#Mayans fx

[tinyshyteacup]

Tw: cussing, kidnapping, captivity, firearms (mentioned once)

Part 5

Novel Attraction - Part 6

The soft hum of motorcycles, faint voices in the distance, and the sound of gravel crunching under heavy boots filtered into the trailer like a low, ever-present current. The early morning light bled in through the blinds in dull gold slants, cutting across the room in harsh, angled shapes.

You stirred slowly, blinking up at the ceiling like you weren’t entirely sure where you were.

Then it came back—the trailer, the Mayans, the locked door. Your chest tightened.

Your fingers clutched at the edge of the blanket as you sat up, the fabric oversized around you, still carrying a faint scent that wasn’t yours—clean detergent, leather, and something warm and worn-in. Angel’s hoodie.

You rubbed your arms, standing in the small bedroom end of the trailer with just enough room for yourself you dragged your own clothes back on.

Once you stepped beyond the curtian you scaned the room. A tray of food sat near the door on the counter.

Toast, some sliced fruit, and a bottle of water.

Your stomach clenched with both hunger and mistrust, you lifted the plate and sniffed it. “Seriously… what the hell do they want me for ?” you muttered under your breath.

You didn’t touch the food.

Instead, you drifted to the window, peeking out through the blinds like someone in hiding. The yard was starting to wake up—men laughing, swearing, working on bikes. The sounds were loud out there.

Wolves in leather.

Angel was leaning against a stack of tires near the garage, his sleeves rolled up, tattoos stark against his forearms as he smoked a cigarette and talked with EZ, Coco and Gilly.

He looked over.

Right at the window.

Your breath caught and you pulled back too fast, bumping your hip into the counter, hand going to your ribs protectively.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock—two soft taps and then the door creaked open without waiting for a response.

"Querida… you awake?”

You didn’t answer.

Angel stepped in, shutting the door gently behind him, eyes immediately scanning you where you stood barefoot on the vinyl floor, arms crossed over your chest like a shield.

“Didn’t touch the food,” he noted, glancing at the tray.

You didn’t hide your suspicion. “Could be drugged.”

Angel exhaled slowly, his head tilting back as if silently asking the ceiling for patience.

"It’s not,” he said. “EZ made it. He’s a dork, but he’s not gonna poison you.”

When you didn’t budge, he stepped over, sitting on the edge of the small table, making himself smaller, less of a threat.

"You still think we’re gonna hurt you,” he said gently.

You didn’t respond. Just looked at him with tired, wary eyes.

“I get it,” he went on, voice quieter now. “You got pulled into some mierda that’s not yours. You don’t know who we are. You don’t know why you’re here. You look at me like I might flip the fuck out any second.” He gave a small laugh. “Shit… I probably would too if I were you.”

Sunlight spilled harsh and unfiltered across the Mayans’ yard, baking the dusty gravel and bouncing off the chrome of parked bikes. The scent of motor oil, hot metal, and stale smoke lingered in the air like a second skin.

A few of the guys were posted up near the porch, leaning on beat-up folding chairs and crates—EZ, Coco, and Gilly all loitering with greasy hands and half-finished beers, the way they did when things were quiet.

Angel stepped out of the clubhouse, slinging a beer from the cooler before dropping into the shade beside them.

“You check on boy scout's roomie yet?” Coco smirked, dragging on a cigarette, his eyes gleaming with trouble.

Angel didn’t answer right away. He took a swig from the bottle and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, jaw flexing.

“She’s fine,” he muttered. “Didn’t eat.”

“She think we’re gonna poison her or something?” Gilly said with a low chuckle. “Shit, maybe its EZ’s cooking, that shits suspicious as fuck hermano.”

“It was toast and fruit,” EZ protested, deadpan. “I’m not that bad.”

Angel let the banter roll off him for a moment, squinting out toward the trailer.

That was enough to make Coco’s head tipped towards Angel with curiosity. He leaned forward, smoke curling from the corner of his mouth.

"Damn, bro. You look like you care.”

“She’s just a job,” Angel replied too fast.

Silence fell for a beat too long.

Then EZ snorted. “Right. A job. That why you gave her your hoodie? Or why you keep calling her querida like she’s your girl?”

Angel threw a stone at his brother—not hard, just enough to make him flinch.

“She looked cold,” Angel said simply, but even he didn’t believe his own brush-off.

Coco laughed, deep and amused, the kind of sound that said he’d seen this play out before. “Homie, I’ve seen you leave girls shivering in their little outfits in your truck. Don’t start playing knight in shining kutte now.”

Gilly leaned over, slapping a hand to Angel’s shoulder. “Just don’t go catching feelings for someone that belongs to Galindo, man. That shit don’t end cute.”

Angel didn’t say anything this time. He just stared off toward the trailer, lips pressed in a firm line, thumb dragging over the bottle label like he was peeling it just to keep his hands busy.

"It’s ain't like that,” he said finally.

The metallic clack of the trailer’s lock disengaging made you freeze, body still curled under the scratchy blanket. Light poured in from the doorway as EZ stepped inside, wearing a crooked, almost too-casual smile like he knew how weird this was but was trying to pretend it wasn’t.

"Hey. Morning,” he said. “Figured it might be good for you to get some air. Come stretch your legs a bit.”

You blinked at him, wary. Everything about this felt loaded—like a test with no right answers. But the four walls of the trailer were starting to feel like they were closing in. You slowly nodded, rising from the seat and tugging the hoodie around yourself like armor.

Outside, the sun was unforgiving and the lot was alive—bikes being tuned, men laughing in too-loud bursts, dogs barking from somewhere behind the warehouse.

You stayed close to EZ, trying to keep your head down, heart thudding as you scanned the space.

Then you saw Coco, leaning against a post, arms crossed, and that familiar glint of mischief—or danger—sparked in his expression.

Your steps faltered.

EZ noticed. He slowed, letting you set the pace, voice softening.

“He’s not gonna hurt you, you know,” he said. “Coco’s just… Coco. He don’t know how to talk to people sometimes.”

You gave him a look, one that tried to be brave, but your fingers curled in the hem of the sweatshirt.

He pulled a gun on me. It didn’t feel like a misunderstanding.

Angel must’ve seen you tense, because he was suddenly there, coming around the corner like he’d been watching all along. His kutte hung open over a white tee, and his brows pulled tight the second he saw your expression.

“¿Qué pasa, querida?” he asked, stepping between you and Coco without thinking.

You looked up at him, voice small. “He… he scared me. Yesterday.”

Angel didn’t even glance at Coco when he spoke. "Then he don’t get near you again,” he said, voice low and certain. “Lo juro. I’ll handle it.”

EZ lifted both hands in a gesture of peace. “We’re just trying to let her breathe a little, bro. You said she needed to feel safe.”

“Yeah,” Angel muttered, “and she ain’t gonna feel that if she’s flinching every time someone gets loud.”

Angel guided you toward one of the plastic chairs by the edge of the lot, away from the noise, from Coco’s teasing eyes and Gilly’s curious glances. He crouched in front of you once you sat, resting his arms on his knees.

“You okay?” His voice was softer now, but it carried that familiar gravity he held when it was just the two of you.

You hesitated, then nodded—just a little. “You’ve given me no idea why I’m even here.”

Angel’s jaw worked, something unspoken flashing behind his eyes. He reached out slowly, giving you the chance to pull away, and when you didn’t, his hand found yours. Big, calloused, warm.

“You’ll know when you need to, querida,” he said.

You were sitting at the edge of the lot again, tucked into a plastic chair beside Angel, a paper plate of food, that had materialized from somewhere, balanced on your knees, untouched.

The sun had shifted past its highest point, leaving the yard in a hazy, golden stretch of quiet. Bikes sat idle, and a few prospects were muttering about chains and tires in the distance.

Angel was lounging beside you in a fold-up camp chair, legs stretched out and hands laced behind his head. He’d been trying to keep things light—pointing out dumb things the guys were doing, telling you about how EZ once crashed a moped trying to impress a girl in high school.

“Swear to God, he told her it had ‘racing mods’ and then dumped it two blocks later,” Angel chuckled, tossing a stone across the dirt. “Still got the scar on his elbow. Ask him.”

You gave a reluctant smile. For a few seconds, it felt like you were just two people hanging out. Then Coco showed up.

He swaggered over, a cigarette dangled from his lips.

“Ayo,” he said, waving lazily in your direction. “Didn’t mean to scare ya yesterday, Thumbelina.”

Your brows knit together. “Thumbelina?”

“You’re, delicate ass is all ‘oh no please don’t hurt me’? It fits.”

Angel shot him a look, jaw tightening.

“Cállate, cabrón.” He leaned toward you. “Don’t listen to him. His idea of charm is threatening a vending machine when it eats his quarters.”

But Coco wasn’t done. He blew smoke away from you and held up both hands like he came in peace.

“Look, I ain’t tryna be the villain here. I didn’t know you were gonna be so... fragile. I thought maybe you were one of those undercover cartel types—like that girl in Miss Congeniality, but y'know with more guns and shit. ”

Angel sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Coco…”

“What?” Coco grinned. “I’m just saying, she’s got that whole ‘terrified creature’ vibe. Kinda adorable, if you ignore the fact she probably thinks we’re gonna sell her to organ harvesters.”

You looked away, unsure if it was safe to laugh or if it would only encourage him. Angel noticed.

