#at this point I'm happy enough just seeing him again as the bishop or something sigh

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

lies are only as good as the person telling them (and you’ve never claimed to be) part 4

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

Pairings: bishops/nolan booth

Warnings: gunshot wound

Word Count: 3089

Nolan gets shot, the Bishops have to deal with their feelings.

"Drive," Sarah orders, pressing her hands hard to Booth's side. John pulls the car around and the tires squeal as more gunshots ricochet off the back bumper. She grits her teeth and presses harder, willing the blood to stay inside Booth's body. "Stay awake, do you understand?"

"I understand that you're currently fighting with my ribs, yeah." Booth yowls like a cat as she pushes down harder. "Hey, hey! Take it easy, I bruise like a peach."

"You're not sweet enough to be a peach," she mutters, too caught up in the fact that Booth is bleeding out from a bullet he took from her to worry about the words coming out of her mouth, not when he's rapidly losing color in his cheeks. "Just stay awake."

Even with his paling face, he still manages to make an offended pout. "I'm plenty sweet enough! I even have the rock-hard pit in my—okay, okay, ow, ow!"

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not when I'm awake."

"Keep him talking," John barks from the front seat, "as long as there's bullshit coming out of his mouth, we know he's not about to die."

"Aw, you do love me."

She hears the hitch in John's breath better than Booth does, she's sure, and she doesn't imagine the way John leans into the curves of the road a little more, trying to get them through the next mile before Booth ends up bleeding to death all over the back seat. She grits her teeth again and pushes even harder. Booth winces, his expression contorting in pain, but he doesn't say anything else.

"What were you thinking?" Sarah hisses, shifting her grip as the car swerves around a turn.

"I was thinking that I'd rather not see you get shot right in front of me," Booth grits out, "that's what I was thinking."

"That was reckless of you."

Booth huffs a wet laugh. "What, making sure you don't get shot? You're welcome, by the way, and yeah, maybe not my finest moment, but you tell me how polished and suave you'd be if you saw someone pointing a gun at your partner."

Sarah's hands stutter and her gaze snaps up to Booth's. Booth isn't looking away, isn't biting his lip, doesn't look like he regrets what he said at all. No, it's far worse than that; despite Sarah's best efforts, his eyes are dropping lower and lower. His breathing is slowing under her hands and in a panic that she will deny later because Sarah Black does not panic, she presses down hard enough that she can feel something under her give.

But it works. Booth's eyes snap open again and he stares at her.

"Stay awake," she orders and it comes out more like a plea, "just stay awake until we can get you someplace safe."

The corner of his mouth tugs up the smallest bit and she hates how much she hates the fact that it looks like such a pale imitation of his normal smirk. "The Bishop has a heart after all, how touching."

"You're one to talk," she scoffs if only to cover up her relief that he's talking again, "you just took a bullet for me."

"Which I still can't tell if you're happy I did or not." He coughs once, twice, as the car swerves around yet another turn. "I'd ask if it'd kill you to say thank you, but I think I know the answer already, so—"

"Thank you."

Booth stops. His mouth drops open. "Okay, I definitely must be dying because I could've sworn you just said 'thank you,' and I—"

"You are not dying," she says firmly, as blood covers her hands, "and I did say thank you."

He goes to say something else—I'm sure it was excellent, Nolan, don't worry—but then he's coughing again and the wound under her hands gushes. She pushes harder and gets him to lie down in the backseat, climbing on top of him and using her full weight to press down on the bullet wound.

"Whoa," he mumbles, half-dazed, half-confused, "if this was all it took to get you on top of me, then…"

He trails off before he can finish his sentence and despite everything, she smiles. "If it's what you wanted, you could've just asked."

"Nah…you'd keep it from me," comes his reply, voice beginning to slur, "you're…you're so clever…you'd make—make me work for it…"

"Booth? Booth!"

"'S okay," he mumbles, eyes starting to droop again, "jus' a…jus' a minor s'tback, see? 'S not…'s none of my b'sness anyway…"

"Stay awake," she pleads again, pushing down as hard as she can as John curses and swerves again, "stay awake Nolan, you need to keep your eyes open. Just look at me, alright? Can you do that?"

Nolan's eyes blink open slowly and a slow smile manages to make its way onto his face. The soft sort of smile you see when the person isn't thinking about it, the one you can't really feel until someone points it out. Nolan is giving her that sort of smile now, as she presses down on the wound that should have been hers, as John drives them through the streets of Paris. Nolan just looks up at her, and he smiles, and how could she ever have believed him capable of the same sort of cruelty she was?

"There," she hears herself say as his breathing grows raspier and raspier, "it's okay, Nolan, you're going to be alright. We're going to get you someplace safe and fix you up, right? Then you'll be quipping and annoying us just like you always do, alright?"

"Tha's me," he slurs, "pain in the ass."

John's hysterical chuckle mixes with hers as Nolan grins with dopey pride. Something terribly sad occurs to her then as she has to adjust to keep her balance.

Is this all he expects from them? Just the occasional bone thrown to the world's most annoying dog? Does he think that's all he is to them?

Too late does she realize that in her moment of distraction, Nolan's eyes have fully closed.

"Booth? Booth!" She pushes down harder. "Nolan!"

***

"In here," John says, rushing to the bedroom and laying the too-limp form of Nolan Booth on top of the sheets, "grab the kit from the bathroom."

Sarah is off the next moment, her shoes clicking across the floor as John rips open Nolan's shirt and throws his own jacket to the side. He curses—the bullet's already gone through and through, which is why Sarah was having such a hard time keeping all the blood inside him in the car, and why he's still losing color.

"Here," comes Sarah's voice and he rips the kit open immediately, "I'll get everything else."

He barely has time to shoot a thanks or even an acknowledgment over his shoulder as he gets to work. Nolan will not die on their watch, they won't let him. He's a goddamn stubborn son of a bitch but they're more stubborn than he is put together, and they're sure as hell not gonna let him slip away.

"You think you can just tap out now and make us do the rest of the work?" he finds himself muttering as he works over the limp body. "Not a chance in hell. This whole thing was your idea to begin with, so you're damn well gonna stick around until it's done, you hear me?"

Nolan doesn't say a word, and John curses the part of him that ever wanted to shut Nolan up for good. He doesn't want that, he bargains with the universe, he wants the Nolan that pokes and prods at them all the time like it's his goddamn job. He wants the quips and the jokes and the innuendoes that perfectly walk the line between funny and too crass. He wants the asshole that's unfairly good at singing on key while he works on the blueprints or the lockpicking kits. He wants the dipshit who went right up to the people who betrayed them, double-crossed them right back, and then invited them to work with him on the biggest score they could ever remember.

He wants Nolan Booth, damnit, and if this bullet takes him from them before they've even gotten a chance, he's gonna march right down to whatever pit in hell they decide to stick his soul and drag him back to the land of the living.

"Come back here, you prick," he mutters as he gently cleans away the worst of the blood so he can see what he's doing, "you're not getting away from us that easily."

Sarah's hands join his and together, they patch the worst of the bleeding before Nolan can bleed out. He lifts him carefully in his arms as Sarah ruthlessly strips the sheets from the bed, tossing the mattress protector too for good measure. She remakes the bed with astonishing speed and strides to the bathroom to start getting the blood out. It's what she needs to do, he knows, pour her frustration at the situation into something so it doesn't blow up in their faces, but that doesn't make him move from his self-appointed vigil over the too-still Nolan.

Just watching his chest go up and down, up and down.

When night's fallen and Sarah's scrubbed the sheets within an inch of their lives, she comes to sit next to him. They don't say anything, just sitting silently as the moonlight spills across the bed. Nolan's hands are still bloody. He gets up and goes to the bathroom, getting a washcloth and running it under the warm water. He goes back to the bedroom and picks up one of Nolan's hands in his, tenderly cleaning the blood from his knuckles. When he's finished with the hand, he offers the washcloth to Sarah. She takes it and cleans his other hand as John keeps a hold of the one in his.

"I think he'd be a great dancer," Sarah murmurs after an eon, her eyes still on Nolan's knuckles.

"I think so too."

There's another moment of quiet.

"I think," Sarah says again, her voice even quieter, "if you asked him to dance, he would say yes."

John swallows around the lump in his throat. "Yeah?"

"You might have to ask a few times," and now Sarah's holding Nolan's hand too, the washcloth draped over the foot of the bed, "and he's probably going to say no at first."

"But you think if I show him I really want to dance," John finishes, "you think he'd say yes?"

"I do."

They look at each other across the too-quiet room.

"Are you—" he stops to clear his throat— "are you gonna ask him to dance too?"

She looks down at him, her fingers idly toying with the cuff of his sleeve. "I don't know if he wants to dance with me."

He huffs. "Didn't sound like that in the back seat."

"But that's who he is," she says back, "he makes the jokes and he takes the hits because it's expected of him."

"But he doesn't do things he doesn't believe in."

"You're biased," she says with the ghost of a smile.

"Of course I am," he says and she laughs, "but so is he. You two had a thing going way before he even knew about me."

"That was different."

"Is it?"

She looks at him, and she looks at Nolan, and she slowly lets out a long breath.

"He needs to wake up first," is her eventual concession, "and then…then it's going to take him a while before he's up to dancing."

"That's okay with me. Is it okay with you?"

She smiles and she looks like the Sarah Black he knows and loves again. "No one ever got anything worth having without having the right amount of patience."

See, he says silently to the sleeping Nolan Booth, we're waiting for you, you asshole, come wake up already.

***

When Nolan wakes up, he's very, very confused.

Because in the world he fell asleep in, he was very much the reluctantly dragged third wheel of the Bishops, who only teamed up with him because he blackmailed them into it. He was spat on and kicked around because he was an easy target and hey, he could give insults as good as he got. They kept him around because he was good, goddamnit, and he knows how to set up a good score. They needed him, and he needed them, and that was it. He took the hits because they couldn't hurt him in ways they hadn't already, and he took the good moments because he's a greedy bastard who doesn't know when to stop himself.

Including taking a bullet for the fucking Bishop.

Things got really hazy in the back seat, and not in the good, sexy way, but in the incredibly un-sexy blood loss way where he's not quite sure what happened, but he has vague memories of Sarah on top of him, telling him to stay awake, and saying thank you. He's not really sure what to make of those, nor what embarrassing things he ended up saying, but he's pretty sure that that world at least by and large makes sense.

The world he wakes up in, on the other hand…

Well, for starters, he blinks awake on a bed. Not a hospital bed, not a hotel bed, but an actual fucking bed. Hartley and the Bishop's bed, to be more specific, in that shitty little apartment on the outskirts of Paris. His mind would love to conjure up all the fun reasons why this could be happening, but then there's a blooming ache in his side and his head is pounding and the bed is cold, cold, cold.

Except it isn't, because there's a body like a fucking space heater right next to him, and he just manages to crane his neck to one side to realize it's Hartley. Actual, built-like-a-brick-shithouse Hartley, who blinks awake and smiles at him like he's something worth smiling at.

"Hey," he says, voice all soft and rough from sleep, "you feeling okay?"

Uh, no, he's pretty sure he's either died and gone to heaven or woken up in some parallel universe.

"Here," Hartley says, sitting up and reaching over him for the glass of water on the nightstand, "you're gonna be dehydrated, drink up."

Nolan goes to lift his hand when his body informs him that no, moving is not allowed right now, and a pained hiss escapes through his teeth before he can stop himself. Concern flickers openly across Hartley's face and he's sitting up more, turning and sliding a hand under Nolan's head to let him drink.

Water never tasted so good.

"That's enough for now," Hartley says when he's managed half the glass, "don't want you sick on top of the bullet."

Right. The bullet. The bullet he took for the Bishop. The Bishop—

"Hey, hey, hey," Hartley soothes as he starts to panic, one large hand pressing him down into the mattress, "shh, calm down. She's okay, she's just in the kitchen."

"Is he awake?"

"Yeah, he's up, he wants to see you."

"Don't—" he coughs through his dry throat— "don't put words in my mouth."

But then the Bishop actually comes around the corner and he can't stop the way he sags in relief at seeing her unharmed. She comes over to the bed, sitting down near his hand, and—and picking it up and putting it in her lap.

Uh, no, I definitely died and went somewhere else. What the fuck is happening?

Oh.

Oh.

It's just part of their ploy, isn't it? To get him to—to—well, he doesn't know what the fuck else they want from him at this point. Shit, he just took a bullet for the Bishop and now he's completely and utterly at their mercy, what the fuck else could they want? It's not like he's in any position to stop them if they wanted to do something right now, they could just go and do the score and leave him here on this bed, in the apartment, all by himself, while they go and he's left alone, all alone—

"Hey, hey…"

"Shh…don't cry, Nolan."

"Look at me. Hey, Booth—Nolan, look at me."

There's a hand on the side of his face. The side of his face is wet. Why is the side of his face wet? Oh. One of them said don't cry. Is he crying?

"Do you need more painkillers?" There's still a hand on his face. "Sarah, can you—"

The hands on his start to pull away and he's clutching at them desperately before he can snap at himself to stop it. But it's too late, the Bishop is sitting back down and they're having a murmured conversation and then there's a cool hand on his face too.

"Don't worry," comes her voice, smooth and soft as fresh water, "we're not leaving, Nolan."

"You're stuck with us," Hartley agrees.

But—but—but that doesn't make sense. Nothing in this world makes sense and he wants to go back to the other one where at least things made sense, where things hurt but at least he knew when to expect it, not here where he has no idea what's going on and he just wants everything to go back to normal and then he won't be guessing, second-guessing, triple-guessing everything until they leave him again.

"Silly boy," the Bishop says fondly as tears drip like razorblades down his cheeks—there goes his resolve never to let them see how badly they hurt him— "did you think I would let you take a bullet for me and then let you leave without giving me a chance to pay it back?"

"I—I didn't—I didn't mean—"

"Shh," Hartley soothes, his big hand moving to card through Nolan's hair, "calm down, Nolan, it's okay. We can talk about this again when you wake up properly, just rest for now. You've worn yourself out."

"I'll wear you out," he mumbles back, more out of instinct than anything, and Hartley chuckles warmly.

"It's a promise, big guy."

