#college!ez x reader

[insomniamamma]

By Starlight Alone: Ezra x F!Reader

Warnings: Lots of kissing, trespassing? Alcohol consumption. Implied smut. Ezra running his mouth. Like seriously, that guy could read the ingredient list on a cereal box and I would drop to my knees. Reader mentions early adulthood insecurities. No age gap. Reader is the same age as Ezra.

A/N: This was a funny one for me. If you've been looking at my blog you know I've been Going Through Some Shit. I found this story in my WIP folder with about the first third written. I had no memory of writing it. I'm going to look at it as a gift from the universe. In my mind this is the same reader as the Liminal AU but this can stand on its own.

“We suffer, I think, from a lack of stars.” “A lack of stars.” First time you’ve been able to enjoy the fire pit in months, the ground bone dry for so long, and now the air smells of rain and wet earth and worms and the smoke of the low embers. Cee ate her weight in s’mores and hotdogs toasted on sticks, and then retreated to her room to game. You look at Ezra, laid back as far as his battered lawn chair will allow, expect a smirk, but his face is grim. “You’re serious.”

"When’s the last time you saw a proper sky of stars? When’s the last time you saw the Milky Way?” You frown. “I don’t know really. Probably not since I still lived at home. I used to go and stand in the driveway and smoke when I couldn’t sleep. You remember the comet?” “The one that hit Jupiter?” “No the other one. I was home for Easter Break. It had two tails—“ “That was Hale-Bopp! Me and Damon dragged a couple of lawn chairs and sleeping bags into Ma’s back field. Damon filched some cigarettes and a bottle of some gruesome fruit wine. Wild Irish Rose if I recall correctly.” “Oooogh,” You shudder, recalling your own experiences with Wild I, namely being hauled back into your dorm room by well meaning friends, waking the next day with puke crusted in your hair. Ezra chuckles. “Me and my friends thought it was some kind of omen. My back home friends, not my college friends.”

Not sure why that distinction popped out of your mouth, brings back the judgement flickering in their eyes, the sense that they were all smarter than you despite your grades. Not smarter, but maybe better? More worldly at the very least. That small town dumb hick shame clings even now, decades from there, people closest to you then now facebook profiles that haven’t updated in years.

“You okay, honey?” You turn and Ezra’s eyes are fixed on yours, low cherry red glow of dying coals, ugly sodium street light shining them. “Yeah. Just thinking about back then. It’s funny, you know? We could’ve been watching that comet at the exact same time, couldn’t we?” Ezra stands suddenly, rusty lawn chair creaks in protest, squeal of metal and soft slither of wet grass and he hoses the coals, steam hissing and billowing up into the black. “Ez?” “Let’s go for a ride. Let’s go see some stars.” “What about Cee?” “What about her? She’s so embroiled in, what’s it? Baldur’s Gate? She likely won’t even notice we’re gone. She’s nearly grown. She’s not gonna burn the house down. How bout it, Sunny-girl? Take a ride with me.”

Drive a little ways out of the city in Ezra’s rattlebox truck, warbling AM station tinny through the speakers, I fall to pieces, Ezra’s rough voice threaded through with Patsy Cline’s, each time someone speaks your name, soft slither of slide guitars, soft glow of the dashboard lights ghosting him against the dark outside. You frown. “I thought there’d be more fireflies this time of year,” you say, thinking of late Sunday nights in the back seat, watching the fields light with green fairy fire, background noise of grown up conversation, your folks just talking about the week to come without any care for the green stars stuttering in the grass, so many, driving so fast that the light pulled into elongate streaks like hyperspace in Star Wars. “Haven’t been as many lately,” says Ezra, “Not like it used to be growin up.”

He steers you down a narrow gravel road that opens up onto a wide field, pulls off into a bit of mowed berm bordered by row on row of corn, blade-like leaves stretching skyward, smell of ripening, a bit like the smell of come. Signs posted every few feet with the brand and variety. Ezra kills the engine and hops out. You hook the sweaty sixer from the foot well and follow him, climb up in the truck bed beside him. Pop a beer and hand it to him, clink your bottles together and drink. “Close you eyes,” “Why?” Ezra smirks, that slow smile that you sometimes want to slap but more often want to kiss off his face. “If we’re gonna really see the stars, we’ve got to get our night eyes on. Close ‘em. I’ll set a timer. Three minutes should do.” “Hmmm, you’re just going to get up to shenanigans while my eyes are closed.” “Oi! I am an honorable man! I am offended that you think I would use your temporary lack of sight to my advantage!” You hear the smile in his words. “I’m counting on it, handsome.”

You are the least surprised person in the world when his lips find yours, tender press and prickle of his mustache, tongue licking languid into your mouth, your Ezra who can always kiss you breathless, that slow way of his that makes you ache for him, a soft cry when he withdraws but then he nuzzles into the column of your throat, grazes his teeth against that one spot that makes you squirm and break into gooseflesh. “You don’t have your eyes closed, you jackass,” “I do not,” he says, nibbles at the join of your neck and shoulder, “My need to make love to your under the stars has eclipsed my desire to see them clearly. You can describe them to me. If you can keep your focus on the night sky, that is.” “You, sir, are a fucking menace.” “I am indeed. Open your eyes and help me with these buttons.”

[bullet-prooflove]

What You Need: Bottles x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @librarian1002 @prettyinpunk85 @thanossexual @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989

It’s outside EZ’s bar that Bottles has you. There’s a secluded space around the back, shaded from the road and the patrons inside. The stars twinkle overhead and the music spills from the open windows. He pins you against the exterior wall, his face buried in the curve of your throat as his teeth graze that deviant little spot just underneath the hinge of your jaw.

You’ve been teasing him all night. The flutter of your dress as you drift past him, your hand brushing over his when you pass him a beer, the swell of your body against him when you squeeze past. You don’t usually bartend for EZ and Jo, but it’s a busy night and their regular has called in sick. You used to work as a mixologist back in college and he sees you still have it down to an art form.

The two of you have been seeing each for a few weeks, keeping it under the radar while some of the other charters are in town. There’s a couple of guys that like to make trouble for the prospects and he doesn’t want you to get caught up in that. One of them had made a grab for Nestor’s girl last week when she was passing through and it had resulted in her beating the shit out of him.

El Cuchillo, may be retired but she still commanded respect. He had seen Bishop give her the nod after the first punch had shattered Lobo’s nose. It didn’t need to get as bloody as it did, but Bishop had wanted to prove a point to their visitors. Bottles isn’t taking a chance with you.

“Is this what you need sweet girl?” His breath ghosts in your ear as he eases his fingers inside of you, crooking them just slightly. You’re tight, you hug his digits as he begins to move them in a slow, teasing tempo. The pitch of your breathing changes and he knows he’s hitting just the right spot. His thumb traces over your clit and your hips buck, taking him even deeper. “Or is it this?”