“Hey.” His voice dropped as he turned fully toward you. “Querida, mírame. Don’t let him get in your head. He talks out his ass.”

You glanced up, chewing your lip. “He’s not… totally wrong. I don’t know what to think.”

Angel’s face softened. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, close enough you could smell the leather of his kutte and the faint trace of motor oil clinging to him.

“Think this,” he said, voice steady. “If you were really in danger, I wouldn’t be out here talking about dumb stories and trying to make you smile.”

“...You’re trying to make me smile?”

He smirked. “Mierda, you noticed?”

Later, Coco plopped down on the edge of a workbench, watching Angel carefully spoon more rice onto your plate like you were a guest at a family barbecue and not a woman being held under lock and key.

"So, what, we’re playing house now?” he asked, more amused than anything.

Angel didn’t look up. “Nah. She’s just eating. You should try it sometime. Might help with the whole resting felon face.”

You finally cracked a tiny smile, which Coco caught.

“See? Told you I’d grow on you.” He gave you a two-finger salute. “Watch your back, girl. I’m charming as hell once you stop all the crying and shit.”

Angel rolled his eyes as he handed the rice to you.

A beat.

Then "Puta madre, querida" he muttered as he took the spoon and made an exaggeration out of eating a bite himself.

You were inside the trailer again, sitting by the window, watching the club from a distance. Your knees were tucked under your chin, a paper cup of cold coffee cradled in your hands.

Outside, Angel stood by his bike, talking to EZ and laughing—at first. Then Bishop called him over with a clipped, “Angel. Need a word.”

Angel’s shoulders dropped the second he heard that tone. He followed Bishop behind the garage, hands in his pockets, posture loose—but only on the surface. His jaw tightened just enough to give away that he already knew this wasn’t going to be a good conversation.

Bishop didn’t waste time. “She’s getting comfortable.” His voice was low but direct, laced with that gritty edge that meant he was half-daring Angel to push back.

Angel didn’t look surprised. He just nodded once, slow.

“Yeah. She’s scared shitless, Bishop. You want her screaming 24/7? Drawing attention?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Bishop took a step closer, looking him dead in the eye. “You’re getting soft. You forget what she is?”

Angel’s mouth pulled into a humorless smirk. “Please she thinks we’re kidnapping her to sell her organs, and flinches when a bike backfires. Least we can do is make her comfortable, right?”

“She’s not your girl, Angel. She’s a job.” Bishop paused, made sure Angel was listening. “And when the job ends? Galindo doesn’t keep loose ends. You know what that means.”

There was silence.

Angel blinked slowly. His jaw flexed once, then again. He looked away, teeth grinding together behind closed lips. The words hit harder than they should have—and Bishop saw it.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Bishop added, quieter now. “You get too close, it’s gonna fuck with your head. And that’s gonna get someone killed.”

Angel didn’t answer. He just nodded—too stiffly to mean he agreed. His fingers twitched at his side like he wanted a cigarette, or maybe to hit something.

The evening heat was beginning to settle, but you still sat cross-legged on the trailers bench seat in a pair of trackpants and a loose t-shirt, your damp hair tied back loosely after a quick shower. The place smelled faintly of Angel’s cologne and the faint citrus scent of the soap EZ had brought you.

Angel leaned against the kitchenette, arms crossed, watching you talk to EZ with an unreadable look on his face.

EZ sat opposite you on the trailers dinning chair, legs stretched out, shoulders relaxed, smiling gently as you asked questions—about bikes, about club patches, about what a “kutte" was and why the men seemed to follow Bishop like he was some kind of general from an army.

You didn’t notice it, but Angel’s jaw clenched every time you laughed at something EZ said.

You felt safe around EZ. He didn’t have that sharpness in his voice, that heat in his stare. He looked at you like he was on your side—and for a woman freshly kidnapped, that counted for a hell of a lot.

Angel’s hands flexed where they were folded over his chest. He shifted from one foot to the other, barely able to stand still.

"You know,” Angel muttered, interrupting as EZ started to explain something about the club’s hierarchy, “You don’t have to listen to everything he says like it’s gospel. He didn’t invent the MC world.”

EZ glanced at his brother, eyebrows lifting slightly in silent warning.

You blinked, glancing at Angel, surprised by the edge in his voice. “I was just making conversation"

Angel shrugged, brushing off your concern with false nonchalance.

"Sure, querida. Just don’t want you thinking little bro’s the only one with answers.”

He gave EZ a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes and walked over to the small fridge, yanking it open a little too hard and grabbing a bottle of water. His body language was loud even when he was quiet.

Jaw tense.

Shoulders rigid.

His silence crackled more than EZ’s words ever could.

You watched him with a hint of confusion but didn’t push. You couldn’t tell if you’d said something wrong… or if EZ had. Either way, the warmth in the room dipped several degrees.

As the conversation continued, you leaned slightly toward EZ without realizing it, comforted by his calmness, his ability to keep things light.

You didn’t see the way Angel’s eyes tracked the motion. The way he swallowed, like something bitter had lodged in his throat.

“You really think he’s that charming?” Angel asked suddenly, voice flat.

EZ laughed, dry and amused. “Relax, hermano. I’m not gunning for your hostage.”

“I ain’t worried,” Angel snapped—too quickly, too defensively.

You looked between the two, unsure what had shifted. Something in Angel’s tone made your brows furrow, but you smiled awkwardly, trying to keep the peace. “I like talking to both of you… You just explain things differently.”

Angel didn’t reply. He gave you a brief glance, but there was distance in it now. Not from lack of care—too much, if anything.

But it was like he didn’t know how to sit still in his own skin when you weren’t looking at him like you did EZ.

Angel had spent years in his brother’s shadow—EZ, the golden boy, the clean-cut smart one, the favorite.

Angel had clawed his way through blood and pain to be who he was, and now, here you were, all softness and scared eyes… leaning toward EZ like he was somekind of savior.

Angel ran a hand over his face and stood.

"I’m gonna check on the lot,” he said to no one in particular. “Don’t stay up too late.”

He opened the trailer door and hesitated. Looked back.

"Night, querida.”

His voice was low. Rougher than usual. And before you could answer, the door clicked shut behind him.

You barely noticed the time slip past after Angel had walked out. EZ had said something about checking in with Bishop and left too, leaving the trailer dim and still. You sat near the window, the soft hum of the club lot outside rising like static.

Laughter.

Engines.

Distant bass from a speaker someone had dragged out of storage.

It was almost easy to forget you were a captive.

Almost.

Then the trailer door creaked open again. Angel stepped in, backlit by the golden spill of sunset behind him, casting long shadows across the cramped space. He didn’t say anything at first—just kicked the door shut with his boot and walked toward the small fridge, pulling out a bottle of beer. His movements were tight, a little too sharp, like he hadn’t shaken off whatever had crawled under his skin earlier.

You noticed the beer in his hand before anything else.

Not threatening… but not entirely casual, either. Something about the way he held it—tight-fisted, like it was holding him together more than he was holding it.

You tucked your legs up on the couch, voice soft and cautious. “...Can I have some?”

Angel stopped in his tracks. Eyebrows raised, beer half-lifted to his lips. “You wanna drink with me now, querida?”

There was a quiet humor in the way he said it, but it was laced with that same bitterness from before. He walked over and flopped into the side of the table EZ had used earlier, watching you with unreadable eyes. A flicker of something softer passed through him, though, when he saw how hesitant you looked.

He took a sip, then offered you the bottle wordlessly.

You reached for it carefully—still unused to the lack of boundaries, the strangeness. Your fingers brushed his, and he held on for just a second longer than necessary before letting go.

From your spot near the window, you could see the lot starting to fill up—people arriving on bikes, a few cars pulling in, girls laughing as they leaned out of passenger windows. It was loud, wild, alive—a world apart from the stale, quiet space of the trailer.

You watched with beer in your hand, tiny sips the taste was still unfamiliar. Angel followed your gaze and let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

"It’s not as fun as it looks,” he muttered, taking the beer back for a drink. “Just noise and bad decisions dressed up as a good time.”

You tilted your head, brows furrowed. “at least there outside.”

Angel looked at you then—really looked at you. There was something heavy behind his eyes. He leaned back, beer resting on his knee, fingers tapping the label. “You think EZ’s the good one, huh?” he asked, voice low but not accusatory. “The one with all the right answers.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift. “No I—”

“Nah, it’s fine. I get it.” He offered a small, forced smile. “He’s got the face, the words, the college brain. I’m just the one who makes the mess.”

You stared down at your hands, unsure how to navigate the tension. “I don't really know ... either of you, Angel.”

Angel’s eyes searched yours for something—for a lie, for sympathy, maybe. But all he saw was sincerity. Cautious but there.

He scoffed under his breath and looked away.

“Your right you don’t know shit about me, querida.”

You passed the bottle back to him, your fingers touch his again. He looked down at the contact, then up at you, slower now. Like maybe he didn’t want to keep pretending he didn’t care what you thought.

Outside, the party was kicking off.

Music louder.

Laughter sharper.

A few of the girls were dancing on the hood of a car, and you turned to watch, transfixed by the sheer freedom in it all.

You didn't excatly want to be out there, but you wanted to be outside.

Angel followed your gaze, then leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You wanna go out there?”

You shook your head quickly. “… It’s like watching a movie.”

