. You both simultaneously analyzed each others features with gushing smiles. The kiss, for an odd reason, cleansed your souls.

“Gabriel! (F/N)!”

The callout made both of you jolt and snap at the door. The whole exchange made you forget where you even were. The two of you separated away, giggling like a teenager in the process.

Nothing made the blush formed on your cheeks fade away, which was unfortunate since you’d probably never hear the end of it from your co workers. You bit your lower lip and rubbed his toned arm.

“Enjoy your mission”

“I will…~”

Hope you enjoyed !! ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑

ﾟ✩

Licensing and ownership goes to Blizzard Entertainment ✩

[artemiseamoon]

I posted 3,442 times in 2022

954 posts created (28%)

2,488 posts reblogged (72%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@artemiseamoon

@drabbles-mc

@princessxkenobi

@clydesducktape

@phoenixhalliwell

I tagged 2,659 of my posts in 2022

Only 23% of my posts had no tags

#benny miller - 167 posts

#will miller - 151 posts

#triple frontier - 119 posts

#it’s a queue - 119 posts

#ezra prospect - 117 posts

#santiago pope garcia - 111 posts

#frankie morales - 92 posts

#mayans mc - 74 posts

#angel reyes - 74 posts

#f reader - 67 posts

Longest Tag: 119 characters

#opie i still love you jax you a mess but i’d 1000% sleep with you but guys i have to say i’m utterly smitten with chibs

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Our Lonely Hearts

A f reader* x Steven Grant story | ft Marc Spector

*Reader has a nickname, Cat, and is a little shy and introverted

* on pause but will continue on A03 only (very soon)

About: Your life in London is lonely despite landing your dream job. When you develop a friendship and crush on the mild mannered Steven Grant, things get interesting but that’s only the beginning.

Chapters

One | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

Read on A03

Next update rough eta tba 💕 (fic on a mini hiatus)

See the full post

241 notes - Posted April 2, 2022

#4

Blood is a good color on you

Ser Harwin Strong x f reader *

Words: 812

A03

Warnings: a boar attack, killing said boar. The dead creature in the gif.

An: this is the last one I got today. Also a treat cause you are getting the whole post. A03 link at the top. I didn’t plan to be on tumblr this much, this man is testing my semi-hiatus 😂

Reader is of legal age and an adult. I never write huge age g*ps or minors with adults for obvious reasons. If you want that, I’m the wrong blog for you.

See the full post

267 notes - Posted September 22, 2022

#3

In these moments

Family man! Ser Harwin x Dornish wife f reader *

*established relationship bt adults. Married with children.

Warnings: none

More Ser Harwin | Ao3 | masterlist

It’s softttt hours okay. Just a drabble.

See the full post

284 notes - Posted September 26, 2022

#2

Of the most importance

Harwin x eldest Velaryon daughter (black! F reader)

Read on A03

See the full post

340 notes - Posted September 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Our Lonely Hearts 1

Steven Grant x Introvert! F Reader

Words: 2,292

⚠️warnings: mentions of losing gaps of time, loneliness, failed dating attempts, later mentions of DID 🛑 possible Moon Knight spoilers| your media consumption is your own responsibility.

An: I’ll see how I want to form the next chapter after the next episode 😁 enjoy! If you want a tag, ask below. Steven is a poor little meow meow who needs love & someone be trusts and I’m giving that to him with this. * reader has a nickname, Cat, we’ll see why.

See the full post

423 notes - Posted April 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[staticscreenwriting]

All our promises // Angel Reyes

Summary: Inspired by “The One That Got Away” by Katie Perry. Angsty but with a happy ending. I missed writing for this certified sadboy.

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. This isn’t edited or proofread because it’s almost 1 am and I am tired!  I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

Angel remembers exactly what it felt like kissing her for the first time. Like a roaring storm in the middle of the summer. Like laughing so hard it makes your lungs burn. Like running barefoot on hot asphalt.

He was almost out of Highschool then. A young fool about to be thrust into a world of uncertainty. It was like the life he had been waiting for for so long was finally there, ready for him to just reach out and grab it. But something was holding him back. An invisible force. Those voices in his head that had been there since he was a kid. That told him he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t EZ.

Sometimes giving in to your fears is easier than overcoming them. He felt so lost and afraid and scared and life felt like one big cloud hanging over him.

Then (Y/N) came into his life. Bright and warm like the sun, filtering through every crack of his stoic being and filling them with light.

And it was good. It was so good. Until life caught up with them. Growing up, Angel thinks, is the killer of all joy. It takes the good things, the innocent and lovely things, and it twists them and turns them and all that was once so easy now feels like a weight resting on your shoulders. Pulling you down. Weighing you down. Crushing you.

It’s been years since he’s last seen her. She was crying then. Defeat written all over her face. Maybe a bit of relief too. Because despite how much they loved each other, how much they wanted to hold onto the ruins of their relationship, sometimes the brave thing is letting go. And that moment, Angel decided to be brave. If only to set her free. To make it easier for her.

Now she’s standing by the bar, beer in hand and a smile on her face. All the feelings he ever felt for her, the ones he never quite let go of, come washing back over him like an angry tidal wave crashing against a stormy shore.

She’s in a pair of dark-washed jeans and a black shirt. She looks more grown-up than he remembers, more adult. And yet her eyes still hold the same sparkle and the corner of her lip still pulls up into the same mischievous smirk he grew to love so dearly.

When their eyes meet it’s like a tiny electric shock curses through his veins. Of course, she’s here, this is Gilly’s party and she’s been Gilly’s friend long before she ever was anything to Angel.

They share a hello, a small friendly hug. She smells of cigarette smoke and summer heat and yet beneath it all, he catches a whiff of the same flowery perfume she wore when they were barely adults.

It’s strange, he thinks, how hard they try to be civil and to push history aside. And it’s not like he expects some kind of grand gesture, it’s just so god damn awkward. Like everyone is waiting for a bomb to explode while Angel and (Y/N) try so hard to keep the spark from setting it ablaze.

A melancholic tune echoes from the jukebox in the corner and Angel’s eyes lift up from his beer, seeking out hers across the room. It’s not a song he particularly likes but it’s one that throws him into an ocean of memories.

She had a Mustang, sleek and gorgeous and midnight blue. The seats were beige leather with more holes than one could count. It smelled like cold smoke and cherry chapstick and dust. She loved that car and Angel loved that she loved it. That car was always filled with laughter and kisses and music.

She made him listen to Radiohead over and over again. Angel couldn’t find a single redeeming quality about their whiny songs but he did enjoy seeing her happy and so he suffered through it. And maybe it wasn’t all bad if he got to kiss her during the slow songs. Kiss her and kiss her and kiss her more.

They share a smile as Thom Yorke’s voice drifts through the room, across the crowd, and straight into their hearts.

He remembers another party much like this one, only they were both a little younger. Angel didn’t know it would be one of the last ones they’d celebrate together for a long time. It was Halloween and she made him dress up. No one ever managed to make him dress up. No one but her. He would’ve done anything for her. Hell, he still would to this day. And it wasn’t much of a costume really, just an all-black outfit, some dark shades, and a guitar. But (y/n) god she looked so sweet in her petticoat dress and with her bouncy hair.

The whole June and Johnny Cash thing was kind of a running gag. A love like no other. One for the history books. Never one without the other. Fucks sake they didn’t have a clue back then. It felt like the world revolved around them, like the moon and all the stars decided to come out and illuminate the night for the two of them only and like nothing could ever tear them apart. And what really was it that got between them? Time ? Distance ? Dreams ?

And now she’s here and she’s laughing and smiling and happy and it’s all he ever wanted for her, all he still wants, but it hurts. Maybe in another life, she could be his girl. A life where he’s deserving of her. Where he’s got something to offer. Where he doesn’t stand between her and her dreams. A life where he is enough. One where he can afford a damn ring to put on her finger. One where he makes her stay.

It’s all too much. The voices scream at him from the inside, repeating nasty words, dark thoughts. His lungs are burning, his heart feels like it might collapse and his eyes gloss over from the smoke and the sadness. It’s all too much at once. Invisible walls close around him. Squeeze him tighter and tighter. Take away all the air. And what is left? Absolutely nothing. An emotional wasteland.

The air outside ain’t granting him much in terms of cooling him down, it’s a dry heat,  a signature Santo Padre summer night. It manages to get him out of the haze a little bit though. Beer in hand he walks towards the broken cars lined up in the back of the scrapyard, ready to be taken apart in search of the pieces still worth keeping. He climbs onto the roof of an old forest green Jeep Wrangler and lets his legs dangle.