“Fuck.” You utter, your hands slipping underneath his kutte and tangling in the material of his plaid shirt, tugging him closer.

“I hear you.” He whispers against the corner of your mouth. “But not until we get home.”

He feels your expression change and he smiles because he kinda likes it when you’re a little bit bratty. His free hand comes up to clasp your cheek, his thumb trailing over the shape of your lips before he pushes it between them.

“So pretty when you pout.” He tells you as he presses down firmly on your clit.

You moan around his thumb as he picks up the pace, your skin flushing that pretty shade of pink he loves so much. He chases the symphony of your body, the way your muscles tense, the sounds you make. You come hard on his fingers, biting down on his thumb and it is the sexiest fucking thing he has ever seen.

“I can’t wait to get you back home.” He tells you as he pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a wet pop. “I’m going to ruin you all over again.”

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

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[rae-gar-targaryen]

INDULGE ME PLEASE!!!!!!! Ok but a dark academia vibe with College!EZ…. you share a writing intensive course w/ him (philosophy, creative writing, anthropology, classics, a novel based course or something) and he’s one of those always prepared types. Extra pens, extra highlighter. He’s an all around type too, definitely plays a sport, probably is apart of a club of some sort…. Only wears glasses to read but he’s so cute when he does wear them (he hates wearing them because it makes him look old like felipe lolll) ….. the both of you dont really interact till you disagree with something he says in the class you share and now you’re on his radar because he just has to pick your brain…… no one ever really disagrees with him…. He likes it?!?!?!

Anyways yeah…. This had been on my mind ALOT

those damned romantics [college!ez reyes x reader]

A/N: Well, fuck. I read this, was immediately struck, and could not let sleeping dogs lie. So... this is an entire fic now, and I'm not sorry? This is unedited, so sorry about whatever it actually is. Maybe I'll add the taglist later?

Pairing: College!Ezekiel Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k (I KNOW WHAT THE FUCK -- As soon as you sent this ask, I started typing and didn't stop) of enemies-to-lovers literary rivals, just like in the old books you both love to read.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ ONLY. A good-old-fashioned library hatefuck, with fingering and some slight dom!EZ.

Summary: See the lovely @joannasteez ask, supra. I took some liberties. Some unedited enemies-to-lovers goodness.

--

You didn’t think that “Classics & Creative Writing” aka “Lit 403” would be an easy class, per se. 

Had you been comfortable in your own hubris because you’d already read a good number of the novels on the required reading list for the semester? Sure. With a heavy tilt toward gothic fiction and crime, and a syllabus full of Shelley, Capote, and Connell, you felt comfortable that you would be able to timely complete most of your assignments.

The seminar half of the portion seemed simple enough -- complete the required reading by the time of class, and participate in a seminar without about two-dozen other likeminded literary nerds. You would pencil-pick the classics within an inch of their lives -- chewing over themes, motifs, usage of simile and metaphor. 

The writing half of the course? Pick an “auteur” whose work you would attempt to emulate in order to come up with your own short story. 

This all would have been simple enough for your literature-loving heart, if it wasn’t for the infuriatingly smug, self-assured, beautiful jockish boy who sat back-row-center, annoyingly, immediately in the seat behind yours. 

He thought he was so cute. And so smart. And when you had stumbled over your explanation of isolation and ambition in “Frankenstein,” Ezekiel “The Golden Boy” Reyes had only been too quick to swoop in and snake your point from your very mouth-- correcting your point about feminist writing in the Romantic era, receiving all the credit from the professor while you sat, mouth agape, at the loss of your answer. 

If that boy thought he could slide into your idea the way he slid into home plate, securing another win for himself (both on the field and off, it seemed), he had another thing coming. (You weren’t being a dick -- not that you had endeavoured to keep tabs on him or anything, it was just common knowledge that he was here on a baseball scholarship. Taking the whole student-athlete thing a little too seriously, if anyone had asked you.)

“Ambition, coupled with a false sense of pride -- of being a godlike creator -- though of course, not actually being a god-- not unlike the prevalent concept of toxic masculinity in the 21st century, is Victor’s downfall. It feels only right that Mary Shelley -- a woman -- would be the one to shine the light on this flaw and how men fail as nurturers,” EZ had shrugged, as though the point was so simple. 

You whipped your head around after the professor had smiled at him and moved on, only to find Ezekiel already staring at you from behind his (infuriatingly hot) reading specs. Were they designer frames? You furrowed your brows in what you hoped was an intimidating glare. 

EZ just smiled his annoyingly bright “el nino de oro” smile at you, and winked. Winked. It might have been hot. Might have made you melt in your seat just a bit, if he wasn’t such an asshole. 

Oh, it was on, motherfucker. 

--

Ezekiel often saw you in the library, head bent down, poring over your worn copy of whatever novel you were reading in class that week. Worn like you had brought it from home -- not purchased it from the student store for class. 

So you were a reader, then. He’d thought it was cute. 

You would highlight and tab pages before switching gears to make notes, both in the margins of the text, and in your tabbed notebook you always lugged with you to class. 

EZ had to respect the hustle -- not many people still took handwritten notes for class. Come to think of it, the only time he had ever seen you behind a computer screen was when you brought your laptop to group for the short-story portion of the class, scrolling through the running word doc that was your obnoxiously-detailed outline. Nah. He totally wasn’t looking over your shoulder. Not in seminar, and not in group. 

You were just a lit-snob who wasn’t going to make it any other major. He needn’t concern himself with you. 

Right? 

So how exactly was it that he found himself sliding into the empty seat across from you at your table in the corner of the library? 

He liked studying on the second floor -- not as busy and chatty (people shouldn’t come to the library to socialize under the guise of studying) as the first floor; not as intensely quiet as the third floor, where people would glare at you for turning your page too loudly. 

No, the second floor was a good mix of hushed chatter and respectable pockets of studious quiet. 

You hadn’t looked up from your copy of “The Picture of Dorian Grey” as he’d approached (he had heard you’d intended to write a similarly-postmodern short story in the flowery vein of Oscar Wilde and Bronte. Not that you’d shared that with him -- he was just … observant, that’s all). You hadn’t even flinched when he slumped down his bag onto the empty chair next to the seat he was now pulling out. 

“I told you, Anna,” you had breathed, voice in a pleasant register just above a whisper, “I don’t care if the barista is cute, I’m not going with you for more coffee. I need to focus, and I can only have so many Red-Eyes in one week…” your voice trailed as you looked up to meet the glinting, mossy-amber eyes of none other than Ezekiel-motherfucking-Reyes.

He was most decidedly not Anna. And he was also regarding you with an infuriatingly easy (hah) stare, smiling in a facile way, right into your quickly-souring face. 

“Just how many Red-Eyes do you drink in one week?” Ezekiel responded in a low, velvety rumble, brow quirked and arms flexing beneath his practice jersey as he made himself comfortable in the seat across from yours, already unpacking his bag, though his eyes never left yours. 

