#Mayans MC fanfic

[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

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 21- Piercings

Angel Reyes x fem!reader

Word count- 1.6k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), exes to lovers, nipple play, cumming from nipple stimulation, multiple orgasms, fluff, reader has pierced nipples, no use of y/n

Notes- Angel is so much fun to write for! And even if the ending of Mayans was disappointing I still really miss him! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

It had been so long that you almost forgot what it felt like. The wind in your face, the roar of the motorcycle, the strong torso of Angel Reyes anchoring you as you wrapped your arms around him. There was a time when Angel took you for a ride every weekend, and you went to that special place and ravaged each other for hours before you laid under the stars. But, life got in the way, and you two were separated for some time.

But, now you were back together. And while things were different, some things stayed the same. And you smirked to yourself as you thought about some of the surprises you had in store for him.

“We’re here, baby,” Angel slowed the bike to a stop at the bridge.

You exhaled contently, “Just like old times,” you took his hand and let him lead you over to your spot.

Angel stopped and turned around, looking you up and down as if it were his first time seeing you, “Baby,” he cupped your face, “You look even hotter than last time I saw you.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you leaned into his touch, “So do you, Angel.”

Wasting no time, Angel pulled you in close and pressed his lips against yours. You moaned into you as you parted your lips and invited him in, tasting him for the first time in a long time. He gripped into your hips to yank you against him, as if he couldn’t get your close enough. The smell of his kutte mixed with his cologne was intoxicating, and it sent a pulse right to your core.

“Angel,” you murmured as he kissed his way down your neck, “I missed you.”

He only groaned as he bucked his hips against you, letting you feel how hard he was already. It was all the answer you needed. Angel bit down on the sensitive spot on your neck, licking a sucking before he kissed his way back up and took your lips once more.

Carefully, the two of you back up against the steel railing without breaking away. Angel glanced over a few times to make sure you wouldn’t step in the wrong place, and you trusted him enough to not need to look for yourself. You gasped when your back hit the cold rail, but Angel only deepened the kiss more as your mouth dropped open.

He groaned as he helped you up onto the rail, finding that perfect spot that had a long pole for you to lean against. It was an old bridge, but it was sturdy, and the spot Angel liked to place you had a wider base so you could be comfortable while he stood between your parted legs.

“Shit baby,” he murmured as his hands dipped under your shirt.

You let go of his temporarily so he could lift your shirt up over your head before you clawed at his own shirt, a silent plea for him to take it off. Angel broke away to shrug it off, and you couldn't help the gasp you let out at seeing his bare chest again. You know you were gawking at him as your eyes trailed across all his tattoos and his defined pecs, but at the same time, you couldn’t care less.

“Like what you see, querida?” Angel asked with a cocky smirk.

“Fuck yeah,” you breathed, too in awe to think of a more witty comeback.

You extended your arms for him and he gladly obliged. The two of you crashed your lips together, this time in a more heated and desperate kiss. Hand roamed all over the other, feeling and caressing every dip and curve in the other’s figure. Angel groaned as he reached the back of your bra and tried to unclasp it, but he got quickly frustrated and growled into you.

“Let me,” you giggled softly as you reached back and pinched your bra with one hand and let it fall into your lap.

This time, it was Angel’s turn to gawk. “Are those…” he cleared his throat as his eyes landed right on your breasts, “Are those new?” His cock involuntarily twitched in his pants.

“Like what you see?” you asked with a teasing grin as you shimmied your shoulders, letting your breasts swing as you did so.

What Angel hadn’t seen before was the new-ish piercings you had: both nipples. The metal from the jewelry twinkled in the setting sun, and Angel couldn’t rip his eyes away from them. He had always loved and worshiped your breasts, but this only made you even hotter.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Angel groaned as he grabbed onto your waist and dove into your breasts.

You buried your hands in his hair as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, licking and flicking at the jewelry. Your mouth dropped open to let the moans flow freely as he played with your piercing with his tongue. The sensations were more intensified due to the piercing, and it sent jolt and jolt of pleasure right to your pussy.

“Fuck! Angel!” you cried out as your mind swam in pleasure.

No one made you feel the way Angel did, and having the nipple piercings only added to it. You felt as if you could cum just from his tongue on your breast alone. But, just as you felt a tingle up your spine, he pulled away and looked at you with a glazed over expression.

“Shit baby you’re so fucking hot,” he breathed before he dipped back down and attacked your other breast.

One hand stayed in his hair while the other moved to his shoulder, gripping him hard and digging your nails into his skin. Angel didn’t care though, and it actually spurred him on more. He growled into your breast as he took as much of you into his mouth as he could, flicking and sucking at your nipple while he did so. His one hand kneaded your other breast, gently pinching your nipple piercing, while the other kept a firm grip on your hip to keep you in place.

Your cries echoed through the woods, but you didn’t care. Someone could walk in on you right now and you would tell Angel to keep going. His tongue felt so good on your breasts and his large hands kept you grounded and safe. You dropped your head back as your skin warmed while his tongue ran over your piercing over and over again.

That familiar feeling started to build from deep within you. You rocked your hips against Angel as much as you could, desperate for some friction against your pussy. He got the message right away, and while his lip still stayed on your breast, Angel bucked his clothed cock against your cunt, letting out a groan as he did so.

“Fuck… Angel…” you moaned, “I think I’m gonna cum…”

Angel stopped and broke away, a trail of spit connecting your bodies. He stared at you for a moment in awe, as if he couldn’t believe you were real. “Do it, baby,” his tone was low and dripped with lust, “Fucking cum just from be sucking your fucking gorgeous tits.”

With that, he dove back in, with time with more determination to make you cum. He rocked his hips against yours as he licked and sucked at your nipple, the jewelry rolling in between his lips. His hand squeezed your other breast, and he pinched your nipple a few times, savoring the screams you let out.

“Oh fuck… Angel… Fuck!” your legs trembled on either side of his body as you felt your climax quickly build. Your body felt hot as the sensations become almost overwhelming but in the best way possible. And with just a few more swipes of his tongue and thrusts of his hips, you came hard, “Angel!” you screamed his name as tears fell from your eyes.

Angel held onto you while he worked you through your orgasm. His cock screamed in agony, desperate for his own release, but he was too consumed with you to care. He wanted to make you feel good. He wanted to lick and kiss and suck everywhere you’d let him. He would make you cum a hundred times before he even thought about himself.

When you let out a whimper and tugged at his hair, Angel finally released your breast. He pulled back and the two of you just stared at each other for several mong moments. Neither of you said anything, you just breathed heavily.

Your gaze dropped down to Angel’s cock for a moment before you looked back up at him. Without a word, you reached for his zipper as you licked your lips involuntarily.

“Wait, baby,” he grabbed your wrist. When you gave him a questioning look, he murmured your name, “We have all night baby,” he purred as he cupped your face, “First, I want fuckin’ do that again.”

The moan you let out was the most sinful sound you had ever made in your life. And Angel spent the entire night raviging and worshiping your body until the sun rose. He couldn’t keep his hands or his mouth off your nipple piercings, and it wasn’t until you came several times that he finally let you ride him until he came hard deep inside you.

Collapsing down onto the ground in exhaustion, the two of you panted hard. Sweat lined both your bodies, despite losing the warmth from the sun. Angel pulled you in close, wrapping his hard around you and holding you tight.

“That was a nice surprise, baby,” he murmured, “So fucking hot.”

You laughed softly, “You weren’t so bad yourself, Angel.” you teased, hiding how much you truly cared for him.

His hands roamed lazily across your body until they reached your breasts once more. He cupped them, rolling your piercing in his fingers, pulling a soft whimper from you.

“I can’t get enough of these, baby.”

[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.  

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

For the 1,000 followers event (which I am so freaking happy for you about! Congratulations!) Can we get #3 with Manny? Please and a great big thank ya! 😘🩷

Masterlist

Red Light Blue Light

Contains: Mentions of sex, friends to lover, angst with a happy ending, car accident, mild injury, hurt/comfort, fluff. Takes place in a universe where there's no war with the Sons.

2.3K words

More than 19,000 people are injured annually in California hit-and-run accidents.

"Come on Querida, I know it means you'll miss your show but you record it anyway." Manny called you just as you finished work, and you knew when you heard his tone what he would be asking for.

You sighed, "Why not. You better make missing the biggest scandal in reality TV since Willam cheating on Drag Race worth my while."

Manny chuckled, "Don't worry, I'll make sure you have a great time, I'll even buy you dinner at that Taco place a few streets away."

You rubbed your face, "Ok, fine, but next time you want to hang out, you're coming to my place. I'll cook for you and you know I have that fancy craft beer you won't admit to liking."

"Done, that's a fair trade. I'll see you tonight." He sounded so smug.

"Ok Manny, see you tonight."

Manny got off the phone and grinned at Coco, "She coming?" Manny nodded, "Alright, good, I haven't seen her in ages. Are you planning a repeat on the last time, or have you jumped back on the just friends train?"

Manny sighed, "It was one time man, and we agreed that it wouldn't happen again."

Coco tutted, "She didn't just fall on your dick dude. Give it a chance, she might feel the same way."

Manny shook his head, "You see many old ladies around here? You and Hope are the only ones who aren't fucking struggling."

Coco raised an eyebrow, "We'll see. This time next month, she'll be your old lady."

****

Manny had been smiling like an idiot ever since the call and his excitement only grew as sunset drew closer. He and Coco were out on the road, coming back from a day trying to lock down the prisons after Iron War filled the void that the Sons had left.

Coco waved his hand to grab Manny's attention and pointed to the road ahead of them before raising his voice above the roar of the bikes, "Is that y/n?"

Manny nodded, "Yeah." He chuckled, "Her and that car, she might as well wrap it in bubble wrap." Manny would laugh every time you compared his bike with your car and its side airbags and superior crumple zone.

"She must be on her way to the clubhouse, do you think we'll catch up with her?" Manny could see that Coco was calculating the distance between their bikes, your car and the next light.

Manny shook his head, "Nah, we'll just miss her." Sure enough, the light turned green and you slowly pulled into the intersection as they got going too.

It happened in a flash, and Manny could hear the revving of a car before he saw a flash of silver, then an all mighty crash as a vehicle slammed into the driver's side of your car. To make matters worse, the offending vehicle only stayed idle for a moment before reversing and speeding off.

Manny was stuck still as he tried to process what he saw and his mouth opened before he could think, "Go after the car."

Coco was already racing after the pickup truck and Manny sped towards the wreck. He was off the bike so far he almost fell over and then he wrapped his fingers around the twisted metal as he tried to pull the door free, "Y/n, Querida. Talk to me."

He heard a groan but the airbag hanging from the roof stopped him from seeing your face, "What happened?"

Manny relaxed, if only a little, "Someone slammed into you, Coco's got after them…."

A quick look at your legs showed you weren't trapped, but there were more pressing matters, "Manny, I can smell gas."

"Shit, I'm going to pull you through the window, cover your face." Manny took his blade and beat in the corner of the already shattered window before pulling it out of the housing entirely, "Grab on to me."

You stretched across the seat and grabbed your bag before you wrapped your arms around his torso as he leaned into the car and wrapped his around your waist and he let out a breath when he saw your legs were free despite the damage to the car. The movement was fast and left your head spinning as awareness of the pain you were in suddenly flooded into your consciousness as your feet touched the ground, "Ow fuck."

"I know but we gotta get away from the car." He dragged you across the street and the sound of another bike distracted you as Manny called for help.

Manny could tell by the look on Coco's face that he didn't manage to catch up, "I got the plate but the fucker was driving right for the station."

Manny was still holding you up as he finished the call, "Help's on the way. I take back everything I ever said about that car, I think it saved your life."

Coco chuckled, "That thing was a fucking tank. Those fucking pickups, I swear they flatten everything they run into."

"I don't think I'm that hurt. But a fire just caught." Sure enough, when they looked over, flames had started to flicker from the puddle of gasoline.

Manny and Coco shared a look, "The firefighters and EMTs will be here soon, just hold tight."

You nodded, "Can I sit down, my legs hurt?"

Manny shook his head, "Nope, just in case you've rattled your brain we gotta keep you awake."

Before you could say more, the sound of sirens drowned you out and people were rushing everywhere before the rush of water put out the growing fire.