Your voice was small—almost drowned out by the music thumping just beyond the trailer’s thin metal walls. "Would I be allowed out there?"

The sun had dipped behind the clubhouse by now, casting the lot in that golden-orange haze of early evening. It made everything look softer, even if it wasn’t.

Angel was lounging, beer bottle balanced on the table between you, gaze somewhere in the middle distance—until you spoke.

He blinked. Turned toward you slow. The bottle tilted slightly in his hand. “What’d you say, querida?”

You glanced back toward the window, toward the celebration happening just beyond the door. Women laughing, someone revving an engine, a flash of red solo cups passed around. You swallowed the dry air in your throat and repeated yourself, quieter.

"Would I be allowed out there?”

For a moment, Angel didn’t answer.

Not because he didn’t hear you. But because the weight of the question sat somewhere in his chest he didn’t know how to touch.

You weren't asking like someone looking for permission. Not really. It was the way you'd said it—with that tentative curiosity, like you were already preparing for the “no.” You weren’t a guest.

You knew that.

You were a job.

Collateral.

Of what kind you didn't know.

And yet, the way your eyes lingered on the flicker of firelight outside, the way your fingers clutched the blanket on your lap, made it hurt more than it should’ve.

Angel exhaled hard, leaned forward, arms resting on his knees.

“It don't really look like a ‘you’ crowd out there.”

He rubbed a hand down his face like he was trying to scrub off the guilt. You didn’t say anything. Just nodded slowly, lips parting like you had more to say but weren’t sure if you were allowed to speak it aloud.

You looked down at your lap, blinking slowly. The party outside suddenly felt much farther away. Not dangerous, necessarily—but untouchable. Like a glossy postcard of a life that had already closed its gates.

Angel saw the way your shoulders curled in slightly. Saw the question dying on your tongue before you could ask it again. And it made something twist in his gut.

He hated this.

He stood up abruptly, beer bottle thunking onto the counter harder than necessary. Walked to the window. Looked out.

The sun had almost disappeared now, and the lights strung around the lot glowed soft and golden. People were laughing, leaning close, drinks being passed, phones lit up for photos. EZ was out there, probably charming a few people as usual. Coco was laughing with Gilly near the fire barrel. And you were in here—locked in quiet.

He hated that he didn’t know the answer either. "You wanna feel normal for a bit, querida?” he asked suddenly, not turning around.

You looked up.

"Put on one of EZ's hoodies in the closet,” he said, nodding toward the corner. “Zip it up, keep your head down. We’ll get you outside long enough to pretend the trailer doesn’t have locks.”

You didn’t move for a moment, processing his words.

Then, slowly, carefully, you stood. The hoodie was way too big for you—hanging off your shoulders. You zipped it up, pulled the hood over your head. You didn’t say anything.

Angel watched you as you crossed the trailer. Watched the way you hesitated at the door, fingers grazing the handle.

“Stay close,” he said, voice rough. “I mean it, don't try anything"

You nodded.

When he opened the door, the noise hit you like a wave.

Laughter.

Music.

The scent of grilled meat and burning wood.

The kind of chaos that felt alive.

Without thinking, his arm came up around you, hand resting against your back.

Nobody even looked at you.

They had their own noise. Their own rhythm. You were just another shadow at a biker's side.

[artsninspo]

"Best-friends"

��� ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

plot: Best friends shouldn't have steamy dreams of each other. they shouldn't be the subject of each other's daydreams. they shouldn't be jealous when you flirt with other ... or should they? Angel's your best friend, but lately you've been pulling away in order to understand your growing feeling for your oldest friend. Feeling the distance angel stops by making all your feelings a little more real.

pairing: angel reyes x Reader

warnings: sweet 🥰 & steamy 🌶️

word count: 2.1K

authors note: hi, so I promised a draft purge months ago this is a little mayans imagine i've had for awhile for Angel, are we team Angel or EZ? Or both?

You guess the saying is true, men and women can’t be friends without one of them catching feelings. Unfortunately, this time it’s you who’s been bitten by the bug. You and Angel have been friends for so long it feels like he’s always been a part of your life. So much so that your family knows and welcomes him. You weren't always as close as you are now but in the past six months you’ve found yourself thinking about him more than usual. Stealing looks while he laughs, getting a little jealous when he flirts with the girls around the club and missing him more than you should when he goes on runs. Instead of leaning into it you've been trying to pull away and get a grip on ballooning emotions. In true Angel fashion he’s shown up anyways to complete a project you asked him to do since last month. You hand him a glass of fresh lemonade and he takes it wiping the sweat from his brow.

“I'm starting to think this friendship is unequal,” he huffs, taking another sip. You smile looking at the fruits of his manual labour. He’s built you two bookcases in the past hour. Aside from your need for a place to house your hobby, there's a benefit to having Angel performing the task in his wife-pleaser, slightly sweaty, muscles bulging as he lifts the heady wood, searching through piles of brackets, bolts and screws assembling them. His arms, his hands, his attention. Swallowing you look away from him trying to get a grip…

“You do the physical labour and I do the intellectual” you smile tapping the wood.

“Hmm, that’s how this works?” he asks looking up as he slides another shelf into place.

“Yup” you smile “Looks good”

“Where do You want them?” He asks standing. He’s substantially taller than you.

“Over there” you point. He moves them into place without struggle, looking down you find they're on wheels.

“You change your mind too much. I’m not gonna put my back out” he huffs in his angel way and you flip him off playfully.

“While my indecision marinates, my mom wants to know if you want to stay for dinner?” you ask.

“I thought we were going out to eat later?” he asks, raising a brow.

“You know how they are about home cooked meals versus spending money and eating out” you roll your eyes and he smiles.

“Why don’t we eat here then and hangout after?” He offers.

“Ok” you smile and repeats it mockingly in your exact tone. He’s missed you. You hadn't been around lately and it was grating on his nerves. He’d stay up late sometimes staring at the ceiling wondering if there was someone else you were spending your time with. He’d even woken up in cold sweats from nightmares of seeing you out with someone else.

You end up at Angels where you spend almost as much time as you do at your own home. It’s in desperate need of decoration and a feminine touch. He wouldn’t even have cookware and dishware if it weren't for you.

“Come on, the sick shit is about to start” he calls like a big kid from the couch. You smile relishing in the moments where he’s unguarded and animated. Where the smile overtakes the intimidating appearance of a large man with a muscular build and tattoos a part of a motorcycle club.

“Almost done” you shout, loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Y/N!” He shouts impatiently and you wash your hands quickly heading to see the action beginning. You sit beside him and he kisses the top of your head wrapping an arm around you. It’s a level of intimacy you don’t share with anyone else. You hold him back and he puts your legs over his. Your mom has said a thousand times that you’re too close to not be together. She thinks it’s a recipe for disaster and right about now you believe her. You don't know when you fell asleep but you wake up to Angel carrying you.

“It’s alright, I got you” he whispers, carrying you into his bed. You doze off again and feel him put a shirt over your tank before peeling off your leggings. You stir again when he comes back smelling like he just had a smoke. He heads to the bathroom. He gets into the bed gingerly considerate of your sleep. Sleepily you scoot over to his warm body and his arms find themselves around yours. You fall asleep in no time.

———-

It’s been awhile since you've  been woken up to morning wood. Angel's dream must be a good one. You smile sliding away from the active appendage and head into the bathroom. Evidence of your proximity is all over. You have a section in his bathroom. When you lift the face wash you smile because it’s lighter than usual. He’s been using it too. You find the dishwasher emptied  and start on breakfast. Angel comes in half an hour later looking like a daydream, with bedroom hair and sleepy eyes.

“Smells good” He mutters.

“I tried” you admit putting a plate in front of him. 

“What are you up to today?” He asks.

“Putting my books away”

“Those things are filthy” He jokes, eating the bacon with his hands like a caveman.

“Whatever” you roll your eyes and he smiles all the way to his eyes very amused.

“Aww she’s blushing” he teases.

“Shut up” you laugh sitting with your own plate.

“What’s up, you’ve been a little distant. Work or mama stressing you out?” He asks attentively. There’s no hiding from him.

“Maybe both”

“You don’t need the job. I told you you can manage the bar” he offers in a bid to keep you close.

“I didn’t go to school to manage the bar.”

“So what, you're gonna be like this for longer?” He asks.

“Explain how I’m being?” you ask suspiciously.

“Not in the moment.” He says “In your head and not letting me in” he says.

“We’ll I'm working through some things”

“What?” he panics internally.

“Personal things” you shrug casually looking into your plate.

“Come on!” He laughs. “We’re practically one person” he snaps, tossing his fork into the plate and sitting back.

“I’m getting my period, who knows it may just pass” you lie.

He deadpans, “You don’t think I know you get your period at the beginning or end of the month. You just lied” he says and you laugh shocked at his attentiveness.

“Angel!” you laugh shocked but he’s not amused.

“You’re seeing someone aren’t you? One of those sissy pretty boys you know I won’t approve of” he says making you smile.

“No, I’m not” you affirm and he relaxes a touch.

“Not a pretty boy?” He raises a brow.

“I'm not seeing anyone” you tell him honestly but it doesn't settle him.

“Y/N, you can tell me so I can look into him. You’ve only been here once this week” he says and you sit on his lap. It's what made Angel different from the rest of the guys you'd been friendly with. He wasn’t trying to control you, he'd be right by your side when the shit got sticky. He’d let you live and he’d clean up all the mess without judgement.

