#angel reyes x gn!Reader

[froggibus]

Could I request some soft nsfw with Reyes during his Blackwatch era? Like he and his gn s/o (who’s maybe in Ow or Bw, choose whatever <3) just decide to take it slow and soft after a day of missions and work?

(Love your Reaper fics and your work in general 😞🫶)

Morning Glory - Gabriel Reyes

Pairing: Gabriel Reyes x reader (no pronouns are used but reader has a pussy)

Genre: smut/nsfw

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: your husband has no problem being late to work if he can bask in your morning glory just a little while longer

CW: established relationship (married), finger sucking, morning sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight dom/sub vibes, just some wholesome sex I swear, only the teeniest tiniest bit of plot

hey!! thanks so much for this request 💓 ive been really soft for Reyes lately so I had a lot of fun writing this ^^ I did change it a tiny bit to fit better, I hope that’s okay & you still enjoy it!! hope you’re having a wonderful day hun

Gabriel laces his fingers through yours, flattening his palms and forcing your hands further into the mattress. His brown eyes are near black, pupils bloated with lust. The golden sun from the window behind him pools on the back of his head, looking like a halo in your early morning fog.

“How’re you feeling, angel?” 

You whimper when his hips snap against yours again, the head of his cock brushing your cervix. That burning, searing knot inside of you only grows. You tighten your own grip, curling your nails into the skin on the backs of his rough hands. 

He slows down, his dick painfully still inside of you. “Y/n,” he says in that same tone you’ve seen him use with his agents. “Use your words.”

“G—good.” 

He smiles and rewards you with a kiss, pushing forward until his cock bottoms out inside of you. His hips roll into yours, the hard skin of his toned stomach brushing against the bare skin of yours. Your pussy flutters in response.

You sneak a glance at the alarm clock on your nightstand, the green LEDs reading dangerously close to the time you have to be at work. You squirm beneath your husband but the attempt is futile.

He kisses you once more, love and passion and the aftertaste of his protein shake flooding your mouth. The stubble on his face tickles yours, a grateful distraction from the assault on your pussy. 

“Where’re you trying to go, hm?”

You bite your lip and blink at him through tears after a particularly deep thrust, as if he’s trying to emphasise his words with every motion. “We’re gonna be late for work,” you say. “I didn’t realize it was so late, we need to get ready—”

Gabriel pulls all the way out of you before slamming back in, your whole body quivering from the sudden intensity. You cry out, eyes and hands clenching shut. You’re only vaguely aware of him laughing above you in the aftershocks of your pleasure. 

He releases your left hand, trailing his down to cup at your cheek. You flex your fingers awkwardly, the muscles stiff from the bruising grip he’s had on you all morning. He taps your face gently, prompting you to open your eyes.

“Work, work,” he taunts. His thrusts are slow once more, shallow and teasing as his cock barely dips into your heat. “I’ve been working all damn week. I can be late just once.”

He captures your lips in a ravenous kiss, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip until you submit and open wide for him. His tongue swirls around your mouth, tangling against yours, running along the backs of your teeth, feeling every part of you. 

His other hand tightens against yours with another roll of his hips. His mouth is steady on yours while he rocks back into you, building up to a steady pace that finally starts to relieve the pressure you’ve felt all morning. Every movement of his cock, every forward motion, has your walls stretching apart, splitting open against his width in a way that has your eyes rolling back.

He pulls away from you, a string of spit connecting your lips until it splits in the centre and coats your lips. He flashes you a lusty smile, running his thumb across your swollen mouth to smear it even more. He loves you like this—all desperate and messy and whiny beneath him in the morning light.

You tilt your head to look at the alarm clock once more but he fucks into you harshly, his thrusts increasing to a pace that even he struggles to keep track of. His hand grips your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him.

“Eyes off the clock, angel.” His tone is kind but there’s a new desperation behind it, something telling you to just submit and let him use you. 

You open your mouth to protest but he slips his thumb inside, running it over the ridges of your tongue. On reflex, you close your mouth and start sucking on it, circling your tongue around it the same way you did to his cock earlier this morning.

Gabriel smirks at you, as if remembering the same thing. His other hand finally releases yours—your fingers almost numb—and grabs your waist. He uses his grip as leverage to fuck into you deeper, faster. His fingers prod into your skin and drag you to him with every thrust, meeting him halfway every time.

His thrusts are so intense that you have no choice but to close your eyes, that unbearable heat in the base of your stomach threatening to explode at any second. Your toes curl into themselves at an especially harsh thrust, stinging waves of pleasure racing up your spine until you feel dizzy.

You cry out for him, your still sore fingers lacing through the dark strands of his hair and tugging hard. He pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a pop, cleaning it off in his own mouth before placing it on your waist to mirror his other hand. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” He babbles, “feel like I haven’t gotten to fuck you in forever, baby. Missed this pussy.”

You nod along with his words, but through the intense thrum of pleasure filling your ears, you hardly hear what he’s saying. You tighten your grip and arch your back, trying to angle him deeper. Gabriel follows your motion, pressing a firm hand down on your stomach, palming his cock through your skin.

He grunts at the feeling, only spurring himself further until he’s pistoning in and out of you, your walls fluttering around him in warning. Heat washes over your entire body, sweat starting to slick your temples. He presses soft kisses to your lips, grinding himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, and then your orgasm washes through you.

You clench, every muscle in your body tightening as pleasure takes over completely. Your pussy squeezes his cock, stilling his movements and sending him over the edge with you. Hot ropes of cum flood your pussy, Gabriel grabbing your face tightly and kissing you with all the desperation in the world.

You pant into the kiss, finally relaxing and letting your body drop into the mattress. Your ears ring and blackspots dance across your vision, but the feeling of your husband’s cock filling you up, his rough lips on yours, are incomparable.

Gabriel is sweating by the time he’s sliding out of you, the gushing combination of your slick and his cum running out of your pussy and staining the sheets. You look at it with a frown—you’ll have to wash those later.

He rolls off of you and glances at your alarm clock. “Wow,” he says, voice hoarse. “We’re gonna be really late for work.”

You fix him with a glare. “No kidding.”

He smiles sheepishly, though you know better than anyone he has no regrets. None whatsoever.

masterlist | overwatch masterlist

thank you so much for reading ^^ every like, comment & reblog is so appreciated ♥

[drabbles-mc]

Collateral Damage

Angel Reyes x GN!Reader

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

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

Word Count: 4.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got a sec?”

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

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

“It’s about the club.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll make sure EZ stops by.”

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

“You don’t have to do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“EZ’ll be by in a bit, alright?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be safe,” you said with a small nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widened. “Angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t think—”

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

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

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

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

He froze. “What?”

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

“We’re gonna handle—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Angel…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded. “That’d be good.”

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

[itsss4t4n]

Who I write for /Rules

Masterlist

I'm new-ish to writing (i used to write fanfiction when i was like 13. i'm 19 now and write very rarely) but I really wanna do it again.

So this is a list of characters/fandoms I write for as well as some rules for asks. Some things may be missing from this list so if you dont see something on this list, feel free to ask. :))

Do add as much detail as you want to a request and please ALWAYS have at least some sort of prompt, as i'm really not good with coming up with storys on my own yet.

I WILL NOT DO SMUT SO DONT REQUEST IT! I might however do spicy stuff (Nothing more than making out or somewhat implied stuff tho).

My writing will be mostly pg 13 but please still be careful if the fic-warnings include sensitive topics, and i might repost some 18+ things so be careful when navigating my blog.

Please be nice and have manners when requesting.

Also please include what gender/pronouns you want the reader to have (i write for all genders). If its not included I will default it as gender neutral. :)))

I also write poly relationships and AUs.

Some things I will not write include: Pregnancy, toxic/yandere, student x teacher, love triangles.

(Also english isnt my first language, and even though, in my opinion, i speak it really well, if they are any mistakes, thats why.)