A paramedic came into view and you did your best to disconnect from Manny and stand up straight, "I'm ok, the car took all of it."

The paramedic chuckled, "I can see that, we gotta get you checked out anyway."

You looked to Manny for support but he shook his head, "Go on, I know you've got good insurance. I'll follow you."

You sighed, "Alright. My poor car, I loved that thing."

"I know, but you can replace that, we can't replace you." He sounded more relieved than worried.

The paramedic nodded, "Your friend is right, ma'am, that was a very close call."

****

Manny pulled up to the hospital just after the ambulance and waited in the waiting room while the doctors looked you over. To his great relief, it didn't take long before a woman in a white coat came out, "Your friend is fine. Her thighs are bruised, and she has a sprained knee and a bruise from the airbag. Other than that, nothing is wrong. I don't believe in miracles, but this is as close as it gets."

Manny felt the weight lift from his shoulders, "So I can take her home?"

The doctor nodded, "Yep, we've given her a few days of meds so she can get some rest but other than that the only thing she needs is time."

"Thanks doc, I'll take her home now." Manny knocked and pushed the door open when your voice floated through the wood, "You ready to go?"

You nodded, "Yes but not on your bike."

Manny chuckled, "I had the prospect bring the car."

****

Once the hospital was out of view, Manny took a moment to look over your face before speaking, "Do the cops want to talk to you?"

You shook your head, "No, I wasn't drunk or high and I didn't see the car. There's nothing I can tell them, I can give my statement whenever I want so I can get my insurance payout and that's the end of it."

"I'm sorry, if I hadn't pushed you to come out tonight, this wouldn't have happened." You could hear the guilt in Manny's voice.

"You couldn't have known, this isn't anyone's fault. I'm ok, really." You hoped you'd sounded convincing but the look on Manny's face told you something different, "I want nothing more than to have a nice hot shower, take a few pills and get some sleep. Please don't beat yourself up about this, it isn't your fault."

Manny smiled softly, "Ok I won't but you gotta let me check in on you over the next few days."

You sighed, "Sure, if it will make you feel better."

The rest of the ride was had in conversing about the TV show you missed and by the time you pulled up to your home, Manny was just as pissed as you, "How could he cheat on someone so amazing? With a woman like that too. What's wrong with him?"

You shrugged, "He's a worm with a moustache."

Manny chuckled, "Well, I'll watch the reruns with you tomorrow. I spoke to Bish while you were getting checked out and you've got the whole day with me."

You huffed, "You could have let me know that while we were still in the car, I would have gotten snacks."

Manny placed his hand on your lower back and walked you inside, "We can do that anytime, you need to get some rest."

****

The weight of the day hit you just as you threw on your sleep shirt and hobbled to bed. Manny placed the pillow under your knee and brushed a strand of hair from your face, "You good Querida?"

You nodded softly, "Yeah, very sore but other than that, I think I'll be fine, the shower did wonders."

Manny took a deep breath, unsure how to break the news he got while you were bathing, "The guy that hit you's been done five times for drunk driving. The club's on it now."

"Figures, that explains why he ran." You rubbed your face, "the fact that you said the club's on it makes me think the cops aren't interested."

Manny shook his head, "No, they're not. He used to be one of theirs. Do you need anything else? Name it and it's yours."

"Please stay, I don't want to be alone tonight." You regretted it the second you said it, you had agreed after that night to keep things simple.

Manny smiled softly, "Sure, you want me to take the couch or.."

"Here's fine, if you want to, that is, it's not weird to share a bed with a friend." The way that Manny was looking at you made you think you might be more than that.

"I'm pretty sure I still have a pair of sweatpants around from that time I helped you paint your kitchen, can I have a quick shower and change before I climb into your nice clean bed?" Manny was always so thoughtful.

You nodded, "You do, they're in the bottom drawer and thank you."

Manny smiled, "What are friends for."

Manny was quick, leaving the door open to talk to you while he washed up. His chest was bare when he emerged and you flicked your eyes right to his to avoid gawking, "I can throw on my shirt if you want?"

You shook your head, "No, that would defeat the purpose of showering. I've seen you shirtless plenty of times Manny."

Manny dropped the subject and climbed into bed next to you, "Are you comfortable?"

You thought for a minute before turning on your side and facing him, while Manny repositioned the pillow, "I am now."

Manny smiled softly, "Good." There was a pause as you stared at his chest just inches before you and then you made a decision, one of which Manny seemed to come to simultaneously because just as you went to nestle into his arms, he was stretching them out to wrap around your body.

Nothing was said as sleep came over you, not even a good night but you swore as the last bit of awareness faded that you heard an "I love you" whispered into your ear.

****

The next day was spent smoking weed and eating while Manny's attention stayed glued to the TV so he didn't miss one second of what led up to the big scandal you had told him all about. He got a phone call just after six and hurried to the backyard to take it, coming back with a small smile on his face, "I've got good news."

"Ok, what is it?" You could tell by his tone it wasn't good news for someone.

Many sat down and popped a chip in his mouth, "We found the guy that hit you. Needless to say, he won't be hitting anything in a very long time."

You exhaled through your nose and shook your head, "I don't want anyone getting into trouble for me."

Manny smiled, "He did it to himself, we just gave him a push. Well, Coco did, but everyone else helped."

You took a moment before making your next statement, "I heard you last night and we need to talk about it."

"I meant what I said and I'm not upset heard me. I know we agreed to let go of what happened that night but I don't want to and you almost dying hasn't exactly made it easier to keep my feelings to myself." He had moved closer to you, his leg almost touching yours.

"And if I return your feelings, what then?" You knew what would happen.

His hand came to stroke your cheek, "What do you think Querida?"

Your eyes close unconsciously at his gentle touch, "I love you Manny."

He leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours in a soft request for persimmon before you closed the gap and sealed your lips to his. When you pulled away, his pupils were blown so wide that there was hardly any brown left and his tongue darted out to lick his lip, "As much as I would like to keep this going and have a repeat of that night, I am very bruised and it's not going to be any fun."

Manny scrubbed his hand over his face and huffed, "You're right, plus, I want to watch the whole series before the next episode airs and we don't have a lot of time."

You pecked his cheek, "I love you."

His nose nuzzled your skin as he returned the gesture, "I love you too y/n."

Fin

[drabbles-mc]

Collateral Damage

Angel Reyes x GN!Reader

For Day 16 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: guilt / shock / "I'm so sorry"

Warnings: 18+, angst, language, blood/injury, hospitals

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Angel was overdue for a good whumping. Love this for him. 😌

Angel Reyes Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lilacyennefer @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @queenbeered @littlekittymeow @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @kelpies-shed @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @frattsparty @yourwonkywriter @amorestevens @withmyteeth @winchestershiresauce @nessamc @narcolini @mijagif @choochoo284 @fanfic-n-tabulous @passionatewrites @artemiseamoon @justazzi @camelia35 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Moving into the new house with Angel was supposed to be something reminiscent of a fresh start. It was still Santo Padre, still the border, but it was a place that was going to be something that was just for the two of you. You were thrilled to leave your tiny apartment behind, and Angel didn’t seem too upset about ditching the glorified bachelor pad that he’d been living in for the last few years. It was supposed to be something new, something good.

The two of you hadn’t even gotten all of the boxes unpacked yet before someone came after Angel, but ended up giving you the scare of your life instead.

In the back of your mind, you knew that that was part of the risk. Being with him was always going to have lingering dangers. That was the price of him being an outlaw. Intellectually, you knew that. When the threat wasn’t right in front of you with a gun pointed at your chest, it was easy to say that you were willing to accept that type of responsibility, that you were cut out for being part of the life that he’d chosen. But when he’d gotten home a few hours later to find you curled up on the floor behind the couch, still crying, still shaking, it became apparent to both of you that maybe you should stop and take a beat to reconsider it all.

You weren’t quite sure if you were refusing to leave because you couldn’t handle that kind of change after what had happened to you, or if you were really trying to rally and prove to yourself, prove to Angel, that you weren’t going to quit on what the two of you had. Your reasons for staying changed depending on the day, and how hard it was to get yourself out of bed in the morning.

The two weeks following the incident, you saw Angel more than you had in months. It was admirable, the way that he was pulling out all the stops. He was home as much as he could be, and when he couldn’t be he always made sure to check in on you, calling and texting almost as much as he had when the two of you first started seeing each other. All it took was a break-in and someone threatening to kill you.

Days came and went without incident. There hadn’t been so much as a sketchy vehicle even driving by the house, let alone someone stopping and bursting into it like they had before. If you hadn’t already known better, you almost would’ve thought that what had happened was an isolated incident. But you’d seen the kutte on the man’s shoulders. You knew that whatever it was, wasn’t over.

You were still working through your first cup of coffee, cross-legged on your bed with your computer in your lap, when you saw Angel materialize in the doorway. You’d been observant before, but now that you found yourself on-edge most of the time, hardly anything got past you. You didn’t take your eyes off the screen in front of you, not wanting to look over and see the same look of pity in Angel’s eyes that had been there for weeks. He never seemed to be able to shake it, and considering the state that you were in, that you were still electing to work from inside the four walls of your bedroom instead of actually going to work, you supposed that you couldn’t blame him. It didn’t mean that you wanted to be faced with it all the time, though.

“Hey,” he spoke up, hoping it would make you face him.

Something about his tone made your stomach knot. Still, you looked over at him. “Yea?”

“Got a sec?”

You saw the way that he shifted uneasily on the balls of his feet, trying to decide if he was going to lean against the doorframe or not. It made you shift nervously as well. Setting your laptop to the side, you nodded. “What’s up?”

Stepping through the doorway, he walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat close enough to you so that he could reach out and toy with the loose strings of the comforter right next to your legs. He kept his eyes trained on the stitching as he tried to pull together what it was that he wanted to say.

“It’s about the club.”

A knot immediately formed in the back of your throat. No matter how hard you tried to keep a neutral expression, you knew that you weren’t going to succeed. You gave one slow nod. “Okay. What’s…what’s going on?”

Angel let out a small sigh, head tilting back as he looked up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at you again. “Got a run coming up. Bish said that he needs me on this one.”

You knew that it was only a matter of time before he would have to actually leave to do things with the club again. Running with the MC wasn’t exactly the kind of job that he could do from home, no matter how badly you wanted him to stay with you as much as possible. Still, the thought of him being gone for a few nights made your hands start to shake.

“How long?” you asked, hating how weak your voice sounded.

It hurt him to look at you, how scared you were when he hadn’t even left yet. “Couple days. Not…not long.”

You nodded. There was no point in starting an argument about it—it wasn’t going to change anything. Realistically you knew that you were going to have to get used to being alone again. Angel was your partner, not your babysitter. The nervous heat creeping up your neck was telling you that you weren’t ready yet, but you knew that if you told Angel that all it would do was make him feel guilty. It wouldn’t make circumstances anything other than what they were.

“Okay,” you said, your voice just above a whisper.

His lips curled down into a frown. He knew that it wasn’t okay—that was half the reason that he didn’t want to tell you about it. But he also knew that trying to hide it from you was only going to put off the inevitable for a few days. There was no getting away from it.

“I’ll make sure EZ stops by.”

It was an attempt to reassure you, one that you appreciated. And for as much as you loved EZ, you and Angel both knew that it wasn’t going to be the same. Even if EZ camped out on your couch for the entire time Angel was gone, it wasn’t really going to make you feel any more at ease.

“You don’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, trying to smile and lighten the mood. “He’s a prospect—gotta keep him busy with something when we leave his ass behind.”

It got a tiny chuckle out of you. “Right.”

The silence that followed brought the heavy feeling back over the two of you full-force. Angel shook his head, more at himself than you. “I’m sorry.”

You sniffled, trying to pull yourself together in hopes of alleviating some of the guilt. “I’ll…I’ll be fine, Angel. Really.”

He knew you were lying, to him and to yourself. Reaching out, he rested his hand over yours, interlocking your fingers together. “It’s been quiet since all that shit went down, right?” He paused, and when you nodded silently in agreement he continued, “And I’m only gonna be a couple days. Trust me, I don’t wanna spend any more fuckin’ time in Yuma than I have to. I’ll get these motherfuckers back on the road to SanPa ASAP.” He offered a weak smile.

