#EZ REYES X YOU

[im-just-a-mississippi-girl]

Your Biker in Worn Leather

Pairing: EZ Reyes x female!reader

Category: Angst/Comfort

Word count: 353

Summary: You call EZ to pick you up and his temper goes through the roof at the state you’re in.

Warnings: Mentions of cuts, scratches, and bruises

Part 2

Masterlist

Taglist

Gif is not mine. Credit to owner.

“Can you please come and get me?” Those words played on loop in EZ’s head, he couldn’t get the sound of your scared voice out of his head. You didn’t tell him what happened or if you were hurt, only where to pick you up from.

Ezekiel was quick to jump on his bike and speed to your location. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, mind racing a mile a second thinking about all the possible scenarios you could be in. By the time EZ finally found you on the side of the street, it was pouring rain and you had no rain coat or umbrella to shield you. As EZ took off his helmet and goggles, he noticed you were shaking and that’s when you immediately raced towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and clinging to him for dear life, not giving him the chance to get off his bike. EZ’s arms instinctively enveloped you in a tight embrace, his hand gently rubbing your back. Neither one of you cared that you were getting drenched and could possibly end up with a cold tomorrow. You needed him, his safety, his protection, and you needed him as close as possible. EZ allowed the hug to last a few more moments. “Let’s get you dry, okay?” He spoke softly, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

You nodded against his shoulder before pulling yourself out of his arms. As you did so, EZ caught sight of the state you were in, a busted lip, bruises decorating your arms, and a red cheek. EZ’s blood boiled more and more as he saw each bruise, scratch, and cut littering your body. “Who did this to you?” He blurted out, causing you to jump at his stern tone and clenched jaw. The movement didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m sorry, mi amor. I didn’t mean to scare you. Do you know who did this to you?” He apologized before asking again, this time in a calmer tone.

You knew exactly who did this, and you knew EZ would revel in setting the score.

General Taglist: @kmc1989

EZ Reyes Taglist: @zaenight

[bullet-prooflove]

Valentine's Day Bingo: Polaroid - EZ Reyes x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @alwaysachorusgirl @anime-weeb-4-life @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @adaydreamaway08 @thatesqcrush @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @thanossexual @thebaileybugle @weiwei0210 @justreblogginfics @wolfiekru @skyesthebomb @delightfulbelieverwerewolf @fleureeee @jeybae

Hitting the Naughty Pictures Bingo Square

EZ is in a motel room up in Joshua Tree when he finds the polaroids tucked away inside the book he’s reading. He remembers you picking it up from the nightstand this morning, before handing it over to him with that sinful smile of yours. He sits down on the bed before he removes them from between the pages, his thumb chasing over the images.

He’d gotten you the camera for your birthday. You’re nostalgic at heart, you have an affinity for vintage, it’s why the bar still has an old-fashioned jukebox.

He can’t see your face in these pictures, but he knows it’s you, he recognises the tattoo that chases up your ribcage, disappearing into the panties that you’re wearing. His cock gets hard, and he remembers peeling them off you last night as he was going down on you. These must have been taken before that. He flicks to the next one, the bra is gone, and he can see those dusky pink nipples, the ones he loves getting his mouth on. He lies back amongst the sheets, his palm caressing his cock through the rigid denim of his jeans as he imagines the sweet little noise you make as his tongue laps over each one.

The next picture is of that pretty pussy of yours, the panties are gone, and you’re laid out bare for him. He moans out loud because the sight of it, it gets him right where he needs to be. By the time he shoves his hand into his jeans, he’s sensitive and leaking. His thumb smears pre-cum over the tip of his dick, all it takes is a single stroke and he’s done for. He comes all over his fist, white streaks painting his abdomen. He smiles to himself in the aftermath, the polaroids still clutched in his hand. It isn’t until that moment that he realises that you’ve written on the back.

Happy Valentine’s Day Ezekiel x

Love EZ? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sinfully Delicious - An EZ Reyes/Reader Smut Short.

I was feeling a certain way about EZ all day, so now you can, too! Especially since people say there isn't enough in the way of stories about him out there, yet he remains one of my least reacted with smut subjects?! Anyway, hot filth below, so go enjoy!

Words - 836

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

EZ Reyes. He’s the only man who has ever had such a profound effect upon you, that just looking at him ignites your arousal. You can feel your cunt fluttering with the longing for him, to feel him, your skin craving the heat of his against it.

When you find yourself falling into fantasies, your body responds, just the very thought of him inside you making you wet, your inner walls aching, needing to feel his cock pushing into you deep.  

When you finally get him, you almost don’t know how to react, though. With your fantasy right there before you, kisses of scorching heat landing upon your mouth and his hand gliding up your bare leg, your brain goes to static completely.  

“Fuck,” he grunts, reaching the drenched fabric of your underwear. “You’re absolutely soaking.” His words are delivered on a hungry grunt, gently biting your lower lip with a groan, his fingertips fighting past the sodden garment to stroke your folds. “God, that feels so good and It’s only my fingers."

His touch glides over your clit, and you buck into his hand, gasping, EZ smiling against your lips. “That feel nice, beautiful? Yeah, is that how you want me to touch you, play with this pretty little clit until you come hard for me, hmm? Or do you need something inside of you?” His words have you mindless, only capable of using sounds, and he knows it, knows he’s winding you tightly. “Maybe I should give you both, huh?”  

Pushing you back against the counter he has you sitting upon, he pulls off your undies, lowering his head to your heat, his fingers pushing inside you as his tongue begins to lay licks over your aching bud, his breaths hot and sharp against you. “God, you taste amazing. So fucking sweet.”  

It burns golden through you, each lick firming, his fingers rooting deep as your cunt streams over them, his lips wrapping to suck upon you.  

“Oh, please don’t stop! Fuck, that feels so good!”  

He looks up at you, eyes gleaming. “Finally found your voice, huh? That’s good, cuz’ I’m all set to hear you wail pretty for me, beautiful.” When he sucks on you again, you do, your voice breaking on a cry, the lewd sounds of him feasting on your clit filling the air, peppered by his grunts. The squelch of his fingers pounding into your pussy overtakes the other noises, the erotic orchestra loudening, your nails dug into his thick shoulders as you mewl, your hips shaking violently.

He’s better than you ever could have dreamed of. 

“Fuck, I'm so fucking hard, baby. Let me give you my dick, right now. I gotta be in you,” he pants, the desire in his eyes meeting yours as you pull your dress and bra off, EZ shedding the rest of his clothes. A cock of impressive size bobs free of his jeans, the bunched fabric kicked from his ankles along with his white boxers.  

“Yeah,” you gasp, reaching for him, steering him to your streaming opening. “I need to have you in me just as badly.” He pushes, and with one fluid thrust, he’s filling you, your cry muted by his mouth, his hands grasping your thighs as you draw your knees up, that hot, veiny hardness inching into you deeper. His eyes fall down, your gaze following, watching at how the liquid silk of your cunt bathes his cock, glossing the dark skin, glinting over each ridge before it vanishes within you again.  

“Like how that big dick feels all up in you deep, querida? Fuck, you feel so good.” Once again, he has you rendered mindless, his mouth claiming yours in kisses gilded in honey and embers, his rhythm exquisite, giving you exactly what you need.