Heartbreak high

Harper Mclean

Quinni Ghallager-Jones

Darren Rivers

Spencer "Spider" White

Anthony "Ant" Vaughn

Malakai Mitchel

Sally face

Sal Fisher

Travis Phelps (male or gn readers)

Larry Johnson

Ashley Campbell

Harry Potter

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Charly Weasley

Bill Weasley

Cedric Diggory

Olliver Wood

Draco Malfoy (+6th year only)

Theodore Nott (+6th year only)

Marauders

James Potter

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Regulus Black

Evan Rosier

Barty Crouch jr

Pandora Rosier

Lilly Evans

Marlene Mckinnon

Hogwarts Legacy

Sebastian Sallow

Ominus Gaunt

Gareth Weasley

Poppy Sweetings

Imelda Reyes

Die drei fragezeichen / the three investigators

Bob Andrews

Peter Shaw

Justus Jonas

Skinny Norris

Twilight

Jasper Hale

Emmet Cullen

Carlisle Cullen

Esme Cullen

Rosalie Hale

Alice Cullen

Sam Uley

Paul Lahote

Charlie Swan

Leah Clearwater

Jacob Black

Pjo

Let me know if you want book or show

Percy Jackson

Annabeth Chase

Luke Castellan

Clarrisse La Rue

Selena Beauregard

Charles Beckendorf

Ethan Nakamura

Nico di Angelo (no romantic fem readers)

Rachel Elizabeth Dare

Will Solace

Travis Stoll

Connor Stoll

Hazel Levesque (no romantic)

Jason Grace

Leo Valdez

Piper Mclean

Magnus chase

Magnus Chase

Samirah al Abbas ( no romantic)

Alex Fierro

Blitzen

Hearthstone

Mallory Keen

TJ (Thomas Jefferson jr)

MCU (Avengers)

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers

Tony Stark

Sam Wilson

Natasha Romanoff

Yelena Belova

Peter Parker (tom holland and andrew garfield)

MJ

Wanda Maximof

Piedro Maximof

Clint Barton

Scott Lang

Stephen Strange

Kate Bishop

MCU ( Guardians of the galaxy)

Peter Quill

Daredevil (Season 1)

Matt Murdock

Karen Page

James Wesley

X-men universe

Deadpool

Wolverine

Francis

Xavier

Mystic

Angel

Kurt

Venom

Eddie Brock

DC

Harley Quinn

Jason Todd

Dick Grayson (any version, young justice, robin, nightwing,etc.)

Wally West (youngJustice)

Artemis (young justice)

Roy Harper (young justice)

Disney Descendants

Mal

Evie

Carlos devil

Jay

Benjamin Beast

Chad Charming

Audrey Rose

Jane

Lonnie Fa

Uma

Harry Hook

Gil

Rise of red

James Hook

Hades

Bridget

Ella

Cloe

Red

Morgie

Kingsmen

Eggsy

Tiny Pretty things (Netflix)

Bette Whitlaw

Oren Lennox

Shane Madej (no romantic fem readers)

June Park

Jennifers Body

Jennifer Check

Colin Gray

Ever after high

all characters

Redacted Audios

(no x reader, just ships)

literally all characters

[narcolini]

ending the night

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

warnings for descriptions of vomiting

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

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

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas​ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You should probably rest then.’

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

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

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

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

‘You’re staying?’ he asks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Angel?’

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

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

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

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Fanfic Friday (10/20/23) Poll -

Summaries (sorry if they're terrible XD):

-

Peter B. Parker X GN Reader - Title: Chrysanthemums, Dahlias, and Lavender - Fluff/Angst;

Summary: Peter B. sits with you and remembers the day he met you. From meeting on the playground, walking down high school halls, and sharing your first kiss... Post Into The Spiderverse.

-

Peter Parker (Noir) X Fem Reader - Title: It Had To Be You - Fluff/Angst;

Summary: After falling into your dimension, Peter tries to find a way back to his, but doesn't expect falling a third time... Falling for you. But as the years go by, Peter never expected to run into two familiar faces, realizing that he doesn't have a choice but to leave you. Post Into The Spiderverse/Post Across The Spiderverse.

-

Jaime Reyes X GN Reader - Title: Bittersweet Goodbye - Fluff/Slight Angst;

Summary: College is over, you and Jaime should be celebrating, but he has to go home. Pre Blue Beetle.

-

Sam Winchester X Female (Angel) Reader - Title: An Angel's Dilemma - Fluff/Slight Angst;

Summary: Sam's in love with you, the only problem is that he just can't seem to get through to you... Are you just oblivious or do you just not feel the same?

-

Regulus Black X Female Reader - Title: They Say It's Forbidden - Fluff/Angst;

Summary: You and Regulus are in love, but James and Sirius aren't really fond of the Slytherin... And they'll do everything in their power to stop the two of you from staying together.

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Seeing your ex again after returning to Santo Padre