You tried to mirror the expression, knowing that you were coming up short on it by the look in his eyes. “You better.”

He could feel the tremor in your hand still, despite the reassurance he was desperately trying to give you. “It’s gonna be alright. Those guys…they’re not gonna come back. They’re not gonna try and hurt you again.”

That was the most that he’d spoken directly about the break-in in a long time. The two of you talked around it, alluded to it. He was never good at talking about those sorts of things head-on, not when he didn’t have a solid solution to the problem.

“Promise?” It was an unfair ask, but the word came out before you could stop it.

Angel had always been an expert at guaranteeing more than he could hope to deliver. He gave your hand a light squeeze. “I promise.”

The day that Angel left for the run came sooner than you wanted it to. If it had been a few weeks before, you would’ve gone to the clubhouse with him to see him off, to tell the rest of the guys to be safe and to take care of themselves. You would’ve been joking with them about not having enough bail money to get all of them out of fail so they needed to be careful. This time, though, you simply stood on your front step as Angel shouldered his duffle bag. Neither of you looked like you wanted to go through with what was about to happen.

“EZ’ll be by in a bit, alright?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“You can make him stay if you want. He’s got nothin’ better to do. Promise,” he tried to joke.

You managed a smile that was a little more convincing than usual. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Cupping the side of your face, he pulled you in for a kiss. “I love you.”

You wished that you could stay right there in that moment forever. It’d make life so much simpler if you could. “I love you too.”

Usually Angel would pepper you with a million promises to call and text that he undoubtedly would never keep. He would tell you that he’d be back before you even started to miss him, which was never true. But there was none of that this time. The weight that was slung across both your shoulders, something that the two of you were each forced to carry against your will, snuffed out all of the banter-filled rituals of saying goodbye. You wished that it didn’t.

“I’ll let you know when we get there,” he said, and for once you almost believed him.

“Be safe,” you said with a small nod.

He kissed you again. “We’ll be good.” One more kiss. “Both of us.”

You could’ve dragged out saying goodbye on that front step for hours, could’ve made him miss the window to leave with the rest of the club. Hell, part of you wanted to do just that. You couldn’t quite force it, though. Much sooner than you wanted, he was heading off towards his bike, one long stride after another taking him farther and farther away from you.

True to Angel’s word, EZ showed up hardly an hour after Angel had left. You hadn’t seen EZ since he’d come over to help clean up some of the mess left behind by the break-in. You had no clue what Angel had said to him about any of it, what he’d said to any of the men in the club about any of it. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

Out of the two Reyes Brothers, EZ was the one who had been gifted with a convincing poker face. You had no idea what he was really thinking or feeling about you, about the entire situation. He kept it light, pleasant. He hung around long enough to eat, long enough to give a mild sense of security and that he had fulfilled his duty for the evening.

“Want me to stay?” he asked as he sat at your dining room table. “I brought my stuff.”

It was tempting. You really did want him to stay. You didn’t want to admit that, though. If you set the precedent now that you were always going to need someone to stay with you, when was it ever going to stop?

You studied his face for a moment. You wondered if you would get a different answer to your questions from EZ than you did from Angel. EZ wouldn’t feel as obligated to placate you, to protect you from the monsters under the bed and outside the windows. If you asked him for his honest opinion, you wondered if he would actually give it.

“You think you need to stay?” you asked tentatively.

He didn’t miss a beat. “If you want me to, I will.”

You shook your head. “No, I mean,” you huffed, staring down at the floor for a moment, “do you think that something is gonna happen if you don’t?”

“Those guys want Angel, the club. Not you.” He watched the shift in your expression for a moment before saying, “I’ll stay if—”

“No,” you cut him off, your voice still uncertain in the gesture. “I’ll be fine. I’ll…I’ll call you if I need anything.”

He gave you a nod, his movements easy. He had such an air of certainty around him that neither you or Angel had had in weeks. There was something reassuring about it, even if he was only able to be so confident because he hadn’t been living in the mess the same way that you had. He could handle it all in small doses just fine and not crack, while Angel had to be steeped in it with no break.

Standing up, he started to walk towards the door, grabbing his bag along the way. You followed him, intent on saying goodbye but more importantly doing the locks behind him once he left. He pulled you into a hug when he reached the door, promising you that his phone would be on and close by if you needed anything from him, if you changed your mind. You believed him. You believed most things that he said in a way you didn’t with most of the other men from the club.

You watched from the window until his bike was well down the street. Pulling the curtains closed, you started to set about cleaning up. There wasn’t much to do, but any little task to help keep you busy until you were tired enough to at least attempt to get some sleep was better than nothing.

The sound of screeching tires had barely hit your ears when bullets started flying through the windows and from wall of your house. You screamed, instantly dropping to the floor. Trying your best to stay as low as possible, you made your way back towards the very same couch you’d hid behind before. It wasn’t the best buffer, but it was the only one that was close to you at the moment.

Your hands were clamped down over your ears, knees pulled to your chest and eyes shut tight. The gunfire was fast, incessant. You had no idea how long it had really been going on for, but it felt like an eternity. The guns were going to have to run out of ammo eventually, right?

Then they finally did. The silence felt manufactured, like someone had made a call on a set and they were about to yell action to kick it all off again. You didn’t know if you should get up and try to go out the back of the house, or if you should stay put in case they all opened fire again. The right choice didn’t matter much since you didn’t think that you were going to be able to get your legs to move.

You eventually managed to pry your eyes open. You still felt like you couldn’t quite pull in a proper breath, but at least you could see now. Although, the mess you were surrounded by wasn’t a particularly comforting sight to open your eyes to. You took a quick scan, moreso just to make sure that people hadn’t also entered the house along with the bullets. It all happened over the span of just a few seconds but it felt like so much longer.

It'd been quiet for just long enough to make you think that someone was either about to barge into the house, or they were going to drive off. You were about to try and force your legs to hoist you up when you heard more gunfire. It was different than what you’d heard before. Singular shots, longer breaks between. But it went from just a few to the sounds of an actual exchange and you felt yourself freeze up again.

There was the sound of a few loud thuds against your front door and you couldn’t stop the whimper that slipped out of you. You clamped your hand over your own mouth, trying to stifle the sounds, not that it would do you much good. A few more thuds and suddenly you heard the cracking of the door frame breaking, followed by heavy footsteps.

You were crying now, not even attempting to quiet the sound. Your body was shaking more than you thought it was capable of, heart pounding so hard in your chest you thought for sure it was going to crack one of your ribs. The footsteps kept getting closer and you wished that you had it in you to get up and run, but you couldn’t. The floor may as well have been pulling you down.

Then you heard it, the sound of your name. It was quiet, but intense. It took a few seconds for you to realize that it was EZ who was saying it. He must not have gotten so far away that he didn’t hear the gunfire.

Suddenly he was crouching down in front of you, blood splattered across his clothes. “Let’s get you out of here.” You watched him as he looked you over, his expression steady as ever. “Can you walk?”

“When the panic subsides enough to let me stand,” you thought. You couldn’t get the words out, though, so instead you just nodded. Reaching for EZ, you grabbed onto his shoulder in an attempt to use him as a means to push you up onto your feet. Your fingers dug into the leather of his kutte, arm and shoulder tensing in preparation for the lift, but then you didn’t move. Nothing happened.

Instead of looking at yourself, you looked at EZ. He always had answers. When you took in the look on his face, your heart started to speed up all over again. The frown he had on hadn’t been there earlier. Whatever the situation was now, it must’ve been worse.

He could see that you were about to look at the state of yourself and he spoke up, distracting you as he slid his arm around you to help you to your feet. “You’re good,” he said, a convincing lie. “You’re good. C’mon.”

He got his feet underneath himself enough to help you to your feet. Once you were upright, you were so distracted by the disheveled state of your house that you hardly noticed the way that he was practically dragging you towards the front door. He was shouldering more of your weight than you were, but you couldn’t even feel it happening.

Despite all of the chaos and destruction and mess, your car keys were still somehow resting on the table just inside the front door. EZ swiped them on the way out, knowing that there was no chance in hell that you would be able to get on the bike.

As he maneuvered you down the front steps and towards the car, that was when you saw the destruction that was outside, too. You felt your stomach tighten, feeling dizzy at the sight of the blood and the shot-out car windows. EZ was talking to you, attempting to distract you from the carnage that he’d created in the process of getting to you, but it was too late.

“EZ,” you didn’t even recognize your own voice as you repeated his name over and over, unable to get any other words out, “EZ. E…EZ.” Despite his best efforts you almost sank to the ground anyway. “Oh my god.”

“Look at me,” he kept his voice level, calm. He pulled the passenger door of the car open, sliding the seat back with no grace at all before going to help get you into the seat. “Just look at me.”

You tried. You tried to focus on him, on the way he needed you to move so that you could get into the seat of the car so that he could get the two of you out. But your eyes kept straying back to the mess.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, EZ was in the driver’s seat, slamming the keys into the ignition of the car. You were finally able to watch what he was doing. “Where,” you swallowed hard, “where are we going?”

You assumed he was going to take you to the clubhouse, maybe to Felipe’s—somewhere that you’d be safe while he cleaned up the mess. He didn’t say anything at first, one hand reaching and gripping onto the headrest of your seat as he looked over his shoulder to reverse out of your driveway.

The longer he went without answering your question, the harder you stared at him. A million scathing comments and a thousand other questions were racing through your head as you stared at him, but for some reason you couldn’t seem to force any of them out. You were trying to get yourself to take a couple deep breaths, thinking that if you got your breathing under control, the words would come.

Leaning back in the seat, you rested your hands in your lap as you started to shut your eyes. It was only a couple seconds after you closed them when you heard EZ saying your name again, this time with a little more of an edge to his voice.

Prying your eyes open, you looked over at him. Picking your hand up off your lap, you went to rub the side of your face when you saw that your skin was covered in red. Confusion washed over you for a moment as you stared at your hand, like your brain was willfully not connecting the dots. You could see EZ in your peripheral, looking back and forth between you and the road as he waited for the fallout.

“Where are we going?” you repeated your question from earlier.

He knew that there was no more avoiding it, no more letting you have your denial. “Hospital.”

You felt your brain trying to rouse you into a panic, but you just couldn’t seem to do it. Your heart sped up but you couldn’t make yourself move any quicker. Even if you could, there wasn’t really anywhere that you could go.

“You’re okay,” he said, trying to reassure you despite the evidence stacking up proving just the opposite.

Your eyes widened. “Angel.”

“He’s already on his way back.” He looked at you for a moment, and when he saw the look on your face he elaborated just enough. “Called him when I heard the shots.”

You forced yourself to look out the windshield, your brain caught between thinking about everything that had happened, and trying to distract yourself by thinking about literally anything else. Luckily, it wasn’t much longer until the two of you reached the hospital. EZ managed to help you get to the door, where you were met by a team of doctors and nurses who seemed more ready than you could ever hope to be. You remembered them taking you off in the wheelchair, and telling them that they couldn’t send EZ away because you needed him, but after that everything got fuzzy, and then everything went dark.

All you could see was blinding light when you came to, and for a moment, you thought that maybe you’d actually died. Heaven was a lot harder on your eyes than you thought it would be.

But then you heard the sound of a chair scraping across tile. After a couple long, hard blinks things slowly started to come back into focus. You felt someone’s hand wrap around yours, the familiar coolness of metal rings letting you know that it was Angel. Within seconds you felt his forehead pressed against yours, the feeling of his breath on your skin as he let out a sigh of relief. He squeezed your hand, the compromise for not being able to hold you.

“You’re awake,” he said it like he was reassuring himself that it was true.

You gave a small nod, your voice still not sounding like your own as you said, “You’re here.”

“EZ called—I turned right around. I’m,” he sucked in a short breath to keep himself together, “I’m so sorry.”

The apology made tears spring into your eyes. Hardly awake for a minute and all of the emotions that you’d been drowning in for weeks came flooding right back to you. Your hand trembled in his. “You said I’d be okay.”

He flinched at the statement even though you were speaking softly. He didn’t pull away, his head still resting against yours as he nodded slightly. “I know.”