He drags your walls slow and hard, sparks scraping, the fill of him mind-melting as you clutch at his muscles, the chiselled bulk of him hotter than you could ever imagine.  

Adding speed, he meets your need with keen thrusts, filling you wholly, glimmers shooting through you as his hips rut you with force, mouth moving to kiss a constellation over your neck. He hits you at every angle and depth, so deep you feel as if galaxies are collapsing and igniting again within you, pleasure bursting over your nerves as you cry out ferally.  

“Come on, baby,” he pants, tongue swirling with yours, his nails digging into your flesh. “Let me feel this pretty little cunt come around me. Yeah, that’s it. Come all over my dick.”  

He fucks you in brutal frenzy, his trailer beginning to shake with the force of it, your nails clawing at his back as frost chills your blood, only for the flames of your undoing to melt it as your orgasm races through you. He twitches, teeth clamping onto your neck, spilling hot and deep within your fluttering walls, his groan all smoke and grit.  

How sinfully delicious it is, when fantasy lives up to reality.  

[bumblesimagines]

"You're always so quick to defend them. What's the real reason behind your loyalty?"

"How convenient, showing up whenever they need you."

- EZ Reyes

"You're always so quick to defend them. What's the real reason behind your loyalty?"

"How convenient, showing up whenever they need you."

pronouns: they/them, gender neutral

You considered yourself to be rather laidback when it came to exes. You chose your partners carefully and deliberately, ensuring the relationship wouldn't end up being a waste of time. It's why you'd been so certain about Ezekiel Reyes.

The sweet, charismatic biker caught your eye the moment he'd sauntered into the courthouse as a prospect. He appeared humble and thoughtful, taking his duties as prospect seriously and often helping you tend to the bar whenever possible. You knew his past from the other members. A young man set on avenging his mom faced the consequences of accidentally shooting an officer. His story had been gut-wrenching and you sympathized with him.

But, as you looked through the trailer's window and watched him speak with Emily Galindo, you wondered if you had made the right choice.

"How convenient," You murmured as Ez entered the trailer and tossed his gloves aside. "Showing up whenever I need you."

"She has no idea it's your birthday, (Y/N). Don't be like that."

"Don't be like what, Ezekiel?" You snapped and he blinked, leaning back slightly at the irritated tone lacing your voice. Sally stirred beside you, a soft whine emitting from her throat. You ran your hand over her soft fur and inhaled sharply, attempting to ease your growing anger.

"Em's done nothing to you. I don't get why you hate her so much." You took another deep breath and rubbed the bridge of your nose at his words. For a guy known for his intelligence and quick-thinking, he sure was clueless when it came to his little ex.

"You're always so quick to defend her. What's the real reason behind your loyalty? Because that little blonde brat doesn't give a shit about you, Ez."

His brows knitted and a frown stretched out on his face. "Don't call her that-"

"Oh, my god." You breathlessly laughed and stood up, snatching your phone and wallet from the table. You shook your head, almost in disbelief, and faced him.

"If you want to be her little servant so badly, go for it. Don't come crying back to me when she keeps choosing her husband over you."

[ficnation]

Lying in Blood - EZ Reyes x Reader

Summary: When your husband dies you're left to mourn the life you were supposed to have. But when guilt consumes the killer, a chance at redemption opens as he steps forward to raise the child as his own.

Word count: 2,6k+

Pairing: Ezekiel ‘EZ’ Reyes x Female! Reader; Past!Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x Reader

Warnings: SPOILERS for Mayans MC season 5, mayans mc typical warnings, pregnancy, pure angst

A/n: EZ might be a little OOC but who cares. Enjoy the heartbreak and please reblog if you liked it!

Main Masterlist

Mayans MC Masterlist

The moment you walk into the clubhouse, the smell of smoke and leather assaults your senses. The atmosphere is smoky, the air heavy with the cigarette fog swallowing the entire room. In the background, the clicking of pool balls and the murmur of conversations can be heard, the smell and environment already making you feel a little dizzy as the door opens and shuts behind you.

You force yourself to move forward as the members of the MC raise their glasses and nod in welcome to your arrival. You greet them with a warm smile like always, then look around the room in search of your beloved’s face. You can almost see him talking with his friends in the crowd, an unopened beer bottle in his tattooed hand.

But he’s not there. It’s just your imagination playing tricks on you.

Bishop must’ve noticed the way your eyes wander around the room in search of a ghost. He stands up from his sitting place, grabs your arm, and pulls you toward one of the couches. You slump down against it, sighing heavily.

“Querida,” he starts, sitting down beside you, his arm outstretched, beckoning you closer.

You shake your head to will the dark thoughts away, then relax against his side, your cheek finding rest on his shoulder.

“Bishop,” you greet him back with a smile.

“You’ve popped,” the man notices with a chuckle, looking down at the roundness of your protruding stomach.

“Oh, definitely. I woke up one day, looked in the mirror, and thought she doubled in there,” you mumble with a huff, but there’s a lightness to your voice.

Bishop admires your strength—how you can still see the world in colors even when your life is falling apart. It baffles him. He wishes he had that kind of strength himself.

He smiles at you, pulling you just a little bit closer. “She?” he repeats, raising his brow.

You smile brightly at him, caressing the bump with gentle, loving strokes. “Yeah, it’s a little girl.”

But your smile falters ever so lightly when you think about the fact that Neron still doesn’t know that the doctors were wrong and you were going to have a little daughter instead of a son. He won’t even be there when you give birth. He’ll still be behind bars, far away from your baby girl.

Bishop notices the change in your expression and grasps your hand in his, squeezing delicately. “He’s proud of you, you know that. We’re all proud of you.”

You can only nod in response, blinking away the tears that started forming in your eyes. You weren’t as strong as they all wanted you to be. You were just about to become a mom—a single mom because your husband won’t be there for most of the baby’s early years. You’ll be lucky if he gets out when she’s a teenager.

“Yeah, just wish his child was more important than the club,” you whisper under your breath, quickly regretting your words. But Bishop looks at you with understanding, no ounce of anger on his face. “Well, I actually came here looking for EZ. Is he around?”

“He’s not around. But he should be back soon. Do you wanna wait for him?” he asks, kissing the side of your forehead. “I can get you some water and keep you company.”

You stay with him, conversing to kill time as you wait for the club’s president to turn up. The older man keeps you occupied, talking a little bit about everything—how long until the baby comes, if you need help setting up the nursery, is your money situation looking okay—Bishop asks about everything in hopes the MC can make your life a little bit easier.

An hour or two passes before Ezekiel walks into the clubhouse. He looks around the room and doesn’t expect to see you there. Your presence startles him.

His eyes stare intently as you talk with Bishop, one of your hands mindlessly caressing your protruding stomach, waiting for the baby to kick. The other man hovers his hand close, ready for you to guide it so he can feel the little kick.

EZ feels the guilt—it comes up his throat and makes him nauseous. You’ve been friends for so long, and you don’t even know just how bad of a friend he was.

He ordered the murder of your husband. He took away the father of your baby—the man you loved with your whole being. He took his life and didn’t even give a second thought to how it would affect you—how much it would ruin your life.

The baby in your stomach starts kicking, so you take Bishop’s hand and press it against it. Ezekiel still stares, but he’s too far gone in his thoughts to register what’s happening.