Nothing makes sense right now, Nolan decides as that big hand lulls him right back to sleep, but if the Bishop is promising they're not going to leave him alone, and Hartley is laughing at his stupid jokes, he thinks that maybe he could figure out a way to make this world work.

Just for a little while.

[ottokallenhonkai3rd]

⚜ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ⚜

Today I came across another flood of disinformation. Yuricels still can't resist denying OttoKallen his legitimacy. But what I saw today just made me laugh. That's why I'm going to share it with you. ~*~ The first thing I was confronted with again was the good old Kallen-hates-Otto-for-her-revival. I have already addressed this topic enough on my blog. - Kallen did not hate Otto for the crimes he committed during her lifetime and will not afterward.

Then the old number of “Kallen never wanted to be revived” was played again. PEOPLE!! He DID NOT REVIVE her. He created an alternate TIMELINE for her. And he told her straight in her face that he was bringing her back to life and she didn't care at all.

If I have to read this shit again I WILL SPIT!!!! >_< That these people never tire of spreading disinformation. But the cherry on the cake, my laugh of the day, is yet to come. Do you still remember the picture of Otto's little family in GGZ? The image that OttoKallen confirms as also canon?

They tried very seriously to tell me that it´s AMBER instead of Kallen. If you don´t know who I mean, here´s an picture of her:

She is one of Kallen's clones. Another clone, for example, is Theresa Apocalypse. In GGZ there is a clone next to Theresa, but it looks like this:

And that's not Amber. It's Kallen's soulless reanimated body, as far as I know. And this clone has gold eyes. Amber is non-existent in GGZ. At least I can't find anything. which confirms her presence. The person who wrote me this, said that Kallen's clones had different sexualities. Kallen would be lesbian, Theresa would be bisexual and Amber would be heterosexual. I can still somehow understand where she got the information about Kallen and Theresa. But how does she know that Amber likes Otto? Especially because Otto never had any intentions of having a relationship with Kallen's clones. And here is the proof:

Theresa was so important to him, precisely because she was closest to Kallen's character. Because a clone is just a copy of a human. But this person can have completely different experiences and become a completely different person than the original. Just like Kasumi isn't Sakura, even though she's her clone. It's the soul that makes the difference and that's exactly what Otto wants. Kallen's soul and not her body. Otherwise he could have been happy with Amber long ago. What doesn't change, however, is sexuality. It's biologically predetermined. If Theresa is obviously bisexual and Amber is supposedly into Otto (allegedly), I suspect that all women are bisexual. They are bisexual. And that in the picture is Kallen and not Amber. But the story went even further in that the person suddenly said: Otto was melancholic and didn't want to revive Kallen in GGZ. And that's why he got together with Amber? Otto's desire to resurrect Kallen is the driving point of why Honkai Impact's story exists. Without Otto's desire to resurrect Kallen, he would have had no reason to become bishop and commit all the other crimes that ensured humanity's survival. The cornerstone for the entire GGZ series is that Dr. Mei ensures that Kallen dies in every timeline so that Otto will do what is necessary to save humanity from the Honkai. It wouldn't make sense, if Otto did NOT want the real Kallen. What I see in the picture is a timeline in which the two of them can really live happily together. I don't know why certain shippers can't accept that Kallen can have feelings for two different people. - Bisexuality, polyamorous. Does something ring a bell?

[myckicade]

Mayans M.C. - 05x01 and 05x02

Thoughts, spoilers, and predictions behind the cut.

Please note, these are mostly just the ramblings of a lunatic. *waves* That'd be me.

Well. For fuck's fucking sakes. I had no idea about the premier until yesterday morning, because that is just how little I paid attention to the announcement. (I saw it posted, but if I checked for a date... Psssh... I certainly didn't remember it!).

Anyhow. Two-episode premiers kill me, and not in a good way. I'm exhausted, but that means the episodes held my attention well enough to keep me awake, so. That said, let me try and recall everything that I had wanted to say.

Okay, right off the bat:

The coffin in the previews. I haven't gone back to pause and take a head count, but I'd bet money that that's going to Alvarez in there, when the time comes. If not Alvarez, then Angel, but that's a sleek-looking casket. I just have a bad feeling for the both of them, because, as of right now, they are the only two who seem to be seeing reason. There are logical reasons why it wouldn't be Alvarez (mostly that I can't see his Mrs. just letting the Club have his body for that, unless he gets pulled back in). It's just a sinking feeling I have.

Alvarez. Since I've already brought him up... NEW BABY! YAY! But, it's clear that The World is weighing on him. I was quite surprised when he yelled at Santi, because he's been shown as such a good father. Then... Well. We all remember what happened with Esai. ANYHOW. Alvarez is one of the few characters I still stand behind. I want him to be able to retire in TRUE peace. My fear is that, if he goes down, his family will go with him, and I just don't want that.

Angel. I got A Bad Feeling while he was talking with Felipe, because that's usually the way. A man tries to do better for his family, and for himself, and he gets taken out. (Still a little sore over Coco). I fear that Angel will have this big redemption arc, only to have his heart broken, and then shot to shreds. It always takes something serious for the Main Dude to come around to reason, and become complete unhinged, at the same time. Much as I want to strangle the little bitch... I don't want Angel to be EZ's awakening.

EZ. I've been done with that motherfucker for at least two seasons. Not much has changed there.

Bishop. He's right. EZ will get them all killed. If not, then at least a few steps closer to the grave, each. Bishop can be the last man standing. I also hope he chokes on a cunt hair, stepping out on a nice lady like that. Shame on him.

Miguel. I like this man, and I think that's because I'm entirely partial to Danny Pino. He has a Good Boy face, and plays a Bad Dude so well. (I first saw him on The Shield, back in the early 2000's, playing Armadillo Quintero, and it was all uphill from there). ANYWAY. I wouldn't mind him getting a happy-ish ending. The fact that he's quietly trying to protect Little Brothers in the middle of a war just tickles me. When Soledad told him to cut his sentimental ties (or however she phrased that one), I snickered. The mess with his wife, on the other hand... I have to admit, I don't much care. His trip to the urinal, though... That scene brought me great joy.

Emily. This broad. She hasn't been a worthwhile character in so long? She could have disappeared from the show, and I wouldn't have given a damn. Pretty clear where this is going to go, now that she is - once again - down and desperate for help. I just never understood the point of her character. She's so far removed from EZ now, the road to getting them back into the same orbit is just going to suck.

Creeper. CAN THIS MAN PLEASE CATCH A FUCKING BREAK?! The poor bastard is the MC piñata, both physically and emotionally taking beatings left and right. CRIPES, y'all. Give the dude a break! I hope his little backstabbing bitch gets what's coming to her, one way or another.

Hank. My heart went out to him, last night. Doing what's best for our parents can sometimes suck. Hard. Aging is a gift denied to many, but the process can sometimes be ugly as sin. I felt Hank's pain on a personal level, as my own parents aren't in the best of health, and one of my greatest fears as a future caregiver is that I will have to make one of those Tough Calls. All the same, I saw some negative reactions toward him 'just leaving her there', and that made me mad. We all know how much Hank adores his mother. He's not in the best of shape himself, what with the cane, and picking up someone who takes a fall? Not as easy as it sounds. Ugh. It had to have been tearing him up inside, so I hope some folks can wake up to see that he isn't a bad guy for doing what he had to do for his mother. Shitty situation. Shitty choice to make. Shitty outcome.

Letty. Girlfriend. SO HAPPY to see she's still around. I thought that they might write her out, to be perfectly honest. While her new career choice is... interesting, to say the least, I am glad to see that she and Hope have worked themselves out. I don't care much for Hope's character. (She's a bit flat for me, personality-wise). But, I don't hate her. So. There is that.

Whew. That was a lot. But, that brings me to my final point:

HOW MANY STORYLINES DO WE REALLY NEED?! I feel that certain threads of this series could have been so much better if they had eased off on branching off in so many places. We don't get to spend much time on anything (except that thrice-be-damned pipeline), and the story really does suffer for it. I understand the concept of wide, wild visions for telling a tale. Believe me, I do. But this series lacks focus, unable to find a balanced manner of storytelling. It's fragmented, and rushed, and I know I complained about it last season, as well. I'm still watching. I'm going to finish it, God willing. But there was definite room for improvement on this one.

Bonus Thoughts:

"Put them back on the truck", and the resulting groans. Angel's reaction, especially. PERFECTION.

Angel's pooch encounter was also hysterical. 10/10.

I MAY HAVE MOMENTARILY FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE BROTHER THING. I was enjoying the delicious tension between Miguel and EZ for a hot minute, before it all came back to me. (I did that in the first season of Supernatural, too. Came in toward the end of the season, and thought Dean and John had some sexy friction between them, until my husband finally said, "HE'S THEIR FATHER!!!!"... Whoopsies...).

Unpopular Opinion: This Guero dude is already on my nerves. Sorry. Obnoxious as hell, he is.

I'm glad Felipe is getting to spend time with Maverick. (Oh, gag, that name...).

P.S. Hats off to Clayton Cardenas for the scene with the intruders. Angel isn't one to shrink back in fear, bullheaded as he is, but I could taste the terror on him when he found his son in danger. Mm. Delicious work, there.

[esteliel]

Full casting has been announced for the all-star concert production of Les Misérables, which opens in the West End next month.

Joining the previously announced Michael Ball, Alfie Boe, John Owen-Jones, Carrie Hope Fletcher, Katy Secombe, Matt Lucas, Bradley Jaden and Rob Houchen will be Shan Ako and Lily Kerhoas.

Ako will take on the role of Eponine while Kerhoas plays Cosette in the show.

They will be joined by Rosanna Bates, Adam Bayjou, Ciarán Bowling, Simon Bowman, Oliver Brenin, Earl Carpenter, Vinny Coyle, Samantha Dorsey, Tamsin Dowsett, Nicola Espallardo, Celia Graham, Barnaby Hughes, Holly-Anne Hull, Oliver Jackson, Christopher Jacobsen, Gavin James, Will Jennings, Ciaran Joyce, Katie Kerr, Sarah Lark, Joanna Loxton, Craig Mather, Stephen Matthews, James Nicholson, Rosa O'Reilly, Claire Parrish, Sophie Reeves, Grainne Renihan, Leo Roberts, Raymond Walsh, Gemma Wardle and Andrew York.

The production, which will run in the Gielgud while the Les Misérables' customary home at the Queen's Theatre is renovated, will run from 10 August 2019 for 16 weeks until 30 November.

Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg's musical, adapted from the novel by Victor Hugo, will return to the Queen's Theatre, which will be renamed as the Sondheim Theatre in December 2019, where the newer 2009 staging of the production will be performed.

[enamoured-x]

Sweet Release | Part 2

Angel Reyes x Reader

Summary: Things don’t go as planned when you attend Ez’s party. 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Angst

Word count: 4.8k

Excerpt: “Your salvation and your destruction kneeled before you, ready to prove to you how deadly the mix of the two was. Your angel on his knees ready to sin.”

*gif is mine!

a/n: thank you for all the love on this mini series! With that being said there will be a part 3 and it will be the final part! Enjoy! (part 1 can be found here)

Part 2

One long fucking month. Since the day you left Angel at the clubhouse with his come leaking out of you, you had been a wreck. Honestly, you were proud of yourself for holding it together so well when you broke the news to him. Maybe because you knew eventually you’d break. You were a mess. Hating Angel for what he put you through, hating that he led you to walk out on him in the first place. He tried calling every day for the first two weeks and then it simmered down to a call every few days. None of which you answered. For some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to block his number just yet. You still cared for him, still wanted to be able for him to reach out if something was wrong as long as it didn’t pertain to your failed relationship. You didn’t want to talk about how stupid that logic was because you knew keeping his number was because a part of you still wanted it to work. 

You played with the idea of maybe. But you couldn’t tell him that because you weren’t sure. You put yourself through all of his shit already and if he was going to do it all over again if you gave him a second chance you’d kill him. It would kill you. With that being said, you were going to let this play out. You knew you were supposed to get over him, knew you made a choice that day to end it with him. But a girl could dream that he’d make some grand gesture to win you back like in the movies, but this wasn’t a movie and Angel definitely wasn’t the romantic male protagonist. 

“Angel’s a mess.” You glared at Ez for bringing him up. You ignored his comment and sipped your coffee. You and Ez still kept in close contact over the month, sharing funny videos and checking in, just the usual stuff. Today he invited you to hang out and catch up since you hadn’t seen him since that day and you had agreed, happy to go somewhere that wasn’t work or your home. Happy to see your friend again.

“How’s pops?” You asked, trying to get the topic off Angel. You weren’t here to talk about Angel, he made his bed and now he could lay in it. If you were open to the idea of giving him a second chance, and that was a big if, he would need to do a lot more than having Ez tell you how miserable he’s been. You had been a wreck long before you broke up with him, he deserved to know what it felt like. 

Ez sighed and didn’t bring up Angel again, “he’s fine, he sends his best.” You nodded, making it a point to stop by soon and say hi, just because you and Angel broke up didn’t mean you couldn’t be friendly with his family still. They were practically your family. 

Ez twiddled with his coffee cup and you sighed. 

“Go ahead.” You told him, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. The outside seating offered you a breath of fresh air you desperately needed when talking about the one and only Angel Reyes. 

He stopped his movements and looked up at you, “what?”

“You obviously either have an opinion on the breakup or you told Angel you were meeting me and he asked you to tell me something for him. Hell, maybe you only asked to hangout with me to deliver a message. Whatever it is, spill it, Reyes.” You knew Ez enough to know when something was on his mind or when he was holding back. This was one of those times. You weren’t exactly mad at him for it but after your grief died out, you were just confused about Angel. You knew you made the right choice at the time but it didn’t mean you still didn’t miss him. It didn’t mean you were over him. 

Ez held his hands up, “I swear I just wanted to see you. No secret motive. If Angel wants to work things out with you, he can do it himself, I'm not his messenger.” You sighed. You knew he was telling the truth. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” He was still holding back. He may not be there for some ulterior motive but there was something. 

“You know I’m getting patched in…” He trailed off and you nodded your head. You were excited for him when he told you the news a few weeks ago. Ez had put all his time and effort in the club and he was finally going to become an official member. He deserved it. 