The amber glow of his cigarette illuminates the night. There’s a distant melody coming from the clubhouse, a murmur of voices, so close yet so far away. It’s silly, Angel thinks, to sit here and sulk when he could be in there having fun. There’s a ton of girls who’d kill for a glimmer of his attention but how could he ever give it to them. How can he grant another person his attention when his heart still rests in the palm of (Y/N)’s hand?

It’s terribly unfair. My god it fucking sucks.

The crunching of gravel under boots pulls him from his lamenting. She steps through the night like a shooting star, bright and shiny and all-consuming. She smiles at him the way she always did, warm and soft and understanding. There’s an infinite gentleness about her every move. And that’s not to say that she’s not tough or strong, she is. But they’ve always been each other’s safe place. A place to be vulnerable. A place to show weakness. A place for silence and softness and dreams.

“Whatcha doin all alone out here, huh Grumpy?”

Though she’s joking, there’s an edge to her words he doesn’t miss. He never misses anything about her. He knows her so well, better than he’s ever known anyone. Better than he knows his own fucking self.

“Just needed some air.” He replies and shrugs his shoulders casually.

“So you mope out here all by yourself?”

“That’s a problem?”

He hasn’t dared to look at her. He knows that once he does, his heart will just start hurting more than it already does. It will shatter into a million different pieces. Tiny and sharp and impossible to reassemble.

“No. I guess not. You mind if I mope with you?”

It’s a rhetorical question. She doesn’t even wait for a reaction, just slides up onto the hood of the car then climbs onto the roof, sitting next to him as the night settles upon them like a thick black blanket of quietness.

He really thought he could do this. This whole friendship thing. The being civil thing. The seeming unbothered by hanging out with your ex even though there’s still a hole in your heart that’s been there ever since you broke up thing. The pretending like he doesn’t still love her thing.

He can’t though. Maybe all the fights and the killing people and the waving around guns like a big boy is just a farce. Maybe he ain’t as tough and he thinks he is. Maybe this is where the real bravery lies. Telling people how you feel. Facing our inadequacy. Admitting to yourself that sometimes the people you love most deserve better than you.

It’s quiet for a moment, just them breathing alongside each other and the music coming from the clubhouse playing in the distance.

“You know … if it makes you uncomfortable that I’m here you can tell me to leave.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Okay then. Could’ve fooled me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you hardly look at me. You avoid me as much as possible. Hell, you chose to stay out here just so you don’t have to be in close proximity to me.”

“Said hi, didn’t I? Hugged you too.”

“Yeah sure but —“

“But what, (Y/N)? We broke up. What are you expecting me to do here? I’m trying okay. But it’s hard.”

It’s the first time since she’s joined him out here that he looks at her. Really looks at her. The way her skin shines with a thin layer of sweat brought on by the summer air. The way her eyes look red and tired. The way she doesn’t smile. Doesn’t hold any softness. The way she seems … sad.

“Do you not think it’s hard for me too?”

“Is it? Could’ve fooled me.”

Now it’s her time to raise her eyebrows in question. A glimmer of hurt flashes behind her eyes. Like a lightning bolt illuminating the sky for a mere moment. A blink and you’ll miss it situation. One second of chaos and then all is calm again.

“Huh?”

There’s anger bubbling inside of him. Like a cauldron in an old cartoon, bubbling, and brewing, and constantly on the verge of spilling over.

“ You left. You left and judging by your Instagram posts you’ve been pretty damn happy these last few years without me. I don’t blame you, Hermosa, I get it. Don’t mean it doesn’t kill me”

“ You’ve been stalking my Instagram? I didn’t even know you’re on there.”

“ Not under my actual name. Got a dog as my profile picture.” Angel admits and shrugs his shoulders as his gaze looks back out into the infinite darkness before him.  “ Doesn’t matter anyway. “ “ It matters. I — I can’t believe you’re blaming this all on me. I thought we were good. “

“ Yeah well you thought wrong! “ his voice cuts through the night like a blade through flesh. Unforgiving and brutal and without any care for casualties. “ I loved you and you left!”

“ To follow my dream. One that, may I remind you, you always encouraged me to chase! “  

“ You left me. Just like everyone else always does. “

“ Yeah I left but I tried to make this work. I called and texted and you never answered so I stopped trying. I came back when your mom died, and you told me to leave. Remember that? You told me to leave and then went back to fucking the naked girl in your bed. “ he can hear the tears in her voice and he hates himself for it. He hates himself on a good day. One can only imagine what he feels like right now. “ Maybe people aren’t leaving you, Angel. Maybe it’s you pushing them away. “

The gravel crunches underneath her boots as she hops down from the roof of the car and starts walking away. The night engulfs her like a tidal wave, swallowing her and pulling her back towards the sea.

“ Did you have your tattoo removed? “ Angel calls out to her, voice laced with sadness. He doesn’t really know what he expects to accomplish with those words, they just slip out of his mouth without him really thinking them over. They make her stop in her way though, like someone stopped time, put their finger on the turntable to stop the record from spinning.

“ What?”

“ Asked if you got your tattoo removed. "

"Oh, I understood. I just can't believe you'd ask me that. "

His thumb runs over the spot on his left wrist where a small sun is kinked into his skin permanently. It's one of his smallest tattoos, barely noticeable in between the rest of them but it's no doubt his most important and meaningful one.

Because it matches the tiny crescent moon that sits on the same spot on her wrist.

They got it the day she turned 18. Fueled by the excitement of entering adulthood and high on love.

He doesn't even remember who it was that mentioned the fact that she might've gotten it removed. All he knows is the stabbing pain in his chest. Like a burning dagger. Like a gunshot. Shrapnel lodging itself into his heart.

Erasing the ink from her skin feels an awful lot like erasing him from her life. Something he deserves no doubt but something he's not sure he can survive.

"I - Angel I can't believe you'd think that. Where did you get that idea from?"

Angel shrugs and he's fairly sure he resembles a cranky toddler right now.

"Someone said so."

"Oh someone did, huh? Well someone sure doesn't know shit. I can't believe you think I would do that. I love you. "

Present tense. She says love. Not loved. It's a minuscule thing. He notices it anyway. It makes all the difference.

"Come on, I need to show you something."

She doesn't wait for him to follow, she knows he will. Angel would follow this woman to the end of the earth without a question, without a second thought.

Because it's still present tense for him too. It always will be.

Angel can't hold back the smirk as he catches sight of her mustang. The shiny blue paint is chipped and scratched and there's a few bumps here and there but this car knows many of his secrets and many of hers. It has seen tears and laughter. Infinite sadness and absolute ecstasy.

She opens the trunk and pulls out a cardboard box filled with some kind of paper trash and drops it in front of his feet, rage and sadness and disappointment shining in her eyes.

"What-"

"Those are letters. One for every moment that I wished I could've shared with you while we were separated. Every time something exciting or special happened I say down and I wrote you a fucking letter. Because even though you didn't want to talk to me I still wanted to share my life with you. Even if it was just pretend. Even if I never sent them. When your mom died and I came to see you, I wanted to give them to you. Spill out my heart and beg for forgiveness and understanding and hope we could go back to before. To being us. But you were so mean and cold and - and you had a girl over and I really thought that was it. You closed that door. That doesn't mean I stopped loving you. I wanted you in my life, Angel. There's a moon on my wrist where there's a sun on yours. Forever. I'd never get rid of you, not when I spent most of my life loving you."

"Hermosa I - "

"Save it, Angel. Oh and keep those. They're yours anyway…"

Before he can react, she pulls the mustang out of the parking lot with screeching tires and disappears into the night.

Angel's eyes wander towards the box of letters and he can't help but pick some up and open them. Some of them are written neatly, on fancy paper with floral borders. Some come with Polaroid pictures. Some are hastily scribbled onto a sheet ripped messily from a notebook. All of them have her entire heart caught in carefully curated words. And they are meant for him. Like his heart is meant for her.

A storm is coming, you can feel it. The air is sharp and heavy and tastes like copper, like licking a penny, like drawing blood.

He hopes the storm has no mercy on him. Pulls him in. Never spits him out again. Swallows him whole.

It's a night much like this one only it's a long time ago. It's hot and the air is pregnant with the promise of a storm though it's not yet here.

A much younger Angel sits on the roof of her house with (Y/N) leaning against his side, sharing a bottle of liqueur they had snagged from her parents' cabinet. They're a little drunk on liqueur and a little more on love. And there's something about sitting on the roof with the person that holds your heart and looking out onto your neighborhood, your life. Something as close to magic as humans can get. The world feels both small and insanely big at the same time.