“Enough to keep me awake during your self-important soliloquies during class,” you snipped, primly. “And who told you you could sit here?” You nodded toward the previously-empty seat he was now all-too-keenly making himself comfortable in. “My friend is sitting here.” 

There. If you kept your tone unfriendly, just to the right of a little bitchy, he’d know he was unwelcome. 

EZ chuckled at that, seemingly unfazed by your little dig at his class participation. 

“An empty seat and your ‘friend’ is sitting here? Yeah, that tracks,” he chuckled at his clever little barb that you didn’t actually have any friends, before taking in the downright murderous glare you were leveling him with and continuing, “Nah, I’ve seen Anna chatting up Marco every time I go to get coffee. The two of them aren’t going anywhere,” he shrugged, now unpacking his extra pens, highlighters and little moleskine notebook. A writer’s notebook. Pretentious. 

Strike one, you thought. Terminology Ezekiel would be all-too familiar with. You’d tried to annoy him into leaving, and that was a big swing-and-miss. If at first you don’t succeed? Try, try again. 

You sniffed lightly, steely eyes never leaving Ezekiel’s stupidly-muscular form. How did he always look so warm? The second floor of the library really was the prime study spot on campus, but friendly to the perpetually-cold it was not. 

“Did you just come from practice, or something?” You lilted, innocuous. 

EZ looked at you, eyes lightened with a note of surprise. A sincere question about his day? Was hell freezing over? 

He chuffed a little chuckle, scrubbing his hand along the back of his neck as he responded, “Uh, yeah, actually…” 

“Ah,” you’d nodded and cut in before he could finish. “So that’s what that smell is.” 

It would have been comical how quickly Ezekiel’s face had dropped into a frown, if it didn’t make your gut drop just the slightest bit. Too mean? 

To his credit, Ezekiel seemed to recover like your barb was nothing. 

“Not surprised you can’t differentiate,” he shrugged, now starting to thumb through his own copy of Oscar Wilde. “Your head being as far up your own ass as it is.”

Strike two. 

Was Ezekiel really so unbothered by your shitty little barbs? Did it really just roll off of his back like it was nothing? 

He glanced up from beneath his lashes (annoyingly long, of course -- was anything about this boy not annoying?) at you. He smirked at your scrunched brows and the firm set of your jaw. 

Fuck, you were hot when you were mad. 

To add insult to injury, he kept talking. No use in hiding the ball, right?

“You know,” he breezed, as though he hadn’t just insulted you, “You’re pretty cute when you’re pissed at me.” He winked. 

The audacity of this boy. 

You sat, mouth agape, as Ezekiel carried on like he hadn’t just said that to you, highlighting a line in the book and making a little note in his moleskine. You tugged the sleeves of your cropped hoodie down over your fingers, twisting the cuffs between your fingertips in your anxious anger at the stupidly hot boy in front of you.

Before you realized what you were doing, you capped your little blue pen and flung it straight into his perfectly-perfect face. The pen gently plinked off of Ezekiel’s curved nose and his designer frames before landing with a gentle thunk onto the paper of his notebook. 

Had you really just -- ??

To your credit, even you looked surprised at the little childish move your frustrations had wrought. 

Oh shit. You stared into EZ’s golden eyes for any hint of anger, retaliation, or just what he’d do next, surprised when ...

EZ’s momentary expression of shock quickly melted into a warm little quirk of his lips, not even flinching as he reached into his bag. He never broke eye contact with you as he pulled out a spare pen, clapping it down onto the table and sliding it over to your side, like it was a surreptitiously good card that would guarantee you the winning hand in a high-stakes poker game. 

He smirked at you again before going back to his notes.

You broke eye contact to look down at the pen he had offered, a warm, tingling sense of welcome surprise at the realization that the pens he carried were in the same blue ink you favored,

Well, fuck. That had no business being as hot as it was. 

You opened your mouth, a squeaking little gasp escaping your lips as you took in Ezekiel’s fastidiously moving hand, long fingers gripped around his own pen as he made neat little notes in the margin of his book, not unlike the way you did. 

“Ezekiel,” you breathed, the thoaty register of your voice enough to break Ezekiel’s concentration. He glanced at you from beneath his lashes once more. 

“I -- I’m sorry,” you began… but Ezekiel held up a large hand, waving away your apology. 

“If this is the part where you give some kind of Elizabeth Bennett-esque speech about how our respective pride makes us similar, it’s really not necessary. I know what kind of girl you are,” Ezekiel murmured, sliding his hand across the table to grip your fingers now, his long legs beneath the table had somehow come to rest on either side of where yours were in your seat. 

“Oh?” You queried gently, brow now raised at Ezekiel’s rejoinder, “And what kind of girl am I?” 

“The kind who makes fiction her identity. You bring your own books to class. You’re protective over words that aren’t even yours. You’re smart, sure, if not a little defensive,” EZ was smirking again, as though his read of you wasn’t mildly insulting. “Other people can like books, too, you know?” The smirk softened into a warm little smolder. 

The apples of your cheeks felt tingly and warm -- whether it was from embarrassment over EZ’s facile read of your character and your minor flaws or heat from just how turned on this boy was incomprehensibly making you feel, you didn’t know. What you did know was that the warmth was spreading down the column of your throat and settled into a rushing bloom across your collarbones and chest. 

“As opposed to you?” You could feel Ezekiel’s legs caging your own from the boundaries of your chair, and had decided in a split second of devilish determination to have a little fun. If he could make fun of you, you could return the favor, right? You left your lips parted as you trailed the toe of your sneaker from Ezekiel’s ankle, slowly dragging it up his calf as you continued. “A self-important, proud little boy only so eager to show he’s more than a pretty face? Trying to be Heathcliff doesn’t make you swoon-worthy. But it does make you a bit of a dick.” 

With that, you pushed back from your table, tossing your pens (and the one Ezekiel had given you) into your back, tabbing the page of “Dorian Grey” you’d just highlighted before snapping it shut. You smugly noted the look of surprise-turned-rage that crossed Ezekiel’s godlike features, his full lips twisting into something dour. 

You leaned over the table once more, invading Ezekiel’s space as you let your lips linger closely to his… 

“Ya know? You’re pretty hot when you’re mad.” 

You turned on your heel, content to sway your way out of the library in smug little victory, when Ezekiel called softly behind you,

“You’ll always be fond of me, babe,” he paraphrased, making your steps falter as he finished, “I represent to you all of the sins you’ve never had the courage to commit.” 

The line of “Dorian Grey” you’d just finished highlighting for your paper, right before he showed up. 

This boy was impossible. Strike three? You weren’t sure anymore who won. 