“You and EZ. You both,” your voice was slowly starting to come back with each word, “you said that I would be okay. That there was nothing to worry about.”

“I didn’t think—”

“You left me,” the words came out strained, fighting with the sob that was trying to dislodge itself from your throat.

Pulling back so that he could look you in the eyes, Angel could see how tired, how broken you were. You could see the tears in his eyes as he looked at you, neither of you still the same people you were when you met those few years ago. Everything was different now. Worse, in some ways.

“I know,” he conceded with a nod. “I know I did.”

Your bottom lip was trembling as you watched him run his thumb over your knuckles. “I don’t think I can do this, Angel.”

He froze. “What?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I can do this. I…I can’t go through this again.”

“We’re gonna handle—”

“And then what?” you cut him off, talking despite the pain that was starting to radiate throughout your body now that you were fully awake. “We wait until the next guy who has a problem with you comes and shoots our house up again?” You shook your head. “No. I, I can’t. I thought I could, but,” you shifted slightly on the bed and felt the pull of multiple bandages beneath your hospital gown, “I can’t. I’m, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, clasping your hand tighter in his as he plead, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you again. I won’t. I promise.”

The tiniest, saddest smile curled your lips. Angel Reyes, always so full of promises. “I know you think you mean that, but…” you trailed off.

“I do mean it,” his words sounded so earnest.

Despite everything that had happened, all that you’d gone through the last few weeks and the fear that had settled so deep into your bones, it was the most sure of yourself that you’d felt in a long time. It didn’t feel good, but underneath it all you knew that it felt right.

“Angel…”

He shook his head. “No, no. Don’t say it like that.”

Tears trickled out onto your cheeks. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

The sadness on his face broke your heart. You knew that on the tip of his tongue were a thousand things he wanted to say to try and make you change your mind. But you could see it in his eyes that he knew that it wasn’t going to happen. He knew that this was too much, that things had gone too far. He knew that this was it.

“I love you,” he said, lips twitching as he tried not to let his own tears escape.

You managed a soft smile. “I love you too.” That hadn’t changed.

Dragging his hand down over his mouth and his chin, he got himself together enough to ask, “Can I still stay here? With you?”

You nodded. “That’d be good.”

He nodded in return, going back to the chair that he’d been in while he was waiting for you to wake up. There was more to say, more questions to ask, but all of that could wait now. You laid in the hospital bed, staring over at Angel while he sat in a chair that looked too small for all of his height, staring right back at you.

[narcolini]

ending the night

angel reyes x gn!reader, comfort/fluff, 1982 words

warnings for descriptions of vomiting

for day 12 of whumpril, using the alternate prompt: foodpoisoning 

a/n: honestly, this is whump in the same way dessert pizza is pizza... sweet but not really deserving of the name LMAO anyway. when in doubt write angel having a hard time, am i right ? 

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas​ 

You’re sitting on the edge of Angel’s tub, finishing up a final text to his brother, from his phone, not yours, while Angel empties his stomach into the toilet again. You’ve lost track of how many times he’s puked now, but it’s enough times to know that your evening is well and truly over. He had barely made it from the taxi to the house when you got here, and has said almost nothing since you’d found him in the bathroom, knees to the linoleum.

Not that you mind. Not that you expect anything from him at all, in this state. If anything, you feel bad for being so helpless. And for not being sick yourself, weirdly, but that’s just how the straws were pulled. Beyond the water you’ve left for him on the counter, and the company, there’s nothing else you can do. You’ve already opened the window behind, invited cool air to draw in and, more importantly, the sharp smell of vomit to draw out. Texting EZ as if you were him, had been your most recent idea; a last ditch attempt to be productive and to improve the already dire circumstances.

‘Well,’ you announce, clicking Angel’s phone shut, ‘EZ says he can swing by the restaurant and get your bike.’ You watch him nod, head bouncing between in the hole of the toilet seat. ‘And I told him it was me that got sick, so he can’t clown you about it later.’

He laughs, all breath, and it echoes around the porcelain. ‘Thanks.’

You smile. He can’t say that you don’t look out for him, even this early into things. Five, six, dates down—formal ones, anyway—and you’ve skipped right to the in sickness part. Which you’re doing pretty well at, all things considered.

‘I can,’ he starts, pausing to swallow in-between, ‘pay you back. For the Uber.’

You shake your head. ‘Forget it. You got the bill.’ And he’s paying twice for that too, with money and stomach lining. ‘You think it was the chicken?’

He sighs, daring to look back at you briefly, forearms on the seat. ‘No idea. Shit tastes like battery acid now.’

You wince. ‘I wish I could make it stop for you.’ You wish you could go back in time and make him choose the beef dish that you had, avoid all of this mess, and finish the drinks you’d had to abandon at the bar. ‘You want me to pass you the water?’

He shakes his head before spitting into the bowl, clearing his mouth of the last bout of sickness. You’re both waiting, really, to see if it will come again. Angel breathing slowly, audibly, catching his breath over the edge of the seat. You, staring at his shoulders like they might give you any warning of it.

The time between is getting longer, you think. A sign that the worst is done with. If he can make it twenty minutes, fifteen even, and keep down the water he drinks, then you can both relax.

‘Fuck,’ he pants, wiping his nose and mouth with the back of his hand. He slumps away from the toilet, to sit on the floor instead with his back to the tub. Arm side by side with your shin. ‘I never looked this good, right?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ you nod, ‘big time. I’m practically tearing my clothes off right now.’

He groans, dropping his head to put it against your knee. ‘Can’t believe you stuck around to watch me hurl, dulce.’

‘I stuck around,’ you emphasise, ‘to help.’ You smile, glad he can’t see from where he is, because he’s too vulnerable right now, and he might think that you’re laughing at him. ‘I’m actively trying not to watch.’

He exhales, pushing it through his lips. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. Was supposed to a good fucking night, y’know, fancy restaurant and shit, drinks.’  

‘It’s not your fault.’ You pat his head, smoothing your thumb over the shell of his ear. ‘We should probably tell the restaurant, though, because it’s definitely their fault.’

And we deserve a refund, you think, but you don’t say it, because he’ll take that to mean that you didn’t enjoy yourself at all. Right now, he would probably take you standing up to stretch as a cue that you’re gonna leave, sick of him already.

‘You think you’re done?’ you ask, bending over your lap to find his gaze.

He sits upright to help you, then nods, and his eyes flick to your lips momentarily. It’s rare that you’d be so close to one another, and able to resist a kiss, but right now’s an exception. You smile, knowing that he’s thinking it too, seeing the yeah, I get it, in his returning look.

‘Give me a minute,’ he says. ‘Gotta, y’know, make myself smell less like puke.’

‘Course.’ You opt for a kiss to his damp forehead before standing, as close to his mouth as you’ll chance for now.

You decide to wait for him in his room, legs hanging over the end of his bed as the shower cranks to life. It’s the first time you’ve been in here, which isn’t the introduction you had expected, a temporary waiting room while he washed the sick from his beard, but it’s a welcome expansion to your understanding of his home. You’ve been to his place before, but never made it past the couch. He has a preference for it, you think, at least in his own place. He’s had the pleasure of becoming well acquainted with your bedroom, ending the night there the last few times that you’ve met up.

It’s not awkward, being in here, but it is new. Foreign like a hotel room. Granted, a hotel room that someone’s already living in, from the full laundry basket, the used glasses on the side table. The unmade bed you’re perched on.  

It doesn’t seem like he was expecting you to be in here today, either. You should ask him about that. Is your place nicer, or is he just too lazy to clean, and simultaneously too proud to let you see his room as it is? You don’t think you’d mind either answer. It’s nice, really. Clean enough, and comfortable in a way that stops you from feeling shy. If you weren’t waiting for the tell-tale signs of more illness, you’d probably lie back, uninvited, and crawl under the covers like it was your bed already.

After a few minutes, the bathroom door cracks open, steam pouring out of it. He must’ve had the quickest shower he could manage, only long enough to douse the sweat and stench off him, and then out again, dressed in just the jeans from before.

He looks exhausted, so tired and disposed of energy, that you can’t even enjoy the sight of him. His bare chest, the tattoos striking across it. You just about fight the urge to throw your arms out and beckon him forward with grabbing, baby hands, because, oh, he looks so helpless, it hurts.

‘Don’t think I got any shit left in me to throw up,’ he grumbles, dragging himself forward.

‘That’s good.’ You throw him a sympathetic smile. ‘Means you’re over the worst of it.’

He makes a sour face, hand lifting to rub over his stomach. ‘Doesn’t feel like it.’

‘You should probably rest then.’

You didn’t think he could look any more sorry for himself, but that does it, that tugs it out of him. His brows sink even further as he nods, unable to argue that he doesn’t need it, but unable to seem keen on it either.

‘Sorry,’ he says, for the tenth time, ‘I ruined our night.’

You roll your eyes quickly. ‘Who says it’s ruined? We’ve got…’ You find the alarm clock, red numbers glowing in the dim room. ‘At least, what, twelve hours before I gotta leave for work?’

And that’s what the extra sulking was for; he really thought you were gonna dip and leave him here to recover alone. He doesn’t realise that if he wasn’t worth looking after, you would’ve left him at the bar, blowing chunks in the stall.

‘You’re staying?’ he asks

‘You’re sick as a dog, Angel. It’d be actual, like, neglect if I left you right now.’

He sighs, finally letting himself collapse on the bed behind you. When you turn, he’s got his eyes squeezed shut, suffering from the bouncing mattress beneath—a misjudgement on his part. ‘If I wasn’t dying right now,’ he says, ‘I’d kiss you so damn hard.’

You laugh, crawling up the length to be beside him and slouch against the headboard. ‘And give me whatever you have? No thanks.’ You pull the cover free from under you, holding it open as you invite him in. ‘Come on,’ you say, ‘get comfy, chulo.’

He steals a look, opening just one of his eyes to see what you’re offering, before rolling into you, his head on your stomach, his arm threading beneath you and the mattress. You set the quilt down again, pulling it up until it’s covering your legs and his shoulders. Then your hand goes to his hair, natural like you do it nightly, rubbing circles around the crown of his head.

‘Hopefully that’s the last of it,’ you tell him.

He hums, speaking into the cotton of your shirt. ‘If I puke on you right now, I’ll kill myself.’

You laugh, bouncing his head with the force and surprise of it.

‘I’m dead serious, dulce, there’s no coming back from that shit. You’ll dump me before I’m even your boyfriend.’

You scoff, grinning still. ‘Not true,’ you argue. ‘But I would use it against you for the rest of time. Hey Angel,’ you tease, ‘remember when you spewed chicken teriyaki all over me?’

He laughs, but it weans off into a groan, his fingers tightening over your hip. ‘Stop talking,’ he pleads, ‘I can still taste that shit.’

And as funny as it is, you really don’t want to smell, or see, or feel, any more fucking vomit, so you oblige. It falls silent and you let it, fingers twirling in his hair still, disrupting the hold of his gel. He breaths evenly over your stomach, pooling warmth on the parts of your skin that the shirt fails to cover.

After a moment, you remember what he’d said afterwards, about breaking it off with him before you’ve officially gotten together. You smile into the question before you’ve even asked, ‘Do you want to be my boyfriend, Angel?’

He takes a moment to answer, and when he does, he’s mumbling it, talking around the ends of a yawn. 'We really gonna do this now?’

‘Yeah, sorry. Bad timing.’ But you’re smiling still, smirking even. Confident of the answer despite his protest. ‘I wouldn’t mind it, though. Just while we’re on the topic.’

The reply you expect doesn’t come, he doesn’t say anything at all. You try to look at him, but can’t bend far enough, not with his head resting as it is. You can just about see the thick black of his lashes, flicking out from closed eyes.

‘Angel?’

He groans, readjusting until he’s lay on your chest, with his arms wrapped tight around your middle. ‘Your boyfriend is very sleepy,’ he says, waking up just long enough to engage and send your heart-rate soaring. ‘Keep doing that shit with my hair,’ he mutters, adding a, ‘please,’ after a moments reflection.

You laugh, light and soft over the top of his head. ‘Yes, boss.’ You thread your fingers in again, as he asked you to, and trail them across his scalp. ‘I think I like you when you’re sick,’ you muse, basically whispering it now. ‘You’re way cuter.’