“She’s kicking.” Your smile is bright, and it gives him a tiny bit of hope that Neron’s death won’t make you miserable for the rest of your life.

He forces his legs to move forward, swallowing the want to throw up all over the wooden floor. With a forced nervous smile, he reaches the couch.

“Is she?” the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them.

You sit up straighter, surprised by his sudden appearance. The smile you give him is innocent—unknowing.

“Hi, EZ.”

He returns it, but it’s weak and awkward, and he’s sure you can feel just how out of place he felt in his own clubhouse.

“Hi.”

Bishop senses the sudden shift in the air. He gets up and presses a kiss to your cheek, his beard ticklish on your skin. He regards the younger man with suspicious eyes. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says finally as he leaves you with the club’s president, heading towards the exit of the building.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” you notice, patting the couch where Bishop once sat to beckon Ezekiel to take his place.

The man scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Yeah… I was busy with the—” he’s lost in his own words as he gestures vaguely to the clubhouse, “the thing.”

You raise your eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, definitely,” you joke, “the thing always requires attention.”

He laughs at your words, but it has a forced quality to it. The joke isn’t that funny. You know it, and he knows it too, but you wave it off, thinking he didn’t want to make the conversation more uncomfortable than it already was by giving you the details.

“Yeah.” He sighs deeply. “We’ve got it under control, though,” he continues, and you respond with a nod, your eyes not quite meeting his.

“Have you heard anything from Neron?”

So that’s what you came here to ask—EZ thinks. It was logical. You barely needed the MC’s help, preferring to get stuff done on your own, mainly because you didn’t want to add to their problems. You always held your head high.

“He’s been quiet for a while now,” Ezekiel tenses in his seat as the words leave your mouth.

He can almost feel the crickets playing a symphony in his head. He doesn’t know what to say or do, so he opts for a simple lie—he is getting better at them with every passing day. “No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Damn it.” Your sigh clenches his heart painfully. “Those cops are probably harassing him again.”

“Probably,” he agrees with you, scratching his chin for a second as he glances at your face. “You’ve heard nothing at all?”

“Nothing. He doesn’t call anymore.” The tone of your voice changes, and he can feel the heartbreak—the agony that those words render.

EZ takes a deep breath and forces a smile. “He’ll call. I’m sure he will.” A fucking liar; that’s what he is.

“I hope so. We’re so close to the birth date. I wanted him to know that.”

He doesn’t know how to reply, so he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. He was always good at lying, but why was it so hard to lie to you?

He tries to smile more warmly—look more warmly at you, but all you can see in his eyes is pity. It drives you insane.

“EZ, is there something you’re not telling me?” your voice screams suspicion. He starts to get nervous.

“No, of course not.” He looks at you hard, hoping you’ll believe his lie. It takes a moment for you to process what you see and hear before the suspicious glint falters and falls.

“Oh, okay.” you sigh in sadness. You have a feeling he knows something, but you’re not willing to push it. “He was supposed to choose the name.”

Another gentle squeeze of your hand. “He will come through. Don’t worry.”

You believe him. “You’re right. I’m probably just overthinking.”

EZ nods his head in agreement. “You’re just stressing yourself out; it’s not worth it.” There’s a pause as he kisses your temple, then speaks again, changing the topic slightly, “How have you been doing? Everything going alright with the pregnancy?”

“Yeah, we’re doing good. The nausea went away.” His still didn’t. “Now I’m just running to the bathroom every three minutes. Girl makes me wanna piss so bad.” You let out a chuckle—such a beautiful and peaceful sound. EZ feels like he could record it and play it over and over again before he falls asleep.

“That’s good… and exhausting.” He’s starting to feel more at ease again. You seem to be distracted and not noticing how oddly nervous he’s been acting, or even if you did see, you let him have the upper hand.

“It is exhausting. But we’re gonna get through it. For Neron.”

He nods in agreement. “For Neron.”

Such a beautiful betrayal.

The next time you see EZ, a few days have passed. The whole MC knows about Neron’s death, but not you—not yet. He lets you live in a state of not knowing just for a few more minutes before he knocks on your door and gives you the information that will ruin your life. Oh, wait, he did that—he ruined it by choosing to protect himself, get rid of the snitch. Snitches end up in ditches—they were right.

He raises his fist, presses the buzzer, and he can almost hear the heavy pats of your feet as you rush toward the door. You open it and greet him with a smile. You’ve looked through the Judas beforehand—smart girl.

“EZ?” That carefree smile falters as you notice the seriousness decorating his face. Your hand grips the doorknob tighter, knuckles turning pale.

EZ sighs and hangs his head. “You need to sit down.”

“What the fuck happened?” you ask, but EZ doesn’t respond.

He turns you around, closing the door before gently pushing you towards the living room and the couch in the middle. You listen to him and sit down, waiting for him to speak. Your leg bounces up and down in worry. The dark thoughts swirling in your head make you want to crawl out of your skin.

EZ cuts straight to the point. He knows you’d only get furious if he tried to tread around the issue.

“Neron’s dead,” he says simply—as if to just get the words out of his mouth. They leave a foul taste on his tongue. He’s not even looking at you because he knows already how badly he fucked up. He can hear your heart breaking into a million pieces as your brain struggles to register that information.

When it finally hits you, you gasp trembly.

“No. No, he’s not,” you try to deny his words, shaking your head furiously. Tears are already building up in your eyes, and they’re falling down in waterfalls down your cheeks before EZ can reach to wipe them away.

“I’m so fucking sorry. It’s my fault.” He sits beside you and takes your hand, raising it to his lips. He leaves a kiss on every single tip of your fingers. “I killed him. It’s all my fucking fault.”

The sobs wreck through your body like a tsunami, and you drown beneath their intensity as you cradle your bump. You don’t even hear him. You refuse to hear him.

EZ wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head as he pushes it to rest on his chest. He can’t look at you so broken—so destroyed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His other palm rubs your back up and down in a motion that is supposed to be soothing, but it doesn’t do shit to make it hurt less. You let him comfort you, giving into his embrace as you weep and clutch the back of his kutte in tight fists.

EZ sits that way with you for a while, rubbing your back and keeping you close. He doesn’t speak, only offers his presence and affection as comfort. He knows if he opens his mouth again, he’ll admit to what he’s done—this time for real.

“How am I supposed to go on?” You sob into his chest, your whole body trembling.

EZ just holds you tighter, his lips pressed to the crown of your head. “One day at a time.”

“I’m supposed to raise our daughter on my own? That’s so fucking cruel. Why did the world take him away from me?” your words are almost muffled as you get them out through the tears and sobs.

He looks down at you, his face etched with guilt. He’s glad your head is pressed to his chest and you can’t see it. You’d put the puzzle pieces together faster than he could mutter a single word.

He rubs his thumb back and forth between your shoulder blades. “I don’t know. But you’re strong. I know you’re strong enough to get through this.”

He puts on a facade before placing a hand under your chin and lifting it so you can look him in the eye. “I know you are.”

“No, Ezekiel, I’m not. I can’t do this,” you argue, shaking your head furiously. “I want him back,” you cry out, and it breaks his heart even more. It was his fault. He did this to you.

“I know. I know.” EZ says this over and over again, rubbing circles on your back.