-- 

It was Oscar Wilde seminar day, and Ezekiel was floundering in his explanation of art imitating life, and the surface of something versus its true nature. He was mostly there, you’d give him credit. But he was missing something important -- 

“I think what Ezekiel is trying to say,” you piped up from the seat in front of him, “is that the postmodern lens Oscar Wilde writes in distinguishes it from other Romantic-era literature in that it relies less on the influence of nature and naturalism, and focuses more on industrial society and its inherent flaws.” You paused before continuing, “It’s like that one quote from the book, ‘Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming.’ The other Romantics never would have put it like that.” 

At your professor’s smiling nod, you turned back in your seat to regard Ezekiel. Only to find, once more, that he was already staring at you, a grey and thunderous storm brewing behind his usually-kind coffee eyes. 

You shrug, awarding him a little smirk of your own, a flutter of your lashes, before turning around in your seat and resuming your handwritten note-taking, feeling more than a little “Elizabeth Bennett” proud. 

--

It wasn’t until later, when you were in the library, that you saw Ezekiel again. You could feel him as he stalked over to you, standing over where you sat, all broad, heaving shoulders.

“Yes?” You placed your pen down in your notebook and sat back in your seat, giving Ezekiel your full attention.

Wordlessly, Ezekiel struck, leaning forward with a swiftness that defied his size and seizing your wrist, yanking you from your seat before you knew what was happening. 

You made to gasp, to protest, but Ezekiel turned on you, your arm still locked in his grip, as he brought his other hand up, pressing a finger first to his full lips, shushing you harshly.

“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to fuckin’ talk in the library?” -- 

Before taking said finger and trailing it over your mouth, catching it on your fuller lower lip and dragging it downward, dropping his hand by his side once more. With that, Ezekiel turned on his heel, tugging you behind him as he made his way to the far recesses of the library. 

He ushered you into a row in the far stacks, wordlessly beckoning you down an aisle you had never even seen before. 

“Ezekiel, wha --?”

You couldn’t even finish your question before he pounced, dropping your wrist from his grip in favor of cupping your jaw in both hands, pressing his warm lips harshly to yours, breaking the sudden kiss to hiss between his teeth, 

“Shut,” he kissed you again, “the fuck up.” 

Using his height and the two guiding hands on you to press you into the shelf behind you, he pressed his weight insistently into you, bending his knees and lowering himself slightly from his towering height to place himself at the right spot to knock your knees apart with his own and roll his hips into yours ever-so-slightly. 

Ezekiel tore his lips from yours, where his tongue had been exploring the inside of your mouth, content to trail his lips along your jaw and down your neck, allowing his hand to trail down your side and hook beneath your thigh, hoisting it around his tapered waist. 

He breathed hotly into your ear, ragged and panting as he rolled his hips into yours again. Your brain was too sluggish, too lust-drunk to comprehend the noises he was making until well after he’d already made them. You could only imagine what you sounded like, trying to muffle your little gasping moans as Ezekiel marked your neck. 

“You were so fucking hot today,” EZ moaned in your ear, all red-clay heat, fizzing champagne gone warm in the moment. “How you fuckin’ talk like that.”

He trailed the hand not already gripping your thigh across your breast and over the soft cotton of your shirt, making his way down to where the hem of it was tucked into your flouncy, springtime skirt. He tugged until the hem came free, dragging the hot pads of his fingertips up, under your shirt and over the soft lace of your bralette, feeling the hardness of your nipple beneath, cupping your breast and rolling a finger over your sensitive bud as he simultaneously rolled his jean-clad hips into your core, grinding between your legs.

“You had your moment,” EZ pulled back from his neck in time to fix his melted-chocolate gaze onto your wanton one. “Now are you gonna be good for me, baby?” 

If your bones could melt, you figured they’d long be a puddle where you once stood, EZ’s hands had abandoned the space beneath your shirt in favor of trailing their way up your skirt, brushing your underwear to the side in a moment way-too-smooth to be unpracticed (you wouldn’t think about that now) and swiping through the warm, honey slickness of your core.

You gasped, open-mouthed and in awe of just how starry-eyed Ezekiel was making you feel, like a balmy tropical night spent lounging on white-sand beaches. In between the plucking of his fingers, and just how tingly that was rendering you, you wondered if EZ was one for cliched summer romance. 

As quickly as it had started, Ezekiel stopped. 

You had half a mind to protest, but not before EZ could shush you with the domineering press of his incendiary lips to yours. 

“I asked you a question,” he rasped, the hand on your throat firming ever-so-slightly. “You gonna quit with that smart fuckin’ mouth and be good for me?” His warm grip around your neck shook slightly, gently knocking your head into the shelf behind you, a gentle whumph as it met the books that took up permanent, long-abandoned residence there. 

You sighed, pleased as Ezekiel’s featherlight touch resumed at your core, a thick finger teasing your entrance, waiting for your response before giving you what you so desperately wanted. 

“Y-yes, Ezekiel,” you breathed into his mouth, “Of course. Y-you’re being so good to me.” Ezekiel’s smirk was back, full-lipped and mildly sinister. He let out a little snarl as he slid his thick fingers into you. 

EZ could have been a music major, you’d thought vaguely, with how well he was playing your body. The borderline rough treatment his fingers were rendering inside you was enough to make you see stars, but you wanted more. 

You were reticent to say it, but you loved seeing this side of EZ. You had seen him soft, eyes glittering wanly in a quiet moment surrounded by a bustling party. You had seen him arrogant, a confident smirk pillowing his lips as he swaggered across campus. Of course, you had seen him smug, chuckling in self-amusement at a particularly clever turn of phrase. How Stanford of him. 

And not that you'd indulge particularly nosy ears, especially Ezekiel’s own-- but this was your favorite Ezekiel -- the heady, solid man towering over you with a firm, commanding presence. His large, warm palm curved around your thigh, thick fingers beckoning you closer to just where he wants you. To just where you want you

You could endeavor to tease him a little, tug your leg out of his grip, giggling and twisting and begging for the chase. But you wouldn't dare defy him; not when he is leaning over you with dangerous eyes like melting pools of mossy hazel, just daring you to try something, to give him an excuse to grip and tug with his fingers that had been carding through your hair. Not when he bares his teeth at you in a predator's grin.

His full lips then teasingly brush over yours, just a dusting of powdered sugar, a slip of sweetness you craved to swallow whole. You could feel your skin sweltering beneath EZ's imposing form. Yes, this is your favorite Ezekiel. Something you'd never thought you'd have.

Damn him. 

You had a feeling he knew it, too. What with the self-assured way he had about himself.

Ezekiel’s fingers were quickly working you toward your peak, summoning you to an edge you’d never in a million years thought you’d experience with him. You pressed your fingers to his firm chest, pressing him away from you just firmly enough for him to get the message. 

He ripped his lips from you, his fingers ceased, and he looked at you questioningly. 

“I - I want you, EZ,” you murmured, fluttering your lashes at him, chest heaving. 