"Are you scared?" Angel asks as he takes the bottle from her hand and lets another sip of the bitter liquid flow down his throat.

"Of the future?"

"Yeah."

"Mmh. A little. But excited too. There's so much for us out there and soon we actually have the chance to see it all. Find our place."

Angel lets out a mix between a scoff and a chuckle. "Seems like Mike and Cass already found theirs. Married with a baby on the way. They're our ago. It's crazy."

"I don't know, " she replies and shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. "I think they seem happy and that's all that matters. They seem to love each other a lot."

Angel grows silent for a second before the words slip from his lips, too fast for him to keep them there. "Do you want to get married?"

She swirls her head around at lightning speed and regards him with wide eyes "are you proposing?"

"Nah, Hermosa. Just asking for future reference. "

She's quiet. Contemplates. Then kisses his cheek and leans her head back against his shoulder. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"How should I do it? Propose I mean."

"It really doesn't matter. I love you now and I love you always. Just ask me. You'll know the moment is right when it comes along. "

"Any time? Doesn't matter? Really? What if it's like a crazy storm outside and we just had a fight and you wanna kill me and I come knocking on your door and ask? Even that's fine with you?"

"I love you anyway-even if there isn't any me or any love or even any life- I love you."

"Huh?"

"Zelda Fitzgerald wrote that to her husband in a love letter. Their relationship was bad, super toxic, and just … not great. But at some point, she loved him so much. More than anything else. More than any materialistic possession. More than herself. More than life. That's the love I want. The love I think we have. It's enough for me, Angel. So yes. Even during a storm or after a fight. I love you anyway."

The first drop of rain falls onto Angel as he stands in the driveway of where her mustang used to sit just minutes ago. He knows what to do. This is the moment, he thinks, and the thunder roars in agreement.

There's a little White House with a powder blue door and a crooked number 3 made of brass hanging above it.

The raindrops beat against the windows like tiny bullets as Angel trudges up the driveway, water soaking through his shirt, his Jeans, and turning his hair into a wet mess.

He doesn't care. Not even a little bit.

He loves her more than any materialistic possession. More than himself. More than life itself and anything else in it.

He loves her anyway. Always.

His knocks sound through the night and through the storm and he's sure his heart is beating just as loudly. And when she opens the door, he's certain it stops beating for a second.

"Angel?"

"Remember when we were in high school and talked about the future? On your roof. With the liqueur."

"I do, yes. Hey come inside you're getting soaked."

He doesn't care. It doesn't matter. It never did. Only her. And him. Only them.

"You said I know when the moment is right. That you don't care if it storms or we had a fight. "

"Angel."

"Marry me. Please. I - I know the ring isn't much but it was Mom's and she loved it and I think if anyone she'd want you to have it. She loved you and I love you."

"Angel."

"You told me that quote about loving someone anyway. Even if there's nothing else left. I love you anyway even if everything else in my life seems to go wrong. I love you and I'm sorry. I love you and I never stopped. Marry me. "

She looks at him with those gentle eyes that he could get lost in forever and never even ask for his way back for this is where home is.

"You remember Zelda's letter?"

"I remember that that's the kind of love you want and I want to give it to you. I want to give you everything. I know it's not much but -"

Her lips are on his, silencing his doubts instantly. This is where he belongs. With her. Only her.

"You know what else she said?," (Y/N) asks as she pulls away. "Don’t ever think of the things you can’t give me. You’ve trusted me with the dearest heart of all and it’s so damn much more than anybody else in all the world has ever had."

"Is that a yes? Even in the storm?"

(Y/N) kisses him again. Once. Twice. Three times. And the rain-soaked them both. But it doesn't matter. Only their kiss. A kiss that is so much more than just a kiss. It's an I'm sorry. It's a promise. It's a lifetime of memories and another lifetime of memories yet to be made.

"That's a yes. In the storm, on a cloudy day, under a clear blue sky. Always."

He slips the ring onto her finger and with nothing but the lightning as their witness and the thunder as their choir they take a step into a future they thought they knew. One they lost sight of for a while.

A future that holds many uncertainties.

Except for one.

There will be love.

Always.

And yes there might be dark days ahead but like every storm, those too shall pass.

And when they do, the love will still be there.  It prevails. It's permanent.

It's forever.

[garbinge]

Beach Day

Angel Reyes x F!Reader (EZ Reyes & F!Reader) From these August Prompts: "Sand gets everywhere." & For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: Beach Day Word Count: 2k Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst, cursing. Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie

“I cannot wait to just lay out on the beach all day,” your voice broke the silence in the car. 

You were currently going into hour 2 of your road trip down to the Tijuana Beach with a group of the Mayan boys. It was an annual trip that started about 5 years ago. It was nice for them to take a break from club things and for you to finally get some vacation time in with your boyfriend, who at the moment seemed less than thrilled. 

You glanced over at Angel who had a serious facial expression on display for the entire car ride as he drove down to the usual beach house you rented. 

“If you want we can pull over and I can drive us the rest of the way?” You offered up something that maybe would alleviate whatever was going on in his head. 

“Nah, I’m good.” He shook his head, keeping his right hand on the wheel while his left hung out the window. 

You glanced back at EZ, hoping that maybe he would offer some type of explanation of why his brother, your boyfriend, was acting the way he was. EZ’s head tilted as he shrugged indicating he didn't know what was going on with his older brother. To break the tension that Angel kept alive and well in the car, you turned in the passenger seat so you could look back at EZ and talk with him. 

“So, tell me. What have you been up to? I hear you’ve had a girl around. I want to know everyyyyything.” You carried out the last word to come off less strong. You never liked to pry with EZ but you liked being in the know of what was happening in each of the guys’ personal lives.

His smile filled his face as he looked down. You could have even swore he blushed a little, too. “It’s nothing.” He spoke through his grin. 

You smiled back, for the trauma each of the Reyes men had gone through they all sure had the most contagious smiles. “EZ, come on. It’s me, just give me something. A name? Her favorite color? I’ll take anything.” You begged for him to drop a crumb of information. 

“Sofía. And I think she likes yellow.” He mocked you while still giving you the details you were dying for. 

“Tell her to come to the beach house.” It was said nonchalantly as to not apply pressure and went to grab a snack from your backpack. 

“It’s new, not sure if I’m ready to put her through your beach house screening test just yet.” EZ laughed. 

You waved him off, “Ugh, you know that’s only for the two idiots in the van behind us.” Referring to Coco and Gilly you waved your hand in the air. “They would bring those weird guys from the Yuma charter if they could, and I fucking hate those guys. Which is why they have to run their plus one’s past me. Now you EZ, I trust,” you handed him one of the snacks you grabbed and then one to Angel, “BUT, I digress. You bring her around when you’re ready.” 

The remainder of the car ride went by fast, it helped that Coco and Gilly had pulled up next to the truck and baited Angel into racing, you normally would have put some type of discourse up but it seemed to lighten Angel’s mood a bit so you let them have their fun. 

The beach house was perfect, in fact, it was one of your favorite places in the world. Once you found it online all those years ago, there was no way you were going to book any other house along the Mexican coast ever again. It was right on the beach, the front porch of the house led right onto the sand, which might as well have been private since only a handful of people ever walked by or shared the space with you. 

It was still early enough in the day that the group of you could get in some beach time. You already had your suit on so you just grabbed a chair and your book, announcing your plans as you exited the house after claiming bedrooms and settling your stuff down. 

“I’ll be on the beach, feel free to join me!” 

Just as you sat down in the beach chair and leaned back, you could hear the complaints from the eldest Reyes grow louder and louder as he got closer to your spot on the beach. 

“Fuckin’ hot out here. And there’s fuckin’ sand everywhere. I got sand everywhere,” he mumbled as he threw his towel down next to you. 

“Do you want to sit in the chair? I’ll take the towel?” You offered a semi-solution to his grievances. 

He stared at you, he wanted to snap, but when his eyes met yours he calmed for a moment, he wasn’t mad at you, in fact he had been excited for this trip, he loved that you did this every year not only for him but the guys too. There had just been so much shit happening at the club lately and of course right before they left Bishop had told them they were all on call. It was why they took the two cars in the first place, that and because three years ago they were in the situation where something with the club popped up and they had to all leave early since there was only one car, and you were NOT going to have that ever happen again. 

“Angel?” The sunglasses were now sliding down your nose as you looked at him getting lost in whatever frozen state he was in. 