He stays the night, cradling you in his arms as you sob and scream. And then he stays another night and another day keeping you company and helping with daily tasks. You don’t even realize that weeks have passed, and he’s still there when you wake up and when you go to sleep.

He’s there holding your hand when your little girl is born and when she says her first word. He never left, taking on the role of being a dad figure for your child. It felt wrong, but you never stopped him, either.

You didn’t stop him when one night his lips found peace pressed against yours and when he rolled on top of you, giving you pleasure you haven’t felt for a long while. You didn’t stop him when he moved in and became a constant presence in your baby’s life. Before you even knew it, she was calling him ‘papa.’ It made your heart clench painfully.

EZ took the opportunity and treated it as his only chance at redemption. He wanted to give you the life you wanted to have with the man he took away from you.

Sometimes the guilt was too much, and he had to leave for a few days to get it back under control. But he always came back.

He was good at lying, after all—lying with his hands covered in blood. Such a beautiful betrayal.

[cregansgf]

Ello Poppet!! Popping back in for another one! Can I get a Z3 for Mr. EZ pretty please?💜

Hi! Welcome back😊

you may!!

This ended up being longer than I expected I hope you enjoy!

Fate {E.R}

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, drugging, phyco ez ..

Ezekiel always had a feeling he was crazy, but this? this had to be a sign.

It had been three years. Three years since you left him. Three years since he walked into your guys shared home only to find all your stuff missing. Every single trace of you ever being there gone, it was as if you never existed. But he knew. He remembered everything, every single little detail about you. He craved you, you could call him obsessed and he’d agree before going on a rant about how amazing you are, before reminding everyone your his.

Since that day three years ago he never once stopped looking for you, thinking about you. And now he finally found you. He knew you’d never come with him willingly or even talk to him for that matter. So he had to take things into his own hands.

For a few days he followed you around, staying hidden behind bushes or buildings, wearing a hood and black clothes trying to stay hidden, hoping you wouldn’t notice him. And luckily you didn’t.

He took notice to everything you did each day, noting your routines and keeping your schedule in mind. When he knew you would be out for a couple hours he snuck into your apartment before grabbing the pills he stole from Coco, crushing them up and slipping them into some wine he noticed you drink everyday before he slipped out of your house leaving everything as it was, before walking across the street to the spot where he could see through your window, straight into your kitchen and waited.

He hadn’t waited long before he saw you trudging into your apartment, pure exhaustion taking over your features as you changed and poured yourself a glass of wine, looking through your cabinets for dinner. A smirk forming on his face as he watched you drink more wine than usual that night, causing his plan to work.

When he noticed you turn off the lights he waited a few moments before sneaking back into your place, quietly making his way to your room where you had been now passed out laying across your bed. He smiled as he eyed your figure. God had he missed you.

He gently picked you up, loving the way you didn’t even stir in his arms. When he put you inside his car he placed some tape over your mouth along with securing your wrists in case you woke up before he got you ‘home.’

You had only woken when he started turning on lights in the basement, lighting the area. You had been groggy for a moment but when you saw Ezekiel above you, you immediately started freaking out, only to be held down by him.

“Shhh” he hummed, petting your hair, “We finally found our way back to one another.” He grinned, watching as a tear fell down your face, “No matter the world, we are fated. Through time and space we will always find each other.”

You shook your head at his words, ‘Fated?’ , No. You couldn’t be.

“It’s how we found each other after all this time. The universe wanted us together.” He chimed, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You were never leaving him again.

Mayans tag list: @ravennaortiz

(lmk if you’d like to be added)

[drabbles-mc]

On the Run

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, angst

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: colorful

Word Count: 500

A/N: unwell about him, truly

For the longest time it felt like the only color he could see was red. In his clothes, on his hands, behind his eyelids when they were closed. It was inescapable, the blood that coated everything. There was no one to blame for it but himself, either. It was a mess of his own making.

He tried to run away from it. Days spent on the run trying to get as far away from it as possible turned into weeks. Weeks of constantly looking back over his shoulder, like he was leaving a trail of blood behind him that was going to lead them all right to him. It’d serve him right, and he knew that, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from trying to outrun fate.

But no one could run forever, not even EZ. Eventually, he got tired. Eventually, he had to find a place to land, even if it was only temporary. He did his best to lay low—a skill that he hadn’t put to good use in far too long. And he was doing well with it, too, until the day that he ran into you.

The first time he hadn’t thought anything of it. He’d noticed you, but no more than he made notice of anyone else. The interaction was over as quickly as it started, and you both went on with your days. You weren’t the first person he’d had a brief run-in since he paused, you wouldn’t end up being the last either. What you were, though, was one of the only people he was running into over and over again.

It got to a point where it felt wrong to not ask for his name. It felt worth it to have something to call him if you were going to keep passing, a little closer than ships in the night. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead to give you a false one. He’d kicked himself for it all the way back to the room he was crashing in. Kicked himself for it the day after that, too. He regretted it all the way until he heard you call it out from a few yards away down the sidewalk.

He lifted his head at the sound, expecting to feel fear shoot down his spine but instead, when he saw you standing there, waving with a smile on your face as you continued towards him, he felt the knot in his gut start to loosen for the first time in months. And when you stopped in front of him with a comfortable, “Hey, Ezekiel,” it was the first time in a long time that he could remember the world being covered in more than just red.

Your hand grazed his arm and his world finally got the rest of its colors back. But all he could think as he tried to get your name out in return was how much he was going to miss it all when it was gone again.

[narcolini]

trapped

ezekial ‘ez’ reyes x gn!reader, whump, happy ending, 2627 words

warnings for claustrophobia(?) 

for day 11 of whumpril : ‘i’m right here.’

a/n: i always knew this day would come... the solo EZ fic finally beckoned, and i answered. and i promise next time i write him he wont be in mortal danger LMAO

tagging: @drabbles-mc @cositapreciosa @hausofmamadas (let me know if u want to be in any taglists ofc)

Gilly’s barely got the truck in park before you’re flying from the passenger side, door left open behind you. He’d driven far too slow for your liking, so you’re running now, toward the orange-lit yard and the house EZ has passed through a thousand times—with no issue. Until today, of course. And still, Gilly showed no hurry in bringing you here, despite the situation. The very time conscious situation. You’d think, after trying to hide it from you, and then trying to stop you from coming to help, that he’d drive with a bit more pep under his pedals. Use that guilt he’s harbouring, to make amends and get you there fucking faster than the speed limit.

If he did, you’d have time to consider the situation properly. To assess the risk, the likelihood of EZ being in real, serious trouble. As is, you don’t, and your sneakers can’t hit the ground fast enough.

Coco’s the only one you can see, standing by the open garage. Standing, yes, fidgeting, smoking, and doing nothing—like he can afford to do nothing. Like his brother isn’t buried beneath the concrete he’s killing time on.

‘Where is it?’ you blurt, pausing long enough to show him your face. Let him see that it’s you, you’re serious, and stressed out of your mind, so it would be very fucking smart for him to answer without argument. ‘The tunnel?’

‘The fuck…’ His arm falls to his side, cigarette smoke curling back up the length of it. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

‘Hm, I don’t know.’ You line the sarcasm with enough venom to sting. ‘Something about my boyfriend being trapped in a collapsed smuggler’s run?’