You trailed your fingers nimbly from his chest to his belt buckle, deftly undoing his jeans, choosing delicately not to comment on the sizeable, hot, hard length you now had cradled in your palm. You gave EZ a few gentle, teasing strokes with the feather touch of your hand, causing him to groan and knock his forehead into yours, eyes shut and lips parted. 

You relished your moment of victory as you guided EZ to your center, allowing him to firmly, fully press-and-thrust inside of you. EZ quickly gained his bearings, gripping your hips and rolling his own, the teasing drag his thrusts were taking on was equal parts infuriating and heavenly. 

You rocked onto your tip-toes as best you could, given EZ’s body pressing yours into the shelf, his pistoning hips knocking you rhythmically back into the shelf. With your newfound tidbit of height, you pressed your face, your lips, into EZ’s clothed shoulder, gently biting to muffle the whining moans you didn’t trust yourself to contain. Not confident every single person in this library didn’t know just what the fuck you and Ezekiel were doing, how fucking good he was making you feel.

EZ grunted in surprise at the contact of your little bite, the action spurring him to thrust into you impossibly harder as the two of you chased your peak.

Was he really this fucking good at everything? You weren’t sure if your eyes were rolling in pleasure or annoyance as you felt yourself tightening around him, the warm, sticky caramel waves of pleasure Ezekiel was ripping from your body now too much for you as you surrendered -- coming with a violent jerk of your hips, tightening around Ezekiel’s length and spurring his own orgasm. 

The two of you blinked at one another as you came down. You tapped Ezekiel’s arm that was holding the high part of your thigh in place. He trailed his fingers reverently down your thigh and to your knee, helping you gently re-place your feet to the floor and stand on shaky legs. You gripped his biceps in firm, pressing hands as you rocked gently onto your toes and trailed your mouth over Ezekiel’s in a gentle slip of a kiss. 

You and EZ helped one another re-orient your clothes, giggling softly to one another as you prepared yourselves to re-emerge into the main part of the library. 

Ezekiel caught your wrist before you exited the aisle, turning you back toward him and pressing a kiss to the wrist he held, regarding you with his glimmering ochre eyes. 

“Oscar Wilde was right,” he breathed through his stupidly beautiful grin. “The only way to get rid of temptation?” 

“To yield to it,” you finished, matching his infuriating grin with one of your own. 

--

Tagging?? ** 

[obsessedasusual]

Lonely No More - Seven

Bishop Losa x OC series

Summary: There was never a dull moment, being the only Reyes sister. But between overbearing brothers, being the family peacekeeper, and countless disaster dates, Amalia finds herself wishing she had someone to unwind with after a hectic day. Funnily enough, Bishop Losa wishes for the same thing.

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sex, alcohol

Note: - 2.4k - it’s here!! Hello to readers new and old….. dive in!

Also - I had a tag list for this series at one point, starting from scratch. Let me know if you’d like to be added!

Tags: @danzer8705 @delightfulheroshoeflap

“Guess who I saw at the store today.” She threw at her older brother before she took a sip of her orange juice.

“Who?” Angel questioned from the kitchen as he dug around for something that could pass as lunch.

Amaila rolled her eyes, “I said ‘guess’, dumbass.”

Angel pulled his head out from the fridge to glare at his sister sitting on his couch, “Don’t give me that shit. Just tell me.”

She raised an eyebrow expectantly at her brother. While both stubborn, she could definitely out-wait him.

It was his turn to roll his eyes at the gesture knowing she wasn’t about to give it up, “Fine,” he sighed, shaking his head in thought, “Was it… I don’t fucking know - Mrs Sanchez from High School?”

“Mrs Sanchez? No?” Amalia stared dumbly at her brother, “Why the fuck was she the first person to come to your mind?’

Angel offered a shrug in response before turning back to the fridge.

“I saw Kevin.” she finally relented.

“Who?’ he mumbled, half distracted by his sandwich making.

“Kevin,” she repeated, “Kevin, our cousin Kevin?”

She watched her brother’s face transform from confused to understanding as he clicked to who she was talking about, “Didn’t know he was in town. Thought he was in the city?”

Amalia mumbled a quick, “Thanks,” as he placed a plate holding a cold meat sandwich in front of her, “I thought so too, guess he still is? Don’t know, didn’t actually talk to him.”

“You didn't talk to him? So that whole story was for what?” Angel spoke with his mouth full earning a glare from his sister.

“Shut up. I was just passing comment.”

“Well, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without this life changing information.”

Amalia looked at him as she chewed, “You’re a dick sometimes you know that?”

She was met with a middle finger and decided to finish her sandwich instead of dignifying her brother’s gesture with a response.

“How’s EZ? With the club I mean.” Ever the protective sister, Amalia had been worried about how her younger brother would fit in with the Mayans. Everytime she brought it up with the brother in question she was met with a small smile and a, “Everything’s good, A.”

Angel thought about his answer for a moment, “He’s doing okay I think. But I just - some of the shit we see man, sometimes I wonder if sponsoring him was the right thing to do you know?”

She nodded in understanding, “When he got out, he had nothing to go to, Angel. You’ve given him… something. And at the end of the day, Ezekiel’s an adult now. He’s gonna make his own choices no matter what we say.”

“Yeah, I know but… he was so young when he went inside. He was s’pose to be a fucking doctor, not following me into an MC.”

Pursing her lips at the statement she silently agreed with him. Ezekiel was always the one out of the trio that they were sure was going to do well. Angel had always done his own thing, Amalia had a college degree in communications but that wasn’t exactly a field that screamed ‘successful’. EZ was going down the medical route. Now that was impressive.

“Pop’s pissed at me for bringing him in too.” Angel continued.

Amalia sighed at that. The Reyes Patriarch made no effort to disguise his real emotions about anything. And it seemed clear as day that he wasn’t pleased with his youngest following his oldest’s footsteps, becoming more protective over him then ever.

“Pop is Pop,” she offered, “No matter what, EZ is always gonna be the apple of his eye. And that isn’t fair, but… at least we have each other at Christmas.”

That succeeded in getting a chuckle out of her brother. Amalia knew their father’s favouritism weighed on Angel.

“Yeah… lucky us.” he huffed good humouredly.

Feeling her phone buzz she moved her attention to the message on her screen, feeling her cheeks heat up as soon as she saw who it was from.

Is it safe to assume you have no plans tomorrow and can join a lonely man for dinner?

She and Bishop had exchanged numbers two nights ago when she had returned home from work and found a note in her mailbox from said President.

Fixed your gate, the note had read, here if you ever need a handyman.

The note had been signed ‘Bishop’ along with a phone number. After texting him her gratitude, the two had been periodically texting.

“What’re you smiling at?” her brother questioned, eyeing her suspiciously.

Amalia snapped her gaze from her phone to Angel, caught like a deer in headlights, “Nothing.”

“You texting a guy?”