“The club is throwing me a party.” He stated and you shook your head. 

“No.” He scoffed at your answer and sat up. 

“Come on, you have to come. You don’t have to talk to Angel, just stay with me the whole time.” He begged. You groaned at the idea. 

“Ez, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s the best idea.” Showing up to the clubhouse just a month after you broke up with Angel and fucked him in the middle of it was probably not the greatest idea. 

“Please. You’re my only friend outside of the club, I want you there.” Ez’s brown eyes pleaded with you. You were his only friend and as that friend you owed it to him to show your support, even if it meant having to see your ex again. 

You bit your lip and Ez smiled, knowing he had you. 

“Fine, but I’ll be glued to your side the whole time you’ll regret asking me to come.” You pointed at him and he laughed. 

“This should be fun.”

You should’ve taken that as a warning. 

You hated the fact that you were putting effort into what you were wearing to the party. Trying on basically all the clothes in your closet. You figured if you were going to see Angel you had better make it good. Eventually you settled on a simple red summer dress, flowy enough to be innocent but short enough to showcase your legs. You opted for some white sneakers with it, deciding that you were definitely not going to dress up to this thing, Angel or no Angel. Either way, this night wasn’t about him or you, it was Ez’s night and you were going to be there to support him. 

Your nerves got the best of you when you pulled into the packed scrapyard, Chucky directed you where to park and you took a deep breath before stepping out. The party was already in full swing, people scattered outside and around the fire, already drinking and having a good time. 

“Hey, you made it.” Ez said as he walked up to you as you made your way toward the clubhouse. You had yet to spot Angel and you were thankful for it. 

“I told you I would come.” You pulled him into a hug and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and then led you inside. 

“Thought you might back out last minute.” He shrugged. You were about to say something when you saw him. The man who had taken up space in your mind this past month. The man you left after reaching one last high with him. He was laughing at something Coco said, his smile not reaching his eyes. You could tell that what Ez told you had been true, that he was miserable. He looked good, just not all there. Both men were standing against the wall, what stirred jealousy in you was one of the club hang arounds to his left touching his arm. You swallowed hard, you forgot that before you and Angel got together, he was a hot commodity amongst Vicky’s girls. Now that he was off the market, you were sure the women were jumping at the chance to share his bed, they probably already had. Lead filled your stomach once again. 

You were about to turn to Ez to take the beer bottle from him when Angel finally looked over and stopped in his tracks. Gone was the smile and in its place was shock. You stared back at him, into those dark brown eyes you loved so much. Seeing him stung more than you cared to admit but you held strong. 

“You good?” Ez’s words snapped you out of your trance and you turned to him, finally taking the bottle from his hands. 

“You didn’t tell him I was coming?” You asked him as he led you over to take a seat at the bar. He looked guilty. 

“If I had he probably would’ve been by the gates waiting for you. Figured this was better.” You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Hermosa, haven’t seen you in a while.” You turned around to face Bishop. A genuine smile lit up your face and you got up to hug him. He graciously accepted, giving you a tight squeeze before letting you go. Bishop was always so kind to you, always so supportive of yours and Angel’s relationship. 

“Hey, Bish. How are you?” 

“I’m doing good. How are you? Which Reyes brother are you really here for?” He teased you and Ez chuckled. Obviously the club knew about yours and Angel’s split but he still welcomed you with open arms despite it. You were thankful for it. 

“Very funny, but I’m here for Ez.” He laughed and placed a kiss on your temple before excusing himself. 

“Is he still looking over here?” You asked Ez, bringing the bottle up to your lips and taking a sip of the cold liquid. You welcomed the alcohol as it sat in your stomach. 

“Yup and Vicky’s girl does not seem too happy about that.” You felt a sliver of satisfaction run through you. But Angel wasn’t yours, you made that clear. So you had absolutely no right to be jealous, you had no claim over him anymore. At least not in that way but with the way you felt his eyes on your body, you knew you still had some sort of pull over him. He had that same pull over you but tonight was not the night for that. 

“Let’s get you drunk, Eziekiel. You deserve it.” You changed the subject. You weren’t going to sit here and talk about Angel who was a few feet from you during Ez’s party. No, you were going to celebrate the man of the hour. Your friend, arguably your best friend. Also arguably your only friend. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Ez was a bit tipsy but not nowhere near drunk after many rounds of beers and a few shots. You on the other hand kept it to three beers and then opted for some water, not really one to drink all that much. That didn’t mean that you weren’t having fun though. Coco had eventually came over to talk to you during the night and you were glad none of the men held any animosity towards you. It felt nice to see them again and you could honestly say you were glad you came. 

“Six o’clock, mamas.” Coco said and nodded behind you, you were turning around completely ready to see Angel. You were surprised he hadn’t tried to get your attention sooner seeing as how he still tried to contact you weekly. But it wasn’t Angel. The man who now stood in front of you was a stranger, albeit a very handsome stranger who was part of another charter by the patch on his vest. He was tall enough to tower over you, his dark eyes pulling you in. He ran his hand through his raven black hair and smiled at you, even with his facial hair you could still see prominent dimples. 

“Hello, sweetheart. I’m Jay. And you are?” He stuck his tattooed hand out for you to take and you took it into your own. Jay was a tall glass of water, honestly a wet dream. Just not yours. But he could be. At least for tonight. A rebound wasn’t a terrible idea but you guessed there had to have been some rule about finding a rebound at the party of your ex boyfriend's brother’s party while he stood just a few feet away. You still introduced yourself nonetheless. You were a bit too distracted to notice Coco and Ez had left you to your own devices. 

“So, what brings you to this party?”

“I’m a friend of Ez’s.” You told him. You swore you could still feel Angel’s eyes burning through you, you had felt it since you locked eyes with him. Whether he was giving you your space or he really didn’t want anything to do with you tonight, you didn’t know. But judging by the same girl who was still trying to get his attention, you figured he wanted nothing to do with you tonight if it meant him getting laid. 

“Hmm,” he looked you up and down and you shifted under his gaze. You were kidding yourself if you actually thought you’d go through with a rebound. Especially with a Mayan. And you were kidding yourself if you thought a rebound was going to help. As if it was going to magically make your feelings for Angel disappear. As if sleeping with a stranger was going to give you that release you needed again, no, only Angel could do that. You hated it. 

“So, this party is dying down, I was thinking maybe you wanna get out of here?” That was extremely forward, all he knew about you was your name. But who were you kidding, guys like him didn’t care, hell, you’d be lucky if he even remembered your name. You were just about to turn him down when he trailed his hand up your thigh skimming just under your dress. Your eyes widened at the gesture and you shoved him off you and backed up.

“Woah, what the fuck.” You hissed quietly, not wanting to make a scene. He laughed.

“Oh, come on. You're not here for Ez, you’re here to get laid.” What the fuck. You were about to tell him off before a hand wrapped around your waist and a warm body pulled you into his side. You didn’t even have to look to know who it was but you looked up anyways. Angel. Your damn angel.

“You touching my girl, homie?” He asked him, ice in his tone. You were surprised the guy wasn’t on the floor already, Angel’s girlfriend or not, he didn’t like people touching you if you weren’t willing. Maybe he knew punching a guys lights out right now was no way to win you back and it was definitely not needed at Ez’s patched-in party. 

“Nah, man. Sorry, I didn’t know she was yours.” You scoffed.

“I’m not anyones.” You weren’t going to cause a scene but you hated men like this, men who thought women were just objects. You felt bad for the girl he would somehow convince to go home with him. 

“Get fucking lost or we’re gonna have a problem.” Angel told him, fingers tightening on your waist. Your skin ignited at his touch, at him being so close, at his cologne infiltrating your senses once again. It all felt like home. You hated it. The guy held his hands up as he walked away mumbling curses under his breath. Before you could say anything to Angel, he was whispering in your ear. 

“We need to talk. Now.” He didn’t give you room to argue as he led you down the hall and into his dorm room, closing the door. You didn’t like this. You didn’t trust yourself to be alone in a room with Angel right now. Give it another month or two then maybe, but right now? When your breakup was still a month fresh? No. It was dangerous. Angel turned to face you and you crossed your arms looking anywhere but at him, not wanting to look into his eyes. Not wanting to lose yourself in him. 

“What do you want to talk about?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. 

“Us. You coming here dressed like that.” He motioned to your dress.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Angel. What’s done is done.” You explained, biting your lip. Seeing him one foot away, eyes locked on you, it was a bit too much. One month was not nearly long enough to get over Angel Reyes. Hell, you didn’t think any amount of time would be sufficient. He was a damn drug, one you couldn’t stay off of.

“So you came here to torture me? Rub it in my face? I fucking miss you and you come to my clubhouse and act like everything’s cool? Act like I didn’t mean shit to you?” He was angry, that was easy to see. But you could tell his tone carried a deep hurt, one he was desperately trying to contain. Your heart ached. You wanted him to hurt, at first. But now seeing him, seeing the desperation and anguish in his eyes? This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t like hurting the people you loved, even if they hurt you. 

“Angel, that wasn’t my intention. Ez asked me to come and I wanted to support him. I’m not trying to hurt you.” You explained, stepping closer to him. That was also dangerous, you should be on the other side of the room, not a few inches away from him. 

“Too fucking late.” He ran his ring cladded fingers through his hair. 

“What do you want me to say, Angel? You hurt me, you didn’t make time for me. Our relationship was over long before that day.” It was the truth. You subconsciously knew your relationship was over with Angel before you had officially broken it off. You were just too scared to admit it to yourself, too desperate to hang onto the hope that he’d actually show up for you. But he never did and you knew it was time. 

“I know, I fucked up. I know that. But what you did that day… that was cold.” You chewed on your bottom lip. Part of you did feel bad for giving him a false sense of hope that day, using him for your release and then dropping him. But you needed to end the relationship on a high note, end it with a sweet goodbye and not a bitter storm of curses, in the end it was all just bittersweet. 

“I just… I needed you, Angel. I had missed you so much and I needed something…” You couldn’t find your words but you knew he knew what you meant, even if that day hurt like a bitch for him. He stepped forward, making a move to grab your arm but you backed up and shook your head. 

“Mami, please…” He begged, this time you went still as he grabbed your arm with one hand and cupped your cheek with the other. Your body buzzed to life at his touch, like Angel flipped a switch and you were back on again, like you were just being dragged through life this past month on auto pilot, like he had finally given you the reins back to your body. 

“Angel…” You were weak, your wavering voice gave you away. He leaned forward, his lips grazing yours slightly, his warm breath mingling with your own. You felt giddy as he surrounded you, as he invaded everything you were once again. And when he pressed his lips to yours, you melted into it. He licked along your lips and you opened your mouth, tongues sliding against each other. You moaned into it and grabbed onto his vest, trying to steady yourself at this heady feeling he gave you every time his lips were on any part of you. His hand slid to your waist and you had half a mind to snap out of your daze. You pulled away and he craned his neck, trying to chase your lips. You pushed on his chest lightly, wanting him to stop. 

“No, Angel, we can’t…” You couldn’t get hurt again. You couldn’t just fall back into him just for him to keep you at home waiting up for him and waiting on his call, and when neither came you’d be right back where you started. 

“Querida, I love you… I need you.” He whispered against your cheek. Hearing him say those words only made your heart ache worse and only made you want him more. It was damn confusing. You wanted him but you couldn’t put yourself through that shit again. 

You knew what he meant. I need you. He didn’t just need a release, he needed you. Just like that day you broke up with him, you needed him to give you that high but you quite plainly just needed him. 

“Fine. Let’s fuck and then go our separate ways.” You said, pulling him in for another kiss, needing the distraction. Not wanting to think about how fucking stupid that offer was, how fucking stupid you were. Sex wasn’t going to do anything but fill your base desire, it wasn’t going to give you back that piece of your heart that was ripped away from you when you left. He didn’t let the kiss go on more than a few seconds, pulling away, confusion and despair written all over his face. 

“What?”

“Fuck me, Angel. We need it.” You stated plainly. He shook his head and backed up from you. 

“No. I need you.” His words pricked another pain in your heart. 

“Then take me.” You offered. You were sure you had lost your damn mind. But you wanted Angel, maybe it wasn’t exactly the way you wanted him but you’d take it. 

“Fuck no. That’s not what I want.” You sighed, he wasn’t making this easy. Because it wasn’t what you wanted either. Yeah, you were desperate to feel him inside you again but it’s not truly what you wanted. 

“That’s all I can offer.” Your words came out softer than you planned, sadder. He scoffed, running his hand down his face. 

“You want a release, mami? I’ll give you one, but you’re not getting my dick. I can’t… I can’t be inside you without wanting to stay there. Can’t give you that if I know you’re just going to leave again.” You weren’t sure what he was offering. But it didn’t matter because he was more upset than he had been just a few moments ago. 

“Angel…” You shook your head not knowing what to say. Fuck, if he fucked you right now you wouldn’t want him to go anywhere either. But that wasn’t your reality. The reality was that he fucked up and sex didn’t fix it the first time and it certainly wasn’t going to fix it this time. 

“I’ll make you come on my tongue, and then you can walk out that door but you’ll walk out knowing only I can take you to heaven.” You swallowed hard at his words as he crowded your space again. Your breath hitched as he pulled you into his chest, making you look into his eyes. 

“I’m not going to stop. Not gonna stop calling, texting, not gonna stop until you give me another chance to prove to you how much I fucking love you. But right now, I’ll give you what you want. Even if it kills me.” And with that he slid to his knees. Your whole world stopped at the confession, at him kneeling before you, ready to worship you in a way only he could. The sight of him on his knees, the rush you felt as he trailed his hands up your bare thighs, it was like no other high you had ever felt. Your salvation and your destruction kneeled before you, ready to prove to you how deadly the mix of the two was. Your angel on his knees ready to sin. 

His lips trailed up your thighs and you threw your head back, steadying yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders. His warm breath getting closer to the place you needed him most had your core clenching around nothing, had you squirming, waiting for him. 

“Fuck…” You breathed out as he lifted your dress to get his mouth right on the skin above your panties. You bit down hard on your bottom lip as you felt yourself getting wetter at his teasing. His lips skimmed your stomach before he forcefully yanked your panties down, a contrast to his gentle and slow movements. You gasped at the action but before you could react further, he buried his face in your pussy, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder in the process. You yelped at the sudden intensity, at his wet tongue sliding through your folds and flicking against your clit. 