He tuts sharply, looking past you to Gilly. ‘You were supposed to keep this shit quiet, bro.’

‘I couldn’t—’

You cut Gilly off, snapping your own voice over his reply, ‘The real question is, why the fuck are you out here and not in there, digging him out?’

It’s behind him, you realise, the opening. A small square cut from the concrete, with a ladder set over the edge it. You don’t have time to debate it, though you could chew Coco out until the sun came up, so you burst past him instead.

‘Keeping watch—hey!’ he shouts after you, sounding as annoyed at you, as you are at him. ‘There’s no fucking space for you, dude. You’re just gonna get in the way.’

It doesn’t matter. If EZ’s stuck in there, you’ll make space. You’ll pick the walls apart with your own hands if you have to.

You take the ladder facing forward, which is a mistake, but you’re too committed to it to turn around now. Your hands grapple at the metal rungs behind, heels slipping every other step. It looked like a bigger height from the top, but the clambering, clumsy approach you’ve taken, makes it feel like two or three foot, max. Gone in a blink, and then you’re underground, at the end of the tunnel with the destruction sitting right there in front of you. And God, it’s as bad as your anxiety had told you it would be.

The air is choked with dust, disturbed dirt from the collapse, you assume, and it’s thick enough to make you cough. To irritate your throat as soon as you take that first breath. It’s even making it hard to see, putting a cloudy filter over the narrow alleyway that you have to squint through. Your arm goes up, forearm shielding your eyes, like that’ll be any help at all.

‘EZ?’

There are figures ahead, that you can make out, two men swinging at the wall where the ceiling caved in. As you get closer, toes catching on the gaps between the plywood walkway, it’s obvious who it is, Angel and Creeper, both working away at the rubble. Creeper’s topless, Angel's sweating through his A-tank, and both have been working long enough to look sick with it. Tired and lagging.

‘Get out the way,’ you bark, pushing between the two. You have to get to him, you have to get close enough to the landslide of mud to see for yourself, to know. To know that he’s…

‘The fuck?’ Angel stumbles back, shovel swinging free from the dent he’s made. ‘No, nah, you can’t be here.’

You flick your gaze back to him, hand flapping behind you. ‘Give me the.’ You swallow, airborne dust drying your tongue and words with it. ‘The thing, the fucking. Give it me.’

‘Are you kidding me?’

Creeper’s still working, chipping away at the dirt with the end of his shotgun. It isn’t efficient, by any means, but it must be all he has. All you have, now. Two dudes with a shotgun and a shovel. One big fucking wall of collapsed earth, with no sign of life on the opposite side.

‘EZ?’ You turn to it, desperate. ‘Ezekiel?’ Your palms smack against it, but all you make is a shallow pathetic slap that has no hope of carrying through. ‘I’m right here,’ you shout, before turning your head to put your ear to the cold of it. ‘Can you hear me?’

Angel answers in his brothers place, ‘You really shouldn’t be in here.’

‘Shut up.’

‘This shit isn’t stable, it could collapse again any fucking—’

‘I said shut up,’ you snap, ‘I’m trying to listen.’

It hums, almost, the dirt against your ear. Echoes like you’ve held a shell to it, and not pounds and pounds of ancient soil.

‘EZ?’

Creeper stops when you call for him this time, giving you the momentary silence you need, because—there, yes—there it is, faint as anything: your name said back to you, muffled but clear enough to be real. EZ, alive, conscious, and talking back. Hope jumps into your chest, right behind the heart. It’s not over yet. He’s in a pocket, somewhere, a gap big enough to survive in.

‘Give me the shovel, Angel.’

You look back when he ignores you, just in time to catch him and Creeper exchanging a look, a pair of expressions that you know to take as a no. Loco, they’re thinking. You’re in over your head.  

They set to work again, and you let them, staggering back a couple yards to give them space to swing. You can’t dig any faster or better than they can, determination or not. Even love can’t manage that.

‘Hold on, EZ,’ you tell him, though you’re probably too far away now, and the shirt you’re holding over your mouth, to block the rising dust, is muffling the words. ‘Just, hold on.’

A little longer, and he’ll be out. Just a little longer.

They’re making progress, you can tell, the wall is concave and crumbling now. In fact, your arrival seems to have only made them quicker, more thorough, the dirt coming off in chunks, splitting and shattering by their feet. If they aren’t careful, they might get through so fast that they’re a danger to him. Shovel to the head, shotgun nose to the outstretched arm. He could be anywhere within the collapse, hearing them get closer and closer, unable to speak loud enough to stop them.

You can’t think about that. You can’t think of him in there, under the weight of it all. Chest tight, restricted. Mud in his eyes. Wires and plastic from the overhead lights, all wrapped up on top of him.

You chew your lip to stop it. Teeth through the skin, copper in your mouth. He’s alive and you’ll see him soon enough. He’s alive and you’ll see him—

‘I got something.’ It’s Creeper, loud and certain. ‘Help me clear this shit, man.’

Angel tosses his tool aside, just as Creeper has, choosing to use their hands instead. Dirty and desperate, their knees on the piles of earth they’ve already shifted. It only takes a moment before they’ve cleared enough away that you see it too: black, muddied leather. The white edge of writing.

It’s him.

You can’t give them space after that. You’re in there with them, shoulders bumping, six hands clawing away at the wall until more and more of EZ is revealed. His arm, the blue of his jeans. A bit longer, and you’ve found his head, found the bent metal strip-light that has shielded him from the worst of it. If it wasn’t for that, he’d have no pocket to breathe in, no eyes to blink up at you.

‘Hey,’ you whisper, bending down to put your face next to his. You had imagined saying something useful to him, something reassuring. But when you’re down to the moment of it, all that comes out is that, hey, soft and wavering.

He blinks again, pulling in a wheezing breath as he looks up at you—he hasn’t recognised you yet, you can tell, he’s still catching up on being alive. On having light on his face, and free air to breathe, dusty or not. He’s on his back, lengthways down the tunnel. Not out yet, but Creeper and Angel are working on that, pulling chunks off with clawing fingers.

‘EZ?’ you try, brushing the grit from his eyes, then the corners of his mouth, the angles of his beard. ‘We got you, okay? We’re getting you out.’

He croaks your name, makes the connection at last. Bleary eyes at bleary eyes.

‘Yeah,’ you sniff, fighting tears without realising it, ‘it’s me. I’m here.’

Your hands are shaking as you put your palms to his head—too far gone to try and still them now. What matters, is EZ. His comfort. You want flesh between him and the ground, warmth, not cold roughness, to cradle his head.

‘Just a little bit longer,’ you promise.

His eyes close, but he attempts a nod, moving his chin just enough to be noticeable. The next breath he takes is bookended with a cough, dry and filled with the crap you’re all breathing in.

‘You sure I’m not dead?’ he asks, only audible because your face is so close to his, your hair flopping down onto his forehead.

‘Yeah,’ you laugh, though it’s more of a sob, ‘I’m sure.’

‘Seems like heaven.’ He forces a dry swallow. ‘I see an angel.’

You sniff again, your nose threatening to leak, and brush over his face once more. Gentle, because you’re too scared to break him. ‘You’re choosing now to flirt with me?’ you joke, keeping your voice quiet. ‘You’re ridiculous, EZ.’