She rolled her eyes, “Leave it, Angel.”

“That’s not a ‘no’.” again, speaking with his mouth full.

“It’s a ‘mind your own business’.”

He rolled his eyes and demolished the rest of his sandwich, Amalia following suit.

“As long as he treats you good.” Angel muttered as he walked back to the kitchen.

Amalia bit her lip at the comment before typing out a reply to Bishop.

Name the time and place :)

Her phone vibrated within seconds of hitting send.

My place, 6:30. See you then sweetheart.

Amalia looked from the text, to her brother who was fluffing around in the kitchen. She wasn’t doing anything wrong by getting dinner with Bishop. They’d done it before, not that she’d told Angel. And besides, it was only dinner. Just two friends who happen to live down the street from each other.

How would Angel react to it? Probably not well. But still, she couldn't stop herself from the excitement that bubbled at the thought of the dinner.

Can’t wait.

```

It shouldn’t have surprised Amalia, how good the food was as she’d already experienced it with the pie weeks prior. Although dinner was ‘only’ spaghetti and meatballs, it was damn near the best she’d ever had. The big, scary Mayans President was an absolute whiz in the kitchen.

Dinner had passed with the pair indulging in both wine and beer, Bishop had begun to keep a bottle of red handy for occasions such as this, and sharing so much laughter their sides hurt. It was peaceful, and oh so comfortable.

Neither brought up the stressful day to day topics like work and the club. Instead they spoke of their favourite holidays as kids, where they’d go if they could travel anywhere in the world, what animal best represented them.

That last one was all Amalia, but Bishop had indulged her.

“You’d be an ant,” he’d decided, “with how social you are.”

“An ant?! That’s not even an animal. I’m more like a… penguin.”

In the end they agreed to disagree.

“Bishop, you cooked. Please let me do the cleaning.” she all but begged as he began to gather up the dirty dishes. The biker waved her off with a smile as he continued.

“You’re my guest, querida. Sit there and drink your wine.”

Amalia let her eyes follow the rough man as he cleared the table, moving to fill the sink with hot water. It was weird seeing Bishop like this. It almost felt wrong. She was in his house, his private four walls away from the club. He wasn’t wearing his kutte, he looked almost relaxed. In that moment, it wasn’t ‘Bishop Losa, MC President’. It was just Bishop. Bishop, the man that kept his lawns immaculate. Bishop, the man that could cook an incredible pot pie. Bishop, the man that owned exactly one nicknack.

Bishop. The man had been on Amalia’s mind constantly lately.

“Have I got something on my face or what?”

His deeper voice broke her train of thought as he caught her staring red handed. His eyes weren’t on her though, they remained on the dirty dishes he had begun to wash.

She smiled at his side profile, “Just thinking.”

“That’s a dangerous way to spend your time, querida.”

“What… thinking?” Amalia giggled.

Bishop pulled a tight-lipped smile and nodded once, “Gets you in all sorts of trouble.”

The Reyes sister cocked her head and made her way from the table to stand beside the older man, still diligently washing the dishes. She took a moment to properly take in the comment, knowing the President usually had a deeper meaning behind his words. Grabbing a dish towel in silence, Amalia made a start on drying the dishes.

“Some would say,” she began, “You attract even more trouble by not thinking.”

Bishop glanced at her briefly, “You just love to argue with me don’t you, sweetheart?”

Amalia grinned slyly up at him, “Gotta keep you young somehow, Prez.”

He shook his head, chuckling lowly not dignifying her remark with a verbal response, instead deciding to use the scrubbing brush to splash bubbles at her, hitting her square on the nose.

“Bishop!” she burst into laughter, doing her best not to get any of the hopefully not-too-dirty dishwater and bubble combo that was now dripping down her face, in her mouth.

“Told you not to think, querida.” he winked at her and went back to washing the cup in his hands.

Quickly wiping her face with the dish towel, she twisted it in her hands, lined it perfectly with her target and let it fly, whipping Bishop’s bicep perfectly with a satisfying ‘snap’.

Her target startled, hand quickly coming up to caress where he had been hit, turning to face Amalia with a shocked smile.

“You…”

“You were thinking too hard.” she mocked, shrugging and continuing to dry the plates.

She froze when another belt of soapy water hit her, soaking her more than last time. Mouth hanging open in shock and laughter, Amalia moved quickly to once again whip her dish towel at the taller man. Bishop responded accordingly with more dish water, this time wetting the dish towel as Amalia held it up in defence.

Water on a dish towel gives it much more power when used as a whip… much more. It seemed that they both realised this at the same time, Amalia growing excited and Bishop growing regretful.

“Don’t…” he warned, but it was hard to take him seriously when a smile was plastered across his face.

Amalia giggled as she twisted the towel once again, readying it for her shot. It seemed that Bishop could anticipate her next move however as he made to grab it just as she took her shot. The brunette tugged at her end.

“That’s not fair! This is my weapon, not my fault you chose dish water.” She tugged again, only to be met with the resistance of a strong man.

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”

“Bishop!” She was in stitches at the situation, laughing too much to be able to actually grip the towel enough to stand a chance, “Give it back!”

He tugged his end again, “Apologise.”

She tugged back, “No!”

“Apologise.” he chuckled, tugging at the dish towel a bit harder, in turn pulling Amalia toward him with it.

She collided with his chest in a fit of laughter, sides beginning to hurt as she attempted to catch her breath. Pushing herself back from her position, she gained her composure and looked up at Bishop. Only now realising how close they actually were.

Silence fell over the duo. Amalia breathing heavily still trying to catch her breath, and Bishop breathing shallowly due to the close proximity he found himself in with the woman that held his infatuation.

Amalia cleared her throat when their eyes locked, “Um-”

His lips were on hers before she could mutter a complete word.

It took a moment for Amalia to process what was happening, but it was a short moment and she soon found herself sliding her hands up to gently grasp the sides of Bishop’s neck, quickly returning the kiss. She could have sworn she felt him sigh into her at that moment, almost in relief.

He kept the kiss clean. No tongue. No teeth. Just lips. And want.

Amalia felt like her mind was racing but couldn’t pinpoint what she was actually thinking. She knew what she was feeling though.

Butterflies making their presence known in her stomach, a satisfying burn on her waist where Bishop held her, an almost-annoying-but-actually-quite-nice tickle on her lip from his mustache, and the feeling of wow, this is actually happening.