“I’m not seeing anyone, there’s no one you need to kill. I’ve just been trying to get my shit together” you explain and he holds you close.

“You can get your shit together here. There’s enough space for the both of us.”

“What happens when you decide to go steady with one of the barfly’s?” you ask leaning into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Not gonna happen” He laughs holding you close.

“Remind me to take you back to the gym. Gotta get you better at boxing in case one of these creeps you don't want to tell me about gets out of hand.” he says. He runs his thumb over your knuckles. You feel compelled to tell him the full truth. You get up and pour yourself some water.

“You’re doing it again, wait did one of the guys say or do something?” He stands.

“No, the guys are well, they're great in their own special way…” you shrug, turning your back to him.

“Y/N, you’re killing me here” Angel snaps.

“Angel, don’t feel weird about this okay?”

“No promises” he huffs, leaning forward attentively.

“I’ve been having, I don’t know…” you trail, having never been here before.

“Y/N spit it out” Angel says worriedly.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what us together would be like” You admit. He stills for a while before he finally blinks and his posture relaxes. When he finally takes a breath he places a hand on his heart. His eyes close and he shakes his head in amusement.

“Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again” he warns with a smile. It throws you for a loop. 

“I’m here thinking you’re hurt or sick or in danger” Angel snaps.

“I’m not sure I’m not” you joke and he smiles coming over.

“Way better than those books” he says standing in front of you closing the space between the both of you and running his hands down your shoulders to hold both of your hands.

“Huh?” you ask looking up at him.

“Us together, it would be way better than those books” he smiles. Your cheeks burn before you smile back. “It’s about time hermosa” he smiles leaning down and placing a kiss on your lips. It’s the first and hopefully the first of many.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“It means I’ve been waiting for you to come around for awhile now” he says candidly.

“Since when?” you laugh shocked.

“Since the pool party” he says and that was nearly a year ago.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask.

“Showing you was better” he says and you think of all the ways our connection has evolved this year. You stand against the counter and he closes the space between you again. He kisses you harder this time. You make out like teenagers and it sends my heart racing. You’re breathless when it ends and you rest your head on his chest. He rubs circles onto your back.

“I just knew you were a good kisser,” he mumbles.

“I need to sort my room out, we can pick this back up later” you tell him wanting more but needing some time to process your excitement and all the new info.

“Why? You don’t need those books anymore” he says, appealing to every one of your senses.

“They aren’t all about sex Angel, just the few you happened to pick up” you reason and he shakes his head knowing it's another half truth.

“You into that shit? The guy getting a little rough and being dominant?” He asks playfully, grabbing you by the neck. He’s never been rough before and your smile answers the question. 

His eyes close in appreciation and excitement. “Shit” he smiles, coming in for another kiss. This one is soft in spite of your acceptance or his rougher side. It’s perfect though.

“You can tell me what you’re into when I’m done” you smile pushing him away determined not to walk into your home freshly fucked after a night out. After all the waiting you and Angel need more than a few hours, all day and all night.

“I’m a simple man,” he says in surrender. “Pretty sure I’ll like anything you do to me” he says, making you laugh.

“Walk me out” you tell him like you would any other time. He gets the door of your car for you as usual but when he hugs you he takes a handful of ass.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he says, validating your feelings.

“Make it a habit” you whisper, kissing his cheek. Angel steps back, closing the door with a full heart and a stiffy.

“Plan to” he smiles knowing there's absolutely no way he's gonna be able to keep his hands off of you. Not even after he's touched every inch of your skin and given you every inch of him. Not after you become a Reyes or after you have a little one making your stomach swell. Not after your home is filled with children and he has to sneak into the bathroom for some alone time in the shower. Not when his hair is more salt than pepper, not when his hands are too weathered to ride his bike anymore. 

Not ever.

*

thanks for reading 🖤 like and reblog for support.

[drabbles-mc]

Perspective

Bishop Losa x F!Reyes!Reader

For @narcosfandomdiscord Book of Balancing In Between: Fanwork whose setting is in a liminal space (i chose the carniceria after-hours)

Warnings: 18+, language, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, reader is the oldest Reyes sister

Word Count: 2k

A/N: MAAAAAAAAN it's been a while since i've written for Bishop and i simply just love giving him complicated relationships with Reyes Women.

You knew better than to sit with your back to the door no matter where you were or what time it was. But, after how the last few weeks had gone you were too tired to think about it. You were too tired to think about it, it was two in the morning, and out of all the places in the world to sit with your back to the door you figured that Felipe’s shop was one of the safest. So there you were, camped out at one of the small tables inside the shop with your back to the door.

It'd been a long time since you made a point to notice the sound of motorcycle engines. It was like having the fan on at home or the window down in the car as you drove, noise that you heard but never really listened to. The sound of the bike engine went in one ear and right out the other, but the shifting lights and shadows of the singular headlight coming through the front windows of the shop are what caught your attention. Then you heard the rest of it.

Taking a deep breath, you wiped at the tears in your eyes, the ones smeared across your cheekbones. Raking your fingers back along the sides of your head, you tried to take breaths deep enough to get your heartrate and your breathing back on track.

The sound of the engine went away, the light streaming through the window went away too and sent all of the shadows running with it. You sat perfectly still, and within seconds, right on cue, the bells above the door chimed as someone pushed it open.

The pacing of his strides gave it away before he even opened his mouth to speak. “Shouldn’t turn your back on the bad guys, querida,” he said, resting his hand on your shoulder.

Something about the feeling of the callouses on his palm against the exposed skin of your shoulder was more comforting than usual. Reaching up, you threaded your fingers with his. “Only bad guys who come here tend to be pretty good to me, so I think I’ll be alright.”

His hand fell away from your shoulder as he walked to sit across from you, and you begrudgingly let his hand slip out of yours. Leaning back in the chair, you watched as Bishop sat down across from you. Once he sat, he immediately leaned forward onto the table, hands resting in the center of it close enough for you to hold if you wanted to.

There was something so familiar about the way he looked in the patchy light coming through the windows from the streetlamps outside. It reminded you of when you’d first met, first really gotten to know each other. A lot had changed since then, and it reminded you of all that too.

“What’re you doing here, Obispo?” you asked, mirroring his position but not taking his hands in yours again just yet.

“You weren’t home,” he offered up simply.

You chuckled. “And why were you—”

“Because you didn’t stop by the clubhouse.” He pulled his phone from his kutte and tossed it onto the table. “And you didn’t answer your phone.”

Tears were gathering in your eyes again but you still smiled at him. “Something going on that I should know about, then?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

Bishop looked at you, studied the expression on your face. He could see the puffiness of your eyes, the way that the tears beginning to creep over the edge were not the first ones that you’d shed for the night. He saw the tiredness in your eyes, even though only the smallest traces of light were hitting your face.

“Why here?” he asked, completely avoiding your question.

“What?”

He made a tiny gesture, a flick of his hand motioning to the expanse of the shop. “Why do you end up here at three in the morning when shit goes sideways?”

You chuckled. “It’s only two in the morning, first of all.”

“You know—”

You pointed to his kutte. “Can I?”

There was a pause, and the look on Bishop’s face let you know that he was contemplating holding out on you until he got some answers from you, but he’d never been good at turning you away. Reaching back into his kutte, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. You watched as he went through the motions that were so second-nature to him now, placing it between his lips and sparking the lighter, waiting to make sure it’d catch. He pulled one drag off of it before holding it out to you. You let your fingers touch for a second longer than necessary before taking it.

The inhale that you took off the cigarette in your hand was the steadiest one that you’d taken for most of the night. You tried to savor it, the steadiness and the burn you felt. Closing your eyes, you let your breath sneak back out one calculated centimeter at a time.

Finally opening your eyes again, you found Bishop still staring at you, that same unique mix of anger and concern in his eyes that never truly seemed to go away. “The worst thing happened here,” you said, quieter than you intended.

Bishop’s frown deepened in a way you didn’t know was physically possible. Nodding, he kept his voice just as quiet as yours as he said, “I know.”

You brought the cigarette back to your lips for a moment to buy you some time. “So now, when other bad things happen, sometimes I’ll come here. Get some perspective…or some shit like that.”

The tacked-on ending got weary but genuine chuckles out of both of you. “Right. Some shit like that.” Bishop took a moment to light up a cigarette of his own. “Still don’t like it.”

You hummed in amusement. “You don’t have to.”

“I do if you’re gonna keep comin’ here.”

“Only if you’re gonna keep comin’ after me.”

It was a sweet moment, one of small smiles and tendrils of smoke making it even harder to get a clear picture. But you each knew how the other looked even in pitch black darkness. There was a warmth about it, separate from the scorch down the back of your throat. You almost wanted to reach out with your free hand to take his.

But then the moment passed. Pressing the knuckle of your thumb across your brow, you asked, “So, did you come hunt me down tonight to tell me something that I already know?”

His expression faltered. “I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think I would’ve known by now that my brother got shot?” Ash fell from your cigarette onto the table, a mess you’d be sure to clean before Felipe found his way back to the shop again. “You didn’t think that between the hospital, and his girlfriend, and my other brother that’s part of your fucking club,” your palm slammed down on the tabletop, causing it to rattle, “You didn’t think that with all of that, I wouldn’t find out?”