He smiles—or at least he tries to, one edge of his mouth twitching upwards.

‘I think that’s that’s good enough,’ Angel says, sitting back on his boots. ‘Think we can pull him out now.’

You nod, shuffling back yourself, though it’s the last thing you want to do. His legs are free enough to wiggle him out without threatening the structure of it all—without crushing the rest of you in the process. So if you have to leave him to do that, let his head sit back in the dirt, just for now, then okay. ‘Okay,’ you tell them. ‘Where should I…?’

Angel’s taking your place at the head of him, forcing his hands beneath EZ’s shoulders. Creeper grabs the leg they’ve dug entirely free, hooking his elbow around his thigh and, well, there isn’t room for you to help at all. So you step back, again, stumbling to your feet so they have space to manoeuvre him.

‘You ready, lil bro?’ Angel asks, panting still, a thick sweat over his brow. ‘In three.’

Creeper nods, and then they pull without waiting for three at all. Probably because they’re just as desperate as you are, now, just as keen to see EZ out and safe again. They’ve been digging so long that there can’t be much energy left in their reserves. It’s now, or never. One tug, two grunts, a catch in the dirt, a tear of EZ’s shirt sleeve, and then it gives. It all gives.

They pull him out of the landslide using their bodies as the counterweight, EZ tugging free and over their laps as they fall backwards from the effort of it. You’re only watching and it’s made your breath heavy, matching the rise and fall of their own chests. They did it. He’s out. Sprawled and painted with dirt, red spotting up his arms from the scratches and nicks he’s collected, but alive. Scooping breaths in like water.

‘God,’ Angel rushes, slapping a palm to EZ’s shoulder, ‘you need to cut some weight, bro.’

‘Yeah,’ Creeper laughs, ‘like moving a fucking bear.’

And then they’re all laughing, even EZ, as weak as it is, panting for air and laughing with the relief of it. Shit, even you’re smiling, and the lump of worry in your throat is still set there like concrete. It’ll stick until you’ve seen him up and walking again.

But they need to catch their breath first, and you can’t carry him alone.

‘D’you think you can stand?’ you ask, looking down at EZ laying over their legs. If he can’t, you’re all in for a struggle, trying to get him up that ladder and through the gap smaller than his shoulders will be near impossible.

EZ nods, taking a finally deep breath before pulling himself upright. He nearly manages it alone, but Angel helps him in the last minute, with a palm to his back, and then once he’s got the momentum of it, he’s up. Wincing and limping as he turns, but up.

You’re crying again. Or, your eyes are, and you’re just letting them. Wet down your cheeks.

‘I thought you were…’ You can’t manage to say it. The words become a whimper that you try to hide by clearing your throat. Before, you had enough of a mission to ignore the fear of it, the sinking what if behind your eyes. Now, it’s pouring out like gasoline. So thick, you can hardly breathe.

He struggles over to you; from the clench of his jaw, you can tell he’s hiding what it costs him, how much it hurts, to protect you. To save you from worrying even further. One foot in front of the other, between where the two men sit, and then he’s in front of you. Upright, and alive, and breathing hot, dry breath over you.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, pulling you into a hug with the arm he seems to be favouring.

You press your face to his chest and lock your hands behind the back of him. ‘For what?’ you mutter, glad of his clothes to muffle the catch in your voice.

‘Scaring you all the time.’ He puts a kiss to your head, against the hair, holds you tighter than you dared to hold him. ‘Must be the worst boyfriend in the world.’

You scoff, puffing it at the skin by his neck. ‘You think I’d dig through this shit to get you, if you were?’

You’d dig through three times the amount if it meant seeing him safe. If it meant having him, like this, on the other side.

He squeezes you again, before pulling back and shifting so he can lay his arm over your shoulder. There’s a thank-you in the way he looks at you, a level of relief, and love, that neither of you need to articulate. It’s enough to make you sniff away the last of your tears, to take an edge off the lingering concern.

‘Can we get out of here?’ he asks, wincing, and hissing a breath as he tries to walk again. ‘Always fucking hated these tunnels.’

‘Yeah,’ you scoff, ‘me too.’

If only it made a difference. If only that would stop him walking through one again.

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

pov: you’re on vacation with ez reyes 🌊

[ravennaortiz]

This was... hot... loved it!

Revelations

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, breeding kink, daddy kink (EZ as Daddy is a fucking mood btw)

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: A conversation about kids turns into a night of discovery and naughty confessions.

A/N: By popular demand, here is our resident soft boi fulfilling all our breeding/daddy needs and kinks. We mentioned EZ’s breeding kink in his NSFW Alphabet  and we wanted to gift you all with the man acting on it in the only way we know how…smut. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

Keep reading

[bullet-prooflove]

Promise Me - EZ Reyes x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @annetje @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @the-wandering-lunatic @alwaysachorusgirl @anime-weeb-4-life @vannabanana1995 @multifandomloversworld @camelia35 @queeniesdiary @lilvampirina @princessghost-24 @genius2050 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @oureternalbond @sclitvdes @appreciatelove @weiwei0210

It’s slow the way EZ loves you, gentle and methodical. He chases the shape of your body with large palms and heated fingertips that trail over the scars that ended your career as a dancer. His lips follow suit, brushing over the indented skin as he parts your thighs. There isn’t a part of you he doesn’t find beautiful, every mark tells a story, every blemish another chapter. He learns to read them as if they’re his favourite novel, memorising your hitched breathing and needy whimpers.

You’re a work of art, the finest poetry and the sweetest fucking thing he’s ever feasted on.

When he enters you, he feels fucking alive for the first time in almost a decade. His senses are ablaze, his synapses erupting with a thousand tiny sparks as he draws you closer. His hands are everywhere, touching, stroking, kneading, anything to keep the skin to skin contact as he makes love to you in freshly laundered sheets. He kisses you like the world is about to end, as if his life depends on it and he needs the sensation of you just to survive. He swallows down your moans and drinks in your pleasure, chasing that ecstasy until he has you on the cusp.

Desperate, wanton, for him, only for him, you tell him.

It drives him over the edge, he spills his release into you, looking into your eyes as you fall with him. It’s like tumbling over a cliff face, reckless and exhilarating all at the same time. In the moment he clutches you close, his forehead coming to rest upon yours as he tries to catch his breath. He’s overwhelmed and overwrought, there’s an ache in his chest because he knows there’s no going back after tonight. He’s so fucking in love with you, it hurts.

“Hey, hey.” You whisper against the corner of his mouth. “I’m right here with you, ok?”

He can’t speak, can’t bring himself to voice the emotions that are resonating through him. He looks at you helplessly and he knows that you see it, knows that you understand that he’s struggling, that it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Hey, I love you EZ.” You tell him earnestly. “That’s not going to go away anytime soon.”

“Promise me.” He murmurs against your lips, his thumb trailing over the apple of your cheek. “Promise me that you mean it when you say it.”

“I mean it darling boy,” You say, your lips ghosting over the base of his palm. “I love you Ezekiel Reyes.”

Love EZ? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Smutty Sleepover request take 2.

Well, let's try this again shall we. I'll take prompt 1 for EZ then.

I am going to enjoy this. EZ is living rent free in my creative brain right now, mate. He's got his feet up on the table and everything, lmao! :D Thanks for requesting him!

Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

In the B.E (before Ezekiel) days, you truly had no idea just how much flexibility your body could truly be capable of. That was, until the tattooed, Latino Adonis you began dating showed you just what he could do with you.

To say he bends you like a pretzel would be an understatement. In bed, almost everything is his forte, but interesting positions that give the most perfect alignment of the most perfect cock you've ever experienced are where he really excels.

Every so often, though, it's the simple classics that bring the most pleasure. For both of you.

"Shit, " you pant, giving your legs a little shake as you unravel yourself from him. "My legs have gone to sleep."

Sharing laughter, he watches with keen focus as you turn over before him, EZ grabbing your hips and yanking you back across the bed as you bend neatly. "Yeah, I like it when you bend over. Means I can spank you at the same time."

His cock glides back into the soaking mess of your cunt, his hand meeting your ass in a hard smack. Several more follow before he changes positions yet again.

Once finished, you are nothing short of one hundred percent dick drunk, and feeling like you just did a pilates class. You can't fault him for the sore muscles and exhaustion he leaves you with, though. Your exercise comes with several orgasms, after all.

[bumblesimagines]

i thought you left.

i don't know what to say. this has never happened before.

thanks for patching me up.

- Ez Reyes

i thought you left.

i don't know what to say. this has never happened before.

thanks for patching me up.

pronouns: gender neutral, they/them

"Well, fuck."

Who would've thought that on a perfectly nice Friday evening, you'd answer the doorbell expecting to see a delivery driver only to see your ex-boyfriend standing there bloody and bruised. The very guy you'd last seen when they hauled him away in handcuffs for murder.

Ezekiel fucking Reyes.

You stared at him for a long moment, looking over the blood and slowly forming bruises on his face. A trickle of blood dripped down from his bloody nose, staining his kutte. Your eyes automatically drifted to the patch on the kutte. Prospect. That fucking idiot. No doubt he'd only recently gotten out of prison, and there was, a pretty little prospect for the Mayans.

"I thought you were smart, Reyes. Graduating with honors and all that. When the mighty fall, they really do take quite the tumble, huh?" Your arms crossed across your chest and you felt your jaw clenched. The only thing you saw when you looked into his was Emily and her stupid little smile. The little vixen that had snatched your best friend and boyfriend right from under your nose.

Ez winced and his honey-colored eyes turned downward. "I'm sorry... My bike has a punctured tire and your house was closest." He explained quietly. It surprisingly stung to hear his reasoning.

"I'll give Angel a call-"

"No, no, he'll make a big deal out of this."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't blame him. You look shit." You spoke bluntly and a grin cracked on his face, though it only made him wince and hiss lowly. Rolling your eyes and moving aside, you motioned for him to step inside.

You gathered any and all medical supplies you had stored away and dumped them onto the small dining table, having Ez take a seat and tilt his head up while you worked. Spending so much time around Angel had taught you how to patch somebody up after a rough day and so you put your skills to work.

"You're unusually quiet." Ez said softly. "I expected a big lecture on fighting and driving motorcycles."

"I don't know what to say." You replied, focusing on a small cut on his red cheek. "This has never happened before. My exes don't usually show up at night looking for a doctor."

"I can start the small talk-"

"Don't."

"I thought you left. Angel said you left Santo Padre a year after..." Ez trailed off and you paused your movements, meeting his softened gaze. You weren't sure if he meant a year after dumping you or a year after getting locked up, but either way, his soft tone annoyed you. Your jaw clenched and you leaned back, flicking the damp cotton swab aside.

"Yeah, I went to school. I got engaged and when that went to shit, I came back. Now, I'm an event coordinator for a town that's slowly dying because of the little fucking cartel on our doorstep. But I'm sure you know all about that, prospect." You spat the word out as if it were venom and Ez immediately looked away from you, looking rather small for a man with manslaughter on his record.

"Thanks for patching me up." Ez muttered. "And... I'm sorry for everything."

[ficnation]

Shadow of a Broken Heart - EZ Reyes x Reader

Summary: Losing someone you love exposes the darkest side of what your friend is capable of. A broken heart opens a path for a twisted mind.

Word count: 1,4k+

Pairing: Platonic! Ezekiel ‘EZ’ Reyes x Female! Reader; mentioned! Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x Reader

Warnings: SPOILERS for Mayans MC season 5, mayans mc typical warnings, pure angst

A/n: Another angsty piece for EZ because I’m never forgiving him for what he did to Neron. Enjoy the heartbreak and please reblog if you liked it!

Main Masterlist

Mayans MC Masterlist

A tense and heated silence fills the vehicle, your breathing deep and steady as you stare at the trailer ahead. Your knuckles are tight and white, your grip on the gun firm. With each breath, the weight of your grief and your need for vengeance grows, fueling your resolve.

You won’t let your loved one’s death go unpunished; EZ is going to pay the ultimate price for taking away his life. He’s going to die at the hands of his own friend, feeling betrayed just like Neron did. There was no way you’d let him go out easily after what he’s done.

As you let out a deep breath, your grip on the gun tightens even more. Your eyes are locked on your target’s home. Your mind is a vortex of emotions and thoughts—the sound of your heartbeat is deafening.

The tension is palpable as you wait, steeling yourself for the moment ahead. You are ready. You are prepared to carry out your vengeance, hoping for the sweet release of the overwhelming weight of your grief and anger that have been crushing you for the past few weeks.

You make sure the safety is on before you stick the gun beneath the waistband of your jeans. While it is still concealed, you can feel it pressed against your spine, the cold, metallic sensation of the firearm sending a chill down your spine.

Your heart is still pounding, your body tensing at every tiny sound, each muscle coiled and ready to strike. But your mind is calm and focused, determined to do what you came here for.

You jump out of the car, and your boots hit the dry earth below with a dull thud. The cool night air is a slight relief from your hot, boiling emotions. You straighten up as you leave the door open, afraid of making too much noise.

You reach the trailer, hesitating for a moment as your raised fist hovers over the plastic surface of the door. You stop your racing mind and bring your hand down, knocking gently.

The knock, even so quiet, reverberates throughout the night on the quiet street as you stand motionless, waiting to see if anyone will open the door—if your thirst for EZ’s blood will be satisfied.

You all but exhale when you hear the creaking of the floor inside. The steps get closer and closer then finally, Ezekiel Reyes inches the door open, peeking through the small gap.

You play the game and drop your shoulders with a defeated shrug. The bags under your eyes and the sadness of your frown are convincing enough for EZ to open the door fully. You force your eyes to tear up just like you did when you were a kid and your mom didn’t want to buy you ice cream. It looks real—believable.

The man you once considered a brother steps aside to let you in. He closes the plastic door as you look around the trailer. You knew beforehand Sofie had received an emergency call from her coworker asking for her assistance on the night shift. You were glad you bumped into Bottles, and he let the information slip.

You sit on the bed and put your head in your hands—elbows digging into the flesh of your thighs as you fake a sniffle. “I miss him so much, EZ. I don’t think I can go on much longer,” you mumble out, your voice breaking slightly.

You are amazed at just how good you’re at this because the dark-eyed man squats in front of you without a second thought. He places his large hands on your knees as he tries to look you in the eyes. You want to dig his eyes out and leave them hanging out of the sockets just by the nerves.