Request: Yes or No

I promise Bridgerton is coming! School just ended and I'm taking a mini break by watching Mayans MC.

~~~

Returning to Santo Padre had been a tough decision. You'd done everything in your power to leave the town and start fresh somewhere where you wouldn't have to worry about violence or drugs. Your father had respected the decision but he had been more than thrilled to learn you were returning, even if just for a little.

Truthfully, it wasn't just the cartel and its effects keeping you away. Hank had told you about Ez and his release from prison. The memory of being told he had been arrested for murder remained fresh in your mind. Ez had his whole life planned out and it came crumbling down in a single night. Back then, you thought you'd be settling down in a nice house with a professional baseball player.

Despite the sudden breakup, you were glad he had only served 8 years. Especially given his original sentence.

"Here goes nothing." You muttered, driving through the open gate and coming to a stop. After making sure your bike wouldn't topple over, you slid off your helmet and noticed Chucky approaching with a wide smile.

"It seems like families just keep being reunited." He breathed out. Still as quirky as ever. "How are you, (Y/N)?"

"All good. The guys been treating you well?" You smiled at him, setting your helmet on the seat as the door to the clubhouse creaked open.

"There's my Einstein!" Your father hollered and laughed as you groaned. Hank stepped out of the clubhouse and the rest of the members followed. Hank extended his arms, the smile on his face bringing one to your own. You wrapped your arms around him, smelling the faint scent of cigarettes and beer. His warm and familiar embrace filled you with nostalgia. You lost count of how many times you had needed it while away.

"Damn, you've grown. You were just a ratoncito with big dreams last time I saw you." Bishop grinned from behind your father. You chuckled at his words and pulled back, greeting him and Taza with hugs. The two men were practically your uncles and they loved you just as much as your father.

"Good to see you, Beverly Hills."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Coco." You scoffed at his words, the toothy grin on his face only growing.

"You're back?" You could've sworn you felt your heart clench at the familiar voice. You met Cocos eyes and he gave a small nod to confirm your thoughts.

"Come on, boys. Let's give the ex lovers a moment." Bishop called, nodding to the house. You watched them enter one by one, your father being the last. Taking a deep breath, you turned to face him.

Wrong choice.

He'd matured. Gentle features were now sharp but his eyes were still as soft as ever. He'd become more muscular and even grown an inch or two in height. A tattoo adorned his arm and he sported the clubs jacket. A prospect.

"Reyes."

"Don't." His protest was soft and breathless, almost as if he wasn't sure you were real.

"Ezekiel."

"Ez." He corrected, brows furrowing as his lips formed a frown. "I- I never... I thought I'd never see you again."

"You know my dad is with the club, Ez." The nickname felt foreign now after the years.

"Yeah, but.. I expected you to keep away-"

"After you dumped me? Throwing away loved ones isn't my thing, Ez." Your gaze hardened on him and he looked away. "It's yours."

"Ouch." Someone hissed from behind you and you turned your head in time for the clubhouse door to slam shut. Hank and Coco scrambled away from the window.

"I didn't want you to waste your time by being with me. 20 fucking years, (Y/N). I couldn't hold you back from your dreams."

"People get out on good behavior all the time."

"Those who kill cops rarely ever do." He retorted in a quieter voice. He took a step closer to you and reached out, hesitating before placing his hand on your cheek. A rough thumb brushed over your skin and you instinctively leaned into his touch.

"I missed you. More than you'll ever know."

Gifs aren't mine.

[twistnet]

teasing love [ angel reyes ]

⋯ SUMMARY ; angel is particularly needy most mornings, and sometimes, you like to tease him just a bit // @yatozaii​

⋯ PROMPT ; scenario twenty-four — banter in which one of them’s like… “i love you” and the other person’s like “ok” and the first one’s like “say it back” and the other one’s just like “no” and the first one gets frustrated because “why wouldn’t you say it back we always say i love you before we leave”

⋯ WARNINGS ; gn!reader, general fluff + some light teasing

mornings had always been something of tradition for you and angel. regardless of how early you were being called into work, angel always got up behind you. following you into the kitchen or bathroom like a puppy. hair a mess and dressed in just his boxers.

sometimes, angel had joined you in getting ready. either due to an early call for templo with the club or he wanted to stop by and see if his dad was still breathing. his words, not yours.

however, this particular morning, angel had been a pain in your ass since he had woken up. his bare feet shuffling against the tile as he followed you around the house, attempting to trap you in his arms with whispers of going back to bed.

yet, you had work this morning and no time to give angel the affection he was looking for in the moment, especially considering he had managed to keep you in bed thirty minutes past you alarm. in turn, causing you to run around the house like crazy to make sure you didn’t forget anything.

angel huffed, moving to wrap his arms around your middle. pressing his face into your neck and shoulder. you chuckled, hand reaching up to run your fingers through his curls. feeling him hum against your shoulder at the feeling. “i love you.” he muttered into your shirt, his lips spreading into a smile as you offer him some love.

“okay.” you teased, almost laughing aloud when you felt angel’s head lift from your shoulder quickly. hands moving to your hips to turn you around to face him. and you almost burst out laughing at his hurt face. “say it back.”

“no.” you giggled, pushing past him to grab the last of your things before heading for the door. a hand shot out to grab your wrist, pulling you back within reach of the man you loved. his face now more hurt as he pouted at you, “ why wouldn’t you say it back?” he whined, “we always say ‘i love you’ before we leave the house. it’s the rule, remember?”

it was a rule. never leave the house without saying i love you. angel had made it at the start of your relationship, seeing as he never truly knew if he was ever going to come home. wanting you to know that he loved you if something were to ever happen. it later extended to you as well.

“i know.” you smiled, reaching to pick a curl out of his face. gently brushing your finger tips against his cheek before leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his lips. he happily reciprocated, humming in pleasure as he attempted to deepen the kiss. yet, was stopped by you pushing lightly against his chest.

“i love you, mi ángel.” he smiled, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead, hand cupping the base of your skull, “i love you too.” lips trailing down your temple to your ear, “now, what was so hard about that, mi alma?” you giggled, kissing his cheek as you stepped away from his grasp and readjusted yourself. “you know i like being difficult.” you stated with a wink before blowing him a final kiss as you closed the door behind you.

angel smiled, walking back into the bedroom to get dressed for his day. yeah, you were difficult, but it was only fair given how you’ve dealt with him all these years.

blog navigation ⇢ [ mayans mc masterlist ]

[flightlessangelwings]

Here is my masterlist of all my fics for Kinktober 2021! All fics are labeled with what type of reader they are and all other warnings can be found on the fics themselves. Obviously, these all contain smut so no one under 18 should be reading or interacting with these fics please! Header made by me!

To stay updated on when I post, feel free to follow my fic update blog @flightlessangelwings-updates​ and turn on post notifications!

The list I used this year was provided by the wonderful @the-purity-pen and the full list can be found here! Divider made by @firefly-graphics

❤️ = personal favorite

1. Face sitting- Logan Delos x afab!reader

2. Threesome- Din Djarin x fem!reader x Koska Reeves ❤️

3. Ass worship- Bishop Losa x fem!reader

4. Spanking- Angel Reyes x fem!reader

5. Lap dance- Horacio Carrillo x fem!reader

6. Deep throating- Din Djarin x gn!reader

7. Strip tease- Ezra x afab!reader

8. Size kink- Paz Vizsla x fem!reader

9. Lingerie- Loki x afab!reader

10. Hickey/Biting- Santiago Garcia x afab!reader

11. Sleepy sex- EZ Reyes x afab!reader

12. Body worship- Benjamin Greene x fem!reader

13. Edging- Boba Fett x afab!reader

14. Temperature play- Billy Russo x fem!reader

15. Collaring- The Darkling x fem!reader

16. Nipple play- Din Djarin x afab!reader

17. Pegging- Benny Miller x fem!reader

18. Sex work- Pero Tovar x fem!reader ❤️

19. Overstimulation- Frank Castle x fem!reader

20. Sex toys- Thirteenth Doctor x afab!reader

21. Wax play- Comandante Veracruz x fem!reader ❤️

22. Thigh riding- Joel Miller x fem!reader

23. Cock warming- Marcus Pike x afab!reader

24. Slow and soft- Sam Wilson x fem!reader

25. Breath play- Fennec Shand x afab!reader

26. Strap- Captain Marvel x fem!reader

27. Swallowing- Frankie Morales x afab!reader

28. Teasing- Billy Russo x afab!reader

29. Food play- Clint Barton x afab!reader

30. Praise kink- Marcus Moreno x afab!reader 

31. Wild card: somnoplilia- Comandante Veracruz x fem!reader

[crowfootwrites]

crowfootwrites masterlist

18+ / NSFW / Smut pieces marked with 🔥

Star Trek Works:

New Arrival [Odo (ST:DS9) x Fem!Reader]

Devotion & Diplomacy [Daro (ST:TNG) x OFC] Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX 🔥

Diel [Taurik (ST:TNG) x Fem!Reader]

Warm Welcome [Neelix (ST:VOY) x GN!Reader]

Eaha’le [Senator Kimara Cretak (ST:DS9) x GN!Reader]

What Happens on Risa [Gul Macet (ST:TNG) x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist [various ST characters] 🔥

Stardew Valley Works:

December Drabbles [All Characters, currently updating]

Mayans MC Works:

The Boyfriend [Taza Romero x Fem!Reader] Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Bruises [Nestor Oceteva X Fem!Reader] | Part I | Part II

Hair [Nestor Oceteva x Reader] (Drabble)

Hoodie [Coco Cruz x Fem!Reader] (Drabble)

It’s Easy [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

June Drabbles [All Characters, unfinished]

Los Guardianes [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader] Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

Mayans Take Their Kids Trick-or-Treating | Headcanon

Nightmare [Taza Romero x Fem!Reader]