“Oh god.” You cried, grabbing onto his hair and grinding yourself into his face. He let you, following your movements, never relenting, never taking his mouth off you. Heaven. He wasn’t wrong, only your angel could take you there. 

“Missed your taste. Missed you.” He mumbled against your slick. He said the last part so quietly you almost didn’t hear him, but you did. You heard him and it stung but the pleasure he was also giving you was overpowering your thoughts on his confession. 

“Feels so good, Angel.” Your words spurred him on as he trailed his tongue to your hole, fucking you. You whined at the intrusion and rolled your hips and pulled his head in deeper. You were drowning again, or flying, or possibly dying. It felt too good, felt too sweet to be anything but something so fucking dangerous yet so damn exhilarating. 

You were so lost in your pleasure you almost didn’t notice the door open, Angel obviously didn’t, head still buried in your pussy. The head that peeked around the door was the same woman who had been trying to fuck Angel all night. Her eyes widened at the sight and you should’ve felt embarrassed, but all you felt was that satisfaction again. Angel was here with you, on his goddamn knees for you. Pleasuring you and wanting nothing in return. At your mercy. Your head clouded with need at the thought, not because he was here with you and not some other woman but because he’d only ever do this for you. 

You moaned a little louder and the girl snapped out of her shock and displeasure as she awkwardly closed the door. 

Now that she was gone, you were once again focused on your man. Not your man. Angel said this would kill him, he didn’t know it was going to kill you too even if you got your release. 

“Gonna come…” You cried as he flicked your clit with his tongue. You were yanking at his hair, which only made him moan and made for a sweet vibration on that bundle of nerves. You rolled your hips against his face faster, nearing the edge. The sounds his tongue and your slick were making were enough to put a porno to shame and it only brought you closer. 

“Come, let me take you there.” Heaven. You could see it behind your eyelids, could fucking feel it as your orgasm finally shot through the surface, taking you sky high. You let out a litany of curses mixed with his name, eyes watering at the intensity of your high. Earlier you didn’t know if you were flying or drowning, what you realized now was that you were flying and drowning. A mix of gasping for air while simultaneously flying right through it. 

Finally you caught a breath as your climax started to fade, Angel still licking his way through it with gentle strokes. You whined as you finally came down, finally came back to this world. He lapped you up slowly and then placed a small kiss to your clit before pulling away and looking up at you. Your breath shook as you looked into his eyes, as he kept your gaze and laced his fingers through yours. You let him. Not having the energy to fight him. He knew what this was, he said it himself before he dropped to his knees. It made you feel slightly less guilty about only taking and not giving. 

He finally got to his feet. You saw the tent in his pants but he adjusted himself and cursed under his breath. He didn’t seem to care about that though as he looked at you. You didn’t like the look. A look that held a lot of promise. His beard was slightly damp from your come and your core throbbed at the sight. He licked his lips as if he knew what you were thinking about and took your face in his hands. 

“Forgive me.” He whispered, desperate again. You knew what it was. He said he’d get you off, nothing to it, but of course there was a small part of him that thought you’d change your mind after another orgasm. 

“No.” Your words stung him, you could tell. But his face hardened and you thought he’d pull away. But instead, he stroked your bottom lip with his thumb.

“You will.” And with that promise he was walking out the door, leaving you more confused than ever. 

Taglist: @starrynite7114​ @xladymacbethx @fear-less-write-more @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @glimmerglittergirl @vicmackeybullshxt @miss-nori85 @blessedboo @kalimont83 @ctrlbitch​ @angelreyesgirl​ @langiinspirations​ @lilac-tea-time​ @melancholymelanin​ @-im-fantastic-​ @withmyteeth @isisafrofairy​ @elektriknachosss​ @krysiewithak​ @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @mental-bycatch​ @smurfflynn​ @blackmissfrizzle​ @arination99​ @bucky-iss-bae​ (if you want to be removed from the taglist for this fic pls let me know!)

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

On the Run

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On the Run Part 9

Pairing: Bishop Losa x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Smut, Stalker ex, Scenes of abuse, Angst, Violence, Death

A/n: So this is a pretty fun little short one! I kinda loved writing some Angel and I might try and get something else with him out soon? Although, I'm having trouble tearing myself away from this now I know exactly what I want to do

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You headed into the truck with Angel and took one last look back at Bishop’s bike. It felt a little unreal that you were finally out at the clubhouse and you’d officially crossed over into the other part of Bishops world. Even though you were determined to make this your only trip, you knew more than likely you’d be back again.

Your voice of reason had been abandoned long ago and now you were really in it. It wasn’t liek you din’t have a stray guilty thought here or there, but it was always quickly squashed by seeing Bishop, feeling him, melting into him. He had a way of making you turn to mush and forget about your troubles.

“So you and Bishop, huh?” Angel said, breaking the silence.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and looked over at him. He was paying attention to the road, but you could tell he was trying to avoid eye contact on purpose, stopping himself from grinning like a crazy person. You had suspected that this would happen, you knew at some point the other guys would get to you alone and start asking questions.

“What about me and Bishop, Angel?” you smiled, feigning ignorance.

“Are you like...a thing?” he asked.

“Why, you interested?” you teased.

“You know that's not what I meant,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You smirked to yourself and looked out of the window. You kind of were a thing, but you hadn’t really spoken to him about it and you didn’t know how much you should say. Afterall, this was something that Bishop would surely share if he wanted the information out there.

“I care a lot about him, if that’s what you’re asking,” you provided.

“Well you guys spend a lot of time together…”

“Angel what is it you’re getting at exactly?” you sighed.

“I dunno, him bringing you round the club has to mean something, right?” he grinned.

“I hadn’t really thought of it like that,” you shrugged.

You’d been so focused on not blurring areas of your life together and worrying about keeping all your stories straight, you hadn’t thought of the other significance of going to the club. Now you knew why Bishop was flustered that morning. Bringing you round there would mean you were trusted enough, and that level of trust usually came with a strong connection.

“Well, I for one am in full support of whatever it is that’s going on,” Angel smirked.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Bishop’s been in a good mood, acting like he's in a disney movie or some shit lately. You’re good for him,” he said, peering at you from the corner of his eyes.

You laughed off his comment and looked out the window, not wanting to show Angel how much he’d affected you. You knew you made Bishop happy, you both spent every opportunity that you could together. You were always at each other’s places, and you loved the sleep you were able to get knowing he was there. You didn’t think about the past nearly as much before you went to bed anymore, all you were focused on was him. It was good for you, you knew that much. You just hadn’t really made too many assumptions on his thoughts for you.

“I’m glad you approve, Angel,” you laughed.“I heard your brother’s gonna join soon.”

“Yeah, the golden boy’s coming back home,” he beamed. “Gonna be good to have him back again, and in the club too. Shit, when he asked to join I thought was hearing things, I figured he’d run from home first chance he got.”

“You guys must get on pretty well if you’re gonna be in the same club together.”

“We’re pretty solid, EZ’s a know it all lil’ asshole, but I love him, y’know?”

“He must’ve got all the brains then,” you teased.

“It’s only fair, I got all the looks, y’know,” he grinned.

You shook your head at him, but you realised that now you were properly talking with Angel, the flirty asshole thing was more of a facade. He genuinely cared about his family and the club, there was no mistaking it. You could appreciate loyalty like that.

“You’re a good brother, Angel. It’s nice that you’re making sure EZ has something to come back to once he’s out. He’s lucky having someone look out for him like that,” you smiled.

Angel clearly didn’t know how to take that. Getting a genuine compliment from you had thrown him off and it made you laugh a little as he struggled to come up with a response. You wondered if it was because he was used to you teasing him and putting him down or if it was because he just wasn’t used to getting complimented like that. You felt a little sad at the idea of it being because of the latter.

“You make sure you repeat that when we swing by my pops,” he said, finally breaking his silence.

You arrived in the parking lot of a small run down store and looked around at the characters that were roaming there. This place was a little more dodgy than the usual places you’d frequent and you knew this was the kind of place that Bishop would have nightmares seeing you in. You looked at Angel questioningly.

“How come we’re here?”

“Did a favour for the manager here a while ago, we get discounts now,” he grinned. “Stick close to me and you’ll be fine.”

You did as he said, quickly scurrying out of the truck and round beside him. You were almost on top of Angel just trying to keep close by, and unfortunately this didn’t escape his notice. He wrapped one of his big arms around your waist and pulled you in, taking you by surprise.

“You think this is close enough?” He laughed.

“Angel, godammit. Let me go!” You growled, shoving him away.

He released you immediately, and walked ahead still laughing to himself. You glared at him, annoyed at being grabbed like that. Though, you weren’t angry enough not to chase after him and avoid the weirdos that were walking by. The door rattled open and beeped as you entered.

Angel was heading toward the counter and you had no choice but to head over with him. As soon as the woman saw you both coming you noticed her very indiscreetly checking how she looked on the CCTV behind the counter. She fixed her strands of runaway dark hair in the process and smudged away a little bit of mascara that had gathered at the side of her eye . You snorted and watched as she put on a sickly sweet smile, and realised you were about to see Angel put on a performance.

“Hey beautiful,” Angel greeted, pulling out a handsome smile.

“Angel, baby! You’ve not been by in weeks, I’ve been missing you,” she greeted.

You might as well have not been there, she didn’t look twice at you. You looked her up and down, making note of her long, silky, dark hair and fluttering eyelashes. She was pretty enough that she was the type of woman that Angel would give his time of day to. You watched them both chatter and decided to stay out of it, letting Angel butter her up.

“So I’m gonna need to buy a whole lot of beer again, probably the same as last time, do you think I can get it at our special price,” Angel asked sweetly.

“I think that can be arranged,” she said, biting her lip. “Do you wanna come in the back with me and…help get it?”

You had to choke down a laugh at how cheesy that play was, but you respected the directness. Clearly this wouldn’t be the first time he’d been offered to “help her in the back”. You briefly wondered for a horror filled moment what you should do while he was occupied, though he attempted to put your worries to rest.

“Oh uh, I’ve got Sophia with me today, so I was thinking I could just get some stuff from the front just now and maybe I’ll come back later and…assist,” he smirked.

The woman finally looked at you and when she did there was nothing but malice in her eyes. She sighed and looked back at Angel, pouting like a disappointed child and put her hand on his arm. You looked away awkwardly and pretended to find something out of the window particularly interesting.

“Can Sophia not load the truck while we head out for a minute,” she said, voice straining to sound pleasant.

Angel looked over at you with a big grin on his face and you stared back wide eyed. You absolutely did not want to be left alone in this area loading beer into a truck. You didn’t want to be left lugging big crates of beer at the best of times, never mind in a shifty area like this. The woman looked back over at you with fire in her eyes and you pursed your lips. It didn’t look like you were gonna get your way.

“Go do whatever you need to, Angel,” you sighed. “What if something happens, what do I do?”

“Just wait here,” Angel said pausing to think. “The last thing I need is someone out there trying to jump you.”

You rolled your eyes and walked over to the counter just as they scrambled through the double doors on your left. You had no idea what to do with your time, twiddling your thumbs absentmindedly while they got down to business, so you resorted to grabbing a celebrity gossip magazine from near the counter. Hopefully this would only take a minute, you thought sourly.

About a half hour later, the pair reemerged from the double doors and you noted their dishevelled appearances. Judging by the sounds you could hear them making through there you were surprised they didn’t look worse. You’d already begun loading beer into a couple carts so that you could avoid a lot of awkwardness and get out of there as quickly as possible.

You didn’t miss the looks you got as soon as you were in close proximity to Angel, that spark of jealousy. You were almost tempted to announce right then and there she had absolutely nothing to worry about. The idea of even looking Angel in the eye at that moment wasn’t one you were enjoying. Not after hearing those haunting sounds.

“So are you like, new or something?” She finally asked.

“Huh?” You grunted, starting to feel the exertion from lifting the beer crates.

“I’ve never seen you with Vicki’s girls before,” She said while fixing her hair through the camera.

“She’s not with them,” Angel interrupted.

“So what’s she doing here?”

“She’s doing a favour for Bishop,” you said rolling your eyes, trying to make her aware you were right there.

Her eyes lit up, you’d clearly given her a juicy piece of information. You tried to pay no more mind to her, but now that you’d told her about your connection with Bishop she wasn’t gonna let that go.

“Wait...are you that girl Bishop has been hanging around?” she gasped.

“I guess I must be,” you shrugged.

“You’re not what I thought you’d be like,” she said more to herself.

“I didn’t realise I was being talked about, never mind enough for you to picture me.”

“Oh...Yeah there’s a lot of talk about you. The girls are missing their time with the president,” she crooned.

You ignored her obvious jab at you. Clearly there was some kind of entourage of women that had been enjoying their time with Bishop, but you’d known that and you accepted it. It was unlikely he was waiting around for you like some kind of priest. There was, however, a pang of dread that spread across your chest knowing there was a bunch of women all talking about you. The last thing you wanted was any kind of infamy.

You let Angel settle up payment and wish his farewells then marched out with the cart, hoping you wouldn't need to come back. Angel walked out soon after you did with the other and took the beer crate out of your hands that you were about to load into the truck. You looked up at him and frowned.

“Are we gonna magically load the beer in?”

“Let me do it, you did a lot already. Plus, you did me a favour back there,” he grinned.

“Yeah, yeah. Just keep your distance, you fuckin’ stink.”

------

You and Angel got back on task soon after and managed to finish off getting supplies. Everything else had gone off without a hitch, it’d been funny meeting Angel’s dad. He wasn’t what you expected, you could see an inkling of where Angel got some of his charm from, though you felt that Felipe was more of a stoic man. Angel was more brash and obvious.

After getting back to the club with everything, Angel showed you where to put the alcohol and helped load everything away and get the food set up. Just as you were stowing some of the last beers away you heard the unmistakable cacophony of bikes in the distance and smiled to yourself. He’s back.

“Daddy’s home,” Angel laughed.

“Ew, don’t,” you said, smile dropping instantly.