He bent down and gave you a light peck on the lips. “I’m good. I’m gonna go in the water.” 

You watched him dive into the ocean, you would have accompanied him but you knew he needed some time, some space. While you weren’t privy to club business, you weren’t oblivious to the fact that things had been tense. You also knew that Angel had very little emotional awareness and wasn’t exactly able to open up about things so easily, which you accepted, you wouldn’t have been with him for 5 years if you didn’t, but you knew you had to let him work through his own shit if you didn’t want to push him away. 

EZ had soon joined next to you, placing a cooler to the left of your chair and offering you a beer from it. 

You cheered him and took a long sip. You closed your eyes as the cold liquid traveled down and cooled down your entire body for less than a second. A sigh escaped from your mouth and you opened your eyes as you sunk into the beach chair. 

“Been waitin’ for that moment?” EZ was grinning. 

Before you could answer you heard the yells and shortly after you felt the sand grains being pelted against your skin as Coco and Gilly ran down passed you and right into the water. 

“Moment ruined.” You laughed, placing your beer in the cup holder and EZ got ready to join them. 

“Hey EZ,” you called to him before he took a step farther. 

“Sup?” he turned to you with ease, squinting from the sun beaming into his eyes. 

“Is Angel okay?” You asked, not really knowing what to expect in an answer. 

His head turned to look at his brother who was now bullshitting with the guys, he knew what you were asking, he could have taken the easy route and been like ‘yea, look at him!’ and just ignored what you really meant but he knew you were asking because of genuine concern.

“Things are rocky at the club right now.” He chose his words carefully, “things are rocky for him at the club right now. I think this will be good for him, a break from it all.” 

Looking out at him having a good time with the guys, you nodded at EZ’s words, it was the best explanation you were gonna get and you appreciated him for giving you some sort of reasoning behind it all. With a deep sigh, your eyes moved back to the younger Reyes brother and you thanked him before he made his way to the ocean. 

You let them have their fun for a bit as you soaked up the sun and finished a few beers. At some point you nodded off for a few minutes, not for very long but when you woke up, you realized you were starting to sweat. The boys had seemed to calm down from their normal antics and were just wading in the water now.  

After taking off your flip flops and dredging through the sand, you made it to the water. First, you let the water ease up to your toes, it was warm, another reason you chose this spot every year, it was perfect. 

A breath released from your mouth as the water reached your feet again, one you didn’t even know was stuck somewhere in your gut probably along with the anxiety and stress of whatever Angel was going through, too bad that didn’t find its way out. But you stared at him just floating in the water and decided despite either of yours anxiety, you’d make the most of this trip. 

Swimming out to him, you enjoyed every second of being in the water, the sun beaming down, the teal color of the water allowing you to see down to the bottom with ease. Reaching Angel, your hands moved up his bare chest as he moved from horizontal to vertical in the water. 

“Hey.” You spoke at a whisper, his hands moved up and down your back as yours found their way to rest over his shoulders. He was standing now on the bottom of the ocean floor, which allowed you to wrap your legs around him and let the water hold you both up. 

“You fell asleep.” His hand moved up to touch your face, which was pretty hot from the sun rays beating down on it. 

“I did.” You chuckled and moved to hug him. 

“This is nice.” He let out a breath similar to what you did when you entered the water. You knew there was more he was holding in still but there was some relief knowing that some tension was gone. 

Before either of you could say anything else, Gilly was speaking up from the shoreline. You weren’t exactly sure when any of them got out, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was what Gilly was saying. 

“Yo!!! Bish called, shit went down, we gotta head back!” He was disappointed, he had Coco standing next to him who looked equally pissed off. 

EZ was closer to shore than you and Angel but was still in the water. He looked back at you two before heading back to shore. 

You felt the tension in Angel’s shoulders build back up, nothing a deep breath or hug could fix. Instead of fixing it, you just pressed your forehead to his. “We have this for a week, go do whatever you gotta do for Bish and come back, and if it lasts the full week, when things slow down at the club, I’ll book it again for just us two.” It was your version of making things work. 

Angel’s eyes were closed as he spoke. “I don’t know if things will ever slow down at the club.” 

There wasn’t much you could say to that, but after a few seconds of thought mixed with a little of your own frustration, you cupped Angel’s face in your hands. 

“Then I’ll bring the beach to you, we’ll get a pool and I’ll dye it fuckin’ teal and I’ll bring home a tub of sand.” 

Angel let out a laugh, it was the first time you heard him laugh like that in well, weeks. “Let’s just stick with the pool and leave the sand.” 

“Sand gets everywhere.” You nodded and laughed along with him. 

He agreed with you as he chuckled. “That shit gets everywhere.” 

[purestxblood]

𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 —— 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

"𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗴𝗼 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻."

                                                                 |   𝘫𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘺

𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 𝙍𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙭 𝙛!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 .

"𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔," you whispered, “fuck, I wanted you to tell me it was going to be okay, that we— we were going to get through this.” Angel was silent, his irises swirling in defeat. “And maybe we did, I guess,” you ran a hand through your hair, “just not in the way we — I — deserved but we... we’re long past fixing.”

"𝐋𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐒," he shook his head, “we’re not fucking done fixing this.”

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝗯𝘆 𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗱𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗼𝗻𝗲-𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁.

☁️ 𝗙𝗟𝗨𝗙𝗙. 💌: 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗙𝗔𝗩𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘. 🌑: 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗦. 🌶️: 𝗦𝗠𝗨𝗧.

𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗧𝗦.

𝐢.  𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗗 — 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 . 🌑 💌

You keep falling back into the pain of the past when history begins to repeat itself.

𝐢𝐢.  𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗚𝗔𝗣𝗦 — 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 . 🌑 

No matter how hard Angel tries to avoid the inevitable, history always tends to repeat itself — especially finding solace in you.

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝗜 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨, 𝗜'𝗠 𝗦𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗬 — 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 .

You finally had enough, finally taking your life into your own hands...starting fresh in a place where Angel Reyes didn’t exist. That is, only if Angel would let you. You hadn’t even made the full jump and Angel was determined with his I love you’s to keep you from going astray

𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗕𝗟𝗘𝗦.

𝐢. 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗕𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬 — angel reyes .

𝗝𝗼𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀.

[crimsonheart01]

Saturday June 11, 2022

+ FIC RECS MASTERLIST +

Apologies my loves for not doing a round up the last few weeks. I haven’t been reading a lot lately. I’ve been going through it. Here’re a few that I’ve read over the past few weeks. Some of these I’ve already reblogged but I’m trying to stay consistent with my own format! LMAO I’m such a mess!! 

If you read any of the stories on this list, please make sure to show love to the authors by liking and reblogging their content!

A reminder to everyone that my blog houses 21+ content. This post isn’t any different. I’m not adding in the specific tags or warnings for each rec here but know that they can house adult content as well.

✨ If you are under 21, please DNI.✨

1.  Prey by @toomanystoriessolittletime​

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

I don’t want to write too much here because I refuse to spoil this. You need to read it. YOU ABSOLUTELY NEED TOO. All the way to the absolute end. I need the sequel right now. As in, yesterday. This was too good. TOO GOOD. I will be waiting impatiently for the next installment because I NEED ANSWERSSSSSS!!!!!! 

2.   "You? You wanna tie me up?” by @imagineredwood​

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Fem!Reader

MAYANS FAM! OUR QUEEN IS AT IT AGAIN! SHE DID IT AGAIN! SHE NEVER MISSES! I DON’T EVEN LIKE ANGEL ALL THAT MUCH ANYMORE BUT HERE I AM SLIP SLIDING ALL OVER MY SEAT. I reblogged this a while back but I needed to add this one into the wrap up. It’s too good to not still be talking about it!!! 

3.   Ubiquitous by @darklordofthesimp​

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

This was the perfect amount of action, hurt, comfort, and angst. I can still feel my heart constricting with this one. The miscommunication, the way they’re both suffering and trying to heal themselves from losing the kid. Ugh, the little anecdote about the tools and the fact that Din bought them for our reader?!!!! Absolutely stunning. 

4.   Primroses: A Sign of Early Spring by @oonajaeadira​​

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader

The way this is written? I am weak in the knees. I felt every word in my bones. My entire body was tingling while reading this. The subtle anticipation. Ugh, fucking beautiful. The way this ends too!? Promises of finding one another in this life or the next? AHHHHHHHHHHHHH Soul Mates. THEY ARE SOUL MATES!!!!! 