PTA [Creeper Vargas x Reader]

Safety [Nestor Oceteva x Reader]

Show Off [Angel Reyes x Fem!Reader]

Softer [Hank Loza x Reader]

Study Buddy [Coco Cruz x Reader]

Sugar [Miguel Galindo x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Suspension [Gilly Lopez x Fem!Reader]

Together [Bishop Losa x Fem!Reader]

Undone [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Sons of Anarchy Works:

Ache [Juice Ortiz x Reader]

Assumptions [Chibs Telford x Fem!Reader] 🔥

The Dream [Chibs Telford x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Memories [Bobby Munson x Reader]

Rough Night [Tig Trager x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit Works

The Bath [Rafael Barba x Reader]

A Night on the Town [Rafael Barba x OC] 🔥

HC: Something small that they enjoy

[drabbles-mc]

Whumpril Masterlist

Putting all of my Whumpril fics (and their respective pairings) under the cut! I will work on adding all of them to my main masterlist (which you can find Here), but I figured it would be cool to just have one dedicated to Whumpril!

Day 1: Idle Hands (Pope Heyward x Cleo)

Day 2: Get Some Rest (Marcus Alvarez x F!Reader)

Day 3: Tailed (Happy Lowman x F!Reader)

Day 4: The Same Mistakes (Isabella Bautista)

Day 5: Should've Seen It Coming (Nacho Varga x F!Reader)

Day 6: Doctor Recommended (Nestor Oceteva & Erin Thomas)

Day 7: It's Gonna Hurt (Steve Murphy x Connie Murphy)

Day 8: Whatever You Can (Opie Winston & OC Veronica Winston)

Day 9: Who Did This? (Jax Teller & OC Diedra Lowman)

Day 10: On My Own (Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers)

Day 11: What Did You Do? (Richie Jerimovich & Mikey Berzatto)

Day 12: Grave Mistakes (Horacio Carrillo & OC Diego Ramírez)

Day 13: Last Resort (John Wick & GN!Reader)

Day 14: I Said I'm Fine (JJ Maybank x F!Reader)

Day 15: Again and Again Part 3 (Juice Ortiz & Marcus Alvarez)

Day 16: Collateral Damage (Angel Reyes x GN!Reader)

Day 17: I Can't Do This (John B Routledge x F!Reader)

Day 18: All For Nothing (Angel Reyes & F!Reader)

Day 19: Flashbacks (EZ Reyes x F!Reader)

Day 20: Do I Know You? (Harry Hart x Merlin)

Day 21: Left Behind (Nestor Oceteva x Erin Thomas)

Day 22: Nothing New Part 2 (EZ Reyes x OC Lola Ortega)

Day 23: Nothing To Tell (Tig Trager & OC Claire Morrow)

Day 24: What Have You Done? (Horacio Carrillo & GN!Reader)

Day 25: More To Say (Javier Peña & GN!Reader)

Day 26: Won't Leave You Behind (Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers)

Day 27: Good For Something (Horacio Carrillo x GN!Reader)

Day 28: The Worst Of It (Coco Cruz x OC Daniela Reyes)

Day 29: Out Of Time (Amado Carrillo Fuentes x F!Reader)

Day 30: Far From Over (Gilly Lopez x OC Josephine Costa)

[narcolini]

trapped

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

warnings for claustrophobia(?) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I couldn’t—’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘EZ?’

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

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

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

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

‘Are you kidding me?’

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

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

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

‘Shut up.’

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

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

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

‘EZ?’

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

‘Give me the shovel, Angel.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Just a little bit longer,’ you promise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yeah,’ you scoff, ‘me too.’

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

[narcolini]

kiss and tell

angel reyes x gn!olvidado reader, 2369 words

for day 25 of whumpril: ‘we’re being watched’

a/n: this is in a world where adelita and angel never had a thing, because why not, AND who doesn’t love a fake date trope! muah (also love u élise, mi jefa)

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas​

You shouldn’t be here. You really shouldn’t be here. Of all your dubious moral mistakes, this might just be the worst one, right? Going behind Adelita’s back, to talk to a Mayan, of all people, who’s working with Galindo? Yeah, you’ve fucked it. You’ve really missed the mark with this one.

He isn’t even a close friend, really. A friend of a friend of a friend. Someone you bickered with in high school, an Angel totally undeserving of the name. Payaso copied your answers in more exams than you can count, and now he’s after them again, begging you for info you know you shouldn’t give. Well, you assume so. The text he’d sent hadn’t been specific, but what else could he want? 

You haven’t spoken to him in years, but, fuck, you’re here, aren’t you? You agreed to his suggestion and let him pick the meeting place. You’re walking toward him now, like you couldn’t be any fucking happier to ruin your shit, any more willing to disrupt what Los Olvidados have been organising for months. God, if anyone knew about this. If Adelita knew about this.

It isn’t worth imagining. Besides, you might not tell him anything at all, right? He might ask you for something you know nothing about. There’s still a chance of that, still time for fate to stand by your side.

Angel’s leaning against the tree closest to the park’s entrance, one tall beanpole in the sea of kids and moms pushing empty prams. He doesn’t blend in by any means. He didn’t even bother to take his kutte off.

‘Hey.’ He nods as you approach, only clocking you once you’re within talking distance anyway.

‘You wanna be any more obvious, man?’ you snap over him, looking past him, then over your shoulder. ‘May as well have brought the rest of your stupid club with you.’

‘Wow, relax.’ He looks like he wants to laugh. ‘Is it that serious? S’not like you got rules against socialising and shit.’

He’s wrong, of course, because that’s exactly what you do have. Especially when it comes to socialising with Galindo affiliated groups. ‘Can we move, please?’ you ask, ignoring the remark. ‘Away from the fucking Mom’s club.’

Then he does laugh, face crumpling like you’re certifiably insane, but he does stand straight from the tree he’s on. ‘You wanna walk?’

‘Sure.’ That’s better than this, at least. You watch him shove his hands into his pocket, before gesturing with his elbow for you to lead the way. Which you do, begrudgingly, traipsing further into the park with him beside you.

‘I can’t talk for long,’ you tell him, flicking him a look. Then it’s back behind you, over your shoulder, and to the right over the grass.

‘Damn,’ he’s watching you scan the surroundings, ‘you’re way less fun than you used to be.’

‘I didn't realise we ever had fun, Angel.’

He scoffs. ‘Really? Thought we were cool.’ He throws you a smile. ‘Homies.’

‘You stuck gum to my backpack and cheated off me relentlessly,’ you answer, not bitter, but bored instead. ‘Might’ve been fun for you, but.’

‘Okay,’ he laughs, ‘so I was a shitty kid. You really gonna hold that against me?’

‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ You pass a woman jogging, flashing her a smile just to see if she’ll return it—she does. ‘Would’ve blocked your number if I was holding it against you.’

He sucks a breath in, like he’s scratched his knee or some shit, wincing with it. ‘The fuck are they feeding you at those camps? Los Olvidados got a rule about being friendly now?’

‘Yeah,’ you nod, and you hate that you’re almost laughing with it, ‘that’s actually the whole thing, dumbass. We’re not trying to make friends.’

So why are you here then? Walking through a park, birds chirping like a fucking Disney movie, with Angel of all people. You were supposed to be making this quick. You shove your hands in your pockets like he has, pulling your hoody closed over your torso. No more chitchat.

‘So,’ you say, ‘can we get to the part where you beg me for information?’

You aren’t looking at him still, but flitting around again. There’s a dude on the bench you’re walking by, reading the newspaper. He doesn’t pay any attention to either of you. Doesn’t look up as Angel’s boot throws a stone in his direction.

‘Information? Nah.’ Angel shakes his head, the movement catching in your periphery. ‘You think that’s what I’m here for?’

You shrug. ‘Well, yeah. What else would you want?’

You’re on opposite sides, really. Hired hands or not, the Mayans are working for the man you and the rest of the group have fucked over, multiple times now. All you can offer him is information he shouldn’t have. Not that you will, of course, not that you will. But you at least want to hear what he’s dumb enough to ask for.

He’s slowed to a stop, for some reason. His brows are pinched together as he looks at you. ‘Y’know, I almost feel like saying fuck it and leaving you here.’

You turn, in front of him now, and shrug again. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘I’m here to help your ass not, fucking, beg you for information.’ He looks offended, actually. Genuinely offended. ‘I mean, come on, you really think I’m that stupid?’

Maybe, but you aren’t about to admit that to him. ‘Sorry,’ you stumble, ‘I don’t know. Guess I figured you had some allegiance to the dude paying you.’

He snorts. ‘Yeah, that’s not how this shit works.’

‘Okay,’ you prompt, ‘then what is it? Why am I here?’

For the first time, he chances a look behind like he does actually care, like he’s as nervous about this as you are. Well, almost. ‘Thought you guys might want to know Galindo’s planning to go ahead with another shipment,’ he says.

‘Oh.’ Your brows go up. ‘Damn. Fuck, that’s useful.’

‘Yeah,’ his voice goes thick with sarcasm, ‘I figured.’

Your gaze slips past him, looking for the man with the newspaper again. Only, he’s not there now, and has been replaced by another man, sitting with his arm over the back of the bench. He’s slouching, knees wide. Dressed in nothing but jeans and a garish shirt—which is weird, because it’s a cloudy day. Cold enough that you and Angel are both wearing two layers at least.

‘But why?’ You flick back to Angel. ‘Like, why help us?’

There’s something familiar about the man, about his very fucking familiar face. You can’t shake it. You can’t even focus on what Angel’s given you, the opportunity of another shipment to disrupt.

Angel sighs, oblivious to the mental file-o-fax you’re pawing through. ‘I know you think I’m a dick,’ he says, ‘but I do actually, y’know, care. About this shit.’ He gestures between the two of you. ‘The rebel shit, I’m with it.’ He pauses, you still aren’t paying attention. ‘And I fucking hate Galindo,’ he adds, souring. ‘Uptight fuck.’