‘Mhmm,’ he hums, and that’s the last you get from him. He’s asleep before he can deny it.

[theesirenteller]

Nurtured

𝔍𝔬𝔥𝔫𝔫𝔶 " ℭ𝔬𝔠𝔬" ℭ𝔯𝔲𝔷 𝔉𝔞𝔫𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫.

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧 : Coco Cruz & OFC

𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝙍𝙪𝙞𝙯

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: In Which Coco finds solace within the thighs of a nerdy panadería assistant. Both indulge in their desperate need to be loved.

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

[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. 

[ravennaortiz]

❄️Christmas series 💬 Request 💋Smut 💜Fluff 🌵 Angst

Candy Cane ❄️💋

Tree Hunting ❄️💜

Snowflakes ❄️💜

Candy Cane Extra Story ❄️💋

Blanket Fort ❄️ 💜

Clubhouse Love 💬💋

[thegirlwhowritesfics]

Mastermind

NSFW 18+ - Not smutty but smut implied.

It was one of those rare days in Santo Padre where the cool air reminds you that there are four seasons, the scent of death lingers in the air. The leaves, the soil, the grass, all dying as autumn blows through town, everything tinged brown. The click of her boots echo through the empty park as she slides into the cold metal chair, placing her handbag carefully on the ground she pulls out a smaller bag emptying it on the chess board table. 

Her long fingers placing the pieces from their last meeting, satisfied with their placement she leans back, studying the board. Trying to predict his next move. She doesn’t have to wait long, as he slides into his seat, no acknowledgement of her as he slides his next move. 

A smirk dances across his lips as he watches her, her skin glowing, she’s always been brighter than anything in this town. He watches as she cocks an eyebrow studying the board. Her tongue darted out, licking her lower lip, before her teeth sank in. He wonders what it would be like to sink his teeth into her delicate lips, would she enjoy it, or would she shed a tear? He doesn’t know which option excites him more. 

She finally looks up, his hair is out of his normal braids, his curls cascading around his face, a hint of the wildness that sits just under his skin. Her eyes roam, taking in his wide shoulders and hard chest. His tattoos poking out of his shirt collar and his wrists, she lets her mind wander, wondering just how far down his ink goes. Her fingers hover over her next move, and without a second thought she captures two of his pieces. 

A soft laugh escapes his lips, as her eyes meet his dark ones, getting lost in the soft flecks of gold within. 

“One of these days I’m going to stop letting you win,” he murmurs. 

“You’ve never once let me win,” she retorts. 

“No?” he asks, cocking his eyebrow as he makes his next move. 

She gazes down at the board, thinking of her next move “why would you?” she asks. 

He leans back in his chair stretching his legs out, his jeans brushing up against her stockings, the heat from his body making him shiver. 

“Maybe I just want to get back in your good graces,” he smirks. 

“There are better ways to get back in my good graces” she states, making her move, her eyes studying his fingers, wondering what they would feel like against her bare skin, skimming across her ribs, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples between them. 

She can feel the intensity of his gaze, as she looks up meeting his eyes again. His tongue darts out, licking his lower lip, another shiver runs through her. 

“You could get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness to start with” she says, moving her final piece into place “Checkmate” she smirks as she packs up the pieces, as he leans back in his chair, smirking at her. 

She slides an envelope across the table as she stands, picking her handbag up and slings it over her shoulder. As she starts to walk away his hand snakes out grabbing her arm, she can feel his warmth through the thickness of her coat, his fingers setting her alight. 

She looks down at him as he smirks up at her “tell me when and where” he murmurs, his voice tinged with anticipation and desire. 

She reaches into her coat pocket pulling out the card she prepared earlier, dropping it into his lap, leaning down as she brushes her lips across his ear.

“Don’t be late,” she whispers, feeling the shiver run through him. 

Straightening up, she walks back out of the park, her heels echoing against the concrete, his eyes burning into her from behind. 

Once she’s out of sight he picks up the card she dropped, heavy paper, embossed with gold detailing only an address with a date and time, neatly typed. 

He smirks down at the card “checkmate” he mutters to himself as he collects the envelope off the table and heads out of the park himself. 

[myckicade]

Back Home - Chapter One

Summary: You and Che had been so happy. Everything had almost seemed perfect. You hadn't counted on the bastard up and leaving you. Che's return is even less expected. You've carried on, rebuilt your life, and are enjoying where you're at. It's going to be a fight to see whether Che can fit back into the space he used to occupy, if that space still exists, at all.

A/N: C’mon, now, y’all… You know I couldn't pass this up, series end, or not. I wanted to get two others up first, but, as usual, this one just would not leave me alone! Contains spoilers up until... Well. This is the end of the road, so spoilers for the whole series!

P.S. SPOILERS: I’ve had to fuck about with the timeline a bit, as I have no idea whether Taza’s absence lasted five minutes, or ten years. This show is wonky, that way. 

Teaser: It’s been a long time since you’ve found yourself speechless, but here you stand, speechless, and lost, and half-scared of something that doesn’t even exist. 

* 

This can’t be real, you tell yourself, the words shaping and forming and dying in your head before they can reach your lips. Your numb, trembling lips. All of you feels like it’s trembling. The cool breeze blowing in from the open door has little to do with the shiver working its way over your skin, much as you’d like to give it the credit right now. You know your face looks like you’ve seen a ghost. It has to. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to scream, or speak, or even sputter out a single sound. It’s been a long time since you’ve found yourself speechless, but here you stand, speechless, and lost, and half-scared of something that doesn’t even exist. 

Yet, it does. It exists in the shape of six-odd feet of handsome, half-slouching, complete asshole of a man standing on your front steps. The two of you have been staring at one another for entirely too long, since the moment he showed his face, and spoke your name. It was – and still is – pathetic, how easily the sound of his voice made you weak in the knees. 

Oh, this asshole. 

“How’d you get this address?” comes flying out of your mouth so suddenly, it takes you a moment to realize that you’re actually the one who said it. You watch as Che, seemingly just as startled as you, shifts on his feet. 

“I went by your old apartment,” he admits, finally breaking eye contact to glance down at his boots. “New tenant seemed to know you? She told me where you’d moved to.” 

“Fucking Diane,” you sigh, glancing over Che’s head to take in a quick glimpse of the stars. You have a fabulous view of the night sky from here, much better than you ever could have hoped for at your apartment. He’s never seen this, you consider. Not from here. Not like he was supposed to. Che moves, barely a step to the side, bringing your attention back to him. “It’s been a year, Che.” Your tone is firm, probably a little harder than is strictly necessary, but you’ve practiced this. Sure, you may never have expected to see this rotten motherfucker ever again, but you’ve prepared yourself for the scant possibility that you’d one day get the chance to toss him back out on his ass. 

The nerve. The fucking balls this bastard has, right now. 

Che blows out a breath. “I know,” he agrees, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. His eyes are on you once more, a hesitance in them that shines against the light of the porch. You wait a beat, then two, and by five it’s clear he isn’t going to continue. 

“That’s it?” you scoff. “You know?” 

“I can leave, if you’d like?” It’s a genuine offer, you can tell. It’s not a threat. There’s no intentional manipulation in the letters. But then, there wouldn’t be. Che’s never been that type of man, certainly not to you. He’s honest, and decent, and devoted, and you need to stop before you remember every reason why you love him. 

Before you lose sight of every reason to choke him with your bare hands and start caving into every desire you still have to wrap your arms around him, and never let him go. 

Fuck. Angel is right. You’ve gotta’ get out of that book club. 

Focusing back in on the matter at-hand (so to speak), you have two options before you. This is a man you haven’t heard from in more than a year. So much has changed. You’ve changed. He surely has, as well. It’s probably a bad, bad idea to do anything other than turn him away. 

On the other hand… Well… You’ve missed him so damned much, and the idea of watching him drive away for good – again – already has your eyes welling up with tears. Fuck, you really can’t do it, can you? How fucking pathetic. You need, need, need to stick to your guns. Tell him he’s lost his chance. Tell him things are different now. Anything, anything to make sure you don’t weaken in the face of this choice. 

But… Aside from this, this one big, huge thing, he’s never done a damned thing to upset you. To hurt you. The two of you have always played it straight in your relationship, all the cards on the table, full-tilt, no stops, feel free to pass GO! and keep on driving. You’ve thought about this more than once (twice, ten times and better), wondered exactly what in the world could have been so bad, so terrible, that Che had felt the need to run, instead of facing it head-on with you. Stepping out on you has crossed your mind. A late-in-life crisis of some kind. And the ugly possibility that you’ve never really known the man you’ve been in love with. For all you know, Che wants to tell you about the secret family he’s been keeping in Modesto. Wife and kids. Husband and kids. Do you really want to know? 

Glancing up, you find Che shifting around again, two seconds from backing off the steps, and down the driveway to his bike. Whether on impulse, or by some crazy ass design, you make your decision. “Sit down,” you instruct, pointing to a patio table and two chairs set up at the corner of the porch. “I’ll be right back.” He nods, clearly surprised, all over again. You nod once, yourself, before disappearing into the kitchen. 

What are you doing? 

Reaching into the refrigerator, you retrieve two cold beers. You have the feeling you’re going to need one. 

What the fuck are you doing, (y/n)? 

You turn back from the door and pause. Would liquor be more suitable for this conversation? Might send the signal that this meeting is far more friendly than it has right to be. Giving Che false hope is something you would rather avoid, and a night of drinking liquor has never not led you two to the bedroom. 

Decisions, decisions. 

You shouldn’t be doing this, at all. No good can possibly come from it. Who’s to say the man outside is even looking for signs of hope? Two minutes ago, he was ready to ride off into the night, no questions asked. Can’t be he’s really too eager to apologize, right? He had that chance, and all you got was, I know. The fuck are you supposed to do with that? 

Groaning, you shift both beers to the bend of your left arm and retrieve a bottle of Jose Cuervo from the cupboard with your right hand. It takes some maneuvering, but you finally make your way back out to the porch, balancing the beers, the liquor, and two shot glasses in your arms. Che immediately jumps up from his seat to help you, relieving you of the bottle and glasses, and you find yourself thanking him, as always. 

“Thanks, babe.” 

“Welcome, doll.” 

Neither of you seem to know what to say for a hot second, staring at one another from across the table like two deer caught in cross traffic. You can feel your face growing warm, thankful for the dim glow of the Christmas lights you’ve left strung on the porch since early last November. They’re clear, warm and cool shades of white, with the ability to twinkle, and flash, and induce seizures on the right settings. Angel keeps telling you to take them down. (”It’s July, for fuck’s sake!”). Che has yet to comment on them, but you know he has already formed an opinion, which likely mirrors Angel’s, but with kinder, more considerate wording. 

Clearing your throat, you take the seat closest to the door, where Che has chosen to box himself into a corner. He can hop the railing if he needs to make a clean getaway, but strategically speaking, it’s not the smartest move he’s ever made. Still, you pass him a beer, before setting up the shot glasses. Che reaches for the tequila and pours you each a shot. Smooth. Simple. Familiar. Something clenches in your chest. 

“So,” Che begins, lifting up his glass. He looks your way, expectantly, until you do the same. He gives you an awkward half-smile, before you both down your shots. Fuck. It’s good stuff, but that first one tends to hit you where you live. “How have you been?” 

Really? That’s his starter? 

And, wow, it seems like you aren’t going to like any of his attempts tonight, huh? 

Cracking open the can in front of you, you shrug. “Busy, I guess?” Another shrug quickly follows the first. “Had a lot on my plate, for a while. Opening the new store. Buying the house.” 

Che thumbs at the lip of his can, not yet opening it. “I heard about that. Finally went ahead with it, huh?” 

“I did,” you reply, around a sip of Labatt. “Brick and mortar, this time. No more working out of the apartment or driving around town making deliveries.” You look over and find a warm smile waiting for you. 

“I’m proud of you,” Che murmurs, all sincerity and happiness. It’s your stomach’s turn to get all fluttery. “That’s awesome.” 