They were lost in their moment, her hands on his neck, his hands on her waist, and their lips interlocked. No one could say how long they would’ve stayed like that if that goddamn phone hadn’t decided to ring.

Bishop quickly pulled back from her at the ringtone. Not moving to answer his phone, instead just removing himself from her grasp and staring at her flushed face. Neither spoke a word as the ringtone finally died down, only to start up again a second later.

The second ring seemed to break the President out of his daze as he broke his eye contact and grabbed the still ringing cell phone from the bench, cursing quietly when he saw who was calling.

“What?” he answered with a gruff tone.

Amalia spent the next few seconds collecting herself, not paying attention to the topic of the phone call. Although she could guess it was club related based on the amount of swearing she could hear on both ends. She found her fingers tracing her lips subconsciously when Bishop ended the call.

“Fuckin’...” he trailed off, turning back to her, “Uh… club shit,”

He was struggling to meet her eyes, instead deciding to focus on the now abandoned dish towel sitting on the bench, “I gotta go. You uh… you can…”

“I’ll clean up then head out.” She offered, seeing how he was struggling with words and making the whole situation more awkward.

Still not meeting her eyes, he stared intensely at the towel, opened his mouth as if he had something else to add, before settling with a nod and turning to leave the kitchen.

Amalia could hear him pulling on his boots in the next room and imagined him shrugging on his kutte too. The opening and slamming of the front door pulled her back to reality as she realised he had left. The roaring of his Harley as it started up and rode off confirming it.

The breath she let out was so shaky it was audible, she made to grab the bench behind her to steady herself.

“Holy fuck.” she whispered. What the hell just happened?

“Holy fuck.” she exclaimed as she made her way to the front door, leaving the dishes in the dirty, cooling water.

Fuck cleaning up. She just wanted to go home.

[thegirlwhowritesfics]

Masterlist

A/N: Anything with a ** is smut or can contain smut.

The Two Summers You Loved Me, and The Winter You Weren’t Around

The Coldest Summer on Record: Part One || Part Two || Part Three  The Winter of Discontent: coming soon 

                                                     Series 

One Kiss ** - Camilla ‘Cami’ Baker is Emily Thomas’s best friend, they met their first year of college and have been close ever since. Cami gets mixed up in the Lobos cartel and asks Emily for help. Miguel doesn’t want to endanger his family, so he sends Cami to a hideout house with protection from the MC until this issue can be resolved. Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four// Part Five // Part Six //Part Seven // Part Eight // Part Nine // Part Ten // Part Eleven // Part Twelve // Part Thirteen // Part Fourteen // Part Fifteen // Part Sixteen // Part Seventeen // Part Eighteen // Part Nineteen // Part Twenty // Twenty-One // Twenty-two //Twenty-Three // Twenty-Four // Twenty-Five // Twenty-Six // Twenty-Seven // Twenty-Eight // Twenty-Nine //  Thirty // Thirty-one // COMPLETED

This Hurts Like Hell ** - Angel Reyes and an OC. High school sweethearts Angel Reyes and Hazel “Charlie” Cooper ended their relationship over a decade ago, with Charlie leaving town and Angel. Now she’s back with a secret past and a wound that hasn’t healed.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three |Chapter Four |Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty | Chapter Twenty- One | Chapter Twenty-Two | Chapter Twenty-Three | Chapter Twenty-Four | Chapter Twenty-Five | Chapter Twenty-Six | Chapter Twenty-Seven | Chapter Twenty-Eight | Chapter Twenty-Nine | Chapter Thirty | Chapter Thirty-One | Chapter Thirty-Two | Chapter Thirty-Three | Chapter Thirty-Four | Chapter Thirty-Five | Chapter Thirty-Six | Thirty-Seven | Thirty-Eight | Chapter Thirty-Nine | Chapter Forty | Chapter Forty-One || Chapter Forty-Two 

Late night coffee with Coco ** - This started out as a request on tumblr, the requestor wanted a Coco Cruz x reader where the reader was a waitress and a few other details. I ended up loving this story and it’s going to be multiple parts.

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five  // Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine ||

Strip That Down For Me ** - a collection of one-shots featuring our favourite Mayan men and a strip dance NSFW, Smut, over 18s ect

Nestor || Coco || Angel || Miguel ||  

Adventures in Babysitting - This series focuses on Ez’s child Mia and the club taking turns babysitting her.

Angel || Bishop || Taza ||

A Dangerous Game - this series is a 5 part series featuring Nestor, Miguel and an OC who is Miguel’s younger sister.

Cat and Mouse || Big Bad Wolf ||

A Den of Red Doors - this series is an R18+ series featuring Nestor and a whole lot of kink

Part One ||

                                             Head Canons

All Characters Dating a religious girl || mayan men as aesthetics || reacting to their partner being pan or bi || reactions to fighting over them || Christmas || going to disney || Sad Boys || Dinner and Movies ||

Reyes Family Nightly routine || Family Day ||

Nestor Braiding Nestors Hair || Nestors S/O being pregnant with a broken leg || Nestor Proposing || Teasing you at an event ** || dating Nestor || Angry Sex ** || calming during a panic attack || loving a girl who is shy || Making you feel better ** || Nestors daughter getting her first boyfriend ||  

Angel Being a makeup artist || dating someone with depression || Coco & Angels friendship || shower sex ** || dating a girl with PTSD || taking care of his sick girlfriend || kinks ** || Angel and an unsure dog || Phone Sex || Cranky Angel || cheating || skinny dipping || road trip ||  

Coco Shower Sex ** || playing with Cocos hair || creative Coco || Vacation || Meeting Celia || meeting Celia part 2 || Family movie day || Coco with a GF with endo ||

Bishop Shower Sex ** || Dating a girl with PTSD || threatening Bishs family || Dating an Army Girl || First date ||

Taza Wedding Day ||

Riz Riz & Taza bffs || Riz being jealous ||

Tranq Falling in love ||

Miguel Kinks ||

Ez Shower Sex ** || cheering Ez up || date night || loving a girl who is shy ||

Gilly Being BFFs and secretly in love || Marrying Gilly ||

Letty Being BFFs ||

Creeper Drunk & Netflix || Road Trip ||

Emily Being BFFs || Being Emily’s GF ||  

Reyes Sister being friends with Letty || water fight with Angel and Coco || dating Nestor ||

                                             One Shots

Nestor

Jealously || Toy Drive Part One || Toy Drive Part Two ** || Christmas with Nestor || Nestor taking care of his gf after a long day || One night stand ** || Popsicle ** || Nestor Smut part one || Nestor Smut Part two ** || Part three ** || Christmas movies || how bad? ** || welcome home ** || tied up ** || Christmas Carollers || Harder || christmas cookies || Bedtime || Noisy Neighbours || Good morning ** || Ice Ice Baby ** || Melodrama ** || New Beginnings || Soulmates || Kiss me || The Monster In Me || Devotion and Desire ** || For the love of a woman || Do You Believe? || I Want To Teach You A Lesson In The Worst Kind of Way || 