You look back to the bench. He’s scanning the park now, in a very non-casual, casual way. Like you were—like you are. He skims past you quickly, pretending he hasn’t just made fleeting eye contact with you, and then it clicks. Finally. Fuck. It’s not just some dude, it’s Tiago, one of the many meatheads in Galindo’s cartel. You’ve seen his face a million times, in black and white, pinned to the boards at camp. You recognise it now, because it’s obvious. Scar through his eyebrow, thick moustache, ugly fucking shirts.

He isn’t relaxing in the park, enjoying the breeze, he’s waiting for you, watching. He’s holding out on you spilling secrets you shouldn’t—or maybe it’s not that at all. Maybe he’s watching Angel instead, keeping track of Galindo’s assets. They’re trying to avoid another incident like the last, looking for the leak in the in the seal, the rat amongst the dogs. And Angel’s clueless to it, standing and waiting for your reply. His face clear as day for Tiago to watch.

‘Kiss me,’ you say, blurting it as quickly as you can.

‘Wha—why?’ Angel frowns, lips pulling down at the corners. ‘Kiss you?’

‘We’re being watched.’ You step forward. ‘Kiss me.’

He’s taking too long to process it. You can feel Tiago staring now, attempting to read your lips. The longer Angel stands there looking lost, the longer Tiago has to profile you, to paint you as a notable figure. To pin blame to the badges on Angel’s kutte.

You pull him in by the back of his neck, before any more damage can be done. Hide his face with your own, make this look like a date, a walk in the park between one Mayan and his crush. He doesn’t kiss you back, of course, it’s stationary lips against stationary lips. Is it convincing? You’ve no idea. You can’t pull back to check yet, not without making it look suspicious and desperately false.

He says your name, or tries to, against your mouth. When you don’t break away to let him say it properly, there’s a moment of pause, just a breath, and then he’s kissing you like he means it. His hands come up to your waist, his lips part. You turn, pulling him with you, until you’re angled away from Tiago, Angel’s back a firm wall in his vision. He’s either cottoned on, at last, and is trying to make this look like a real thing to avoid suspicion, or his testosterone has kicked in and accepted a kiss for a kiss. His body reacting the way it normally would.

For a second you enjoy it. But that’s beside the point.

‘Okay,’ you pull back, hands to his chest, and look over his shoulder, ‘I think that…’

Tiago’s turned away again, scrubbing a hand over his moustache and looking as awkward as anyone would after watching two people kiss.

‘The fuck was that about?’ Angel asks, out of breath but unable to shift the smugness from his face. ‘Who’s watching us?’

‘Fucking Galindo,’ you mutter, ignoring the slight thrum in your chest.

‘He’s here?’ He attempts to look behind, but you catch him before he can, hand to his cheek.

‘Don’t fucking do that.’ You drop it again, fidgeting back behind the shape of him. ‘You can’t look, but it’s Tiago.’

His brows flex together; he’s wondering how you know who he is, how you’re using the guy’s first name like you’re familiar, but now isn’t the time to go into it. Really, you know more about Galindo’s crew than he ever will. There’s no cap on information for you, it’s find out all you can, everything you can. For him, it’s only what Galindo allows them to know. The bare minimum to get them to do what he needs.

‘He probably thinks you’re the rat,’ you say, continuing when he laughs, an I am the rat, expression on his face. ‘It’s better he thinks this is a date. For you, I mean.’

The smirk isn’t shifting. He’s staring down at you like you’ve actually asked him out. ‘So you’re helping me now?’ he says. ‘Saving my ass from Galindo?’

‘Yes,’ you snap, ‘and the desire to keep doing it is running thin.’

‘Alright, God.’ Still smiling. He’s still smiling. ‘Tell me what to do then, Olvidado.’

You have half the mind to leave, abandon him like that kiss was the farewell, and let Tiago track him alone. Follow his stupid bike around town until he finds some other way to incriminate him. But you need him, actually. You genuinely fucking need him and what he has to say. Another shipment would give you another chance to dent Galindo’s organisation, to strip more money, and more power, from him, in the most frustrating way possible. It’s an opportunity too good to miss.

‘You see that café ?’ you ask, knowing it’s in his eye-line, over your head. ‘We’re gonna go there, like we’re on a nice fucking date, and you’re gonna tell me what you came to tell me.’

‘Alright.’

‘So,’ you gesture toward him, ‘make it look like you actually like me, or something.’

He rolls his eyes, head tilting with it, and you almost reach to snap it back down again, but then he gets it together. He takes your hand, the right one, bringing it up as he steps around to lay the same arm over your shoulder. It’s more than he needed to do, putting you by his side, with your joined hands sitting against your collarbone, but you can hardly complain about it now. Tiago could be watching still—you look, eyes over Angel’s forearm—he is still watching. Leaning forward on his knees now, like he’s deciding whether to follow or not.

‘You’re gonna have to be careful,’ you say, facing front again. ‘They clearly suspect you.’

He shakes his head. ‘Flaco’s paranoid, probably thinks all of us are out here spilling his secrets.’

‘Fine, be like that. But it’ll get you fucking killed, Angel.’

‘Says the rebel trying to take him down.’

He has you there, but the difference is Galindo, Tiago, doesn’t know you yet. Doesn’t even realise that you’re anyone worth knowing. Thankfully, hopefully, your quick thinking has planted ‘love interest’ across your face, and ‘dead end’ over Angel’s. There’s nothing innately suspicious about two people going for coffee, no matter how Tiago swings it.

‘Let’s just get this over with,’ you tell him, increasing your speed and pulling Angel along with you. ‘Before one of us ends up in the gutter.’

Angel laughs, nodding.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ he shrugs over you, ‘just that this is the weirdest fucking date of my life.’

‘It’s not a date.’

‘Fake date,’ he corrects. ‘Weirdest fake date of my life.’

‘And last one, too,’ you add, because if he ever texts you to meet up again, you’ll be leaving him on read. Information or not, it isn’t worth the hassle, he isn’t worth the hassle. You’d rather struggle to gather information for yourself, than go down with the Angel Reyes, traitor to Galindo, disaster of a ship.

[narcolini]

coping mechanisms

angel reyes x gn!reader (& bonus coco), angst, 1683 words

no warnings, just men being dumb and fighty

for day 21 of whumpril: ‘it’s just a scratch’

tagging: @drabbles-mc @cositapreciosa @hausofmamadas​ (let me know if u wanna be tagged for angel fics)

Angel’s been like this since EZ’s arrest. Desperate for distraction. He’d been bothering the guys at first, tagging along on every job he could, calling round for drinks when they didn’t want guests. You could only keep him busy for so long too, because you always had to go to work eventually. No matter how much of yourself you gave in the time in between, it wasn’t enough. He was driving himself mad with it, really, the pursuit of an occupied mind. When no-one was there to help, he drank instead, but his wallet complained as much as his head did on that one.

And then he’d started fixing up his bike.

New parts, new paint. He stays out all day, polishing it, tweaking it. Riding out until it’s dirty and doing it all over again.

He’s at it now, in the lot, down on one knee to add shine to the front wheel arch. You’re watching him from the porch of the clubhouse, forearms on the wooden railing. You try to be a part of what helps. Offer him every escape you can think of: movies, dinner, sex. But he just goes right back to the bike afterwards. It’s the only thing that keeps his mind from running away with him. The repetition, you suppose, the little tasks, over and over again. He can’t think about EZ’s sentencing while he’s doing it. It’s just polish, and detailing, and the instant gratification of doing something practical with his hands.

There’s no waiting for someone else’s decision with the bike, the control is all his.

‘You want a beer, Ange?’ you shout.

His head shakes from across the yard. ‘Nah, you’re good.’

You’d expected as much, but offering a drink every now and then is all you can do when he’s like this. You were trying to be patient. Supportive.

‘I wanna go eat soon,’ you tell him, which he nods to. ‘In like thirty minutes?’

‘Yeah, sure.’

He hasn’t looked up from the bike once, is just raising his voice so it carries instead.

You sigh, relaxing into the support in front of you. EZ’s trial can’t come soon enough. You need your boyfriend back. Need a decision, a sentence, so he can stop avoiding what’s coming and deal with it instead. The longer he goes like this, the harder it’ll be when it happens and EZ goes in for good. He won’t even talk about it. Acts like he doesn’t have a brother at all, and if you bring it up, then, well. It’s worse than letting him spending hours and hours waxing the leather of his seat cushion.

There’s another bike pulling up now, Coco on his own, rolling into the space beside Angel’s. You can see right away that he’s got the angle wrong, probably from squinting into the sun. He goes wonky, then straightens, too close to where Angel’s working. You can’t be sure, but it almost looks like he’s made contact. Bike to bike.

‘Ey, ey, yo!’ Angel’s standing, tossing his cloth onto the seat. ‘Watch your fucking bars, homie.’

Coco’s engine cuts off. ‘Relax, bro,’ he says, craning to look between the two machines. He pushes his own bike back, walking it with his boots, before kicking down his stand. ‘It ain’t that serious.’

But Angel’s bent again, inspecting the paintwork of his own. ‘You fucked up my bike,’ he snaps, finger swiping along the mark he’s found.

‘What?’ Coco dismounts, hair swinging as he walks to stand beside him. When he’s there, looking at what Angel’s looking at, he laughs. ‘C’mon bro, that shit’s barely visible.’ He pushes Angel’s shoulder dismissively, grinning like they’re in on a joke. ‘The fuck is wrong with you?’

But Angel isn’t laughing. ‘The fuck is wrong with you?’ he snaps back, shoving Coco harder than he had done in the first place, away from him and into the handlebars of his own bike.

You straighten. Even from here you can see that they aren’t joking, can recognise the tension stretching between your boyfriend’s shoulder blades. He’s pissed, and he means it.

Coco laughs again as you take to the stairs, path set toward them. He’s not cocky with it now, but nervous, laughing from the shock of Angel’s reaction. ‘Yo, chill,’ he says, ‘it’s not that deep, Angel.’