“As if you don’t call him that,” Angel teased. “With that freaky little age gap situation you got going on. Oh papi- don’t stop, ayy...”

You threw a dirty cloth at Angel’s head as he started mimicking ridiculously high pitched sex sounds. The implications of calling Bishop daddy gave you the shudders, that would be plain wrong knowing what you knew about your father’s relationship with him. It was bad enough you were lying to him about that, never mind calling him something along those lines. Not that Angel knew that of course.

“You’re fuckin gross, Angel,” you growled.

“I see you two are getting along.”

You both turned and saw Bishop had come through the door, closely followed by the rest of the guys who were filtering around him. You couldn’t help the grin that followed when you laid your eyes on him. Your heart felt like it was over flowing.

“Thank god you’re back,” you laughed.

“If I’d known Angel was gonna be that much trouble I might’ve gotten someone else to go with you today,” He said, giving Angel the side eye.

“C’mon, I wasn’t that bad,” Angel said, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up, cabrón. Templo, now.”

Angel stood up from his spot where he’d been leaning on the bar and rushed past, hoping to try and avoid Bishop’s hard gaze. The other guys laughed and jabbed at him as they walked together toward a room off to the side. Bishop remained and walked over to you with his arms opened and a wide smile. You shot over to him and buried yourself into his kutte.

“Did he say anything to you that I should know about?” Bishop murmured.

“To be fair...he’s been on relatively good behaviour,” you giggled. “It was almost fun at times.”

“Fun, huh?” He growled playfully.

“Not as much fun as with you,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Speaking of...I hear I’m depriving your girls of their fun with you.”

Bishop pulled back a little so that you could face him and raised his brow. Clearly this was information that wasn’t to make its way to you, judging by the look on his face.

“I’ll explain later. You go have your little meeting to discuss your important thing,” you teased.

“Make sure to stick around, maybe you can help bury Angel after,” he mumbled.

You laughed at him and managed to steal one last kiss. You breathed in his familiar scent and felt your heartbeat a little faster, you always felt so excited when he held you. Bishop reluctantly let you go and gave you one last look before he trudged after the guys and dumped his phone. The door screeched closed and you stood there by yourself excited for when he’d get back. You groaned, you were addicted to him.

Next Part Here

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the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities. 

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

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✨ REQUEST: hermanikiiiiiii i wanted to request you the prompt number 1 with coco cruz!!thank you, love you muchisisimoooooo💕💕

✨ PROMPTS: “Wait, you love me? Like Garfield loves Lasagna?”

✨ MADE BY: Juls.

Gif credit: to my lovely @supervalcsi.

WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤

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When you heard that Coco had been shot, your heart suddenly stopped. It was four days ago in some kind of dog's fight, as Chuckie told you at the scrapyard. Bishop needed someone to take care of him while they were investigating what happened, so you offered yourself without doubting it.

Much to your regret, you are only two good friends, even if you feel more things that you can't explain, about which you haven't talked with anyone. And thanks to your work in the hospital, you managed a room only for him, so he could rest as much as he wanted, as much as he needed. But your back hurts like hell after being sleeping on the sofa, close to the bed, just to make sure that you were able to attend to all his necessities for minimal they were.

These days there, you have learned a lot about him, about his curiosities, about his fears; spending his time awake talking with you to keep his mind entertained, to not think about the pain in his lower abdomen. Your mates took the bullet in a jiffy, but, normally, the sorrow remains for a couple of weeks. Luckily, he only complained when the hour of the next turn of medicines was close.

You have tried to not think about your feelings the time you were in the hospital, but it was impossible. All you wanted to do was to lie by his side on the bed, embrace him between your arms and kiss him, having to conform yourself with holding his hand and resting your cheek on the mattress. Your eyes have never left his eyes, not even when he was sleeping, on alert in case of an unforeseen because of pain, or an infection, or God who knows. You were really paranoid.

“You ready?”

Coco glared at you, slightly tilting his head. You had asked the same question five times in the last two minutes. Offering him a hand to secure himself, the mexican put down from the hospital bed, ready to leave and go home. Angel and Gilly had cleaned his house, even if you insisted to Bishop that you could do it. But he asked you back to stay with him till the next morning, so he wouldn't stay the night alone until they came back from the other side of the border.

Two knocks in the opened door brought you back to reality from your own thoughts, in the meantime that you helped Coco to wear his leather kutte. Directing your tired eyes to the entrance of the room, you found three Vicki's girls, happily waving their hands. Raising an eyebrow confused and your lips pressed, they came in without asking.

“Papi, we've missed you”. The latin and playful tone of voice from Mariela, as she swung her hips to your friend, gave you shivers.

In just one sight, your presence was pushed to the background. These girls hadn't even called to ask about his state of health and, now, they were there as if they did all the work you did —delighted, of course. Trying to keep calm, you put Coco's clothes into his bag, zipping it when everything is ready.

“No te preocupes, we take care of him now”. Carolina sentenced with contempt and superiority, grabbing his stuff ready to abandon the hospital.

“Yeah, mami. Go home and rest”. His words hurt. More than a bullet.

Preferring their company besides yours let you know that he hadn't taken in count what you did. And yes, you did it because you wanted, but you also thought that maybe could mean a step ahead. But it wasn't. Not saying a word, doing anything but a simple nod with your chin, you grabbed your bag to step out from there. Ashamed. Feeling stupid.

Two weeks have passed and Coco has come back to the clubhouse. This time you have been doing extra shifts to compensate for your lost days taking care of him, almost walking like a zombie from home to work, and from work to home. So, when Bishop invites you to a party in his honor, you decline it. You are too tired physically to assist and tired mentally for foolishness. What is the point of going to a party to see Coco having fun with those bitches? You have had enough after two weeks without receiving a single text to thank you or to know how you are. He hasn't even cared about the fact that you haven't shown up in the club for two weeks. That's the little he thinks in your friendship.

Zapping from one channel to another, you try to find something to watch. A movie, a tv show, whatever that helps to distract your mind, while you enjoy thai noodles with beef. Finally finding an action movie, you cover yourself with a cozy blanket, grabbing the cardboard box to start your dinner. The ringtone of your phone interrupts your calm, with Coco's name on the screen. At first, you don't want to answer, but he continues insisting for more than three long minutes. Hanging up and calling again. With a furious growl installed in your throat, you leave over the table your dinner to grab your phone.

“The fuck means you aren' comen'?”

He doesn't even let you say hi or how are you.

“It means that I'm tired and I have to work at five”.

“I don' think one damn beer reverses your sleeping schedule, Yo' Grace”.

“Fuck you, Jonathan. I've been working double shifts to cover the hours I was taking care of you in th—”.

“Nobody asked you to do it”.

Eyes widened and your heart racing. You can't believe he just said that.

“Yeah, nobody did. But your hermanos preferred to be on the other side of the border. Your putas preferred to be partying and sucking dicks in Vicki's. And your mamá sent me pal' carajo when I called to tell her what happened. I did it because I was your friend. Because I cared about you. Because seeing you there with… all those tubes was killing me. That shit continues giving me nightmares every fucking night. But you shit on that. You kicked me as soon as your putas came to the hospital”. You don't know when you have started to cry, more than because of the rage than because of the sadness. “I'm sorry if I'm too tired to drink a fucking beer, but my job is more important than a person who doesn't give a shit about me, who hasn't called or text me in two weeks, who only wants my company when no one else is around. Have fun in your damn party and fuck all those whores to thank them for picking you up from the hospital, but didn't care about how you were after being shot”.

Hanging up, you toss the phone somewhere on the table, wrapping your body with the blanket and lying down on the sofa. Trying to contain the tears, the only thing you earn is to cry bitterness. You can't understand why he only has noticed your absence at the party. What has changed? Probably it was his egocentrism working, wanting to be surrounded by a lot of people, not caring if they're his friends or not. But you're done being his lapdog.

About to fall asleep, the angry hits in the main door make you suddenly wake up agitated.

“Open up!”

The rage is consuming you again after hearing the strong mexican accent, taking three long strides towards it to receive him with your reddened crystal eyes.

“What the fuck 'you want now? Haven't you had enough beating myself up?”

“You're fuckin' dramatic”. He spits in your face, stopping with a foot the slam to his about to close the door again. “I didn't talk to you because you were working, bu' you didn't talk to me either”.

“Yeah, because you were served with your bitches. Go fuck yourself, Jonathan”.

“Don' call me like that again”. Coco grunts taking a step into your house. “You had to work, they came to cover your back”.

“Oh, please, don't make me laugh. They just wanted to have the credits of taking care of you, so you will expend more money with them. That's the only thing they care about you. Wake up from your world of fantasy, Coco. If you weren't part of the MC, you wouldn't be a shit for them; just another fucking soldier with a broken home”. You can't help but push his chest with both hands, driven by anger.

At first, he doesn't say anything. He looks thoughtful, being aware of the truth in your words. And it hurts that you have to be the one to open his eyes. The problem is that you weren't thinking while talking, pulling your gaze away from him and pressing your trembling lips, one against the other.

“I'm sorry”. You babble, cleaning your tears with the back of your left hand. “I didn't mea—”.

“But you said so”. Coco interrupts you with a husky tone of voice, bristling every inch of skin of your anatomy. “That's wha' I am without my kutte. An ex-soldier, a criminal, an outlaw. I spend my money on them because they take care of me, one way or another”.

“I did it too”.

“So, what? What you want? Money? Tell me an amount”.

Squinting at him, you can't help but chuckle with a painful and bitter laugh.

“I did it because I love you, not because I want your money”. You confess, knowing there's no going back. “I don't care about your money, nor your job, nor about your kutte. I love you because you make me happy. After all, for me, there's nothing better than a hug of yours, because you… you are simply amazing. You're intelligent, funny, loyal. And I wish that you could see yourself through my eyes, Coco”.

He, not saying anything, is killing you slowly. Barely breathing, you cross your arms over your chest to hide the fact that your lungs aren't receiving any air.

“I thought that after being shot, you realized you only live once. And that… after being those… boring days with me, you realized that you preferred the company of these other girls. The funny part of being alive. So I just pulled myself away”. Taking a small pause, you bow down your head, cleaning your tears again. “These weeks have been torture. I've written you a lot of texts that I haven't sent… and I've been a lot of times about to call you. But 'you know that… feeling when you think... the other person is not gonna answer you, because maybe is too busy for you? That shit has been destroying me”.

Hoping that Coco finally is going to speak, he remains silent. Looking at you openmouthed, processing all the information you have just give him.

“Can you, ple—please, say something?” You beg almost shaking.

“Wait, you… love me? Like… Garfield loves lasagna?”

Raising your eyes, pouting at him, you know that he's trying to make you laugh after understanding all the pain you have been through. Lonely. Without talking about it with anyone.

“I'm sorry, mami… I just… fuck”.

Cupping your cheeks onto his hands, Coco slams his lips on yours, tasting the salty tears you have shed because of him. The sloppy kisses bring some more air to your lungs, calming your racing pulse and making you feel less unhappy. As your fingers get intertwined in his shirt, crinkling under your grip, he urges you to walk backward so he can close the main door with a kick.

“God knows I'm so fuckin' sorry… Please, forgive me”. Coco's whispers brush your lips, keeping his eyes closed just like yours. “I'm gonna take care of you now, okay?”.

Nodding in silence, you place your arms around his middle back, hiding your face into his chest. His strong scent brings you back to life, while his arms wrap you tightly to comfort all the pain he has provoked you without knowing it.

“I just want you, ma'. No one else. Just you”.

[inknopewetrust]

In Another Universe Part 4 (Marcus Moreno x Reader)

Summary: The reunion you've both been waiting forever for.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader (We Can Be Heroes/MCU Crossover)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is it! Thank you all for showing interest in this series and being so enthusiastic about it. @jupitersmooneuropa, this is for you! You're idea was so wonderful, I just couldn't resist making it into a mini-series and I hope I did you proud. Requests are currently CLOSED but will be open again soon. Check out my MASTERLIST for all other works!

Being a hero meant a lot of different things to a lot of different people. Some loved the fame, the recognition, the money that sometimes came with, while some just wanted to be helpful and loved for their work. But one quality heroes had in common was that they were able to calm their nerves in the most crucial moments.

For Marcus Moreno, that crucial moment was now, and he could barely contain his nerves.

Clint could feel the anxiety radiating off the man. Marcus tried to play it cool because he had everything that made him seem cool: the swords, the tactical gear, his stoic face, but it wasn't enough to mask emotions from a world-class spy. Though Clint was able to sense it, he wasn't sure what exactly to say. He had only heard about Marcus through you, he only knew what little you told him, and that was how he determined Marcus wasn't some alien but the man you've been waiting for.

It was an awkward silence. One filled with the quiet roaring of the engines and every now and again, the sound of alerts from the computers around them. Clint kept his eyes on the sky while Marcus took peaks at the landscape below. The world looked so much like his own... just not as technically advanced as his own. The clouds swallowed the sip and his eyes drifted forward again as he took in a deep breath and exhaled.

"Nervous?" Clint managed to crack Marcus a smile and glanced at the man sitting to his right. Marcus chuckled, nodding his head with a nonchalance.

"You could say that."

"There's no reason for you to be."

"There's always a chance for something to go wrong."

Clint shrugged and flipped some switches as the quinjet began to descend.

"Are we there already?"

"Almost. About 5 minutes out."

Another uneasy silence fell over them but Clint wasn't contributing to it. Marcus just wanted everything to be like it was before. You, Missy, and himself in a home that felt like home. He couldn't have asked for a better partner in life and work, and it was taken away from him just like your life was taken away from you, but he wasn't going to say his life was better without you because it wasn't. Marcus just feared that maybe this life here was better than the one you had built with him. No one's reassurance except your own could tell him otherwise.

"Can I ask you a question?" Marcus glanced at Clint before returning to look forward again, a little embarrassed to be talking about you with someone he didn't know. But he knew you loved Clint like a brother, just as Natasha had been a sister, so he understood there was a level of trust there. Clint mumbled a 'go ahead' but his attention wasn't entirely on Marcus.

"Is she happy here?"