5.   Not Yours by @crushed-pink-petals-writes​​​

Pairing: Manny x Fem!Reader x EZ Reyes

Phew, that’s really I can say about this one. P H E W ! Listen, EZ has never been it for me, but this dynamic? With our reader and Manny in the mix?! It’s juicy, with a capital J U I C Y! This is such a great start to an amazing series. Even if there’s no series involved, y’all gotta read this one. It has everything we love about Mayans in it. It’s perfect! 

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

(NOT YET, BUT SOON, KEEP READING).

VOTE HERE.

I’m close to reaching 1500 followers and I’ve been thinking all day about what I could do to celebrate it. There are the ideas:

30 days of HOW X CHARACTER WOULD REACT TO.

Short scenes. Writtings with less than 300 words.

15 days of IMAGINE YOUR OTP.

Short scenes too. You can find a lot of ideas by searching them on Pinterest.

15 days of HEADCANONS.

15 days of DRABBLES with prompts.

7 days of SMUT.

And I will write for the next characters:

Din Djarin.

Poe Dameron (maybe)

Javier Peña.

Frankie Morales (maybe).

Bucky Barnes.

Steve Rogers.

Daryl Dixon.

Negan.

Mayans MC (any character).

SOA: Happy Lowman, Chibs Telford, Jackson Teller and Tig Trager.

Chicago PD: Hank Voight, Antonio Dawson and Kevin Atwater.

Chicago Fire: Christopher Herrmann and Wallace Boden (with daughter!reader)

I’d appreciate it a lot if you repost to spread the word! 💖

[drabbles-mc]

Never Been Us

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, angst, mentions of character death

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: the way i've been so blocked up and unable to finish fics and somehow i finished 2 in the last 2 days. no idea where it came from but I'm not questioning it. i started and finished this tonight. throwing it out there before i can second-guess myself lmao

When Angel rolled into your driveway and saw your front door open, the first thing that went through him was panic. You’d never been the type that was stupid or reckless enough to leave your front door open. And with the way that things had been going in Santo Padre, what with the club and the cartels and Border Patrol moving in, you were less likely than ever to leave yourself so vulnerable. Hell, lately whenever Angel showed up your door had not only been closed, but also locked.

Putting the stand down on his bike, he left his helmet hanging off the handlebar and started making his way towards your front door. He’d pulled his gun from his kutte before he even had one foot on your front step. He kept his breath trapped in the back of his throat as he clutched his gun tight. He kept it pointed down towards the ground for now, but he was ready for that to change.

He stepped through the threshold, one boot hitting the paper-thin throw rug just inside your door. It hardly muffled the sound. Before he could bring the other half of his body into your house, though, you popped up, quickly coming around the corner.

The sudden nature of both your appearances had you both cursing in surprise. You hugged the box in your hands tighter to your chest as your half-yell turned into a sigh of relief mixed with exhaustion. All of the emotions that just shot through you were evident as ever as you said, “What the fuck, Angel?”

His eyebrows were still practically in his hairline as he tucked his gun back away again. “The fuck you got your door open for? Had me thinkin’ someone fuckin’ broke—” He cut his own sentence off as he really took in the sight of you, the box in your hands that was hastily labeled BEDROOM. “What…?”

The confusion on his face made you unable to keep meeting his eyes. Your gaze dropped to the box you were holding, the seams of cardboard and tape suddenly more interesting than you would’ve ever imagined they’d be.  Even though you weren’t looking directly at him, you heard the way he was shifting in the doorway, looking back at your pickup truck. You knew he’d see the other boxes you’d already stacked in the bed of it. You weren’t quite done loading up yet, but you were getting there.

He waited for you to look at him again before asking, “What’s going on?”

There was only one answer to his question, and it was an obvious one. But you knew that if the shoe was on the other foot you’d be doing the same thing—you’d need to hear him say it. Clearing your throat, you gave a shrug that accomplished nothing in terms of softening the blow of, “I’m leaving.”

His frown deepened, confusion transforming into hurt that almost had you rethinking your decision to get the hell out of Santo Padre. “L-leaving? You can’t…you can’t just leave.”

“Angel—”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “nah you don’t get to do that. You can’t just leave. You didn’t even—were you even gonna tell me?”

The lump in the back of your throat felt like it was on the brink of choking you. “Yeah.”

“Before you crossed fuckin’ county lines?”

Tears stung your eyes. “Angel, please.”

He backpedaled out your doorway and back onto your front step. “Don’t do that. Don’t say my name like that, like I fuckin’ matter to you.”

“You do—”

“You’re leaving me. You can’t stand there with your shit all boxed up,” he gestured to you and the bed of your truck, “and try to tell me I fuckin’ matter to you.”

There was no getting out of this argument now. It was an argument you’d been planning to have over the phone, an argument you were hoping would happen when there were more than a few area codes between you. You didn’t want it to be like this—not because he didn’t matter, but because he mattered too much. And you knew that if you had to look into those sad, puppy-dog eyes and tell him that you were leaving, and if you had to tell him why, you just might hang it all up and not leave at all. You couldn’t afford that.

There was no avoiding the argument but you didn’t want to do it while standing there holding a box that had books and trinkets from your bookshelf packed inside it.  You slipped past him without a word and walked down to your truck. Angel didn’t follow, hanging back and watching as you set the box on the tailgate and gave it a strong push to send it sliding and landing right alongside the others.

When you walked back past him and into your house, that was when he decided to follow you. He shut the door behind the two of you, following you through your now essentially empty home. It was strange for him to walk through your living room and not see all of your picture frames and plants, the art prints that had covered your walls. You stopped in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter and facing him. You watched him look around, take in the fridge that was no longer covered in magnets and photographs and takeout menus. No more dishes in the sink or drainboard, no more succulents on the windowsill. Seeing it all empty made him remember that you were just renting this place anyway, that you could pack up and leave whenever you wanted. And now you were. Then the hurt and anger swelled up in his chest again.

“Why?” he asked.

You let out a hollow laugh, raking your fingernails along your scalp before letting your arms fall back to your sides again. “You’re really asking me that? This…this town is fucked, Angel. You know that. I know you’ve been waist-deep in your shit with the club but…but that’s the exact type of shit I’m talking about.”

“This town’s always been fucked, querida,” he tried to argue, tried to pepper in a pet name like it would change anything. “What’s so different now?”

The answer to that question made bile creep up your throat. You didn’t think that you could say it to him. Not the real answer, the raw unedited cut of it. “Everything,” you answered, a shake to your voice that was never there when you talked to him.

“C’mon,” he said, tone softer than it had been this entire time as he stepped in towards you. “Don’t leave me like this. Don’t do this to me.”

“This isn’t just about you.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed. He put his hands on your hips, pulling himself closer to you. His voice dropped to something just above a whisper. “After all the shit we—”

“We?” you cut him off, not yelling but your tone cutting nonetheless. “We? You’re choosing now to start throwing that word around?”

His brows came together, offended and confused. “What’re you talkin’ about? It’s always been us.”

You laughed, a cruel sound as tears prickled along your waterline again. “Oh, has it? It’s always been us?”

“Yeah, what’re you—”

“It’s never been us, Angel. Never. It’s been you, chasing around every girl who stumbles into that clubhouse and then running back to me when you get bored of them. It’s been you going out being reckless with the club and then coming to me when you need someone to patch you up, someone to tell you that you’re right and they’re all wrong. It’s been you coming to me whenever it’s fucking convenient for you.” You pushed him away, a half-hearted shove. “And it’s been me fucking letting you.”

“I—”

“And I would’ve been fine still doing that. You know that? Fucking sad, but I would’ve done it. Would’ve just kept right on pretending that it was enough, or that it was going to change. But then—” you stopped short, still not able to spit the words out. “I just can’t do it anymore, Angel.”

Despite Angel’s lack of ability to really commit, to really let himself be with you in the way that you really wanted, he’d always done his best with what little he had for you. Over the years he’d been your shoulder to cry on, his flannels becoming tissues for you. He’d set you loose in the scrapyard when your anger bubbled up so much that you needed to break something because it was the only alternative you had to hurting yourself or someone else—even gave you the gloves and safety glasses to do it the right way. He’d kept the other side of your bed warm when you were both feeling lonely, making the lines defining what you two were really start to blur.

He’d been there with you through all of that and yet he hadn’t ever seen the emotion saturating your expression now. He’d never seen you so afraid. Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, fists clenched as tightly as you could manage. Your leg bounced no matter how much you tried to will it to stop. He’d never seen you like this. How had it gotten so bad?

He stepped in close to you again. Placing his hands on the outsides of your arms, he gave you a light, reassuring squeeze. “What’s got you so scared?”