‘Me chill?’ Angel’s hand flies out, gesturing to the bike. ‘You’re out here damaging my shit cause you can’t fucking ride, asshole.’

You’re a step away now, close enough to exchange a look with Coco, a what the fuck is going on, look. He’s got a right to be annoyed, sure, but this? This is beyond rationale. You and Coco both know that, but only one of you is patient enough to realise it’s not really Coco he has an issue with. Or the bike. It’s not really that at all.

Coco scoffs, righting himself, and setting his kutte straight over his chest. ‘You need to get a life, homie,’ he says, making your stomach sink. He shouldn’t take this route. He shouldn’t say anything at all.

‘Let’s bring it down a notch, yeah?’ You stop in front of them, looking between the two.

‘Ever since EZ was arrested this is all you fucking care about,’ Coco continues, ‘it’s fucking sad, man.’

Angel tuts, face tilting to the ground for a minute. You can see his jaw working, can imagine his molars clenching and unclenching.

‘He’s done for, bro, making your bike all nice and shit isn’t gonna—’

Angel swings at him, too clumsy to make contact with his fist—Coco flinching back in just the right moment—but his elbow catches his nose on the way back, and then it’s happening so fast that you lose track. Coco rushes him, taking them both back into Angel’s bike, swearing and grunting and grappling like children. Like boys in the mud of the school yard.

‘Fucking stop!’ you shout, hooking a hand around Coco’s shoulder because he’s closest, and yanking him as hard as you can.

It isn’t easy, and you’re ashamed to admit that you might’ve pulled his hair, just slightly, to get him to release, but eventually he lets you, and you drag him away from the stupid fucking fight.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you guys?’ you pant, pushing Coco behind you. When you turn to throw the question at Angel, he bumps into you, all momentum. He hadn’t realised that you’d gotten in between them yet. ‘Hey.’ You shove him back, two palms to his chest. ‘You’re acting like children.’

‘He started on me, man,’ Coco whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘You gave me a fucking nose bleed, asshole.’

Angel’s panting, chest lifting up and down wildly. ‘Yeah. Eye for an eye, fuckwad.’

You tut. ‘Angel.’ He’s embarrassing you. You’re actually itching under the skin with it.

Coco’s shaking his head, looking at the red on his hands, before putting them back to slow the flow of it. ‘You’re fucking crazy, homie,’ he says, tracking backwards toward clubhouse. ‘Stay the fuck away from me.’

‘Likewise, bro,’ Angel quips back, saying it over your head, all attitude and childish bitterness.

‘Will you fucking act like an adult, Angel?’ You’re staring at him, eyes wide and disbelieving. ‘It’s just a scratch. An accident.’ You’re close enough to see the mark for what it is now, and honestly, it’ll probably buff out. It’s probably just a streak of rubber over anything else. ‘Are you even seeing yourself right now?’

He scoffs, turning away from you to grab the cloth from his seat. ‘I don’t need shit from you too, y’know.’

‘You threw a punch over a scratch, Angel!’

He sours, grumbling, ‘You heard what he said about EZ.’

Yeah, the truth. He said what everyone else, besides Angel, has already accepted. ‘Really?’ you ask, head shaking. ‘You’re gonna lash out at literally everyone that talks about it?’

You watch him run the cloth through his hands, once, twice, waiting for a reply that never comes. You expected him to have a moment of realisation, to meet his stubbornness head on and accept that it isn’t fucking working. For him, for anyone. But he just stands there, waiting for you to leave.

‘You know what, Angel?’

‘What?’ His head twitches toward you, too sharp for your liking. It just adds fuel to the simmer.

‘I have been so patient, and understanding, letting you do your fucking…’ You wave toward his bike, toward him. His avoidance. ‘But you really need to sort your shit, and fast,’ you tell him. He needs to act like the older brother for once.

His head goes back, with a sigh bigger than he has any right to. ‘He scratched my fucking—’

‘The bike is not the fucking point, is it?’ you snap, cutting him off before he can complain any further. ‘You’re going to have to deal with this, okay, I know it sucks, but you can’t just keep yourself busy and never address the giant fucking elephant in the room.’

He’ll go crazy. You will too. Like a stone tied around your middle, thrown off the bridge with him.

‘EZ is likely to go down.’ Your voice catches, forcing you to swallow. ‘For a serious amount of time, and you need to deal with that, Ange.’

No more distractions, no more snapping at everyone that mentions it. Just him, and the real fucking reality that he’s trying to avoid. Your stare at him, waiting still. He says nothing. He can’t even bring himself to match your gaze.

But that’s fine. If that’s how he wants to be, then fine. You aren’t going to helicopter over his neuroticism anymore. You huff, turning on the balls of your feet.

‘What, you not even gonna let me defend myself?’ he scoffs, trying to sound arrogant and failing, too delayed to have any real impact. He’s only saying it now because it looks like you’ve won. 

‘No,’ you reply, eyes set on the door of the clubhouse. ‘I’m going to see if you broke his fucking nose.’

[hausofmamadas]

all i have to say is ....... KEKW

⁂

𖥕 A job you liked, a fiancé, a pending lease to an apartment in a city you never dreamed you’d live in, and, most crucially, a car that worked the way it was supposed to fucking work.

SKSKSKKSKSKS full audible, snort-cackling already occurring, im leaning back in my flimsy metal lawn chair (like the one Lalo uses when he’s sitting in the sewer spying on Gus) with a bucket of popcorn and some 3D glasses ready to see what fucking inane, nonsensical shit Angel does to ruin reader’s life sjskkssk

𖥕 The road you’ve had the misfortune of breaking down on is barren. Stripped back of any life and set into the dry backdrop, black asphalt against rusting earth

WOWOWOWOWOWOWOWW OKAY HUST GOT SMACKED WITH THE BIGGEST FUCKING HOMESICK BC I CAN ACTUALLY SMELL THE FUCKING HIGH DESERT, INLAND PART OF CALIFORNIA THAT YOURE DESCRIBING IN FUCKING POETIC DETAIL AND I AM SSKSKSKSKSJE W WIFIEOWBW fine. Im totally fine. Im calm. Im great. Im. fine.

𖥕 You’d recognise him if he was dipped in tar. Angel Reyes, your oldest and most estranged friend.

KEKW THE WAY I AN JUST KEKW ALREADY sjsjsjss also the dipped in tar thing? Amazing? Did we get Nacho’s final hours subconsciously stuck in our minds perchance cause that’s the first thing I thought of sksksksjs poor Nacho just covered in oil. Dang, now just thinking about Angel covered in oil and we are going deeper into homina homina homina territory so I’ll stop before I get ahead of myself

𖥕 ‘Didn’t think I’d ever see you in Santo Padre again, not until one of us died or some shit.’

Okay. So it’s not like I ever doubted your skills at capturing Angel’s voice/personality but this fucking dialogue right off the bat like are you sure you weren’t in the writer’s room o que……… bc TBIS JUST IS FUCKING ANGEL LIKE THERE IS NO FIC FILTER ITS JSUT FUCKING HIM I AM CHOKING

𖥕 He flicks his chin toward you. ‘You look good, yo, real grown up.’

Its actually going to take everything in me not to copy/paste evert fucking word of Angel dialogue. THATS how spot on we are.

𖥕 ‘Thanks. You look old as fuck too, asshole.’ 

NOOOOOK JSJSJSJSJS BC THIS MAKES ME THINK OF THAT ONE TIME WE DISCOVERED CLAYTON CARDENAS IS YOUNGER THAN THE GUY WHO PLAYS EZ BY LIKE 4 YEARS SKSKSKS always with love but I am fully wiping tears from my eyes rn Sksksksjsjsjs

𖥕 It’s enough to say, I know, I’m joking. It’s been a while, but not long enough to forget how. 

Ohhhhhhsskskskksks but I have nothing substantive to say except that I just fucking LOVEEEEEE how this is PHRASED

𖥕 ‘You put gas in it?’  Your face falls open in false shock, gravel crunching under foot as you turn back to him. ‘Oh shit, you mean you have to put something in it, to make it go?’

NOOOOSNSSISKKSKS BUT I AM FUCJING SCREAMING BC IT IS ACTUALLY LIKE WORSE THAN ASKING SOMEONE IF THEY TURNED THEIR COMPUTER OFF AND THEN ON AGAIN SSKSKSK BUT LIKE HOW MUCH WAS ANGEL LEGIT EARNESTLY ASKING THIS IN AN ATTWPT TOHELP I CANT BREATHE

𖥕 You’d forgotten how easily this came to the two of you, how quickly it could bounce back and forth, how nonsensical every conversation could be once you were both there toying with it.

Oh I LOVEEEEEEE that last sentence so fucking much, like it’s one of those people where you can play conversational Madlibs with like fill in the blank or finish each other’s sentences with off the wall shit and then the other person just runs with it no questions ask I am SCREAMING NOW

𖥕 ‘Waiting ’til they come get your shitty car. You don’t want company?’

Literally EVERY fucking bit of Angel dialogue is FLAWWWWWLESS. FLAWLESS. Im calling Elgin whatever his name is now and berating him into giving you a job.

𖥕 A smile chips into his features as you answer the call. ‘No,’ he says, ‘but you’re still a bug.’ 

Haaaksksksksksksjs w w no puedo manejarlo SKSKSKS BUG I AM DEAD THATS THE FUCKING CUTEST NICKNAME IVE EVER HEARD do we love how im already failing at not responding to every bit of dialogue

𖥕 In response, he holds out his helmet for you. So smooth with it that you briefly entertain the possibility that he’d planned all this.

SJSJSJSJSTOOOOOPPPP BUT I LOVE THIS FOR SO MANY REASONS, mostly bc Angel does not have the ….. hmmmm focus and attention to detail that woikd be required to pull something like this off BUT ALSO I can see the exact fucking body language that would make Reader entertain this possibility for like a nanosecond. Just fuckingPROSE!!Y’HEARD?. PROSE.

𖥕 The Reyes’ house was only a few streets over from yours, close enough to feel like nothing, even to littler legs…

I wish you could hear the sound that just ejected from my mouth right now??? It was like beyond an “Aw” it was like a weird mix?? between a bird squawk and “aw”?? Sksksksksn it was like someone picked me up and squeezed my waist too hard?? when I was just saying regular aw?? And reallt, I feel like that’s all I need to say to indicate how FUCKING PRECIOUS THIS IS :angy:

𖥕 Well, almost. Once you met Mick it was split between the two of them.  You never quite got the balance right.

OKAY SKSKSKSKS NOOOO NOOOO IM FINE MY CHEST ISNT JUST IMMEDIATELY CRACKING IN HALF WITH THE REGRET AND THE LONGING HERE NOPE NOT AT ALL IM NOT CRYING YOUR CRYING

𖥕 You swallow some of the nothingness in your mouth as if the quiet might have a taste to it. 