Darting your attention elsewhere, you quickly down another mouthful of beer. It’s too familiar. You’ve said far too much. “How about you?” you ask, upon swallowing. You’re not looking his way. You can’t. This is already going all wrong. “Been up to anything fun?” Silence reigns for a moment. It’s unsettling, but you manage to bring yourself to look up again. Che is staring at you, all traces of his smile gone. In its place, an expression you cannot name. It’s almost sad, but not quite. A touch guilty, but not completely. You don’t like it, this look he’s sending your way, panic seizing you enough to blurt out, “I see you’ve cut your hair, again.” 

“Don’t do that,” Che replies, almost immediately. His tone catches you by surprise, so low and serious you feel another shiver building at the base of your spine. 

“Don’t do what?” 

Che blinks, just once. “Don’t try to act like everything’s okay,” he continues. “We both know it isn’t.” That shiver climbs a little higher. True and fair though that is, it’s the only way you’re going to get through this. Cool indifference, at its finest. “While I appreciate not being greeted with a toaster upside the head, I don’t appreciate the passive attitude.” 

Damn. Talk about caught. 

“Got rid of the toaster,” you mumble after a moment, brushing imaginary debris from your pant leg. “I’m up to an air fryer now.” A laugh breaks free from Che’s mouth, and you fight the smile creeping across your lips in response. You’ve missed that sound so damned much. 

You’ve missed him so damned much. The way he talks, low and smooth like the finest honey. The way he looks at you, heart in his eyes, like you mean the world to him, ten times over. You never expected to lay eyes on him again, let alone to have the chance to spill out everything you’ve spent endless hours grumbling about to yourself. Practicing in your head. The ugly words you’ve wanted to throw at him, and the calm manner in which you’ve wanted to deliver them. Now is that chance, and... 

And the words won’t jump off your tongue. 

“You’re allowed to be pissed,” Che continues, unknowingly encouraging you toward letting him have it with both barrels. “Hell, I’d be shocked if you weren’t.” 

You sigh, deep and heavy. “I didn’t know what to be, for a while,” you admit, fiddling with the various rings on your fingers. Your right thumb brushes over the circle of silver on your left index finger. A medium sized band, with citrine stones embedded in the surface, and engraved, Love, Che. Even after everything, you haven’t found it in yourself to take it off. Tuck it away somewhere. Toss is out. You should have. You’d still have every right to do it, too. You just... 

Can’t. 

The silence must be getting to him, because Che is suddenly asking, “How are the kids?” Oh, boy. Now, here is where you’d really enjoy giving the man what for. Your poor babies. You could keep your calm for what you have been through, yourself, but your babies? You’ve been silent too long, again, it seems, from Che’s worried call of “(Y/n)? Are they okay?” 

“Flint looked for you, every damned day.” There. Now it’s out in the open. You catch Che’s flinch from the corner of your eye, a smug sense of satisfaction coming over you at the sight. “It was a fight to get him to eat for about a week, he was so upset.” Flint, your old boy, had become Che’s little buddy over your time together. They’d go for rides in the truck together. Have naps on the couch like the two grandpas you’d joked they were. Walk together. Eat together, as far as Che sharing food from his plate. While your dogs are hardly Che’s responsibility, watching Flint suffer through that pain still sits with you like an open wound. Even now, the tears are gathering at your eyes. 

“I never meant to-” 

“Max destroyed some of your clothes,” you interrupt, not wanting to hear his bullshit until you’re done. If your feelings don’t come out now, they never will. “Two pair of pants, some socks, and your brown boots.” You pause, clearing your throat. “Wasn’t a full day after you’d gone. I think she knew.” 

Che grimaces. “Girl always liked to tear my shit apart.” He sighs. “Not that I blame her.” 

“I don’t, either.” You shrug. “I had enough respect for you not to go batshit on the stuff you left behind, and I packed everything away after I caught Max in the act, but the temptation existed.” Reaching out, you pour another shot of tequila for Che, and one for yourself, which you promptly swallow. He doesn’t touch his. “You left just about everything, too, I know you realize.” 

“Kinda’ hard to cram my life in a backpack and saddlebags.” He leans forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, hands folded together in front of his face. He’s quiet for a moment, before bowing his head. “You know... I don’t wanna’ sit here and make excuses, and I’m not going to. I know what I did, and it was a dick move, and telling you ‘I’m sorry’ just isn’t gonna’ cut it.” 

Finally, you fully look at the man beside you. It’s the first time he’s said those words tonight, even if they were only uttered to make a point. He’s right. No apology is going to cut it, not now. Words are just fucking words, something you’ve had to come to grips with over the last year. Actions are what matter, isn’t that what you two have always agreed on? He took off. Up and left you holding the bag on so much emotional shit, you’re still digging out from the avalanche. 

But... He’s here now. That’s action, too. How much does that count for? 

Shaking your head, a bit, you try to focus back in. Too many questions, too many possibilities, and too much familiarity are invading your mind. There is something far more pressing to begin with, prompting you to turn your body in your chair, so that you can give Che your full attention. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” 

Che looks at you for a moment, relief in his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmurs, before nudging the tequila bottle closer to you. “You’re gonna’ want more of that while I do.” 

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Softer Pleasures - An EZ Reyes/OC One Shot Story.

Just a little smutty offering I had revolving around in my head. Enjoy!

Words - 1,104

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

“What is it,” she began, sighing as his tongue rolled in a slow circle, “about going down on me that you love so much?”  

He didn’t reply at first, but the raised eyebrow said enough, looking up at her as he sucked gently on her clit. “I’ve never been asked that before.” He continued to suck upon her, laughing a little, entertained that she should ask him such a thing, right when he was in the middle of doing it. “You’re expecting a reply, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm.”  

“Hmmm.” His tongue flattened against her, dragging over her bud slowly. “Alright, well it feels amazing, tastes amazing, fucking turns me on like you wouldn’t believe, and then there’s the way you react to it. How wet you get, and those little moans. Fuck. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to put my mouth back to making said moans happen rather than talking about them.”

The heat of his mouth had her gleaming as he laved at her once again, the nectar of her cunt saturating his tongue. In truth, words alone couldn’t describe how it made him feel, to pleasure her like that, his heartbeat quickened, skin tingling as little wells of contentment poured through him. And then she moaned again, a seraphim’s symphony to his ears, a summer sonnet of lust, thumbing her clit to gently drag the hood back, the tip of his tongue tracing tight circles, the song of her arousal filling his ears again.  

Pleasure draped over her like the swathe of silk, each flicker of his tongue making her arousal bloom, like summer flowers kissed by the first sun, awakened and reaching towards the light. Each lick was an ember ignited, heat winding and coiling low in her, his breath a hot tempest as his hands stroked over the soft round of her tummy, fingertips flexing as he drove the simmer through her.  

Her panting escalated, her lips parting on a soft cry. “EZ, please, I need...” Her words were cut short by the pull of his lips sucking upon her, the tip of his tongue pushing against her clit, increasing the pressure as she keened against him, her nails flexing against his shoulders. “Yes, like that, just like that!”

He peered up at her, cheeks hollowed, moaning low in his throat, the vibrations from such only adding to the bonfire of ecstasy that crackled up her spine, the burn of pleasure then settling low within her, her soft thighs writhing against his face as his eyes shone gold, his cock throbbing with the need to fill her.  

She drew a breath through gritted teeth, her walls in spasm as her fuse flickered and crackled, primed to explode, his mouth working her hungrily before the desire grew too strongly within him, sitting up and pushing her legs back, her knees pressed to her chest as he skimmed her folds with the head of his cock. He teased her a little before sinking in slowly, spreading her around him, his hands stroking the soft of her thighs.  

He was slow to begin with, enjoying the soaking heat that gripped him, almost every inch of him dragging through her in gentle trawl, his heart thundering as he watched the way she loved it, loved him within her, parting her legs to lean down to her, his lips finding hers. “Fuck, that pretty little pussy is heaven, I swear. God... ahhh.” He was always so overcome to be inside her, and the novelty never wore off.  

It was all languid, like a sensual drip of honey, thick and sweet, their mouths locked as tongues swirled, breath hitched, and moans poured like wine from one mouth to another, her hands stroking the thick planes of muscle that ridged his shoulders. She gripped onto them when he sank into her deeper, gasping against his neck, her teeth laying a soft bite as lightning struck through the marrow of her, EZ sitting up again as speed replaced the slow trawl. 

His gaze fell to watch his cock emptying and filling her, glinting in the low light, creamed with the silken satin of what sheathed him so well, moving his thumb to press her clit, rubbing sweet tingles, his mouth tilting into a grin as she cried out shrilly.  

She tightened around him, a velvet, vice-like grip that began to pull the waves building within him to greater strength, his mouth falling open as he panted hard, rutting into her with more urgency. She began to quake ardently, feeling sparks skittering along her spine and down her legs, moaning contently as he folded to kiss her sternum, moving upwards slowly until his mouth was returned to hers, offering kisses of voracious want.  

Their bodies pushed against each other in heated sync, her legs moving to hook around his waist and grip tightly as she panted against his mouth. Everything became fervidly uncontained, her hands gliding down his well-defined back, the plush velvet of her cunt pulsing around him.  

An upward tilt of his hips as he shifted slightly had her gasping, the hardness within her slick walls nudging different spots and prompting ebullience as she started to glow. His mouth dipped to suck her nipples in turn, a rumbling groan permeating the air, the heat of his cock delicious as she rolled her hips up against him, loving him pinning her there beneath his weight.  

“Ahhh, fuck!” he gritted, driving into her centre in frenzy, teeth grazing the column of her throat, his hips shuddering with effort as lightning struck through him, her own release gathering momentum.

Being unselfish, he kept going until he knew her wails were the siren song of her cresting, her body shuddering against his as she glimmered strongly, wailing into his shoulder. The illumination of golden sunshine gilded her, rays surging through her veins, lighting her up like the darkened horizon at dawn as he quivered against her, cock twitching, pulsing endless, hot waves of cum into her, his groans all grit and gravel before his body slackened, lying breathless in her arms.  

“You know how I detailed why I love going down on you so much?” he asked a few minutes later, still on top of her, stroking the side of her neck as he rested his head against her chest.  

“Uh-huh,” she breathed, still a little spaced out.

“I think I love this more, just lying here with you like this.”  

Truth was, he loved everything about her, every moment, every touch. She knew it, too, lifting his head and cradling his face, offering soft kisses as she hummed with happiness.  

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The New Bartender

Mayans MC Masterlist

Contains: Smut, MFM threesome, fluff, friendly rivalries. No beta read, probably full of mistakes I can't see.

4K words

Out of desperation, Bishop hires a real bartender.

Thank you to @burningtacozombie for the gif.

You looked over the ad, "The pay's alright but I don't think I'm going to gel well here, the poster I picked up didn't exactly say I would be working at a biker clubhouse."

Bishop swallowed and shot a look at Hank; you were the most qualified person they had spoken to all week, and the drinks you had whipped up were to die for, "We realise not putting the location on the ad wasn't the best idea but we're desperate. We can't keep people long and well, we're bikers, we like to drink."

You nodded, "Yep and I've been there and done that, I'm not interested in spending my night being disrespected. At least in a bar, I can get the fucker kicked out."

Hank held up his hands, "If you wanna toss someone, you can. The girls that are left could really use a hand. I promise we're nicer than we look."

You sighed, "Fine, a two week trial, you do sound desperate. But I ain't putting up with any shit and don't think I'm not going to take someone's keys from them."

Bishop smiled and stuck out his hand, "Done, you're hired."

You shook it and sighed before shaking Hank's hand too, "I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting two weeks."

That was two months ago, and aside from a few growing pains and walking out with all the other women in the middle of a party after a particularly rude Mayan took it one step too far, things had been amazing.

"I'll get an old fashioned please." You mixed the drink in a flash and slid it across the bar to Bishop, "Thanks."

You smiled, "Don't mention it. I know I've asked you this before but have you considered broadening your horizons? Maybe try something a little different."

Bishop sighed, "What do you recommend?"

You ran a finger over the liquor bottles, "You ever had a dark and stormy?"

He shrugged, "Probably."

"Ok then, when that's drained, you can give it another go." Bishop walked away with his drink and Guero and Bottles filled the space.

Guero gave you his trademark smirk and you handed him a beer, "What do you want? I know that look."

He chuckled, "Who do you like more, me or Mr Magoo?"

The question seemed to roll off Bottles' back, "I'm not going to answer that."