“I know it’s painful,” he says softly, and you let him guide your arms down. His skin touching yours makes you want to spit in his face.

“I’m like a fucking shadow without him. A shadow of a broken heart.” You clench your eyes shut as you let the tears spill down your cheeks, the black mascara leaving traces on your skin. “I’m nothing without him. I don’t know who I am or what I am supposed to do,” you sob, the words sound almost choked out. You’re telling the truth this time; you don’t even have to force it—the words spilling out of your mouth, the pain behind them, honest.

He hushes you, bringing your hands to his lips so he can kiss your knuckles in hopes of soothing you. You look into his eyes, searching for some glimmer of understanding, some shred of reason behind the betrayal. You’re desperate to find a tiny piece of remorse or guilt in them. But you know eyes can only say so much. His dark irises give away nothing, his gaze cold and indifferent—devoid of the warmth and patience he pretends to hold for you, lacking the Reyes’ love you had once come to know.

Your heart sinks, and you suddenly understand the truth. Your “friend” is no longer the person you once knew and trusted. He’s not the sweet prospect that always listened to your ramblings when you visited the clubhouse. He’s not the man that spent days with you just because Neron was sent on a long mission and you were drowning in worry.

You don’t know this man who kneels before you now and pretends to be your friend. He became a completely different person, someone that you can no longer trust or rely on. It is a devastating reality, and the pain of betrayal cuts even deeper into your heart—it claws at it and leaves marks that’ll never heal.

You know he doesn’t even slightly feel threatened by your presence. If he had reservations when he opened the door, they evaporated just as quick as you stepped foot into the trailer. You were just a woman, a creature smaller and weaker than a man like him. There was nothing about you that screamed danger. He allowed himself to drop his guard down—a mistake he’ll pay for.

“Don’t give up. One day you’ll wake up, and it won’t hurt anymore. You’re gonna get through it.” As your name leaves his lips after his empty promise—you almost shudder. He stands up and kisses the crown of your head—the nausea his touch draws out of you keeps growing. “Do you want to stay at the clubhouse tonight? I can keep you company. Maybe we can finish a bottle of tequila like in the good old days,” he offers.

You want to believe he’s genuine so badly. You want Neron back. You want your friend—the good version of Ezekiel Reyes—back. But deep down, you know you already made peace with the fact that it’ll never happen, that it’s time to say goodbye to both of them before they’ll drag you down with them.

You agree with a simple nod of your head and let EZ pull you to your feet and out of the trailer. He walks ahead, spinning the keys to the clubhouse in his fingers as he whistles a tune under his nose. You follow him, heart palpitating. You have to do it now, or you’ll lose your bravery.

Ezekiel looks back at you when you reach the door to the clubhouse, his eyes studying you. For a second, a fear pops into your head that maybe he’s well aware of the plan you made up in your head, and he’s just toying with you, but it disappears instantly when the man turns away and jabs the key into the keyhole.

You don’t wait. You pull the gun out of your waistband and stand behind him, raising it to his head. Your fingers pop the safety off, and you watch as EZ freezes, his shoulders tensing.

“You were like a family to me,” you mumble out, feeling the tears gathering in your eyes. You know if you give him a few more minutes, the shock will wear off, and he’ll overpower you in an instant, slapping the gun straight out of your hands. “I hope Neron doesn’t give you a second of peace down there, you lying piece of rat shit.”

Your fingers are steady as you pull the trigger. The shot reverberates through the night as the blood and brain tissue splatter on your face. The man in front of you takes his last breath as he falls face-first onto the wooden floor with a loud thud. You kick him in the ass for good measure before you turn away and jump down the steps, leaving him on the doorstep of his beloved club. When his brothers find his body the next morning, you’ll be long gone, somewhere far away from Santo Padre.

You don’t feel the sweet relief you hoped for.

[drabbles-mc]

Always

EZ Reyes & GN!Reader

Word Count: 100

A/N: i'm not a drabble writer, despite what my URL says 😂😂 but i was going through and clearing some old stuff out of my WIP folder and came across?? this??? I'm sure at the time it was supposed to be the start to a longer story. but it was almost 100 words exactly so i just trimmed it up and I'm sending it into the world as a drabble now. enjoy 😌 (divider by @silkholland 💕)

“Hey, Ezekiel?” your soft voice cut through the silence of his bedroom.

“Yea?” he whispered from the floor.

“Do you ever get the feeling that everything is about to change? Like a weird knot in your stomach?”

There was a long pause before he responded, “Sometimes, I guess. Why? Is that what you’re feeling now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” a few seconds of silence passed, “We're always gonna be friends, right?”

You heard the rustling of blankets on the floor as he sat upright. Even in the darkness that enveloped his room, you could make out his silhouette, “Yea, always.”

[ravennaortiz]

So good!

Ello Poppet!! Popping back in for another one! Can I get a Z3 for Mr. EZ pretty please?💜

Hi! Welcome back😊

you may!!

This ended up being longer than I expected I hope you enjoy!

Fate {E.R}

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, drugging, phyco ez ..

Ezekiel always had a feeling he was crazy, but this? this had to be a sign.

It had been three years. Three years since you left him. Three years since he walked into your guys shared home only to find all your stuff missing. Every single trace of you ever being there gone, it was as if you never existed. But he knew. He remembered everything, every single little detail about you. He craved you, you could call him obsessed and he’d agree before going on a rant about how amazing you are, before reminding everyone your his.

Since that day three years ago he never once stopped looking for you, thinking about you. And now he finally found you. He knew you’d never come with him willingly or even talk to him for that matter. So he had to take things into his own hands.

For a few days he followed you around, staying hidden behind bushes or buildings, wearing a hood and black clothes trying to stay hidden, hoping you wouldn’t notice him. And luckily you didn’t.

He took notice to everything you did each day, noting your routines and keeping your schedule in mind. When he knew you would be out for a couple hours he snuck into your apartment before grabbing the pills he stole from Coco, crushing them up and slipping them into some wine he noticed you drink everyday before he slipped out of your house leaving everything as it was, before walking across the street to the spot where he could see through your window, straight into your kitchen and waited.

He hadn’t waited long before he saw you trudging into your apartment, pure exhaustion taking over your features as you changed and poured yourself a glass of wine, looking through your cabinets for dinner. A smirk forming on his face as he watched you drink more wine than usual that night, causing his plan to work.

When he noticed you turn off the lights he waited a few moments before sneaking back into your place, quietly making his way to your room where you had been now passed out laying across your bed. He smiled as he eyed your figure. God had he missed you.

He gently picked you up, loving the way you didn’t even stir in his arms. When he put you inside his car he placed some tape over your mouth along with securing your wrists in case you woke up before he got you ‘home.’

You had only woken when he started turning on lights in the basement, lighting the area. You had been groggy for a moment but when you saw Ezekiel above you, you immediately started freaking out, only to be held down by him.

“Shhh” he hummed, petting your hair, “We finally found our way back to one another.” He grinned, watching as a tear fell down your face, “No matter the world, we are fated. Through time and space we will always find each other.”

You shook your head at his words, ‘Fated?’ , No. You couldn’t be.

“It’s how we found each other after all this time. The universe wanted us together.” He chimed, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You were never leaving him again.

Mayans tag list: @ravennaortiz

(lmk if you’d like to be added)