massages temples hhhhhhhuuuuhhhhh alright. Well, now. Now, youre just showing off. Bc this? This is just like ……. i cant even. Like again, is making me homesick like the kind if dry night air that really does have sort if a nothing taste but its like almost clean too? I just— I am sjsjsjssjsjw feeeeling a lot of thiiiiiinnngggs in thus moment

𖥕 He must’ve caught something in your expression because now he’s overcompensating, hands up in innocence. ‘I’m not judging. Shit happens.’ 

OHHHHA BUT OUR BABY BOY he’s just trying to make up for making his friend feel bad 😭😭 like I can see rhe look on his face like simultaneously trying to avoid the doghouse but also being like, “ah, shit. I didn’t mean it like that.”

𖥕 ‘Like I said, shit happens.’ He pauses, then smiles just enough for it to reach his eyes. ‘He was an asshole anyway.’

SKSKSKSSKSKKS IN WHICH ANGEL AND I ARE ONE IN THIS MOMENT BC MY FIRST THOUGHT WAS, “GORL THE FIRST NAME MICK IS A RED FLAG ALONE” ZSKSKSKKS S

𖥕 It had been over with Mick long before you’d plucked up the courage to say so.

Owowowowowowow in no way does this resonate with anything to do with my personal life or the last 6 months, nope nope nope

𖥕 You feel your lips pull into a questioning line, like a downturned smile. It may as well have been a shrug. ’I have no idea what that means.’

OH MJJSJSJSJSJSJSJSJSJEJSJ MJ MJ THIS IS SO GOOD I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT FUCKING FACE THIS IS BUT IVE NEVER SEEN IT DESCRIBED SO WELL

𖥕 ‘I’ll text you,’ you say, handing him your phone, ‘but any drunken calls or shitty bike memes and you’re getting blocked.’

SKSKSKSKS BIKE MEMES SKSJSJSI AM CHOKING this is fuckint canon now, I am so tickled by this idea of Angel sending Reader s bunch of stupid out-of-context bike memes god sksksks s

𖥕 It’s Angel, of course. Or rather, Angelito, as he’d saved himself.

holds finger up, smacks chest coughing phew, wooooofoof okay, wow. That— yeah— that smacked right in my chesticle, mightve dislodged like my aortic arch a bit with how FUCKING JUST MMM that is. Its like beyond sweet, beyond precious I don’t even have the word

𖥕 Fine, Angel says, but he ain’t as fun as he used to be. You need a ride? Hopefully not, you type back, she’s in surgery now. Prayin for you. That shit looked terminal. Maybe you should pick me up, you type, relaying what’s happening in real time. Just heard the guy call something ‘a little bitch’ so it’s not looking good. The reply comes quick. I got you, biche.

I GOT YOU BICHE ;asdjga;sdjf;alsdj f;aoisjf alsjdf aI AM FUCKING SCREAMING OH MYGODDSSSSS THISJSUSISJSJS THIS FUCKING BANTER IS FUCKING INSPIRED TRULY

⁂

when the crows come home

angel reyes x gn!reader, part one of ?, 3574 words

childhood friends, to strangers, to friends, to lovers

a/n: right. i have nose-dived into angel derangement and this is officially the first chapter of what i think will be a long running fic (based on the fact i already have more sections written and cannot fuckign stop) so i hope you enjoy!! (also, -e will be used in place of -o/-a suffixes throughout)

taglist: @drabbles-mc @ashlingiswriting​ @cositapreciosa​ (just now realising i didn’t specify in my post between being tagged for narcos or mayans so i just added u loves who i know are partial to mr. reyes) ((let me know if you wanna be tagged in the future)) ok shutting up <3

You’re shit out of luck. 

Every crumb of luck that life might have once given you, is spent, gone, tossed into the fucking wind with everything else you used to possess. A job you liked, a fiancé, a pending lease to an apartment in a city you never dreamed you’d live in, and, most crucially, a car that worked the way it was supposed to fucking work. All of that was gone now, plucked from your grasp.

You put your forehead to the driver’s door in defeat, phone still in your hand from ringing the tow company. They’ll send someone your way, they said, not to fix it, but to bring it back to the lot. Can’t fix a problem ’til I know what it is, the man had gurgled into your ear. You sure it ain’t the battery?

You open your eyes to the lights on your dashboard. Yes, it isn’t the fucking battery.

Keep reading

[drabbles-mc]

Begging You

Angel Reyes x GN!Reader

Whumptober 2022: No.4 Dead On Your Feet- Can’t Pass Out

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

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Y’know. Considering that I almost didn’t get around to writing this today, I’m pretty happy with how this came out. 😂

Angel Reyes Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @helli4nthus @bport76 @thanossexual @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @thesandbeneathmytoes @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @kelpies-shed @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @amorestevens @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @withmyteeth @lilacyennefer @mveggieburger @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @littlekittymeow @blessedboo @anditsmywholeheart @i-love-scott-mccall @shadow-of-wonder @black-repunzel99 @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @lexondeck @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @themoonandthewicked​ @garbinge​ @angelreyesisdaddy04​ @mijagif​ @frattsparty​ @winchestershiresauce​ @beardsanddetectives​ @choochoo284​ @narcolini​ @passionatewrites​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

There was a lot of blood. That was something that no one could deny. Looking down, watching more and more of your shirt start to change color because of it, you knew that there was no avoiding the reality of that. You were also aware of the fact that you probably should’ve been freaking out. But you weren’t. It almost felt like it wasn’t really happening to you. Maybe you were getting better at thinking with a clear head during a crisis. Maybe it was the blood loss.

You were so focused on the rapidly changing color of your shirt that you hadn’t even heard anything that Angel was trying to say to you. The only thing that got you to dial in was the feeling of his hand underneath your chin, the way that he was firmly but gently forcing you to look at him instead of the worsening mess of your torso.

“You with me? You gotta stay with me.”

Once you forced yourself to listen to what he was saying, you heard how panicked he sounded. He was trying to hide it, trying to sound like he had some semblance of control over himself, over you, but he didn’t. You could see it in his eyes, hear it in the hitch of his voice.

He was bloody too. How had you missed that he was so bloody? He looked disheveled, his hair all a mess. It was a look that you liked on him in better circumstances, ones that didn’t involve blood-stains all over his hands and forearms as he tried to keep you safe too little too late. But you weren’t the only one who got hurt. Angel took one to the shoulder and it put his entire left arm out of commission. He didn’t seem to be registering that at the moment though as he applied all the pressure that he could to the gunshot wound in your abdomen.

“Angel.”

You didn’t recognize your own voice. Judging by the panicked look that crossed his face for a moment, he hardly recognized it either. That wasn’t good. Still, even though you knew that you should be panicking right along with him, you just didn’t have it in you.

You blinked, long and slow. You didn’t mean for it to be like that, but you felt like everything you were doing was in slow-motion.

“Hey,” Angel leaned directly over you as he spoke, trying to force you to look at him, “stay with me. You’re good, alright? You’re good.”

You felt the strength draining out of your body. There was pain too, sure, but more than anything you just felt exhausted. The pressure from Angel’s hands against your stomach was the only real sensation that was registering for you. You just wanted to rest.

“Your shoulder,” you said, trying to lift your arm to touch him but your hand couldn’t quite make it.

The tears that had been building in his eyes spilled out onto his cheeks as he forced a smile. “I’m okay. Good. Golden. You just,” he sniffled, nodding like he was encouraging himself as much as he was encouraging you, “just stay awake with me alright?”

“What are we gonna do?” you asked as you rested one of your hands limply on top of his.

“We’re gonna wait for the guys to get back so we can get you some help.” He nodded, doing his best to sound confident, something that wasn’t his strong suit even in the best-case scenarios.

You watched him, unable to do much else. His hair was draped over half of his face, sweat having undone the work of all the product he slapped onto it every morning. The dark gray cutoff that he had on underneath his kutte was darker now, mostly from sweat but it was also now decorated with various splatters of blood. You wondered how much of that was his, or yours. You wondered how much of it belonged to the men who were no longer a problem for either of you because he and the guys had taken care of them. The tattoos that covered his hands and went up his arms looked like they were speckled with rust. The wound in his shoulder wasn’t bleeding as much as it had been before, but it hadn’t necessarily stopped, either.

“Angel?”

“Yea?”

“Be careful.” His eyes widened and he almost recoiled, afraid that he was hurting you more than he was helping you. You could see his thoughts plain as day on his face. You gave a weak shake of your head before saying, “Careful with your shoulder.”

He let out a sharp exhale, trying to ignore the way that your complexion was slowly changing as you continued to lose more blood. “It’s a fuckin’ scratch—don’t worry about it.”

You let out a quiet hum of amusement since you couldn’t manage a laugh. “A scratch.”

Your eyelids were starting to feel heavier and as they slowly started to drift shut, that’s when you felt an increase in the pressure that Angel was putting on your side. He swallowed hard, trying to force the words past the lump in his throat that was threatening to strangle him. “Hey, c’mon, keep those fuckin’ eyes open.”

“But I’m tired,” you argued weakly.

“I don’t care,” he didn’t hesitate. With his good arm, he reached and tapped your cheek, not hard but enough to keep you from getting too comfortable with your eyes closed. “Besides. I know for a fact your ass has stayed up for three days straight before. So you can stay with me for a few more minutes until they—”

It took more strength than you bargained for, but you reached up and rested your hand on the side of his face. Your fingertips pressed into the short, coarse hairs on his cheeks. You could feel the sweat and grime on the pads of your fingers as you did it, but it didn’t matter. It was still a comfort. Usually you’d trace your thumb along his cheekbone, but at this point you were fairly certain that you didn’t have that much control left over your muscles.

“I love you.”