Bottles smiled, "Nah, we want to know."

You shook your head, "No, and if you keep this up, I'm cutting you both off."

Guero looked you up and down, "That's what we like about you y/n, this take no prisoners attitude is very hot."

You huffed, "You've both made your attraction pretty clear and it's not happening, I'm not going to be your tool to show up the prospect."

"Maybe we're just going to ask you to have a drink with us." Bottles hadn't yet developed the charm that some of the patched members had and if it wasn't so cute, you might have felt sorry for him.

"Come on y/n, I wouldn't be showing him up, we'd be helping the poor boy. You see how shy he is." You rolled your eyes but Guero continued, "All this flirting we've been doing has to go somewhere, just say yes and we'll show you a good time."

There was no denying they were attractive, and if the rumours you heard around the clubhouse were true, they knew what they were doing, "I'm not going to have sex with Bottles because you wanna torment him about it, that's really gross dude."

Bottles smiled, "That's not what it is, he's got a big mouth and I want to prove him wrong."

You blinked, you had no idea where his sudden confidence came from, "What fucking cave did you two crawl out of?"

Guero raised a hand in placation, "It ain't like that, we like you and we want to show you a good time, if you'll let us."

You sighed, "Fine, but no fucking bullshit and this doesn't mean I'm getting passed around." You held up a finger as the smirk grew on Guero's face, "Any fuckin bullshit and I'm putting you both out on your asses, understand?" They both nodded aggressively, "Good, I'll see you at my place tomorrow at six and bring food."

****

You rubbed your face as they fought over the last spring roll, "I swear to shit, cut it in half or I'll eat it." They stopped like little boys caught in the middle of roughhousing and did as you asked, "Thank you."

Bottles shifted in his seat and pushed up his glasses, "Thank you for agreeing to this."

You smiled, "You're both very handsome and I'm hoping to have fun too, it's not a big ask."

The corner of Guero's lip ticked up, "Oh, you're going to have more than fun."

You rolled your eyes, "If you keep bragging, I'm going to think you're overcompensating for something."

"Oh trust me, I'm compensating just the right amount." Sometimes his smug tone made you want to punch him.

Bottles shook his head, "You don't need to worry about that with me, I'm secure."

"You know, it might serve you to be this confident all the time, I like this side of you." He positively beamed at your praise. Guero kicked him under the table and you slapped his chest, "None of that, be nice to him."

Bottles smiled, "Yeah, be nice to me."

Guero's jaw ticked, "You are so in for it Prospect."

You shook your head and stood up, "I'm going to fix up the bedroom, I expect my kitchen to be clean by the time I invite you into my bed." Guero would have taken the chance to make Bottles do it had you not stopped him, "Both of you. You don't want me thinking you're lazy would you?"

Guero shook his head, "I love cleaning."

"Sure you do, you got ten minutes." With that, you headed to the bedroom and left them to rile each other up for the upcoming fun.

At eight minutes, you walked out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen, looking around before smiling, "Great job, shall we?"

Guero slapped Bottles on the back and grinned, "We shall."

You followed them into the bedroom and Guero flopped himself on the chair by the bed while Bottles stood in the middle of the room, "You're not taking part?"

Guero's tongue darted out and licked his lower lip, "I'm alright with watching, I'll step in when he can't do the job right."

You ignored him and stepped closer to Bottles, taking his glasses off his face and handing them to Guero without looking at him. "Are you sure you're alright with this? I don't want you to do anything you're not one hundred percent into."

He laid hands on your cheeks and smiled, "I'm really alright with this, trust me." He leaned in closer and bumped your nose with his, "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded, "Yes, I would like that." His lips were gentle when he pressed them to yours, holding a quiet confidence that made your skin burst out into gooseflesh.

One hand left your face and made its way down your body to unbutton your top before sliding it off your shoulders, "Holy shit."

You could feel Guero eyes on your body as he took in your bare skin, and you broke the kiss, "It's just my back dude."

He chuckled, "Yeah, but I can tell you got a hot bra on, and the Prospect's too busy kissing you to appreciate it."

Sure enough, when you turned back, Bottle's eyes were stuck on your lace covered breast, "It is a nice bra."

You nodded, "Yeah, you wanna take it off me?"

Bottle's hands rushed to remove it as his lips found yours again, "Wow Prospect, I thought you were a virgin but the way that bra came off makes me think we might be alright yet."

You broke the kiss again and shot a look at Guero, "You did crawl out of a cave, virginity isn't real."

Guero chuckled, "Sorry, continue."

Bottles' lips moved to your neck when you turned back this time, that same quiet confidence coming through as his hand moved to your breast to play with your nipple. His hand went to your ribcage and pulled you close as the other moved down to the zipper of your jeans, "Can I?"

You nodded, "Yes please." The zipper came open and a warm hand slid inside before settling over your covered core to cup you through your panties.

"You gonna take her jeans off Prospect? It ain't fair that you're keeping her all of yourself." Again, there was something in Guero's tone that made you want to punch him, he was clearly enjoying the power.

Bottles pushed your panties aside and his fingers grazed your bare flesh, "How about you come over here and do it yourself, I'm busy."

Guero hopped up with a skip in his step and took two long strides over to the middle of the room. His hand were warm as he ran his knuckles up and down your sides, getting lower and lower with each pass before finally going low enough to pull your jeans down your legs, "Did you dress up for us?"

Bottles' calloused fingers finally making direct contact with your clit made it hard to reply, "I think she did, but unlike you, I'm grateful for it."

Guero went to reply, but you mustered your own, "I did it for me, I like nice lingerie. As far as you know, I could have been wearing something like this four nights a week."

Bottles swallowed and flicked his eyes to Guero who smirked, "Our bad, apologise Prospect."

Bottles didn't respond, and your panties went next while he gathered wetness from your entrance before sliding two of his thick fingers inside you. Guero stepped back, flopped on the bed, and pet the spot beside him, "You two wanna join me?"

You whimpered as Bottles pulled his fingers out and stepped backwards towards the bed, sitting on the edge as Bottles stepped between your legs, "You're both overdressed."

You reached out, pulled Bottles' belt free and yanked his jeans down while he removed his shirt and then a bare chest was being pressed against your back and Guero's lips grazing your neck, "Hey, fuck off, it's my turn."

Guero sat back, propped up on the headboard and smirked, "Sorry man, you were just taking forever."

You shook your head in disbelief, "Do I get a say in any of this you fucking troglodytes?"

Bottles suddenly looked very smug, "What do you want?"

You heard Guero's jeans coming off as they waited for your answer, "I want you to fuck me."

Bottles grinned and leaned over, forcing you to lie back, "I can do that."

You made your way up the bed and settled on the pillows and Guero bent over to take you into a kiss. His hand found your cheek and he pulled back while his thumb stroked your skin, "You want me to fuck you too or are you going to make me sit here and watch?"

Eyes got wide as you watched Guero's hand slide down his body to take his dick out, "Holy shit."

Guero chuckled, "That's not an answer."

You blinked, "That thing is fucking huge, what the fuck do you want me to do with it?"

Guero shrugged, "Whatever you want, I'm not fussed."

Bottles tapped your hip gently and drew your attention back to him, "Well you can decide later because I want to make you feel good, can I do that?"

You nodded, "Yes please."

Guero stroked his dick lazily, "So polite, who knew you had such great manners. Did you know about that Prospect?"

Bottles was looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive, "She's always sweet to me, it's not my fault you're an asshole."

"Can someone please do something before I have an aneurism?" No reply came from either of them as Bottles made his way all the way up the bed and hovered over you. His lips touched yours, the kissed deeper this time as his free hand rubbed your outer thigh and you placed one hand on his side and the other reached out to grab Guero's cock.

Bottles grabbed your wrist and shook his head, "Don't."

"But I want to." Your tone was far more desperate than you intended

Guero looked for you to Bottles and chuckled, "Yeah Prospect, she wants to. Are you going to deny such a beautiful woman?"

You could see the wheels turning to Bottles head before he let your hand go, "Alright, only because you've been so good."

Guero wrapped his hand over yours and placed it over his dick, moving in a barely there stroke, "Like that yeah?"

You nodded, "Ok." He smiled and leaned back, enjoying the sensation as he watched Bottles' lips return to your skin.

You slid your hand from Bottles' side and removed his boxers and his hard cock sprung free, "Well look at that, the Prospect's packing too. Who knew?"

Bottles chuckled, "Yeah, and unlike you, I know how to use it."

You huffed, "Can someone please fucking do something instead of just bickering, I could have gotten myself off five times by now."

Bottles smiled and nibbled your neck as he made his way to your breast, and Guero's hand wrapped over yours again as he tightened your grip slightly before pulling away once more. Bottles lips wrapped around your nipple as his hand came up to play with the other but Guero slapped it away, "You don't get to have all the fun, I've barely touched her."

Bottles took the chance to take to the hand that was on your breast and place it back between your legs, and you took in a breath as he went right back to where he was before, with his fingers sliding inside you.

Guero's finger moved in broad, teasing circles, his fingertips bearly touching your breasts as he moved closer to your nipple. Bottles, however, was kissing your flesh like it contained the answer to the universe. Before you could relax into the feeling, Bottles was pulling away and kissing down your body to your core.

Guero picked up the slack, his hands becoming more insistent as he had more room to work, and Bottles' fingertips crooked upwards to brush your G-spot as he used his other hand to lift your legs over his shoulders. He lifted his head and made eye contact with you before giving you a soft smile, "Can I?"

You nodded and wove your hand into his hair, "Please." His lips sealed around your clit and Guero shuffled down so he was lying next to you before taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss. Guero swallowed your moans as Bottles worked you closer to the edge, all the teasing and stopping finally catching up with you as the orgasm rushed towards you like an oncoming train.

You bit down on Guero's pillowy lower lip and he let out a feral grunt as your hand tightened around his cock. You pushed Bottles head closer and ground yourself on his face as your clenched around his fingers and Guero broke the kiss to watch as pleasure overtook your body, "Fuck, that's so fucking hot."

Bottles pulled back and wiped his face with his palm and kissed back up your body, taking your chin in between his fingers and pulling your head away from Guero and towards him as he took you into a kiss. Guero's breath caught in his throat, but before you could act on it, Bottles grabbed both your wrists and pressed them into the pillow by your head, "Keep them there."

Guero was taken aback but recovered quickly, "I was going to complain but this might be better than the handjob."

Bottles removed his hands from your wrists and slid them down your body and bent your knees so he could slot himself in the space between them, "Condoms?"

"Top drawer." Guero twisted himself around and reached over, rifling through the drawer with a smile before pausing to look at something.

A smirk grew on his face as he pulled out a bullet vibe, "What's this?"

He and Bottles shared a look but you shook your head, "Next time."

"Alright, next time it is." Guero shot Bottles a pointed look and when he stayed quiet, the box of condoms was lobbed at his head, "You got something stuck in your throat? She's saying there's going to be a next time."

Bottles' brain caught up with his dick because he was grinning, "Hell yeah, I can't wait."

He picked the condoms up from where they had landed and pulled one out of the packet before opening it and sliding it over his cock. His hands ran up and down your legs as you threw them over his waist and he rubbed his cock up and down your slit and looked into your eyes in a request for permission, "Please."

He slid inside you slowly, biting back his moan as he bottomed out. Guero rested his hand on your cheek and turned your head towards him for another kiss as his hand returned to his dick. Bottles rocked his hips slowly, working up to a steady pace as he held himself above you on his elbows.

You pulled your hands off the pillow and wrapped them around his body, Bottles making no move to stop you as his hips picked up speed. Beside you, Guero tutted and slapped Bottles' shoulder before pushing him slightly, "Have you forgotten something man?"

Bottles hips barely slowed as he shook his head and Guero rearranged himself so he could slide his hand between your bodies to rub your clit, "The fucking basics man."

It took a few thrusts for them to get the rhythm but before long, the sensations overwhelmed you, "I didn't fucking forget man."

Guero smirked, "Ah I see, if you can't handle it I can take over."

"No, please don't stop." That only spurred Bottles on as he picked up speed, and then he was the one batting Guero's hand away as he took over. There was more light shoving as Guero pressed his lips to yours, and Bottles kissed your neck, giving you no time to warn with as the second orgasm swept over you.