“Querida, I—”

“Ah-ah,” you shook your head. “You didn’t come here to break the news to me, Obispo. When you called me a few hours ago? That was to try and break the news. And you were still too late on that, by the way. But the rest of it? Showing up to my house? Here? You only go that far when you know you’re up shit creek with no fucking paddle in sight.”

Neither of you said anything then. The longer you looked at Bishop, the less you felt that you knew what he was thinking. If tradition held, he was probably trying to come up with excuses for a few things: why EZ got shot, why he wasn’t the one to tell you, and why there wasn’t blood running down the streets of Santo Padre yet. You didn’t need the laundry list for it all, but you’d played games like this with him enough now to at least be curious about the answers.

The same thing happened when you found out Ezekiel had killed a cop and was going to prison, and when Angel was joining the club, then again when Angel was looking down the pipe at eighteen months in Chino, then again when you heard that not only was Ezekiel getting out of prison, but he was getting out of prison and funneling himself right into the club alongside his brother. The same song and dance again and again over the years, and to think that neither of you would’ve had to learn the steps if Bishop hadn’t found you here, alone in the shop in the middle of the night, scrubbing at the floor because you were convinced that the last of your mother’s blood still hadn’t been washed away after the police department left.

Clearing his throat, he started again. “I didn’t think that you should be alone.” He paused, waiting for you to start right up again. When you didn’t, he continued, but tentatively. “I’m sorry that you head to hear it from…” he trailed off, realizing that you hadn’t said through which avenue you found out.

“Gaby,” you filled in the blank, shaking your head as you remembered the sheer terror in her voice.

“I’m sorry about that.” He sounded genuine as he was saying it. Before the scoff in the base of your throat could make its way out, he said, “I am. But would hearing it from me have felt any better? Would you have ended up,” he gestured to the carnicería with both hands this time, “anywhere else?”

You chuckled, a bitter sound. “You almost had a decent apology going for a second there.”

He took a deep breath, and you could see it on his face that he was actively fighting the urge to say the first thing that came to his mind. “I am sorry. And I am fucking here. And if you ask me to do something for you right now, I’ll do it.” He waited for you to look him in the eyes again. “What do you want right now?”

Pulling every last bit you could from your cigarette, you snubbed it out. Smoke cascaded from between your lips as you sighed. Leaning forward, you dropped your head into your hands as you tried to wrap your head around Bishop’s question, about what your answer to it was.

“Where’s Ezekiel?” you asked.

“Out of town. Gaby’s with him.”

You nodded, hands dropping back to the tabletop. “Right.”

He covered one of your hands with his. “What do you want right now?”

You focused on the warmth seeping from his palm into the top of your hand. You zeroed in on the way he dragged the pad of his thumb across your knuckles. Looking at his face, you felt yourself getting pulled underneath the waves of desperation in his eyes. He always looked so sad, and so earnest about it. And the undertow of it all always seemed to get you.

Turning your hand, you interlocked it with his. “I don’t know.”

“Thought this place was supposed to give you some perspective?” he asked, a twinge of a smile on his face.

It got you to laugh if nothing else. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you said, “Maybe I just gotta sit here a little longer.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

He squeezed your hand before standing up. You tilted your head to the side as you watched him walk deeper into the shop. “What’re you doing?”

He crumbled the last of his cigarette into the small trash can by the bookshelf. Picking it up, he brought it over to the table where the two of you were sitting. “Cleaning this up before you forget,” he said as he swiped the butt of your cigarette and the ashes from it into the trash can. Once he brought it back to its rightful spot, he sat down across from you again. “And I’ll sit with you.” He watched as the tears started welling in your eyes again. “And I’ll bring you home before Felipe comes back.”

You managed a smile, and despite all the mess and the hurt, you felt a little bit of relief at his offer. Nodding, you gave a soft but sincere, “Thank you.”

He took your hand in his. “Whatever you need.”

(divider by @silkholland 💞)

Mayans MC Taglist (if you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!): @darqchilddaydreamz @withmyteeth @garbinge @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon

@paintballkid711 @kelpies-shed @winchestershiresauce @fanfic-n-tabulous @justazzi

@justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @cositapreciosa @narcolini

@hausofmamadas @crowfootwrites @nessamc

[cregansgf]

You Belong to Me. - Angel Reyes

He slammed the beer bottle on the bar never taking his eyes off her. She was doing it on purpose he knew she was.

And fuck did he hate it.

💋💋💋💋💋💋

His hands never left my waist as we “danced”

“Your really cute you know” I whispered biting down on his ear lightly

“Oh really?” Ez mumbled his hands roaming further down my body

“I love you Ez but get your hands off her now.” Angel snapped walking over

I turned my head to look at him as a smirk formed on my face “But we’re having fun”

He grabbed my wrist dragging me to the bathroom before quickly slamming the door shut backing me against the sink.

“You think it’s cute acting like a slut?” He questioned sliding his hands up my skirt

“Mm your brother seems to like it”

That’s all it took for the switch in him to flip. His hands went to her shirt ripping it off throwing it to the floor doing the same with her skirt.

“No panties or bra? Fucking whore.” He spat attaching his lips to hers his hands sliding between her legs.

A whimper left her mouth as he pulled away sliding his finger inside her. “This pussy.” He paused picking up his pace his fingers moving faster inside her “Mine.”

He uses his other hand to cup one of her boobs lowering his mouth to suck on one momentarily before pulling away. “These boobs.” he smirked giving the other a soft kiss “Mine.”

“These beautiful lips” He whispered bringing his mouth to hers placing a sloppy kiss before pulling away “Mine.”

He pulled out his fingers from inside her before sucking her juices off his finger. When he finished he cupped her face with his hands forcing her to look at him “You belong to me.” He stated before smirking and leaving the bathroom

“Never forget who you belong to princess” He laughed before closing the door behind him.

I’d genuinely do anything this man told me to.

-hails🧸

[texaschainsawmascara]

Drea De Matteo

[dallianceangel]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 🐱👅💦

Here’s another random drabble for you, I hope you enjoy 😜

🫦 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🫦

“I’ve missed this.”

“You don’t say,” you chuckle loudly, currently bent over the pool table while Bishop slams in and out of you from behind. “We’ve only been apart for a day.”

Bishop laughs in your ear. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

A moan escapes your lips as he increases the pace, his thumb now circling your swollen clit. “It’s not, Obispo, but you could have at least said hello first.”

Sliding out of you, he turns you around, smiling at you before burying his head between your legs and spelling out Hello with his skilled tongue.

[imagineredwood]

"So, what are you gonna do?"

Request: Creeper and reader imagine finding out she's pregnant after she left him and wanting her back

Pairing: Creeper Vargas x female reader

Warnings: Arguing, breakups, hidden pregnancy, crying, angst with no comfort at least in this part

Word count: 2.9K

A/N: I'll do a part two to this, I'm just sleepy and I want to take a nap but I wanted to get this out for yall first lol What would yall like to see? Groveling? Happy ending? Should she make him sweat? Should she just understand and forgive that tensions were high? Let me know💕

"Fuck."

You cursed as you held the positive pregnancy test in your trembling hand. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Not in the slightest. Life was already complicated and messy enough as it was. Things with the club were tense, the war against other charters of their own club creating an air of chaos that amplified day by day. Creep tried his best to soothe you. Take away the worry. Tell you that everything was going to be fine, you just had to wait it out. But it didn't feel that way. It seemed like every time you turned around, it was a shooting or a bombing, your nerves frazzled. It had caused a rift between the two of you. Him feeling like you nagged too much, you feeling like he only ever disregarded you. The two of you had fought significantly more than you had fucked recently and yet now here you were, already apprehensive of where the relationship would end up, now with a baby getting thrown into the mix. You'd been careful, at least you'd thought so. But luck wasn't on your side, it seemed.

Throwing down the pregnancy test into the trash, the fourth to be exact, you held your head in your hands as you sat atop the closed toilet lid. You had no idea how this was going to go. You’d mentioned kids before, sure, but you hadn’t talked about it extensively. You had no idea how he would feel about a baby right now, and all that uncertainty did was make you feel even worse. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you swallowed around a suddenly dry throat. You would have to sit down with him tonight and establish some boundaries. Make him see that he couldn’t just placate and then disregard you anymore. It wasn’t just about you two now. There was a third life involved, and you needed to know where his head was at. It was a talk that was a long time coming, and you hoped that it would go smoothly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Enough with this shit already. Fuck!”

Creepers voice was harsh as he cursed, exasperated with you.

“Every fuckin’ day it’s the same shit with you. I get home and it’s immediately gotta be a fuckin’ war, like I don’t deal with that shit in the clubhouse. Coming home is supposed to be relaxing. I should get home and feel happy to be here, grab a beer and just shoot the shit with you, watch some TV, cuddle, something! But no, I come home and it’s a fuckin’ interrogation every night. I can’t take this shit anymore!”

You sat at the table silent, eyes welled to the brim with tears that you begged not to fall. You stared at him, feeling helpless and hopeless. You hadn’t meant to start a fight. You were just trying to get him to see that you wanted him around more. That you missed him. That you worried for him. That you needed more from him. That you needed to know that you could count on him All you’d managed to do however, was start the millionth argument of the month. You kept your voice low, half to deescalate, half to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m just trying to get you to meet me half way. I know you’re stressed, and I know you guys are struggling, I know. I just…I need to know that you’ll try to be present more. For us.”