'Loaded question, but alright Mr. other world.' Clint thought before answering with the only truthful answer that could be given. He has watched the progression of a quiet depression become one of reclusiveness and a bitter happiness. You weren't happy here, in this world, with him or any of the Avengers. Natasha was gone, Steve was gone, Wanda was MIA, Bucky and Sam were on their own adventures. No one was here except him and that wasn't nearly enough to support someone who lost everything and then some because of a greedy man with glowing stones. This wasn't your home anymore.

"Was. She was at one time. I don't think this is where her heart is anymore."

Clint gave him a flat smile but Marcus did not return it. The thought alone of you avoiding social contact because happiness was ripped away from you in every direction was heart-wrenching. He never wanted to bring you any pain and a part of him couldn't help but believe that if he tried harder, if he hadn't wasted time being upset with your arrival years ago, things may have been different.

"We're here."

The announcement sent shockwaves through him. A thunderbolt of pure, unexplainable fear and anticipation of seeing you again struck his core. This was it; this was his endgame and the farm that slowly made itself clear out the window was the destination.

"Let me go in and see them first, make sure they're home, and then I'll come back. Is that alright?"

Marcus could only nod and watch the man grab his bags and bow and leave the jet. Marcus unbuckled himself because there was no point in staying in the seat. The back was left open and while Clint had told him to stay, he couldn't help but walk down the ramp and stand just to the side of the jet. He ran his hand over the side of the matte gray finish, slightly impressed by the time it took to get there. It was faster than he thought even if it felt like an eternity.

The house was a nice weathered white. It had seen better days and as Clint approached the door, he noted all the fixes needed. The rusted door handle, the broken pot in the corner, an abundance of yard toys and broken bicycle parts laid around him. He managed to open the door with limited squeaking, but Laura heard it and so did Lila. The boys weren't home because if they were, they would have tackled him to the ground the moment they heard the ship land in the yard.

"Clint!? What are you doing here? I thought you weren't supposed to be back for two weeks." Laura said as soon as she came around the corner from the kitchen. Lila was right behind her with a smile and hug for him–which he gladly accepted.

"Emergency. Where is Y/n? I have something I think she'd want to see."

Laura furrowed her eyebrows and moved to the window. Outside, beside the jet, stood a man who could have been a new Avenger for all she knew. She turned back to Clint, moving away from the window so Lila could sneak a glance too.

"What is it? Who is that man out there?"

"That man is Marcus. That Marcus. He just appeared at the compound looking for her. They apparently have been trying to find a way to bring her back and whatever he did, it worked."

Laura let out an audible gasp, returning to the window and looking at the man. Slowly, just as Clint had hours before, she began to piece together the man before her eyes from the stories you had told her about.

"Oh my God! OH MY GOD!" She almost yelled so loudly the neighbors two blocks away could hear her. Clint shushed her but she couldn't keep the smile off her face. Laura ran to the staircase and yelled up it.

"Y/n! Get down here!"

"Oh my God, Clint! She had a great day today and wow-I just can't believe it."

You had heard Laura's loud enthusiasm from the room you had been staying in. You thought you'd leave her be until her voice trailed up the stairs again and she called out to you. It wasn't like you had any idea of what was going on. You heard the quinjet, figured Clint was back, and it was around dinner time so maybe it was time to eat? It was the first time in a long time that your thoughts hadn't been cluttered with death or sadness, but those feelings lingered. You exited the room, walked down the stairs and smiling at Clint when you saw his face.

"How's the girl?" Kate Bishop.

"She's a real hero." Clint replied and you nodded your head in reply. Doing so, you managed to turn toward the window from your place on the second to last step. Outside sat the quinjet that had taken so many of you and your friends on missions that could have well been your last. But it wasn't the vehicle that caught your undivided attention, but the body beside it. Standing tall in black.

Your eyes had to have been deceiving you.

"What is going on?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but Laura caught it, smiling and grabbing your hand. Your attention never left the window. The man was pacing slightly, a nervous tick you were sure you knew.

"Laura-"

"Go and see for yourself, Y/n." Her voice was quiet too but reassuring and warm, like a mothers should be. The man outside didn't know what was going on, but he left your sight because you descended the rest of the steps and ran out the door.

The door squeaked loudly this time and with a bang, fell shut. You barely made it to the steps before you stopped on the gravel. about 20 yards away, the man heard the door and turned.

Even if the entire world was watching the scene unfold on Clint's lawn, many could not recall who moved first. Laura would say Marcus because that's who she could see, but you were slightly convinced it was your own feet. Nevertheless, after the door had slammed and the two of you met again, the universe drew you together like magnets. You ran, he ran, and with the collision, you both wrapped your arms around each other and soon your feet were off the ground.

You could barely say a word with your blubbering tears, and he wasn't about to make his obvious either so instead of talking, he just pulled away enough to look you in the face. Your eyes the same, your nose the same, your lips still perfect to him. Your hands moved from around his neck to his face. You gently held his face in your hands as you tried to control yourself.

"You're really here?" It was a broken ask but he managed a smile and moved a piece of hair out of your face.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"I missed you s-so much." Marcus couldn't help but grin at the admission. It was everything and more than he wanted to hear.

"I love you. I love you so damn much." His hand rested on the back of your neck and he pulled you to him. His lips were just as you remembered.

Perfectly him and as if they were made for your own.

Reunions were sentimental and good. But they were followed with a series of questions that were often difficult to hear. Marcus had held you for a long time. You weren't sure how long and you weren't exactly complaining either, but there was a linger question: how did he get here and how in the world are you getting back?

You had been adamant in telling him 'yes' the moment Marcus asked you the question about returning to his world. That was the plan for you. There were no other options because life with Marcus and Missy was your life now and whoever was left that loved you like family had to accept that. Marcus had explained the machine built to travel through worlds over dinner with Clint because perhaps he could be the one to help. He had travelled through time before so what is traveling through universes, right?

But later that night, when the reunion had settled and everyone had gone to bed, Marcus sat on the edge of an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room with a woman he loves. Clint could help you, but he needed time. So, he left with the jet while you stayed with the family and Marcus. He went to go see Stephen Strange because he managed to pick up the phone late that night.

"Do you think they'll be able to get us back? I don't want to leave Missy there all alone." Marcus voiced his worry with a sad reflection. You sat up from your reclined position and waddled over to him, running your hands up his back and then around his shoulders before he gently took them and tugged them around him. He missed your touch so much.

"You've never seen Dr. Stephen Strange do his 'magic' so I think there's a chance."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He turned his head just enough so he could look at your face. You may have been a spy, but your eyes never lied to him. He knew you better than any interrogator could ever wish to have known you.

"Yes, I want to be with you and Missy and all those heroes with weird names." You laughed for the first time in a long time and it was music to his ears. He smiled to where his eyes crinkled in the corners as your fingers played with the nape of his neck where his loose hair sat.

"I just want you to be happy, Y/n. Your happiness means everything to me."

"I am happy with you. I am happy in our home. This makes me happy."

That was enough for him. The next day you both waited... and waited... and waited for even one word from Clint, but nothing came. Sometime in the afternoon, the heavy engine of the quinjet could be heard in the yard so you dropped the puzzle pieces on the table beside Lila, grabbed Marcus' hand and ran out the door. Clint had a small smile on his face, but it was the sharply dressed Doctor that you focused your attention on.

"Doctor."

"Agent."

"I trust there is a way home if you're here. You wouldn't come all this way to bare bad news."

"Your skills on reading people alarm me, though I would expect nothing less from an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Stephen nodded and then extended his hand to Marcus who shook it in return. They introduced themselves to one another and Stephen put a gold bar on his fingers before extending his hand to the wide landscape of the farm.

"What are you doing?" You asked with a furrowed brow. This wasn't the way Marcus had come, they were supposed to fix the control pad he had on his arm.

"Do you really think the Sorcerer Supreme can't open portals to other universes? There are so many worlds you don't know, but you found the one you were meant to be in, so let me get you both home."

With a circular movement of his fingers, Stephen opened a yellow portal that slowly became an image of a world you had known before. A house, perfectly structured in the suburbs was on the other side. The grass perfectly mowed and the bushes trimmed, the mail box accidentally left open which you knew was Missy's fault. The curtains were open and the sun shone brightly into the home. Marcus grabbed you hand, squeezing it tightly as you took in the sight. Months had gone by where you dreamed of this moment, of that house and all its residents. Your dream was here now with the man holding your hand to support you.

"Y/n." Clint called out to you, breaking your stare. You turned around and he approached with his family in tow. He held out a small envelope which contained a note from them and a series of pictures that you would later cry over, but it was a final goodbye from your life here on this Earth.

You hugged them all with tears in your eyes but when Marcus re-took your hand, it felt like it meant something more than just running off into the sunset together. It felt normal and needed and necessary to move forward in your life.

"Are you ready?" Marcus asked you to which you could only reply with one word:

"Yes."

Tag list for series: (thanks for the support!!)

@pasckles @jupitersmooneuropa @agingerindenial @karnita-mexicana @mcueveryday @shadowolf993 @computeringturtle @roxypeanut

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ MY OTHER HALF ❜

✨ REQUEST: nose si voy tarde però bueno, espero que no. i would like to request (obviously if that is okay for you) a headcanon with angel x reader of the day of their wedding, like súper súper fluffy.

✨ MADE BY: @artofvamps

WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤

❚❙ Especial thanks to my lovely @angelreyesgirl for helping me with this wonderful masterpiece 🖤✨

❚❙ GIF credits: to the amazing @angels-reyes.

❚❙ ANGEL REYES MASTERLIST.

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

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Never in your life you could think about having a most perfect wedding, Angel didn't care about it too much, being enough for him to see you happy.

The most magical place you have ever been. Especially when the sun is almost falling, around five pm.

From the window of his room, you can see the backyard perfectly decorated by Creeper and Riz. They didn't lie when they told you that would be amazing.

White and red roses everywhere, forming vines wrapping the wooden beams of the altar. Over the guests' chairs, there are six fairy lights, giving some more intimacy when the night has come; and a red carpet in the hallway, over the grass.

All your friends are there, mixed with the Mayans, waiting for you.

Your hands are trembling, alone in Taza's room, while you hear some voices and laughs outside. You can't help but take another look of yourself in the mirror.

The white dress fits your body perfectly, falling from your chest to the floor.

The girl at the shop called it ‘a-line wedding dress’. You don't care about the name, but about the fact that you look like the most beautiful girl. Your hair is tied on top of your head, behind a delicate silver tiara and small red crystals in it. Soft make-up, that Bishop's Old Lady did for you, just like your future husband likes.

Felipe is run of words when he comes to the room, but you can see what he thinks in his eyes, about to cry.

You know that he would like that Marisol could see you marrying her son. She would love to see the man Angel turned himself into since he met you three years ago.

“Hey, I’m Angel Reyes, and you know what? You’ll be my wife one day”.

He wasn’t wrong.

But he’s not going to lie. He has been the whole night having nightmares about you running away from him; about you deciding that you didn’t want a life with him.

Ezekiel and Coco have been awake too, comforting him whenever the doubts hit his mind.

Holding Felipe’s arm, he guides you downstairs to the outside, feeling your legs shaking and your heart about to explode. You have doubts too. You’re scared of him taking a step back at the last moment.

Although every bad feeling disappears from the two of you, as soon as you lay eyes with each other.

Angel is about to cry. So are you.

For you, for him, there's no one else around your orbit. Just the two of you. Him waiting at the wedding altar, watching you walk over the red carpet perfectly placed on the ground.

And, damn. You thought that Angel couldn't look better, until you have seen him wearing that suit.

A black suit, covering the immaculate white shirt under a silver waistcoat with mayan symbols tissues in it. His hair is perfectly brushed to the back of his head and his beard is giving you desires of kissing it.

Seriously, it should be illegal to look this good.

But the detail that steals all your attention is the fact that he isn't wearing his characteristics rings. That big silver cross in his right pinkie and a signet ring with the Virgin of Guadalupe in his ring finger.

Felipe kisses your cheek, to intertwine his son's hand with yours.

You can't help but use your free hand to clean the tears falling down his cheeks, making Angel chuckles softly. You are always taking care of him with the most minimal details, showing him how much you love him, before leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

“You changed me. You changed my life. You came with that smile, illuminating all the darkness around me. You've accepted me, advised me, shown me the road to happiness, put me first. You've never, ever, judged me. You've healed me, you've healed my wounds, my soul, my heart. You gave me the opportunity I always thought I would never have… You, mi reina, have loved me unconditionally without asking for anything back. I don't have enough words to express how I feel every morning when I wake up with you under my arms, when I kiss you, when I see you dancing in our kitchen, when you… look me with these beautiful eyes as if I was the fucking Big Bang happening in front of you”. Bringing your hands to his mouth, Angel kisses every knuckle of them. “I can't imagine a single day without you, without hearing your laugh, without reading your texts desiring me a good day when you wake up and I'm already gone. I don't wanna live a single day without hearing you singing in the shower, without riding my bike with you behind my back, without you smacking my ass and screaming ‘daaaamn, this is all mine’! You make me happy like no one could do. You make me feel important like no one could do. And I promise you, fuck… I swear it to God, that I'm gonna give you all of me. Every second of every minute, of every hour of every day till the end of my time. I don't want to live without you”.

Now, it's Angel who has to clean your tears, causing some laughs between the guests. And he can't help but wrap you with his arms in a tight, tight hug. The warmest and dearly hug he has ever given you.

“I didn't know what love was until I met you. I didn't know which was the meaning of life until I met you. Mi rey. My other half. It was you, and only you, since I saw you the first time sitting on your bike, smoking and with that face of grumpy idiot”. The guests laugh again, because they all know that pose. “And then you standed up and started to walk, and I thought ‘what the hell is wrong with his leg’”. More laughs. The loudest comes from your future husband. “But I would never change you for anyone else. We've been through bad days and good days. Shitty nights and funny nights. I would never change my life with you for anything else. No one has ever made me happy as you do every moment of my existence. You're the most awesome, incredible, loyal and lovely man I have ever met. You fight for me, you take care of me, you protect me. You make me smile whenever I feel insufficient, whenever I feel sad, whenever I feel that I don't belong anywhere. My home, my life, my happiness is wherever you are, Angel Reyes”.