You shook your head, staring down at the floor because you couldn’t make yourself look at him. “I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t stay here. I can’t be comfortable here. I’m not…I’m not safe here.”

He brought one hand up to cup the side of your face. His thumb traced gently along your cheek in a way that made your bottom lip tremble. “I’ll always keep you safe, querida. You know that.”

He sounded so earnest but you knew too much now to be able to believe it. You’d tried. God, you had tried so hard to buy into that the last few weeks but you just couldn’t fool yourself. “I don’t.”

“What the fuck happened?”

Tears finally made their way to your cheeks, racing along the lines of Angel’s hand as it remained holding your face. You didn’t want to say it. You didn’t even want to think about it, but it’s all that was playing through your mind. Truthfully, it was the thing that had been playing through your mind every day since it had happened.

You could still hear it so vividly, the sound of him pounding on the door to your house. It hadn’t been his bike engine that woke you up, it was his aggressively frantic knocking on your front door. Looking back you were surprised that he hadn’t slammed it clean off its hinges. You were also surprised that you hadn’t tripped and fallen half a dozen times on your way to the front door from your bedroom because your eyes weren’t fully open and you weren’t anywhere close to fully awake.

“Alright, alright!” you half-shouted from your side of the door. You dumbly fiddled with the locks until they came undone.

Angel practically threw himself through the door. He was haphazardly grabbing for you, leaving for you to try and untangle yourself from his long limbs just to be able to close and lock the door again. You’d hardly heard the click of the lock and he was pulling you tight to him. He had his arms wrapped around you in such a way that you couldn’t even effectively hug him back. You just pressed your cheek against his hoodie, helpless to do anything else.

“Talk to me,” you said, managing to free one of your arms so that you could do your best to return his embrace.

He mumbled something into your shoulder, words that you couldn’t make out. He finally pulled back away from you, far enough so that you could see his face, the smears of blood that disappeared into the coarse hairs of his beard.

“It’s all my fault,” the words fell from his lips, raspy and choked as he repeated the sentence over and over again. “It’s all my fault. I, it’s all my fuckin’ fault.”

“What’s your fault, Angel?”

The sound of you saying his name got him to look at you, tears in his eyes and worry creasing his brow deeper than you thought was possible. His stare was so sad, so intense it had you pinned to the spot. Even when he pulled away from you, you felt like you couldn’t step in close to him again, feet glued to the floor. That was when you saw it, though, all the blood standing his palms and fingers.

You swallowed hard, what little exhaustion had still been clinging to you completely froze away. “Angel, talk to me. What happened?”

He looked down at his hands and then back at you. he knew what you were seeing, could only imagine what you were thinking. “I didn’t—it wasn’t supposed to go down like that. I tried to save her but I couldn’t…”

You finally forced yourself to move. You collapsed the distance he’d put between you. “Who?”

“Gaby,” he forced out, shaking his head in disbelief as he did.

Fear shot down your spine. “What?”

“It’s all my fault,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have—I tried to—fuck,” his voice cracked and he gave up on trying to say anything else.

You had wanted more answers in the moment, but back then you hadn’t been able to ask for them. Instead you cleaned him up. You threw his clothes in the wash. You let him slip underneath the covers next to you and keep you wrapped up so tightly for what little was left of the night that you couldn’t even fall back to sleep. The next morning he was still there, eyes hollow as he made a pot of coffee in your kitchen. That morning he was standing almost exactly where he was standing right in front of you now.

Forcing yourself to stay in the present, you finally said, “You know what happened.”

He shook his head. “I don’t.”

“Everyone’s fuckin’ dying, Angel. I, I don’t wanna be next.”

“Hey, come on now. You know I’d never let that shit happen to you.”

You scoffed, more tears spilling down your cheeks. “I’m sure that’s what EZ told Gaby, too.”

Angel flinched at that, immediately deflating. You had never brought it up again after that night. Neither did he. Weeks went by and the two of you seemingly went back to normal, like that entire night had never happened. But it did happen. Gaby was dead—that part you knew. What you didn’t know, what Angel hadn’t told you, was that EZ was the one who had killed her. Angel blamed himself, especially after EZ had told him what his final conversation with Gaby had been, why he had decided it was the only thing to do. Angel was carrying around all that guilt but he hadn’t been the one who pulled the trigger. That was all EZ. That was all the guy who had promised to keep Gaby safe.

His voice was a whisper as he spoke, like he didn’t even fully believe himself. “This ain’t like that, though.”

“But it is,” you said, voice shaking. “Or it will be. That’s what this town, this world,” you rested your hand on the flash stitched into his kutte as you said it, “does. I can’t keep feeling like I’m on borrowed time.”

He sniffled, trying to stuff his emotions back down where he used to keep them so comfortably. “So you’re just gonna leave, then? Run away?”

You knew he wanted an argument. Being angry was so fucking easy. You didn’t want to give into it. “If it keeps me alive, then yes. I lo—” you stopped and switched course, “I care about you, Angel. But I’m not looking to die for anyone. I’m not…I’m not made for this.”

He was holding your face with both hands now, palms that just a few weeks before had been coated with blood. “Don’t leave me like this. Please.”

“Come with me.” It was your final offer, one you hadn’t planned on extending until the words were tumbling out.

He shook his head. “Don’t.”

“Come with me.” You rested your hands on top of his. “Get out and away from all this shit. We’ll start over.”

“It ain’t that simple.”

You threaded your fingers with his. “It is. Pack up your shit and throw it in my truck. And we’ll leave. That simple.”

He pulled his hands away from yours, stepping back from you again. Shaking his head, he brushed his hand quickly across his eyes—erasing any hint of tears and emotion that had been there until then. “I’m not running just ‘cause you are.”

“Maybe you should. Or maybe,” you shrugged helplessly, “maybe it was never about me—not for you, anyway.”

That gave him pause. He tried to get his expression to harden, give that tough, neutral gaze, but he couldn’t get it quite right. “I shouldn’t’a come here.” He shook his head. “Should’a let you run off with no goodbye the way you wanted.”

“Angel—”

He took another step back, getting himself closer and closer to your front door one stride at a time. “Go ahead, then. Get the fuck out—away from this town, away from me. Fuckin’…fuckin’ go.”

He turned on his heel and kept walking. It took a few seconds to will your feet to move, to go after him. Even with his long strides you were able to catch up before he reached the door.

“Angel.” You stepped in front of him. “Stop.”

You saw the mist in his eyes. Still, he tried to keep his voice sharp. “You’re leaving. No point in me staying here to watch you pack up the rest of your shit.”

You opened your mouth to try and say something else, try to conjure up something that would get him to change his mind. He didn’t let you. Pushing past you, he ripped open your door and stormed out of the house. Maybe it was just as well—it wasn’t as though you were going to come up with a magical string of words to get him to leave with you. Still, the impact of his shoulder slamming against yours hurt far more on an emotional level than it did on a physical one.

Turning, you went out onto the step. Your lip began to quiver as you watched him throw his leg over his bike and get ready to peel off. The sound of the engine seemed deafening, and you wonder how it hadn’t woken you on that night weeks ago. Then it got quieter the farther he rode. Then it was silent again. And all you could do was walk back inside to get the next box, leaving the door open behind you.

Angel Reyes Taglist (If you want to be added to any of my taglits, please let me know!): @withmyteeth @garbinge @darqchilddaydreamz @narcolini @justreblogginfics

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[rae-gar-targaryen]

Ohmaigah loved you once part 2 was so perfect. So so so perfect. A standing ovation for your, darling.

c h r i s t o p h e r 🤤🤤🤤🤤

my loveeeeee, i'm so glad you liked it. Gah. I was SO nervous. While I was writing it, I was like "this is bad, this is hokey, this isn't what the people want..."

it took so long to feel like i was on the right track.

I'm just glad it came out okay, and YESSSSS

c h r i s to p h e r

[artemiseamoon]

If This Is Our Destiny 2

Past! Angel x F reader ** | Future? Manny x F reader **

⚠️Warnings: flashback to the night of the attack, some anxiety,  Angel Reyes 🙄

** woc/black/bipoc f readers to the front bbs. Anyone can read tho. You can image her as an OC ‘Princesa’ as well if that’s your preference 😁 many options to choose from.

An: I’ve never really been into the idea of someone calling me ‘mama’ or ‘ma’ but only one man can now (jeez thanks Rio) 

Fic info || previous || next

Gif credit to the owners 💕

- Flashback, 2 months prior -

You close your eyes and take a slow deep breath. After a few seconds, you return to lighting the candles. Looking across the way, you notice all the guys are around the pool table, taking stock of ammo and guns.