You caught yourself with the last word, but thankfully he didn’t realize, simply thinking you meant the relationship. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, his own voice quieter when he spoke again.

"I just...I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t be out here taking you on dates every night, spending the whole weekend with you, going on getaways. I know you need me but so does the club. Hang out with the girls. Go shopping with them. Go to the movies with them. It doesn’t always need to be me. It can’t always be me. I can't balance you and the club in the way you expect me to. One keeps losing out and at the end of the day, the club comes first. I told you that in the beginning."

You stared at him blankly. Sure, he’d said that before. In the beginning before you had even really gotten serious. You had taken it as a warning that things might not move in the way that you were used to. But you were well past that, you thought. Your voice was shaky as you inquired.

“Do you still feel that way?”

He stared at you, not wanting to have to say it. But you needed to hear it. You would need to hear it directly from his mouth if you were going to have to leave; because you would leave. If he couldn’t find some way to compromise - to find it within himself not to volunteer for every single little thing and at least try to be there for you more, then there was no sense. You had put yourself through it for three years. You refused to put your child through it. If you were going to find the strength to leave, you needed to hear him say it.

“Feel what way?”

You blinked and finally managed to look at him, his chest aching at the tears in your eyes.

“That the club comes before me. That even with how much I’ve tried and begged and pleaded and supported and waited for things to get better…that you still love it more than me. More than us.”

There it was again. Us.

The Mayan groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face roughly, eyes tired and somewhat cold as they regarded you. He shrugged, tattooed arms held out to the sides.

“You knew what this was when you got with me. This is who I am. This is what you get.”

You stared at him, and finally you couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They cascaded down your cheeks and you felt like you could feel your heart breaking within your chest. Because it was done. You’d asked him to make the choice, and now finally after trying to save your feelings all this time, he’d finally been honest and chosen.

And it wasn’t you.

You knew if you told him you were pregnant, it might’ve changed things. He had always bashed deadbeats. Said how important it was for kids to have their fathers around. But you also felt it pointless. If he would change, you knew for a fact it wasn’t for you. It was because of the baby. Even by giving him the gift of life, he didn’t find you important or worthy enough to change for. And who was to say that change would stick. He’d change for the moment, but would he bail out on appointments and sonograms? Would he miss the birth, too preoccupied with a deal? Miss birthdays and recitals just to carry out hits? That wouldn’t be fair. Not to you and not to the baby. You were a grown woman; you didn’t need him. Wanted him, sure. But you didn’t need him. The kid would, and it wouldn’t be fair to them. It was up to you to protect them. To give them the best life possible. And bringing them into the world with an absent father who picked and chose when to be present wasn’t something you were going to sentence your baby to. You knew firsthand how bad it felt to always come second. You wouldn’t do that to them.

So you simply nodded, standing up from your place on the sofa, tears blurring your vision.

“Well, I guess that settles that.”

You didn’t really have much else to say, at least nothing that would make a difference. You wanted to cry and scream and plead, but you’d done enough of that, and it hadn’t made much of a difference any other time. No. You would keep your dignity. With the back of your hand, you wiped away your tears and made your way to the bedroom, ignoring his voice as it spoke from behind you.

“So that’s it huh?”

You didn’t respond, only went into the closet and grabbed your duffel bag, tossing enough clothing for a few days into it. You had moved in with Neron after a year, the Mayan feeling that you would be safer if you lived with him. You had obliged, and now wished that you had kept your place. Even still, you would go out and find an apartment tomorrow if you could. It was late already, nearly one in the morning. You would stay in a hotel tonight and begin the search for a place to live tomorrow.

You were stuffing bras and panties into the bag when he entered the room silent as he stood behind you and watched for a little while unsure what to say.

“You don’t have to leave. You can stay. I’ll sleep on the couch. We can talk tomorrow when you’ve had time to calm down.”

You shook your head. He might have thought you were just being dramatic, but you knew this was what you had to do.

“Nothing to talk about. You’ve made it clear what your priorities are. I just have to come to terms with that, and I am. We’re not compatible. Better I find out now than…later.”

You force yourself to stop there, not wanting to say too much.

“OK, but it’s the middle of the night. You can’t just leave and…go where?”

“Hotel. Don’t worry about me. It doesn’t matter what you say, I’m not staying here.”

He grumbled and threw his hands up, his anger flaring.

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

“I am.”

You made your way into the bathroom and grabbed your toiletries, tossing them into your bag as well. Chargers, phone, keys, wallet. Everything you would need these next few days. You zipped up the bag and slung it over your shoulder, walking past him and out of the room and heading to the front door. He trailed after you, seeing that you were fully serious. Your throat and chest ached, but you refused to let him see you cry. You would wait until you pulled away.

Making your way to the front door, you slipped on your shoes, Creepers eyes on you.

“I’ll tell Steve to grab the rest of my stuff.”

That was all you gave him before you went out the front door, his eyes burning into the back of your head as you walked. He said nothing as he watched you, angry but knowing to just stay quiet. He would let you take your few days to calm down and then he would sit down and talk to you when you came back.

“Text me when you get there. So I know you’re safe.”

You didn’t respond and simply closed the driver-side door behind you, pulling out of the driveway, knowing you were going to block him for at least a week so you could begin healing. You needed to start fresh. Both for yourself and for your child.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She’s serious.”

Steve winced and nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, man. She wants me to take it to that storage place. She’ll keep it there until…”

Creeper knew the rest of the sentence. He didn’t have to say it.

“Until she finds were she’s gonna live.”

Steve nodded, hating the tension. Creeper shrugged, feigning indifference, but inside his heart was aching. He let the prospect in, silently carrying some bins with him to pack up the rest of your things. He disappeared into the room and Creeper sat down on the soda, pulling out his phone. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. It had been two days, and he hadn’t heard from you. He only knew you were ok because of Steve. You’d grown close to the prospect, trusted him. You saw him like a brother, and normally Creeper was thankful for it. Now he couldn’t help the pang of jealousy. He hadn’t heard anything from you, and he knew he was blocked based of his calls and messages being prevented from going through. He knew you had been upset about the way things had been, but he hadn’t thought you would actually leave him over it. He realized now that maybe he should have been more patient, more open to compromise. It had only been two days and already the house felt cold and bleak. You’d taken the warmth away with you.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there contemplating his actions and shortcomings, but it was long enough for Steve to be done, the last bin stacked up at the door. Creeper looked at him, anger that wasn’t directed at him.

“Look after her. Make sure she’s good. Let me know if anything happens.”

The Prospect nodded quickly, remembering that you had told him the exact opposite. He would help you. You were his friend after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you, Steve.”

You wiped the sweat on your brow and so did the Prospect, the bins finally in your new bedroom. You were thankful for him. You wouldn’t have been able to get all of them into and out of the storage, then into the truck and into your new apartment if it weren’t for him. He’d been a godsend with this break up and you made sure to try and pay him handsomely for his help. He’d declined. So instead, you’d forced him to at least yet you pay him in fresh lemonade and soft pretzels, and he’d been inclined to concede. Now all had been brought in and you could finally start unpacking, thanks to him.

“I really appreciate you doing this more me, Steve. It means a lot. It wouldn’t taken me forever without your help. I would’ve had to get someone and I’m sure they would’ve taken all the money they could from me. I can’t thank you enough. This place will be good for us.”

The Prospect nodded, brows furrowed as he looked down at the floor.

“You keep saying ‘us’. Do you have a new boyfriend already?”

Your eyes widened, caught, but Steve interpreted your surprise as indignation. He began to backpedal immediately.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate or anything. It’s none of my business anyway, I just noticed you said us a few times and I wondered if maybe you had found someone else and I didn’t want them to get upset that I was in here alone with you because you’re just my friend and I would never-“

“Steve.”

You silenced him with a hand and utterance of his name. You were already moved in and more or less set up. The unpacking you could do at your own pace, but the couch and bed were already assembled, the fridge on and stocked. You were good now. It didn’t matter if he found out.

“I’m pregnant.”

Steve’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes bugging as he stared at you.

“And Creep just let you leave?”

You shook your head, eyes still on the prospect.

“He doesn’t know. I didn’t tell him.”

He nodded and looked like he could pass out. You felt bad and sighed, trying to ease him.

“You don’t have to keep it a secret. I wouldn’t put that on you. You don’t have to lie or hide things for me. I’m not trying to get you in trouble. I’m just telling you the truth. That’s why it was so important for you to help me with this and why I appreciate it so much. I needed to get back on my feet.”

He nodded, understanding, and looking a little less stressed now.

“It’s ok if you tell him. It won’t change anything.”

He nodded again and you smiled, pouring him another glass of lemonade for the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She’s what?”

Creepers eyes were on fire as he stared at the prospect. Steve shifted uncomfortably under Creeper’s gaze, as well as the others who looked just as shocked.

“Y-yeah. She’s not too far along. Like two months or something, I think. I don’t really know.”

His voice was small as he spoke, everyone looking at Creep now.

“And she knew when she left.”

He wasn’t really asking, but Steve nodded anyway.

“She said she needed to get back on her feet. Make sure she had a placed that was safe so she could start over.”

Steve’s words were like knives, even though he knew the prospect wasn’t trying to hurt him. Hank stood and tossed an arm around his shoulders.