Then, Taza as the priest looks at the two of you, before guiding his dark eyes towards you. “Would you want to take Angel Ignacio Reyes in hol—”. He can't finish, being interrupted by the man in question clicking his tongue. “Of fucking course she wants”. Gently grabbing your chin with a hand and placing the other on the back of your head, Angel kisses you by pecking your lips, making you laugh.

But Leti breaks the moment, coughing exaggeratedly. You asked her to be the flower girl and she has been practicing the last month, to don’t mess up her task. The most important one, actually.

For the next two hours, you can’t stop looking at your hand tangled with Angel’s, and the two fresh golden rings in your fingers. To other people they could be just two pieces of jewelry, but for you it’s the purest way to show him your love, your support, and your unconditional trust in him.

And for the next two hours, Angel can’t stop kissing your face all around. Going down with furtive kisses on your neck, your shoulder, your knuckles; not being able to take off from you his other arm around your waist, tightly closed to push you next to him.

Coco and Gilly are in charge of the speech, knowing that it’s going to be more funny than you thought, when they get up from their chairs drunk as fuck after too many shots of tequila. “Yo, mami… you really got the golden dick”. “Man!” Gilly punches him on the shoulder, making him strumble with his own feet and having to grab the other’s jacket to not fall. “I’m speaking the truth! Who was gonna think that he would get the girl to this point, ah?” “Not me”. “Me neither”. “You jealous, ah, motherfuckers?” Angel tosses them a napkin, causing the laugh of everyone around you. “Seriously, girl… How you do it to st—”.

“Enough?” Leti whispers to EZ, sitting by her side. The younger Reyes nods in silence, getting up, making Creeper and Riz a sign to take them off from the center of the yard; between curses in spanish and in some kind of invented language because of the alcohol.

“Hey, brother, I just want to tell you that by far this is the happiest moment of my life. You don’t deserve anything but all the love and the affection, and we all know that only her can give it to you”. You’re starting to think that EZ’s purpose is making Angel cry, because his eyes are being filled up with a bunch of tears now. “Our lives haven’t been easy, you know that… And you have put all the weight on your shoulders since ever, but I’m proud of you. Of who you are. Of calling you my brother. Mi sangre. I don’t desire you anything but happiness, Angel”.

“Yeah, and God bless your patience, sister”. Leti can’t help but add that remark, trying to not laugh when she finds you nodding energetically, before kissing your husband’s tears running down his cheek.

The big toast echoes all around the ranch, in the meantime that the prospects from Yuma and Stockton bring the cake. One of them. That’s the main, a three-story cake of black and white chocolate with your names drawn in red. Canche’s wife has made it for you. She’s an amazing pastry.

And you thought that Angel wouldn’t do it. HE PROMISED YOU ONE HUNDRED TIMES.

But that piece of shit were lying,

Stamping a piece of cake on your face, your husband quickly grabs your wrists to avoid you punch him, or do the same to him. As you sob between chuckles, keeping your eyes closed, Angel licks your lips with the tip of his tongue. “Mi dulce, mi favorito”.

“You promised me…”

“Ah, ah… I promised that I wouldn’t smash YOUR face IN the cake. And I didn't”.

After cleaning yourself and changing the heavy dress for another one that fits your silhouette to the perfection, you are ready to give your husband the last surprise of your wedding.

“Are you takin' me to a dark corner?” “Stop asking, Angel… You'll see”.

At the front yard, a baseball bat and a ball awaits. “What's that, baby?”

“Sh… I throw you the ball, and you hit it, okay?”

So there you are, watching Angel in position as in his old times, when he used to play in highschool.

You throw it.

He hits it.

And in just one second, the distance between you gets caught up by a pink powder, almost staining your clothes.

Angel is in shock. The bat falls from his hand. Eyes widened. Parted lips. His skin bristled, as his cheeks got wet again because of the tears.

“Felicidades, papi”.

He can't stop crying, embracing you with all his strength to his chest. Your husband can't believe anything that is happening today. All he has ever wanted is happening in a sight.

“The day we met, you told me that one day I would be your wife. And I told you that you looked like the father of my future children”.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ SECRET BABY ❜

with Che ‘Taza’ Romero.

Request: Taza reacting to his girlfriend telling him she's pregnant plz

BY ANON

Word count: about 750.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

You are terrified holding the pregnancy test between your fingers. Let's be clear. You wouldn't imagine that Taza would be able to have children, that's why you didn't care a lot about your birth control. And of course you wanted to have a family with him, but he's not going to believe you. No one will. They all will think that you have cheated him. You can't help but break into an inconsolable crying. You have dedicated the last five years to love him, to take care of him, to follow him anywhere. And now, all of these are easily slipping out of your hands.

Some knocks on the roulotte's door push you out of your thoughts. Fastly keeping the test under your shirt, you clean your tears to stand up and open it. Bishop is there. And he knows that something wrong is happening to you. But he doesn't say a single word until being inside of EZ's trailer and closing the door behind his back.

“Tell me”. He just says.

Can you trust him? You always do, but, what if he judges you? What if he doesn't believe you? Shaking your head, some tears run down your cheeks.

“Querida, cuéntame”.

With your lips puckered and trembling, you grab the pregnancy test to raise it in front of his dark eyes. He seems confused, seeing the positive on it. But not because of what you think.

“Are you… pregnant?”

His voice sounds excited, impressed and thrilled. But happy. He sounds happy. But doesn't understand why you are crying. He has seen you taking care of Mayans children, when they all get reunited. He knows that you love to be surrounded by them.

“What's the matter?”

“No one is gonna believe that it's Taza's. Not even he”. You babble with some sobs stuck in your throat.

Oh, that's the point. Bishop sighs, placing his hands around you on your middle back, narrowing you under his grip. He also knows how much you love your husband, that you would give your life for his. Your happiness for his. Whatever for him. Without asking. Without doubting. You can't help but cry again, loudly, painfully. The door gets opened again, and the unmistakable voice appears asking your name. El Presidente pulls himself away under Che's confused look, leaving you alone just showing a proud smile.

“Mi amor, what's wrong? What happens?” His tone of voice is worried, cupping your cheeks into his palms as he kisses every tear on them.

You can't talk. Your vocal cords don't work and you're feeling more frustrated than ever. Shaking, in silence, you give him the test. At first, you can see the surprise on his face holding it with both hands. His eyes travel from the stick to yours, and back to stick, some times.

“I sw—swear is yours”. You're trying to find the correct words. You want him to believe your words. “I wou—would never be wi—with another man… I didn't kn—know how it happened…”

Hardly sniffing, your chest inflates and deflates exaggeratedly fast, about collapsing if you continue breathing like that. Your husband clicks his tongue rolling his eyes with some kind of ennui, before leaving the pregnancy test over the counter to wrap you with both arms. Tightly. So tightly. Clinging your arms to the back of his head, you lean on your tiptoes to rest your cheek against his shoulder.

“Were you gonna hide it from me…?”

Taza pulls himself enough to clean again your tears, as you shrug softly. Doubting about it.

“I know you couldn't cheat on me, (Y/N). I… I… shit, mi amor”.

A huge smile appears on his lips, pressing them against yours once and once. He's chuckling happily, embracing you again with all his strength. Your fears suddenly disappear. The tears don't fall anymore.

“I'm gonna be a dad, can you imagine it?”

You nod pursing your lips in a soft grin, tangling your fingers in his shirt.

“Fuck… I'm so fucking happy. You make me so fucking happy”. He's almost shouting it out, raising you up between his hands to sit you on the counter. His fingers hold your face, pecking your lips with a bunch of excited and dearly kisses. “I… love… you… so… much”.

The kisses soon tour all your face, every inch of your skin, while you start to laugh.

“Damn…! Look what I've done to you, mami”. He teases you with some tickles in your sides.

“Pendejo”. You complain between chuckles, slapping his chest to make him stop. “Felicidades, papi…”

“Felicidades, mami”.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ THE TALK ❜

First chapter of ‘Someone you loved’ with Michael ‘Riz’ Ariza.

Warnings: none.

Word count: about 1.1k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

Your forearms are rested over the wooden railings of the porch, holding an empty beer between your hands. Your eyes go from one face to another, touring the whole crowded yard. The latin music flows between the bodies dancing all around, in sync with some people singing, laughing or simply talking. You weren't in the mood for a party, but when other charters come to the city, you are obligated to make an appearance. Daydreaming, you can see yourself cuddling with him on your sofa, with a movie on the background and a bunch of kisses roaming your face. In silence, just enjoying each other's company. But, since that new Vicki's girl came a couple weeks ago, you're starting to lose him. All the opportunities that maybe you could have are over. And it's a little painful when your orbs fall into them. Elisa is sitting on his lap, surrounding Riz's neck with both arms. So chummy that your jealousy is consuming you faster than a fire.

Having a last sip from your beer, you let a sigh escape from your lips. You know when to withdraw in time, even if you are already loaded to your fingertips with love for him. Tossing the empty bottle into the trash, you come inside the clubhouse to grab your bag and hide in the Templo. Leaving the door almost closed, you sit on your father's chair on the front of the table. Legs over it, crossed, lighting up a cigarette between your lips. Tilting your head back, the smoke pops off of your throat to the atmosphere in a painful and silent howl. Taking your big headphones, you put them onto your ears playing some rock music, in a crude attempt to forget him enough time until your father tells you that you can leave.

The first song isn't finished when you feel something small and metallic impacts with your face. Concretely, with your forehead. Frowning, you sit up, rolling down the headphones to hang by your neck. Riz is closing the door completely, in the meantime that you're having a heart attack. Carrying two beers, the mexican has a seat by your side on Taza's chair. But not without kissing your cheek first. Offering you one drink, he makes a toast before having a sip and placing his forearms on the edge of the table.

“Didn't know you came, until Bishop told me”.

“Yeah, I ain't… feeling good”. It's not a lie, but it's not the truth.

“I was waiting for you, needing to talk”.

“About what?” You shrug, curling your knees against your chest, as if it could avoid that your heart flew off at some point.

“You know, ah… We're friends”. He says, opening a hand over the wood as a light gesture. Riz puts his gaze away from you, almost biting his tongue while the tip of it presses the inside of his cheek. “I would like to ask you for advice”.

There it is. Your worst nightmare acting in real life. When your brain reconnects, you just nod one time with your chin.

“I think I'm in love”.

You don't know exactly why you are surprised, you had it coming. Drinking from your bottle, you clean your lips with the back of your forefinger. Another nod with your eyes lost in somewhere.

“But she's younger than me”.

“Age is just a number, Riz”. You reply, trying to sound as his friend. Trying to not send him to hell for not noticing that you are totally in love with him.

“Yeah, I know, but… Do you know, people care a lot about it”.

“I don't think so”.

The man turns his body a little more towards you.

“Would you date a guy much older than you?” He raises an eyebrow, seeming interested.

Absolutely, you think.

“Why not?” You say.

“Okay, so… how would you confess your love for someone?”

This can't be really happening. You need the earth to swallow you right now. Drinking again, you lie back against your chair. You don't have to think about it. You have been dreaming about telling him how much you love him thousands times.

“I would tell that… someone that I can't breathe whenever I see him smiling. That his voice sounds like that song I play on repeat any time I feel sad, because listening to that song makes me happy. That the only thing I want to do it's spend the rest of my life by his side. That any time I feel him close I feel butterflies in my stomach. That I love him in his bad moments more than in his good ones”. Your eyes are over your finger, breaking the stick on the beer into small pieces, placing them over the table while your cigarette gets consumed on the ashtray. “That I wish he could see himself as I see him, because I have never met a man like him. That I would give my life for him and that… if I die, I would come for him again”.

Licking your bottom lip, you raise your orbs at his. Riz is amazed. Simply amazed. But a little confused because he has noticed the pain in your voice. Forcing a smile, you shrug your shoulders.

“I think that's a start”. Whispering, you have another sip, before having a smoke from your cig; shaking the ashes into the ashtray.

Now he knows that you are in love too, but he also knows that you don't want to talk about it. So Riz doesn't ask.

“Listen… That girl is lucky that you fell for her. She will not care about age. I told you, I wouldn't. You're more than a number, Michael. You're brave, and loyal. You take care of all of us, even if you think we don't see it. You're the most kind and respectful man I have ever known. And yes… It's your best friend who is telling you that, but it's the pure truth”.

“Thank you”. He mumbles a little nervous, playing with his beer as you were doing some seconds ago.

“Ask her for a date. That's another start. There's nothing wrong with playing the field, Riz”.

“Should I do it now? Is it pretty sudden?”

“It's one am, wait till tomorrow”.

“Okay…” He replies somewhat thoughtfully, putting his eyes on yours. “Okay, that gives me some time to think exactly what I want to say”.

“Yeah…”

“Anyway, you look tired. Want a ride back home?”

“Nah, don' worry. I will walk”.

“Walk? Your house is forty-five minutes away”. He laughs loud, and you pretend yo chuckle because it's stupid, but you don't want to be with him right now, or touch him, or talk to him. “C'mon, baby. Let me take you home”.

You know that you don't have anything to fight against when he begs you, just nodding as you get up from your chair.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ THE FIGHT ❜

Second chapter of ‘Someone you loved’ with Michael ‘Riz’ Ariza.

Warnings: none.

Word count: about 1.3k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

One of the good things that has to be Bishop's daughter is that Taza spoils you whenever. This time, he has let you destroy a car of the scrapping, feeling how stressed you have been for the last few days. While another party is happening in the clubhouse, Leti and Gabriela accompany you through the main alley, to the farthest part of the scrap. Carrying a baseball bat in your right hand, you find an old SUV perfectly parked and ready for you. Wearing a pair of glasses and covering your hands with big gloves, the show starts while the girls drink beer and listen to your misery.

“I fucking hate him!” You scream full of rage, hitting the pilot window.

It crashes into small pieces falling to gravel on the floor. Turning at them, you raise both arms at both sides of your body.

“Can you really fucking believe it? He fucking came to me! To ask me for advice to date that… fucking bitch!” This time, you smash the rearview mirror with all your strength, beating it until it's unfixable. “I'm in front of you, man! What the fuck is wrong with you? How you didn't fucking notice my feelings?!”