Bishop eyes the supply. “You gonna burn through these boxes in 30 seconds.”

Turning around, your eyes scan the bottles on the shelves, you have an idea. Grabbing two from the shelf, you turn back and place them on the counter.  “How about fire with fire?”

Angel, Ez and Bish all turn back and look at you. Bish nods, “yeah.”

- Flashback over -

“Hey ma, you good?” You come back to the present moment and find Manny leaning over the counter, those deep brown eyes observing you. His voice washes over you like a smooth drink. “You wiped that glass down three times, where’d you go?”

“Oh, sorry. “

You put the glass and towel down. After a quick scan of the room, you confirm you and Manny are alone. He’s still leaning over the counter, eyes fixed on you.

Dropping your voice to a whisper, you move closer to him, “Since the attack, sometimes I have these moments. Bits and pieces of it come back. I think I’m still processing it.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Shit,” you rub your forehead, “is it that obvious?”

“Nah,” Manny shakes his head, “the first time you live through some shit like that, it’s hard to shake. Be easy with yourself.”

You smile, “thanks Manny.”

“You know I got you,” He stands upright and straightens out his shirt and kutte, “it's late Princesa. How you gettin’ home?”

You’ve developed a habit of getting lost in his eyes. It was too easy to become distracted by Manny: his voice, the way he held himself, those eyes, his long dark eyelashes, his lips, his cheekbones, his jawline, even the little silver stud in his left nostril…Manny was a work of art.

It’s not until you see a smile dance on his lips that you realize how long you’ve been staring. Pulling yourself together, you reach under the bar and grab your bag and jacket. "My car is still in the shop, so I’ll call a cab.”

You slip your jacket on then scan the bar once. It was clean enough. You thought the Santo Padre guys were messy, but the Yuma chapter took messy to a new level; it was like clearing up after a bunch of frat boys. Rude, handsy, disrespectful frat boys at that.

You thankfully had less incidents than the other women, thanks to a mix of kicking one in the balls and Angel and Ez coming to your defense. They nearly beat those guys to death, the post drama aside, most of the Yuma dudes backed off after that.

The only other incident happened a week and a half ago. You were bending over to pick something up off the floor and felt a greedy hand grab at you. Manny walked in just as it happened and ripped the asshole away from you. Chapter brother or not, he made it clear, you weren’t to be touched.

You flash Manny a smile, “I’m so glad you’re not like the others, seriously. I’ll be right back.”

You make a quick stop at the crappy excuse of a bathroom. After washing and drying your hands, you order a car and head toward the front door. You hear some hushed voices in Templo as you pass, it’s Bishop and Hank.

This is the third late night Manny walked you out. It was sweet, and as long as Angel wasn't around, you'd let him do it as much as he pleases. As you both descend the stairs, Manny makes an offer, “You know what, forget the cab. I’ll drop you off.”

“Yeah?” You ask with a smirk.

The idea of riding on Manny's bike while you hold him has crossed your mind many times. You were never bold enough to ask though…then there was Angel…he’d freak the fuck out if he ever saw that. The times you caught him watching you and Manny, it was like a blood vessel was going to burst any second.

“That is way better than a cab, I’ll take you up on it.”

Manny’s eyes light up at the sight of your smile. After a second or two, Manny sits on the bike and starts it up. He hands you the helmet, “come on ma.”

Riding on the back of Manny’s bike is exactly how you imagined. He feels good. This feels good. It’s like you were meant to be here. Hold him tight, head resting comfortably against his shoulder as you ride. You want this to last forever.

Somewhere near the halfway point of reaching your place, that ghost you can’t shake pops into your mind and suddenly you remember how it felt with Angel. You blink the thought away almost as fast as it comes. Not tonight. You wouldn’t let Angel Reyes haunt you tonight.

When you arrive at your apartment, Manny parks the bike and walks you to your door. You fiddle with your keys, knowing what you want to ask, but not sure if you should ask it. You lower your gaze, trying to figure out just how bold you were feeling.

Manny leans against the wall, “About that night,” you look up, fixing your eyes on his, “I didn’t know you were in there. Shit, “he shakes his head and stares past you, “I think about it you know. You could have been hurt…or worse.”

You grab his forearm. “Hey, we didn’t know each other Manny. I don’t blame you for that. It was inner club shit and I happened to be inside while it went down.” You give his arm a light squeeze.  “How was I supposed to know we’d meet.”

The guilt in his eyes is quickly replaced by something else, something lighter, more relaxed. The moment that smile returns to his lips, your heart beats faster. In his normal chill demeanor, Manny relaxes further against the wall, “Yeah, you're right.”

“I am.” You reply and squeeze his arm once more before letting him go.

Manny watches you lift your hand, then his eyes float back up to yours. Feeling a surge of confidence, you soon say the words that have been lingering on your lips. Sure, you spend a lot of time thinking about the consequences of this, but you want this, you want Manny. And all his flirting, sexy smiles, lingering glances, the way he gently touches your arm and shoulder; it all tells you he feels the same.

“Um, so - “you pause, breathing into it, “would you like to come in?”

You wait for a yes, it doesn't come.

The night suddenly feels too quiet. Like it’s taunting you for being so forward and reckless. You notice the tension in his brows, he’s thinking something, but not saying it.

“Sorry, never mind. Thank you for the ride though.” You turn to your door quickly and put the key in. When you hear the click, you push it open and rush inside.

“Wait, hold up, “Manny follows you inside and closes the door gently behind him.

Still not looking back at him, you hang your keys on the hook and flip on the lights.

“Manny, really, it’s fine. Just forget it happened.” You talk with your hands, walking toward the kitchen to get away from him. You hope he’ll turn and leave, then you can sit with your embarrassment alone.

“Nah, hold up,” Manny catches up and gently grabs your hand. You don’t pull away, instead you turn to face him, “I’m feelin' you, Ma,” Manny holds your hand tighter, his eyes soft on yours, “but, you and Angel, that's gotta be done. For real.”

“We are.” You stare up at him, feeling confused. “We’ve been done for months.”

Manny doesn’t say anything. You can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he wants to believe you, he really does, but doesn’t. The sweet free feeling of being on his bike is now gone. The air in your apartment suddenly feels thin.

“Did,” you take your hand away, “did he say anything to you?”

Manny gently lifts your chin with his fingers, your eyes meet his, “he may have a different idea of being done Princesa.”

“Fuck,” you break eye contact. Manny gently caresses your cheek, then takes his hand away.

You cross your arms and pace, anger building in your body, imagining all the shit Angel could have said in your mind. Angel Reyes imploded things; he blew shit up. He had a real talent for it. Sadly, this isn't the first time you heard something like this.

Manny stands behind you and rests his hand on your left shoulder, “I’m going to head out. Unless you want me to sit with you for a while?”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh and face him, “go home. It’s really late.”

You couldn’t be mad at him; Manny was looking out for himself and didn’t want to get involved in anything messy. You and Angel were the definition of messy and you’ve been trying your hardest to change that.

“You gonna be alright?” Manny asks, drawing you into a hug. You relax against him, taking in his scent and the way he feels.

You close your eyes. “I’ll survive.”

The hug lingers for a while longer. You don’t want to let go, Manny doesn’t either. When the hug finally breaks you miss it already. You walk him to the door and wait until he rides off to go back inside.

It takes 23 minutes. 23 minutes and 11 seconds before you give in and send a text. You were fuming by this time and what comes out of you is a brick wall of a text; a purge of sharp words and every curse you could think of. It feels good, it feels really fucking good. Until you read it over. Then, you feel defeated.

Even after leaving his ass for the 2nd time almost 4 months ago, he still had a hold on you. Enough of a hold to make you a rage filled teary-eyed mess as you texted him. It was supposed to be easier four months out, right?

Though you hated him right now, you did care about him, loved him, loved his family. Angel was maybe the most damaged person you know, and you had to remind yourself, love or not, history or not, it wasn’t your job to fix him or soothe his wounds. You delete the very honest, very scathing text and write something else.

{You: We need to talk. Free tomorrow?}

Three dots appear instantly, it makes you wonder if he felt you texting him. You two had a weird ass connection like that. The three dots linger a while, with his new name in your phone, ‘do not text’

{Angel: is this your stubborn ass way of asking me to come over?}

You roll your eyes and almost smile, almost.

{You: No. I mean talk, literally.}

Three dots appear, then vanish.