“You did good helping her. Let’s get a drink.”

He walked them both into the clubhouse, leaving Creep, Bishop, Angel, and EZ outside. They stared at their brother, no one talking for a while.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

Creeper stood there motionless, unable to answer Angel’s question. It was Bishop who answered for him.

“He’s gonna get it the fuck together and go get his woman back. He’s gonna apologize, say that he was a fuckin’ idiot, that he wasn’t thinking, and it was a mistake to let her go, crawl on his hands and knees if he has to, and show her that she can count on him. That they both can. Whether she takes him back or not.”

Bishop took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes staring off into the distance as he felt his heart clench as he thought about his own late child.

“He’s gonna make sure he owns up to his mistakes and spend time with her, so he can be there for his kid and watch them grow up.”

His eyes landed back on Creeper then, his gaze stern.

“That’s what he’s gonna do.”

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @choochoo284 @xbloodyxangelx @carma-fanficaddict @gillysoldlady

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​

@cruzwalters​  @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty​ @lyly00​ @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​  @angel-121​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @90sisthenew80s​ @lovelytricia @librarian1002

[bullet-prooflove]

Valentine's Day Bingo: King - Angel Reyes x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @witches-unruly-heart @keyweegirlie @trhett21 @annetje @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @thatonesexycancerian @weiwei0210 @anime-weeb-4-life @harperdoodle @cheyrenee @fanfic-n-tabulous @deliriousfangirl61 @daydreaming-belle @est1887 @thanossexual @creativitybeware @librarian1002 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @wnbweasley @delightfulbelieverwerewolf @spookyboogyuniverse @skyesthebomb @spaghettificationandpretzels @joyfulfxckery @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @legally-a-bastard @bonsaijoons @justreblogginfics @vermillionwinter

Hitting the Lace Bingo Square

Angel has you sitting on the edge of the bed, your wrists bound behind your back and a black silk eyemask drawn down over your eyes. You’re wearing royal blue lace tonight; it highlights your skin giving you almost ethereal look. His thumb trails over your lower lip, dragging it down before he murmurs the words.

“You’re just so fucking beautiful Mi Reina.”

He tilts your chin up, and you can feel the heat of his body as he leans in close, his mouth brushing over yours. His lips are hot, almost searing as his tongue dips into your mouth. Your body responds to him, arching up as he grips your jaw, holding you in place. You whine when he pulls away and he smiles because his reina needs him just as much as he needs her.

He kneels before you, placing his palms on your bare thighs, parting them before he guides them over his shoulders.

You can feel his breath ghosting over the damp lace, his beard grazing along your inner thighs. His fingertips slip under the elastic, teasing along your wetness. It’s nothing more than a brief caress but your hips buck towards his mouth, and he just can’t help himself. He tugs your underwear to one side revealing your nakedness and his cock fucking twitches.

You have such a pretty cunt; he’s always thought so, and he can’t wait to get his mouth on it.

When he kisses you there, your breathing hitches. His tongue traces lightly over your clit before he sucks just slightly, making you breathe his name out loud. His tongue delves lower, pressing at your entrance, he holds it there and you whimper, trying to fuck it but he holds you in place lapping over it over and over again until you finally say the word he’s been waiting to hear.

“Please.”

He raises to his feet, cupping your chin once more before he removes the blindfold so he can see those beautiful eyes of yours.

“Does Mi Reina need her king?”

“Please.” You say again and he kisses you, his hand tangling in your hair as his tongue delves deep into your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips and it’s such a sensual feeling, sharing yourself with your lover.

He undresses for you, his eyes locked on yours as he removes his clothes until he’s entirely bare for you, his cock hard and leaking.

“Stand up.” He requests and you follow his instructions, raising to your feet. He draws your underwear down before he sits on the edge of the bed and guides you into his lap. He holds you steady, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you let out a moan as he fills you.

“Move for me.” He tells you, his voice rough. “I wanna see you fuck it.”

He lies back, his gaze on that sexy ass of yours as he watches his cock disappear inside of you. Fuck you feel good, the way that perfect pussy of yours grips him, it makes him feel like he’s died and gone straight to heaven. Every single one of your breathes comes with a sweet little noise but it’s not enough for Angel. He needs you loud, he wants the people in the room two doors down to know how good he fucks his woman.

His hands come to rest on your waist. He rolls his hips, thrusting deep and the sound that leaves your mouth…

That’s exactly what he wants to hear.

“That’s it Mi Reina…” he drawls, one of his hand grabbing the slender chain between your wrists and tugging it down so your back arches and you take him that little bit deeper. “That’s what you wanted wasn’t it?”

He fucks you hard, his cock raking across that perfect place deep down inside of you, the one that makes you scream for him. He feels your climax coming, it’s in the way your body starts to tense, your movements becoming more frantic. The ecstasy rushes through his veins as you come for him. You clench around his cock, your walls hugging it so tightly that Angel sees fucking stars. He keeps your hips pinned against his, burying himself deep as he spills his release inside of you.

“Fuck.” He mutters, sitting up so your back comes to rest against his chest. His lips chase up the curve of your throat as he unbinds your wrists. “I think you managed to ruin both of us.”

You tip your head back into the hollow of his throat and laugh. It’s such a beautiful sound, one that vibrates through his entire body as he wraps his arms around you and gathers you close. His thumb chases over the scar just underneath your rib cage, the place where Skye shot you all those months ago and he’s reminded of how close he was to losing you.

“I love you.” He whispers, holding you just that little bit tighter. “I love you so God damn much.

Love Angel? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[ravennaortiz]

Summary: Angel gets a surprise from his stepdaughters.

As always my stories are 18+

Speechless. For the first time in his life he is left at a loss for words. Swallowing hard as tears start to dance along his lash line he glances up from the two little girls in front of him to you. Your eyes meet and just like that he is transported back to the day the four of you met.

*2 years prior*

Angel had stepped under the awning of the small sidewalk café to escape the brutal Santo Padre heat and grab a quick drink before heading back to the clubhouse. He had been people watching as he sipped his drink when he caught site of you. You were crying as a man stood looming over you berating you.

Pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on Angel sat his drink down and made his way over. As he got closer he saw you were desperately trying to plead with the man to leave you alone as you clutched a baby to your chest while your toddler sobbed on the floor under the table.

Without hesitation Angel gently moved behind your chair and settled his hands lightly on your shoulders. "Do you have a problem with my wife or me?" Angel asked calmly as the man took him in backing up a couple steps. "You need to tell her to be modest and respectful of others. She is flashing her breast and distracted me from my coffee" the man snapped as he flapped his arms in your direction.

"I see. You have a problem with my wife feeding our child because the female body has been so over sexualized that you have forgotten all the amazing things it can do besides bring pleasure." tutted Angel as he shook his head and moved around the table to stand directly in front of the man. "I suggest you get out of my line of sight before I forget I have my family with me today sir" he added as he gave the man a gentle pat on the head and flashed a smile.

That day had changed both your lives forever. The next two years had been a roller coaster of dolls, tea parties, tiaras and pink nail polish.

*Present Day*

"Well are you gonna be our Guardian Angel forever" inquired your older daughter her bottom lip quivering as she looked at him. Angel knelt in front of her as tears slipped down his cheeks. It had been incredibly hard to get her to come around to him being in your life. He had to work hard to earn her trust and reassure her that he wasn't trying to replace her dad who had passed away.

"Always" stated Angel firmly as he pulled both your daughters to him for a hug as they squealed and giggled.

Series Masterlist

[qominsi]

ANGEL REYES Mayans M.C.

[happysoldlady]

Ok so what if Angel had a wife/gf who’s graduating college for whatever (you can pick) and everyone is there and he’s so proud of her because she put her life on hold because they became parents young and she had to take care of the kid

a/n: I almost wrote the graduating party at the clubhouse too lol! please enjoy!

You and Angel had been together for several years. The first year was mainly just the two of you trying to figure out how to co-exist. And the other four had been spent raising the tiny human the two of you made. Being a parent was one of the most rewarding experiences of your life and that experience was ongoing. But bringing a human into the world had halted the plans you had for yourself. Angel was as supportive as he could be, but club business overruled everything and eventually, you had to drop out of school to care for your child. It was only a year and a half ago that you were able to finally go back, with the help of your lovely father in law of course. And today, you finally graduated.

The university gymnasium is packed with teary eyed families and lined with thousands of graduation caps all belonging to hopeful entrepreneurs. You were slightly older than most of the graduates, your life experience calming your nerves. This was just walking across a stage. Nothing compared to the shoot-outs that so often occurred at club parties. And even as this thought crossed your mind, your hands started sweating a little bit the closer you got to the stage. Your eyes dart through the rows of proud families, scanning for a particular set of brown eyes to calm your nerves. You are three graduates from the stage when you finally find them. There, in the middle, is Angel, Felipe, and EZ. Angel is holding your kid up so they can wave from the stands. You give them a watery grin, and a small wave, and then turn to focus on walking across the stage.

——

“Gracias, señor.” You giggle as Felipe hands you a bouquet of flowers. You step into his arms and plant a kiss on his cheek that leaves his cheeks a little pink. Then, EZ pulls you into a tight hug. His face is shadowed, though, and you remind yourself to explore it with him later.

“Mommy!” Your child runs up, wrapping little arms around your legs. You squat down to give them a tight hug and then stand, immediately stepping into Angel’s arms as EZ takes the reins of your four-year old.