Bottles' pace faltered, and they swapped places as he climbed his own high. Through the haze of pleasure, you were vaguely aware that Guero was nibbling bruises into your neck, but before you could protest, Bottles' breath shuddered, and he pulsed inside you.

Your hips twitched as Bottles pulled out and rolled off you with a chuckle, "Sorry."

Guero huffed, "He's not sorry, look at him." He rolled you over onto your side facing him and took your head in his hands, "Don't worry y/n, I'll be nicer to you."

Bottles settled behind you with his chest pressed against your back and ran his hands up and down your body while he pressed his lips to your upper back, "Do you believe him?"

Guero was brushing your sweat stuck hair from your face with a gentle smile, "I do."

There was a rush to find the condoms and Guero paused like he was deep in thought as he held the little square package, "What is it?"

He smiled, "I'm thinking about whether I should go down on you first, it's no fair that the Prospect gets all the fun."

You thought for a moment, "I think that might be a bit too much, my brain feels like it's swimming in maple syrup."

Guero smiled, "Maple syrup, are you a secret Canadian?"

You shook your head, "No, I was worried if I said chocolate syrup you'd leave us to get a hot fudge parfait."

Guero chuckled and pecked your cheek, "I wouldn't dream of it and that's alright, I'm happy to skip to the main event." He rolled the condom down his dick and lifted your leg over his hip before running his cock up and down your slit, "You wanna keep going? You don't need to say yes, we can do something else if you're done."

You smiled, "No, I want to keep going."

Bottles chuckled behind you and reached over to shove Guero lightly, "Who's denying the beautiful woman now?"

Guero snorted, "Hey, I'm being a gentleman." He sighed and his lips met yours as he began a slow, steady slide inside you. He paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his ample size before slowly rocking his hips, "You good?" His voice was tightly, clearly feeling the outcome of his own delayed pleasure.

You nodded, "Yep."

Bottles pulled you away from Guero and you twisted towards him like a pretzel so he could kiss you while Guero's hips picked up speed, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Guero exhaled sharply, "You wanna say that again?" Guero's fingers found your clit in an instant and he flashed a grin at Bottles, "I don't forget." He rolled his hips into you and Bottles swallowed your gasp as Guero brushed your G-spot with each forceful stroke.

Your breath caught in your throat and Bottle's lips turned gentle on yours, the mix of rough and gentle intensifying the sensations even. Bottles didn't let you pull your lips away to warn Guero of your oncoming release and you swore you could hear something break in his brain as you clenched around him, "Fucking fuck."

Guero yanked you away from Bottles and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that left your head spinning as he followed behind you, taking his hand from your clit and gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises.

Guero rolled away from you and you flopped onto your back, unable to move much more without rolling onto Bottles, "Fuck that was amazing."

Guero chuckled, "You said it Prospect."

You sighed and pushed yourself up, "I really need to go have a shower, I'm all sweaty."

Bottles followed, looking helpful as always, "We can join you, I had a look at your shower and it will fit all three of us."

Guero shook his head, "What are you talking about Prospect, I'm going to help y/n clean up and you're going to change the sheets."

You crossed your arms over your chest, "Nope, I'm going to shower all by myself and you're both going to change the sheets, they're in the drawers under the bed and there are spare pillows in the cupboard." Guero glared at Bottles and you held up a finger, "No fighting or you'll be sleeping on the porch."

Bottles eyes went wide, "I wasn't fighting, it's all him."

You shook your head and turned on your heel, "Don't think I can't see how you rile him up. I'll be out in ten, that should be enough time."

Thankfully, when you came out of the bathroom, there were fresh sheets on the bed and they were getting along. They took turns in the bathroom and Bottles was thoughtful enough to bring you a glass of water while Guero glared at him.

You stretched and yawned then climbed into bed, Geruo and Bottles following after you, "So, who do you like more, me or Bottles?"

You shook your head, "I like you both equally now can I please get some sleep, I'm worn out."

Bottles chuckled, "That's my plan but I get the feeling that he's going to want to talk."

Guero reached over you and shoved him, "Do not, I know when to shut up, unlike you."

You huffed and climbed over Guero to turn off the lamp, "Goodnight, both of you."

They got the message because they arranged themselves so they could touch you, with all your legs entangled in a mess, while placing their arms strategically over you. Guero pressed his lips to your temple, "Goodnight y/n."

Bottles went next with his lips falling on your cheek, "Goodnight, thank you for tonight."

Guero kicked him softly, "Show off."

Fin

Y'all want this to become a thing? I'm not above making this a thing, where's there's I love yous and non sexual cuddling.

[drabbles-mc]

Always Here Anyway

Mayans S5 Spoilers Ahead (no plot spoilers, just a new character)

Guero x F!Reader

Prompt: "I remember the first time we met."

Warnings: 18+, language, fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: There is no real plot here because we know so little about his character. But Guero is my baby boy now and no one can stop me from becoming obsessed with him. 😌

Modified Taglist b/c it's a season 5 fic: @garbinge @withmyteeth @artemiseamoon @proceduralpassion @justreblogginfics @ciniluv @thegirlwhowritesfics

(pic is from the Mayans twitter account but I will barter fic for more gifs of this man)

The only sound in your small apartment was coming from the television in your bedroom. It was late enough, or early enough depending on how you wanted to look at it, that the streets outside your place were actually quiet. No cars, no fights, no motorcycles. Light from the lamp across the street barely made it to your bedroom window. The blue light cast off by your TV was enough to illuminate your bed and the wall behind you. It was more than either of you needed at that point.

Guero’s arm was looped around your back, his hand resting comfortably on the bare skin of your thigh. Even beneath the thin top sheet of your bed, you could still feel the extra warmth coming off his palm, seeping into your skin from the pads of his fingers. You smiled to yourself at the easy comfort of it as your cheek rested against his chest. The steady beat of his heart was easier to feel against your face when his kutte and his t-shirt were both discarded on the other side of your room, leaving the two of you skin to skin.

You shifted slightly, just enough so that you could look up at his face. The hand that wasn’t holding you was resting behind his head, elbow bent and jutting out as he rested back against the pillows that were stacked underneath his head and neck. There was enough light from the TV to see the ink that went down the side of his neck. His half-hooded eyes were still trained on the television. Your smile grew a little wider as you watched him fighting to stay awake even though he was clearly exhausted.

He must’ve felt you smile against his chest, because he glanced down at you, eyebrows raised to punctuate a question he hadn’t asked you yet.

“What?” he finally said, a cheesy little grin appearing on his face too as he looked down at you.

You shook your head. Bringing one hand up, you placed your palm on his chest where your cheek had just been before resting your chin on the back of your hand. “Nothing.” You paused. Not that it was what you’d been thinking about before, but you still asked, “You staying over?”

He laughed, pointing towards the window with his hand from underneath the sheet. “I already did. Sun’s gonna be up in a couple hours.”

“Mmm…” you hummed, tilting your head back and forth like you weren’t quite sold on what he was saying. “I think it might be more than a couple.”

He shook his head, letting his fingers drag lightly over the skin of your thigh. “This you saying you want me to go?”

You laughed as you rolled your eyes at him. “I didn’t say that—don’t be dramatic.” You moved your leg so that it was draped over one of his. “You can stay.” You paused for a moment as you laughed. “Might as well clear a drawer out for you at this point.”

Now it was his turn to roll your eyes at you. His feigned annoyance only lasted a second as his childish grin returned. “I didn’t unpack my shit at my own place. You think I’m gonna take the time to unpack it here?”

“You still haven’t unpacked?” you asked with a laugh.

He shrugged, holding his hand out for a moment as if to emphasize his question of, “What? When would I have had the time?”

Your grin softened into a gentler smile. “That’s true. You’re always here anyway.”

“See? That makes it sound like you want me to—”

You cut him off, leveraging yourself against him just enough so that you could catch his lips with your own. You both laughed into the kiss, Guero’s arm winding tighter around you, making it harder for you to pull away, not that you really wanted to. He brought his other hand from behind his head and placed it behind yours instead.

When you finally came up for air, you couldn’t help but to let out a soft, breathless laugh. “I like you staying over. Even if you’re living out of your backpack like a fuckin’ runaway,” you added on with a smirk as he brought his hand to cup the side of your face.

“Want me to move in?”

You couldn’t stop the laugh you barked out at that. “Hold your horses, there, caballero. I didn’t say that either.”

Neither of you said anything for a bit after that. Both your laughter and his drowned out the voices coming from your television for a minute. It wasn’t long until you were settled back almost how you had been before. If anything, you were a little more tangled up now. You felt your eyes starting to grow heavy as some of your attention drifted back to the television. You were only half-watching, half-listening. The other half of you was listening to Guero’s heartbeat, paying attention to the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.

Even though you could feel yourself getting more and more drowsy, you didn’t miss the way that he tilted his head so that he was looking down at you. Not moving, you smiled and gave the tiniest shake of your head that you could manage.

“Yes?” you said, sleep creeping into your voice.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“I can feel you staring at me,” you murmured against his chest.

He squeezed you tighter. “’Cause you’re hot.”

You laughed. “Mhm.” You sighed contentedly, settling more against him. “What’re you thinking about?”

He pressed a quick kiss to the edge of your forehead. “You.”

You huffed out a soft chuckle. “Oh, yea?”

“Yea.”

“What about me?”

He lightly squeezed your leg. “You remember the first time we met?” he asked, and you could hear the way he was trying to hold back his own laughter, his voice dramatically wistful. “I remember the first time we met.”

You laughed, opening your eyes all the way and turning to look up at him. “Guero, it was like three weeks ago. I sure hope you remember the first time we met.”

He looked down at you, the charming grin on his face beaming even more than before when you didn’t think that that was possible. He laughed, and you could feel the vibrations throughout his chest as he did. “I do.”

For all his charm, and despite all the nights that he’d been crashing at your place because he refused to unpack and settle into his own apartment, things weren’t all that serious between the two of you. It was new but still comfortable. More than that, though, it was fun. What you had was working for the time being, and neither of you seemed to be in a rush to push it to be anything more than what it was.

“Three weeks and now look at you,” you said with a soft laugh as you kissed his chest before resting the side of your face back against it again, “you’re basically moved in.”

You heard the sound of his head hitting the pillowcase behind him. ��One backpack at a time.”

[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.

[theesirenteller]

*•.¸♡ 𝙍𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 ♡¸.•*

Neither of the two Mayan Members thought they'd have a loving brotherly bond, especially after Ez's passing. Nor did they think they'd fall for the same girl. Let alone be madly in love with her. she opened their eyes to a new kind of love.

Contrary to popular belief, they don't have her near the club or familiar with it's members. Angel having a shorter temper than Manny, Has no time for slick comments or slut-shaming their princessá.

Felípe is a respectful towards his son's woman but doesn't approve of the Throuple dynamic.

Letty is practically their child. She and the men's princessá have a mother/daughter relationship

Angel and Manny have two daughters outside of the relationship with their Amor but; with her they have three. Three boys.

No paternity test was done because they're their son's regardless but the boys have features that resemble their fathers individually.

Familía

They live in a large home in between Yuma & Santo Padre in a coastal town called Florentine. The home isn't a mansion by any means. It's an old colonial home that both Angel and Manny take time to repair.

Their princessá runs a small latin bakery shop in town just a few miles away from their children's school.

Due to Manny being a mechanic; he restored a Volkswagen van for their family. But, it's mainly for their Princessá & the children.

Despite Felípe being weary of the relationship his son has; He still comes over every Sunday for dinner and spends time with his grand children.

Manny's parents are much more stricter and religious so they don't come around as often as Felipe. But when they do it's for holidays and always bring Bella's mother.

Despite the men always telling their princessá not to wait up for them, she does. Majority of the time it's she and angel and other times just She & Manny. When it's angel, they'll sit on the porch with with beer & wine coolers. When it's Manny they'll share a cup of tea or coffee. When it's the three of them, it'll be spiked horchata because it's rare they all three stay up late together.

Caught up in the moment Angel always say he wants more babies and Manny isn't opposed to it either. Until oops, Their girl actually does get preggo again and Angel is the one freaking out and earning a smack on the back of the head from Manny.