You're breathing fast, hitting the pilot door several times, drawing a big dent on it. They agree with you. Everybody in the crowded yard knows about the fact that you love him, and not because you said so. But because it is obvious. Turning to the hood of the car, you grab the bat with both hands to slam it into the windshield, using all the rage running through your veins.

“Good luck catching a STD, you fucking asshole!”

Pulling back the bat, you take off the whole glass, throwing it onto the floor to jump over it repeatedly.

“I don't give a fuck about your feelings, or about your fucking love! I don't want to be your fucking friend anymore!”

The headlights explode into thousands of small pieces too with two loud roars.

“FUCK YOU, MICHAEL ARiza…” Your voice gets low as soon as you turn around again, to find him some steps away from you.

The girls turn confused too, until they see him keeping his hands in his pockets. Leti and Gabriela run away without saying a single world, in the meantime that you take off the glasses covering your eyes. Tossing down the bat, you heavily gulp. Riz takes a look at the car, before licking his lips slowly. Wanting to say something, but he can't barely breathe.

“It's not what it looks like”. You whisper terrified.

Of course, you couldn't stop being his friend if he doesn't love you back.

“Were you talking with them about what I asked you?” His voice sounds hurt, with a sorrowful gesture on his face. “I… trusted you something… personal and you told them about it?”

“I'm so—sorry, Riz, I di—”. You take a step ahead, interrupting your words, when he takes one backward.

“It's good to see that you don't care about me”.

“Don't say that. It's not true”.

“Then… why is this show about?”

Silence. You are at a crossroads. But every road leads you to lose him.

“I can't… tell you”.

Pursing his lips, he just nods. You don't even know what he has heard, but you're not going to ask him. This just could turn the situation into something worse. But he's leaving you there, alone, and you feel already as if you were dead inside.

“I love you”. You utter without thinking, but he doesn't stop his legs. “I REALLY DO!”

Nothing. You have told him these same words a lot of times, and doesn't have any value for him as you're trying to show him.

“Some… Sometimes…” Having a deep breath, you let yourself go. “SOMETIMES I HEAR YOUR VOICE NOTES WHEN I'M SAD!”

Your lungs are emptied after yelling at him. Your throat is ripped, and it stings a little, but at least he has turned around.

“Shit…” You mumble ashamed, when you see him coming back.

Swallowing your saliva, you place both hands crossed on your chest on the sides of your body, slightly raised up. Some tears falling down, seeing the confused gesture on him.

“I don't know when it happened… I just fell in love with you, Riz… I'm sorry. I tried to push… these feelings away, because I didn't want to lose you. You're my best friend. I can't imagine a day without you”. Confessing it is like taking off all the weight on your shoulders, but stabbing your heart at the same time. “I… I don't know what you have heard, but I don't… really mean that… Of course I care about you, about your feelings… I'm happy because you're happy. And I… I would never leave you just… just because you don't feel the same things I feel”.

Riz is staring at you in silence while you, practically, are putting all your shit over the table. Opening up your chest and showing him your worst fears. What gives you nightmares every single night, since Elisa came to Santo Padre. Hardly sniffing and rubbing your nose with the sleeve cuff of your hoodie, you shrug scared to death. You don't know what else you can say to make him understand why you are so angry.

“So, all those things you said in the Templo… Were you talking about me?” His tone of voice is shaking slightly, raising a hand to highlight the past. You nod.

“Since… some months ago, every time you go for a run, I write you a letter”. Confessing, you grab your phone from your pocket to show them to him, but Michael raises again his hand to stop you.

Being aware that he doesn't want to read them, literally breaks your heart. Not because of all the time you have spent on writing them, but all the things you have written on them; all your feelings, all your memories, all your fears, all the things you love about him. Hoping that, maybe, one day he would read them. Grabbing a fold of your hoodie, you put the phone inside of the pocket again, using your free hand.

“I will understand if you… pull yourself away from me. I don't… want to cause you any trouble wi—”.

“Stop talking, please”. Riz interrupts you shaking his hands raised up some inches away from his chest.

Pressing your lips, you nod in silence again, clearing the tears in your cheeks.

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“For what, Michael? You and me, this is not gonna happen”. You reply, pointing at the distance between both with your forefingers, feeling how you break a little more. “We ain't made for each other”.

“Is that what you think? Then, why is it supposed that we're friends, if we don't complete the other?”

“Things are very different. It's not the same to be your friend than to be your… girlfriend”.

His phone starts to ring. Saved by the bell. Answering the call, he just listens, not uttering a single word. But when he hangs up, Riz takes a step ahead.

“I got to go, b—”.

“It's okay”. You whisper crossing your arms and bowing down your head for a second. “I didn't mean to hurt you. And I'm sorry for fucking up our friendship”.

“You didn't”.

“You're just saying that because I'm fucked enough tonight, but I will not blame you when you start to act differently with me”.

“Listen, we will be friends forever, no one will change that. And this… conversation it's not finished”.

“Okay”. You reply shrugging listlessly, trying to stop crying, even if you know it's going to be the last time you're going to be alone.

Watching him leave the scrapping is the most hard and painful goodbye you have ever experienced. And you want to run after him. Beg him to not push you away. Ask him to forgive you. But your legs don't receive the orders from your brain, because you know you have already lost him.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

OPEN WOUNDS.

Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes x Reader

Anon asked: how about an imagine in which you an ez fight because of emily

Chapter index

Chapter three ; part one

Chapter three ; part two

Word count: 1.9k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. This is the part two of the third chapter, you can find the first part right over here . Gif credits: @angels-reyes.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​ @sassymox @wrcn9fvlcver 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Your forearms are supporting on the door, with the open window, resting your cheek there. Closed eyes covered by the sunglasses feeling somewhat relaxed after pass away the welcome sign. Even so, you're pretty excited about meeting this town and meeting other bikers, part of the Mayans family. At the end, they turned you into family too. 

“Teller-Mo—”.

“MAAMAAAAAA”. EZ's voice gets interrupted by another more booming.

Lifting the sunglasses to the roots of your hair, drawing a huge and happy smile on the corner of your lips. As soon  as the car stop, you practically jump off from it to walk fast towards Angel, who is coming with open arms till he have you between them. It's been two days, but it's feels like an eternity. 

“Ezekiel scared me, going to the ranch at night! I thought something bad happened!” You say making some pouts.

“Nah!” He chuckles before letting you go, walking closer to the crew. But you don't see Taza, guessing his in a meeting when EZ carries the backpack inside the clubhouse.

Hugging your boys and being introduced to the Sons', you sit on Angel's lap at the picnic table.

“How was the travel?” Gilly asks having a smoke of his cigar. You shrug.

“I was sleeping till Lost Hills, and then I drove to Stockton. Everything went... good”. You don't want to give it more importance than it really has, but by Angel's gaze you know that he knows his brother screwed up at some points. “Hey, papi, I'm hungry”.

“Oh, really?” The oldest Reyes raise both eyebrows, playing again. That distract him. The guys at the table breaks in laughters.

“Yea'!” You poke his chest with your forefingers.

“Oka', let's find somethen' fo' mama”. Palming your hips to make you get up, he does the same holding your hand with his full of golden rings. “So, wha' did my brother say, ah? Maybe he's the smart one, bu' I'm not stupid”.

“It was nothen', Angel. We were laughing, and he just called me 'baby'. That's all”. He rolls his eyes with a snort, rubbing his forehead. Very typical. “But he took care of me pretty well, you already know how he is”.

He doesn't say anything else about it, leaving back the workshop to find some place where buy you some good food, to regain strength. Whilst he tells you about the party tonight, one of those legendary SOA do with a lot of meat, alcohol, girls and drugs, even if Mayans aren't into this last one more than to sell it. In the end, it's a party and it's gonna help you to calm yourself a little more.

See Taza again, coming back of eating something, makes you fully happy running towards him to be received by his strong arms, pushing you close to him. You missed him, and he did it too. You can feel it pretty well when the man fills your face with a lot of kisses, walking next to Tranq and Bishop.

“All good, kid?” The president asks, giving you a flash hug and leaving a caress on your chin, you nod, being dearly surround by Hank. “If you need to sleep, the Sons' has prepared you a dorm, okay?”

“Good, but I slept in the car. Maybe fo' late”. You reply palming the big guy's chest with a soft smile.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

The guys break in laugh, so you do mixed between Mayans and Sons', lying on Angel's lap with the fifth beer you have drunk in your hands. They're talking about funny and unbelievable anecdotes happened through the years. Having a good time for the first time in many months, being also a little drunk. 

“So, wha'bout my friend Taza and ya', lass? Do ya' have some kink fo' geriatrics or mummies?” Chibs, the SOA president ask, provoking more loud laughs.

“We're more into family stuff”. You shake your head, getting comfy above Angel's leg. “I'm friend of those two shitty guys since ever, they introduce me to the club. And Che and I...” Pursing your lips, you twist a little your neck. “We had a connection. I live with him at the ranch and I take care of the animals”.

“Kinda grandpa, no incest”. The man adds, leaving a caress on your head.

“You're not that old!” You chuckle turning to him for a while.

“And what about your shitty guys?” A young woman walks towards your table, placing her hands on SOA Vice, licking his lips hinting. You raise an eyebrow.

“'Am taken for life”. EZ talks first, without doubting and a firm tone of voice, showing a soft and gently smile.

“But you can take me, bonita”. The tension installed on air for a second disappear when Angel replies, provoking some more laughs, making you getting up so he can have the offered hand by the woman. 

“Com'ere”. Taza says palming his lap, but you shake your head.

“I think it's time to sleep, I'm tired and I drunk enough”.

“Okay, I'll tell you where's your dorm”. He says then throwing his cigar to get up too.

“Good night, guys. Amazing party, president”.

“Whenever ya' need'at, here's your house, lady”. Chibs answers raising his whisky in a soft cheer.

Narrowing one of Bishop's shoulders, you smile at him, before being wrapped by Che guiding you towards the clubhouse. Crossing the hallways, he opens the last door, the furthest room, so that you are not disturbed by noise. Your bag is already there and you also have a bathroom in it, in case you want to take a shower.

“If you need something, call me, okay?” He says holding you into his arms, leaving a kiss on your temple. “It was good having you here. Maybe Bish will let you come with us next time”.

“That would be amazing”.

“Rest, baby girl, you deserve it”.

“Taza”. You say before he can close the main door. “Can you... ask EZ to come?”

He doesn't say anything, staring at you.

“Please... I'm gonna be okay, I promise. He's tired too”. Finally he nods.

You take some advantage, changing your clothes and wearing the SAMCRO big shirt they gave you, 'cause Angel said them that you collect shirts or something like. Everything spins around you, going to the window to open it and let in the fresh air of northern Cali. Getting inside the bed and covering your body with the blankets, you wait for the younger Reyes.

You hear his steps, stopping next to the door for some seconds. Maybe he's doubting. Maybe Che threatened again. But when he opens the door, you get up on your palms between the darkness around the dorm only illuminated by some lights outside.

“I thought you would like to sleep”.

“Yea', but I can sleep in the car”.

You click your tongue, palming the empty side of the bed, before getting comfy on it.

“C'mon, prospect”.

Ezekiel closing the door and walking towards the mattress, gets undressed leaving his clothes on a chair. You make him some space, facing each other above the pillow.

“You drunk too much”.

“Yea', I know... The hangover is gonna fuck me up tomorrow, uh”.

“When was the last time you drunk so much, ah?”

“Dunno'. Three months ago?”

“Yea'course. Sorre'bout that”.

“You hurt me”. You mutter shrugging your shoulders. “But I have so much fun getting drunk with Taza”.

“I'm tryin' fuckin' hard to make it up to you. No matter how much I've to do it”. He says then, pulling away some brists of your hair with a gently touch.

“I know”. And you also know that those words have lifted a huge weight off him.

Ezekiel takes the first step, wrapping your body with his arms to push closer. Your pulse goes fast. You know that something like that could happen, but by the other hand, you weren't expecting. Leaving a sigh out of your lips you surround his neck with yours, hugging you tightly for some seconds as if you didn't see each other in years. And even if you don't want to recognize, its makes you feel somewhat happy again. 

Putting some inches between both, with your heads on their pillow, he has his gaze on yours. His fingertips touring your back softly from top to bottom, once and again, with a calm breath. You're fucking lost in his eyes, as many nights you did before. You could be like that forever with his smell filling your lungs, sinking your face on his neck. Closing your eyes, you let one of your hands travel on his head back and nape in gently caresses, wishing to not fall asleep so fast as always, just to enjoy the intimate moment you two are having. And you know that EZ is fighting against his tiredness to do the same.  

“Do you think... you could forgive me one day?” He soughs then, from nowhere.

Yes, you know you will, but there are open wounds that you don't know how to heal. And maybe he's the one who can take care of them, but, how can you say it? How can you ask him for it? You sigh, resting your dizzy head back to the pillow. 

“You don' have to tell me when it will be”. He adds shrugging. “I just wanna know it to think new plans to bother you, 'cause I'm running out of ideas”.

You chuckle closing your eyes for a second, as he does stirring slightly on the bed.

“I was serious, baby, I'll wait for you all my life”. He mutters leaving a dearly and slow kiss on your forehead.

And you're falling for him again, with those voices inside your mind telling you to keep calm and that you're too drunk to have a clear decision. His lips almost dragging your skin doesn't help, leaving another smooth kiss on the bridge of your nose and another on the tip. Till he reach yours. He just presses them against yours, mildly, inchmeal. Your lips catching his lower in a soft move, tasting him and noticing how much you need him, and how much he needs you.

EZ sighs against your mouth, pulling it away so as not to make you feel pressured. Leaving a last one on your cheek, he pushes you closer ready to sleep for long hours as he couldn't do the last months.

Your phone dings with a notification, making you waking up with a horrible headache hitting your whole body. You growl, palming the bed trying to find Ezekiel. But the mattress is cold and empty. For a second, you think that maybe was an illusion because of the alcohol running through your veins, rolling till your blurry gaze is on the ceiling. Stretching your right arm, you grab your phone unlocking it. But there's nothing on it. Frowning you turn to the nightstand, finding Ez's. You don't want to look. You can't. Even if you know his secret code, it's not your phone. But, shit, you have to look it. Turning on the screen, without moving it, you're able to read the message from an unknown number.

💬: “I have left Miguel”.