{You: Tomorrow, I’ll stop by. Around 8? Just please wait for your groupie sex fest until after I leave. I don’t need to see that shit.}

{Angel: It could be me and you, querida, like old times.}

You write something, delete it, then pause. He doesn’t write either. You put your phone down beside you on the bed and rub your face with your hands. Your phone buzzes.

[Angel: fuck this texting shit, I’m coming over.}

“Oh my god,” panicking, you quickly type telling him not to come. Then you dial his number and call. He doesn’t pick up. Knowing Angel, he was likely on his bike, speeding over here right now.

Your suspicion is right, a knock arrives at your door only 21 minutes later. You don’t want to open the door, but you know him, he’s obnoxious and will knock until you do.

When you open the door, the first thing you notice is how tired he is. He leans against the doorframe and stares down at you. It’s near impossible to look away, the tall strong figure you knew so well, that beard you love, those tattoos: he’s even wearing the backward cap and sleeveless t-shirt combo you loved. Asshole, he did this on purpose.

Angel’s hungry gaze moves over your form, then lingers on your bare legs. “You put that one on for me?” He asks with a smirk.

You glance down and realize what shirt you’re wearing. It was a simple, oversized band tee. The shorts you have on underneath are hidden by the length. When you changed your clothes, you just pulled one out without looking. It was Angel's favorite too.

“It’s for me,” you grip the handle tighter, “I told you not to come over.”

Angel shrugs, “ phone died.”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s lying and try to close the door. Angel blocks it, steps inside, then closes it behind him. He smells like beer, cigarettes and leather.

“Angel -”

“I knew you missed me, I could tell by the way you look at me from the bar, all heart eyes and shit.”

“You’re delusional. And an asshole.”

You head toward him with the intention of opening the front door. As you pass him, Angel grabs your arm and slips his free hand behind your head. Before you can protest, Angel leans in and crashes his lips against yours.

With wide eyes you watch him kiss you. You can feel your body reacting, despite telling it not too. You always loved the way it feels, being pressed beneath him.

Your hands are flat against his chest now, for a brief moment you slide them down, feeling his muscles. Your eyes start to close, you almost give in - almost.

You push him away with a shove and step back, putting distance between your bodies. Your heart is pounding now, you take a moment to catch your breath. Angel’s kisses, just like the rest of him, were sinfully seductive and addictive. One taste has the power to regress all the work you’ve done.

You don't want that. You want better. You need better.

Angel responds as expected to the rejection. He steps back, doing that thing he does with his head when he’s pissed. “Yo what the fuck?!”

“We don’t kiss!” You bark at him. “Angel, we are not a couple, we’re not lovers…we’re not even friends right now. You can’t pull shit like that!” You take another step back and cross your arms, shielding your body from him.

Angel sucks his teeth and brushes you off.

“That’s really fucking rude, you know that right?”

“Shit, like you care. "Angel hissed venomously. He paces at the other end of the hall.  “You fucking broke up with me, remember?” Angel walks away and heads into your kitchen.

I can’t fucking believe this guy. Cursing under your breath, you follow him inside and find him opening your fridge, his back toward you.

“You fucking confusing you know that?”

You can barely believe what you’re hearing. “ME? How the fuck am I confusing, Angel? I’ve stayed away from you for months! I don’t text you, even when you text me. We only see each other at the clubhouse. I ignored your late-night drunk calls. How the fuck am I confusing?”

With fast angry steps, you storm toward the fridge and slam it shut before he can grab anything. The act of aggression surprises him, he takes a step back and stares at you.

Your body is almost shaking with anger now. The tense expression on his face melts to something else, amusement. He chuckles and leans into the nearby counter.

“You cute when you’re all pissed off and shit.”

“Oh my god.” you take a deep breath and rest your hands on your hips, “everything's a joke, isn’t it?”

“Not everything.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles. When you don’t, he leans over and smiles wider, “come on, where is it?”

He’s not going to ease it out of you, even though he almost does. You keep control of your expression. The bastard was charming. And this has worked in the past. But you don’t want to get stuck there, you want to move toward the future. A future that might have Manny as part of it. You step around to the other side of the counter and rest your hands on the surface, trying to sort your thoughts.

“Querida,” Angel walks over to you and grabs your shoulder.

“Don’t call me that.” You lift his hand and move a few steps away.

Angel stays where he is and lowers his head, “You know what I was doin' when you texted?”

You raise a brow, “Fucking your problems away?”

Angel chuckles, “naw. I was layin' on the couch, watching that shitty Novela. The one you used to watch with me. I had me thinkin' about you and shit…. about us…about tryin' again.” The vulnerability in his eyes almost melts your heart. But you stay strong. “How's that shit go…third times a charm or whatever? Don’t you wanna see if that's true?”

The weight of this words plus spending all day on your feet hits you all at once. You go to the table and sink into the chair closest to the window. Angel doesn’t say anything, he alternates between staring down at his feet and you.

You take a breath, exhale, then speak, “If we ever find our way to each other again, Angel, it will be as friends. Just friends. Remember that? I miss that version of us. Everything was so easy. So uncomplicated.”

Angel rubs the back of his neck, eyes cast down. You know if he could, he would light a cigarette right now. But he seems respectful of your no-smoking rule. Eventually, he mutters, “I fuckin miss you. This shits got me all fucked up. You think this is easy?” He glances over at you from under his brows.

“For you? Easier. You just drink, smoke and fuck to bury it.”

He scoffs, “It’s not even like that, not all the time. You don’t see all the times I go home alone or fucking drive out to the middle of nowhere just to clear my head. The shit never works by the way.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Angel.”

“I gotta see you every week, without being with you. Don’t get me started on those Yuma motherfuckers. Flirting with you and shit, like I’m not even there. Especially that skinny fuck with the stupid neck tattoo…his ass properly making friendship bracelets with Ez right now.” He shakes his head.

You suppress a laugh and store away the ‘i miss you’ you can't handle that right now.  “You jealous? Ez can have friends you know.”

Angel pulls out the chair across from you and sits with a dramatic sigh. You stare at each other in silence.

You speak first, “I wish you didn’t come over. I had a long ass day and this -" you pause and rub the bridge of your nose, “let’s just do this then.” You open your eyes, “I hope one day we can be friends again; I would like that. But I could never be your girl again, ever. We tried and each time it failed. I don't want to be that person who keeps going back to a fucked situation.”

He’s quiet, eerily quiet. His brown eyes are heavy with pain, anger, and something you can’t name.

“I’ve been hearing you telling people we’re together or hinting at it. You can’t do that. I’m not property. I’m not yours. I was going to ask what you’re telling people but honestly, I’m way too tired Angel. I can’t even - “

He abruptly pushes back in the chair and stands. Cursing under his breath, he glares down at you. “I fucking knew it. Who is he?”

Your eyes locked on his, you lean over the table, “my personal life is no longer any of your business, Angel. You are not allowed to ask that.”

When you don’t back down, he kicks the chair. You rise to your feet.

“No! That is not happening here, you are not breaking my furniture. Go, leave!” You point to direction of the door.

He’s got the look of a wild animal now, chest heaving. He takes a step back, then another. Angel turns and leaves the apartment; you hear the door close behind him followed by his bike roaring up the street.

…

The next morning

Tired isn’t enough to describe how you feel right now. Your eyes float over to the closed door of Templo, they’ve been in there for a while now. Manny arrived at the early end, though he said good morning and greeted you with his usual smile he felt distant.

Angel barreled in on the border of being late, he walked in without acknowledging you, which was fine, you didn’t want to look at him either. You try to keep yourself busy and focus on getting through the day.

When the meeting ends, the door slides open, and members start to refill the room. Some make their way to the bar, and you start putting a few beers on the counter. Your eyes follow the Reyes brothers as they walk out and through the front door, followed by Manny.

The new hire, whose name you refuse to remember, also Angel’s newest poor coping habit, rushes through the door.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. My alarm - “

Narrowing your eyes at her, you step back as she walks behind the bar. “I’m taking a break.” You say and leave her.

Stepping outside, you linger off to the side and watch as a black van pulls up before Ez, Angel and Manny. A man gets out with a middle-aged white guy with a ton of luggage. The scene before you becomes even more bizarre when you notice a kid. When the door opens again, you duck back inside and head to the bar.

When Manny, Ez and Angel don’t return, a knot forms in your stomach. It’s likely Alvarez sent them on a job. Everything was already tense and though your mind doesn’t want to go there, you feel yourself thinking the worst. What if your name came up? What if Manny and Angel had a confrontation?

Working on autopilot, you hand off a few more drinks and hope for the best.

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