“Congratulations.” Angel mumbles into your hair, planting a kiss to your head before nuzzling his face in the crook your neck. Your arms tighten around him and the emotions of what you’ve accomplished nearly overwhelm you. “I’ve never been so proud of someone in my life.”

You let out a choked sob and bury your face into his chest. To hell with your makeup, you’re a fucking college graduate!

[mischiefnevermanaged89-blog]

Mayans MC

Gotta Be Somebody

Angel Reyes X Reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

[garbinge]

Motion Sick

Angel Reyes x F!Reader From these August Prompts:  “I don’t usually get motion sick but— oh, I think I’m gonna puke.” A/N: Hope you’re enjoying the fic a day challenge with me! Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy. Fluffy but light angst.

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

It was the middle of the day and you were traveling back home from a club errand with Angel. You might’ve had the day off but Angel didn’t and you figured if you were gonna snag anytime with him alone this was going to be it. Things had been busy between the club and the scrapyard. There wasn’t even a point in asking Angel if the errand he was running was for either because it likely had to do with both. All you knew is Angel had mentioned needing to take a ride to Santa Ana in the morning before he left your house and you met him at the clubhouse and hopped in the passenger seat of the van without any argument on his side. 

Angel didn’t mind the company, if anything he enjoyed it. These days it was rare you two got to do anything together besides roll over and shake the other to shut off the alarm so taking a ride together was like a date on the town for you. 

The ride up was smooth and quick, both of you wanted to get the errand done as soon as possible so that the rest of the day was your own without any responsibilities lingering over your head. The way back was more enjoyable. Angel took the long way back down the Pacific Coast Highway to give some romance to the trip, opting to stop at a whale watching point because he really wanted to spend as much time as he could with you. It was nice, it was something that had been missing between you two lately and this was his way of acknowledging it. 

As you got back on the road you started to fidget in the passenger seat. Finding a comfortable position was making itself hard as you moved around. 

“You alright? You can’t sit still.” Angel looked over at you as you switched to your 4th position in the last minute. 

“Yea, just feel uncomfortable. I don’t know what it is.” You frowned and leaned forward to grab the handle that would easily adjust the seat back in hopes that would help. 

“You think it was the lookout dock? The waves and shit making you sick?” The worry grew in his voice as he slowed down on the highway, taking the opportunity to look at you longer verse the road to get a better understanding about what was going on. 

“I don’t know, I don’t think so. We were on solid foundation not like a dock or anything that was moving. Maybe I’m just getting antsy from the ride.” You brushed off his concern.

“Look, maybe you just need a break, we can stop and get some fuckin’ food or some shit.” Angel was starting to argue with you now, not out of spite, but from a genuine place. “You’re probably just motion sick. We’ve been in this van for a minute.” He had already begun to pull over at whatever food stop was coming up before you could put up a fight but it didn’t stop you from trying. 

“I don’t usually get motion sick,” your hand lifted to wave him off to continue driving until you almost immediately brought it to your mouth, “oh– I think I’m gonna puke.” 

Luckily the car was stationary as you opened the passenger door and vomited out of it. Angel thinking quickly to lean over and pull anything out of the way of your upchucking. 

“Damn querida. I thought you didn’t get motion sick.” He said when you finally stopped and used one of the napkins that was shoved in the side pocket of the car to wipe your mouth off. As he spoke you turned to him and lifted your middle finger which made him laugh. 

“I feel like shit.” You closed your eyes and leaned back in the seat. 

“You need anything? I’ll get the food to go, we can grab a spot in the grass or something, I’m sure we got a blanket somewhere back here.” Angel went into full solution mode. 

“If I sit on any blanket that’s in this van I’ll end up sicker than I am right now.” You let out a chuckle and let your head fall to the left to stare at Angel. He was on edge, you could tell. His arm was on the steering wheel and his body was twisted to look back at you. “Why don’t we find a convenient store, like a CVS or Rite Aid or some shit, I think I’ll get better if I get my hands on a gatorade and some saltines.” 

Angel was moving in seconds, he had put the car in drive and you were about to argue it but he spoke up. “I’m just moving it up a couple feet so you don’t step in your own vomit.” His smiled openly. 

“Angel the angel.” You teased him as you stepped out the van. 

The convenient store was close, it was a matter of minutes before you both entered the air conditioned building that was playing some top 40’s radio station through the speakers. The cold breeze already had you feeling better, the club van didn’t exactly have the best AC for an old overused vehicle. 

“Grab what you want, I’m gonna see if I can get you some of that motion sickness shit from the pharmacy, half the shit on the PCH is behind lock and key.” Angel placed a quick kiss on your head before walking towards the medicine aisle. “Oh and maybe pick up some Listerine or toothpaste!” His whole body turned around as he kept walking backwards with his nose scrunched up. 

That earned him another middle finger and a headshake, although, you knew he was right. Toothpaste and a toothbrush was the first thing you were grabbing on your way to grab the essentials but he didn’t need to be annoying about it. 

As you entered the toiletry aisle your eyes scanned the shelves. Mouthwash was first, and while it was a viable option, you knew brushing your teeth would be a greater benefit for both of you. As your eyes moved to the toothpaste, you saw the travel brush and paste kit and grabbed the first one you saw before walking down the rest of the aisle. You browsed the rest of the aisle, taking your time not wanting to leave the cooled store anytime soon. As you looked around your eyes stopped on a box of tampons. That’s when it hit you like a tons of bricks. The speed at which you took your phone out your backpocket was unmatched, all just for your thoughts to be confirmed by the date displaying on your phone. You were late. 

Without a second thought you grabbed the pink box that was to the right of the pads and tampons and flew to the bathroom. Luckily it was on the opposite side of where the pharmacy was so there was no chance you were going to run into Angel. 

3 minutes was beginning to feel like 3 days with how long it was taking. You had grabbed the digital test, which was likely the more expensive one but at this point you didn’t care. You stood over the sink staring at the flashing lines waiting for words to pop up on it. You could’ve taken the time to brush your teeth but you felt like if you took your eyes off the test, you’d miss something. 

You heard the digital beeping and the words appeared across the screen. 

Pregnant. 

“Holy shit.” 

You weren’t exactly sure how to feel but before you could really even process it, you were stepping out of the bathroom and looking down the aisles for Angel. 

He was in the toy section, gatorade and saltines in one hand and a squishmallow in the other. 

“Hey look! It kinda looks like Sally right? I know it’s a seal but they got the same fuckin’ eyes.” Angel held up the gray stuffed animal and compared it to his little brother’s dog. 

As you walked over to him and said nothing his smile started to fade. 

“You get sick again?” He asked a follow up question. 

Without saying anything you held up the pregnancy test for him to see. It took him a couple seconds to process what you were showing him before he was picking you up in the air in celebration. The squeal that left your mouth was full of shock but the laugh that came after was genuine. Angel was clearly excited about this and that sent a wave of relief through you that let you enjoy this. 

“Alright, alright, put me down you’re gonna make me sick again!” You spoke through another laugh. 

“What happened, I thought you don’t get motion sick.” His voice got deeper as he mocked you and put you down. 

“Yea I don’t, but apparently your kid does.” 

Angel’s smile grew even bigger at that sentence. You leaned over and grabbed the squishmallow from him and made your way to the front of the store to pay for everything you two had gathered up. 

“We gettin’ that?!” Angel lightly jogged to catch up to you. 

“Baby’s first toy?” You squished it against your front in a hug. 

Angel brought you into his side, throwing his arm around you as he left a soft his on the crown of your head. 

“Yea, baby’s first toy.” 

[drabbles-mc]

Sugar

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol

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

Prompt: petals

Word Count: 423

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You finally looked up at him. “Salt.”

His brows knit in confusion. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cregansgf]

They don’t deserve you. {C.V}

This is heavily inspired by Billies song ‘Everything I wanted’

Some of the lyrics fit Creeper’s character so well in my opinion.

Warnings: none just fluff, slight angst?!

“They played it off as a joke.”

The sentence that broke Y/n’s heart in two. She sat there for a moment looking over at Creeper who was lying on the bottom of her bed staring up at the ceiling. They had been opening up too each other, feeling safe with one another.

When she had asked about his bullet wounds, he had explained and she felt horrible but him basically telling her his club didn’t care although he cared for them so fucking much hurt her.

She sat up from her spot before moving to the bottom of the bed so she could sit beside him. She looked down at him before cupping his face. “They don’t deserve you.” She murmured as a tear she didn’t know was forming fell down her cheek.

How could anyone take someone so kind for granted? Sure, Creepers done some messed up things but he’s still a person. He’s such a kind hearted soul, how could they take his pain and make it into a joke? How could they not care when he’d do anything for them?

He moved his hand so his thumb was wiping away another stray tear that fell down her cheek. “I don’t deserve you.” He admitted

“No. Don’t say that. Creeper you deserve the world, Fuck. If i could give it to you I would.” She rambled before he cut her off

“Y/n.” He paused for a moment “You don’t have to say this stuff just because I ranted to you.. I wasn’t trying to make you feel that way.”

“I’m not just saying it, Creep. I mean it. Don’t ever doubt yourself with me..I need you.” She watched the smile form on his face as he took in her words, watching the light come back in his eyes made her speak up again. “As long as I’m here no one can hurt you.” She murmured.