He took a deep breath as he processed that. It was far from the first time that you’d said it. It wouldn’t be the first time that he ever said it back. But this was the only time that it’d ever crossed his mind that it might be the last time that either of you said it. That’s what he wasn’t ready for.

Still, he couldn’t not say it back. He sniffled, nodding, “I love you too.”

Your smile was weak, but it was still there. “Yea?”

His lips dipped into a frown, but he nodded once more. “Yea. Of course.”

“You love me.” Your eyes were starting to close again as your hand dropped back to your chest.

His heart was hurting more than any other part of his body now. The crumpling sensation in his chest threatening to take him out before anything else could. The heartbreak would have to wait, though. “I do. And you love me.” He resituated himself so that his face was a little closer to yours. “So you gotta stay with me.”

You could feel his breath against your face. You could picture the way that he looked but you still couldn’t force your eyes to open. “I’m with you,” you reassured him, your voice a weak whisper now, “Promise. I’m with you.”

There was nothing more that he could do for you. He was completely helpless. So many times in his life he’d felt useless, but it hadn’t ever hurt the way that this did. He just had to sit, and watch, and hope that help would get there before it was too late. He just had to try and keep you with him.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. He was out of ideas. He was trying to think of what someone else would do in the current circumstances, someone who had a better track record of not fucking things up. But he was coming up empty.

“Angel?” you said, eyes still closed.

“Yea?” there was a palpable mix of relief and worry in his voice.

“You promise we’re gonna be alright?”

For a moment he was thankful that your eyes were closed so that you wouldn’t be able to see the look on his face. He let his chin drop to his chest, eyes shut tight as he tried to take a few deep breaths. He managed it, but it did nothing to calm the mess of worry bubbling inside his chest.

He still managed to sound much more stable and confident than he actually felt, although the bar for that was alarmingly low. “I promise.” It was a lie. He knew it was a lie. But he had to at least give you that. If that was the thing that was going to give you a little more strength, he was going to give it to you.

The minutes all started to blur together. You could’ve been lying there for seconds or for an hour and you wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. At some point, though, other people made it back. You heard them, even though they sounded far away. You felt yourself being picked up, and that was when everything really started to hurt. The dull pain was replaced with something much more excruciating, and the only benefit of it was that it snapped you as much back to reality as you were going to get. You were dizzy, weak, but you were still hanging on. You had a couple threads still tethering you to consciousness, and apparently one of those threads was pain.

Another was the feeling of Angel tangling his hand in yours as you laid across what you assumed was the back of the van. Your head was in his lap, you could feel the denim of his jeans against the back of your neck.

His hand trembled as he held onto yours. He begged, unable to do anything else, “Just stay with me.”

[drabbles-mc]

Giftshop

Angel Reyes x GN!Reader

Inspired by Day 18 of the August Prompts: seashells

Warnings: language

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: This is dedicated to @narcolini​, my fellow himbo stan 💖

Angel Reyes Taglist: @helli4nthus @buckybarneshairpullingkink @bport76 @thanossexual @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @thesandbeneathmytoes @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @kelpies-shed @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @twistnet​ @amorestevens​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction​ @withmyteeth​ @encounterthepast​ @lilacyennefer​ @garbinge​ @mveggieburger​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @littlekittymeow​ @blessedboo​ @bruxasolta​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @masterlistforimagines​ @luckyharley1903​ @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @black-repunzel99​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @lexondeck​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @themoonandthewicked​ @angelreyesisdaddy04​ @mijagif​ @frattsparty​ @winchestershiresauce​ @bellisperennis0​ @beardsanddetectives​ @choochoo284​ @xeniarocks​ @passionatewrites​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You should’ve known better than to think that bringing Angel into all of the shops with you was a good idea. Sure, it was a good idea for the two of you, but for everyone else including the owners, they got a front row seat to a clown show none of them had purchased tickets for.

No matter how much you tried to stifle your laughter, it was never quite enough. It was the change of pace that the two of you had desperately been needing, hence the impromptu weekend away, but some of his antics baffled even you. You weren’t telling him to stop, though.

It was quiet for a few beats too long and you knew that that didn’t mean anything good. Setting down the bracelet you had been looking at, you wandered deeper into the store to see if you could find him. It wasn’t like the place was overly large, or like he was an easy person to lose, so you were definitely curious as to where he had gotten off to.

You didn’t hear him walking up behind you, all you heard was his voice as he materialized extremely close to you, “Corazón, lo—”

“Jesus,” you spun around, smacking directly into him because of how close he’d gotten to you, “Don’t do that!” you swatted at his chest.

Confusion shifted his entire expression, “What?”

“Don’t sneak up on me!”

“I didn’t!” he looked so genuinely offended.

“Yes you—” you cut yourself off mid-sentence when you actually stopped to look at him, “What are you wearing?”

“What?”

“Your glasses,” you gestured to your own face, “What the fuck are those?” you laughed.

He raised his eyebrows, face lighting up as he got back to the point of why he was looking for you in the first place, “You like ‘em?”

You were on the brink of cackling between how he looked and how seriously he was asking you that question. Angel wore sunglasses all the time, sure, but not like the ones he currently had on. He always had pretty typical shades on, not quite like the aviators his brother was always wearing. But the ones he currently had on, you were surprised that they even gave his eyes complete shade at all. The round frames and oddly tinted lenses made him look like he had been plucked right out of the 60’s.

“They hardly fit your face, babe,” you chuckled as you reached forward and plucked them off the bridge of his nose, “What’s wrong with the ones you have?”

“They’re not blue, for one thing,” he chuckled as he snatched the glasses back, putting them on again before finding a mirror to look at himself in, “I think it looks good.”

Walking over so that you were standing next to him, looking at him through the reflection of the mirror, “You always think you look good.”

Lowering the glasses on his nose just enough so that he could tilt his head down and look you in the eyes via the mirror, he said, “And am I ever wrong?”

You rolled your eyes, “You don’t need the glasses, Angel.”

“But they look good?”

You smiled, patting his chest, “You always look handsome.”

He rolled his eyes, sucking his teeth, “Don’t do that shit,” he only kept a straight face for a moment before laughing.

He finally took the glasses off, and you slipped your hand into the one that wasn’t holding onto them as he made his way back to wherever he had gotten them from in the first place. You didn’t consider yourself a slow shopper, necessarily, but you were surprised at how much of the store Angel had already traversed. Or maybe he was just drawn to weird items like the glasses he was putting back in their rightful spot.

You were still holding onto his hand, but you were already looking elsewhere at everything else they had in the shop. All morning the two of you had filtered in and out of all the little tourist shops on the strip. Most of them had a lot of the same things in them, all the little souvenir-type items and every type of t-shirt and sweatshirt with the name of the town plastered across the front of it. They were cheesy and you could find them in any store of any beach town, but you would be lying if you said that you hadn’t contemplated buying one of the hoodies just for the sake of it. Something extra to remember it all by.

“Oh shit,” Angel’s voice had a touch of laughter to it, his hand sliding out of yours as he veered off to a completely different section of the store.

You turned, following him as he made his way to one of the sets of shelves at the back of the store. Each layer of the shelf was stacked with different things from the ocean—sea glass, sand dollars, all sorts of shells and dried starfish. Standing next to him looking at it all, you wondered what it was that caught his eye.

Reaching up to the top shelf, he carefully wrapped his fingers around a giant conch shell. He was almost vibrating with giddiness as he brought it down to eye-level. He turned it over in his hands a few times, inspecting it more thoroughly than you’d seen him look at pretty much anything so far besides the ridiculous glasses he’d had on before.

“You think they got this from this beach?” he nodded in the direction of the door, and by extension, the beach.

You shook your head, “Doubt it. Not to be a buzzkill but a lot of these shells and glass probably aren’t from here,” you shrugged, hooking your thumbs into the pockets of your shorts, “They’re still really cool though.”

“You seein’ this shit, though?” he held it out to you, “It’s almost the same size as your head!”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, “Don’t be dramatic.”

He held the shell a little closer to his ear, “Can you really hear the ocean in these things?”

You covered your mouth with your hand for a moment, trying not to let your amusement be too noticeable, “You can hear the ocean outside, since it’s about ten yards away once we walk out the door.”

He rolled his eyes, “I know that,” he scoffed, “But can you hear it in here?” he waved the shell at you.

You huffed out a laugh as you snatched the shell from him, “Give me that,” rotating it so that it was in the right position for him to hear it, you held it to his ear, “Hear it?”

His eyes widened and he glanced over at you, not moving as he continued to let the sound echo in his ear, “That’s crazy.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, “Yea, that’s what’s crazy.”