Angel First Date || Prank War with Angel || don’t make me punish you ** || body paint || bathroom quickie ** || Angst || Family part one || Family part two || Reunion with Angel || Date night || Wedding blues || Wedding blues part 2 || Secret Santa || For the first time || welcome home ** || Lost Daughter Broken Son || Lost Keys ** || Jax sister dating Angel ||

Coco You taste like candy ** || smut ** || Christmas photos ||  Midnight breakfast || Christmas shopping || Second chances || Nightmares || Morning Light ** || Sweeter than Lime ** || Broken apologies || Daddys Girls || Whose Your Boss? ** || Salty || Sweet || Bitter

Bishop Fighting and Making up || So damn beautiful || Whatever it takes || Would you two just kiss? || Welcome home ** || stomach flu || Seducing Bishop ** || Jealous kiss || One Night Stand ** || Nostalgia and regret || Mistletoe || Ice Cream Bandit || Broken Hearts || Trapped || Secrets and Lies || Goodbye is never easy || Kids these Days ||  Junk in The Trunk ||  

Gilly Death || All bets are off || Ice Cold || Gilly Wonka and the Gummy Bears || Netflix and Murder Pt. 1 || Commando || Stimulating Adventures ||  

Miguel  Unity of Hell || 

Riz Are you choosing her over me? || Stop wearing shirts ||

Creeper Creeper Smut ** || Christmas ||

Ez All I want for Christmas || Christmas with Ez || bedtime || Whats in a name? || Deepest Secrets || A Discovery in the Stacks (EZ/Miguel paring)**||

Emily Ghosts ||

Letti Coming out || Dancing circles around your head feat Coco Pt. 1 ||

BeMayanValentine 2019 Gilly || Nestor || Angel || Coco

Billy Russo

Dating Russo HC || Morning Routine HC || Drabble || Billy in love with Franks sister HC || Billy teaching you how to shoot ||  snuggly Billy || 3 am truths || 

Frank Castle Comforting Frank || Frank finding love again || First heartbreak || Frank coming home to find his S/O adopted a bunch of dogs ||  

Karen Page BFFs HC ||

MCU

An unmasked Spider-man ||

Saviour of The Worst Kind || Modern Slytherin AU || Oliver Wood || 

Seedy Bars and Karaoke ||  

[narcolini]

when the crows come home, 3

part one / part two & ao3 link

angel reyes x gn!reader, part three of ?, 4470 words

a/n: update day update day!!! we’re getting besties, we’re getting angst, we’re getting angel being sensible and comforting for once, let me know what you think!

taglist: @drabbles-mc​ @cositapreciosa​ @ashlingnarcos​ (let me know if you would like to be tagged!)

Days are melting into weeks. You’ve been home long enough now that it’s starting to feel you’d never left, somehow. It’d sound stupid if you told anyone that. Ten years can’t slip away that quickly, shouldn’t, even, but it has. Your routine is so repetitive, it’s hard to feel like it hasn’t been happening every day since you were sixteen; get up, shower, breakfast with the parents, carpool with Dad, work with Dad, lunch with Dad, and then the same in reverse. You should’ve never asked him for your old job back, you should’ve moped about until you saw an opening in a coffee shop or something.

The only respite to it all, is the pockets of time you spend with Angel, or EZ, or both. Sometimes. Although, again, like you did at sixteen. Exactly the same as it was from then until the time you moved away, and Angel went to Chino. 

In a selfish way, you’re starting to wish for something equally as drastic to change things up again. But not college, and not prison, and not an engagement that lasted far too many years than it was worth. 

Your dad cuts into the room, half-ready, half-fumbling to catch up with himself. ‘You look like you’re still asleep, kid.’ 

You’re both running late, but he’s the one bothered by it. You’re sat at the table, drinking coffee and buttering toast that’s already gone cold. The excuse of bad traffic will always have your back in times like these. 

‘That’s what this is for,’ you answer, lifting your mug up before taking a gulp. It scalds your tongue, so you swallow quickly and sigh afterwards like it was invigorating instead of miserable. ‘I’ll be wide awake any minute now.'

He grunts in response, nodding as he comes to a stop beside the table. ‘Ridgeford’s PA is on maternity,’ he says, as he loops his tie over itself, watching his hands like he hasn’t done it a thousand times before. Every morning, even. ‘He needs someone to shadow him, transcribe meetings and things.' 

You set your mug down and pick up a slice of toast. ‘Okay, and?’ 

‘Well,’ he huffs, ‘I said you could do it.’ 

‘What?’ You cough through the bite you’ve just taken, crumbs spluttering through your lips. ‘Why?’ you ask, reaching for the coffee again. Burning tongues is a favourable death to choking on breadcrumbs.

He shrugs and pushes the knot up to his collar. ‘You said admin was boring.’

Boring yes, but mundane enough that you can do it without thinking about it. It’s all muscle memory and gossiping with Marie. ‘Never said I’d rather be a PA.’

‘It isn’t that exactly.’ He sighs, like he’s already fed up with the conversation. Like he isn’t the one who’s been daringly assumptive. ‘You’ll just be taking minutes, maybe sending a few emails. Easy stuff.’

‘Dad,’ you chide.  

‘Hey, kid, you asked for a job, remember?’

You also wanted to remain a sentient, self-deciding adult. ‘Right,’ you tell him, agreeing because it makes no difference now. It’s easier to say yes to him, than no to his boss. ‘Whatever. Maybe I’ll like it.’ You won’t, you’re sure of that.

He smiles, satisfied, and rests his hand on the top of your head for a moment. ‘I think you might.’ When he pulls away, he grabs his keys and his briefcase, and slings his jacket over his forearm. ‘We probably shouldn’t carpool,’ he says, ‘incase he sends you on some errands.’

Not exactly a PA, he said. Just someone doing what PAs do. 

‘Sure, Dad. I’ll see you at lunch.’ 

*

Joshua J. Ridgeford is your new enemy. Not through any fault of his own—that’s your dad’s blame to carry—but because the bagel place he sent you to, again, as your dad predicted he would, was closed for refurbishing, and the next nearest place that did bagels was mysteriously, magically, completely sold out. You rang Mr. Ridgeford to explain this, and what did he say? Find something else, then. Enough for ten. The meeting starts after lunch. 

Great. Fucking easy, Josh. You’ve always wanted to role-play as nutritionist for a bunch of bankers in pin-striped suits. 

What you’ve settled on instead, is breakfast muffins. It feels like a bad judgement call before you’ve even paid, but it’s done now, it’s in the process. The three coffees you have, balanced unevenly in a 4-cup tray, are very much reminding you of that fact. It’s go now, with the bag of muffins, or shop around more and spill the one request you’ve managed to successfully fulfil; over yourself, the floor, and the muffins too. 

You thank the cashier and leave, fingers cramping already.

By the time you’re back at the car, you’ve also acquired a paper and a multipack of post-its, both of which you’ve tucked under your armpit, with your arm pinned to your side to keep them there. You feel like a trail-mule. Loaded and braying about it. 

‘I thought that was you.’

The voice comes from behind, warm and friendly and, God, a relief. You turn with a smile already loaded, EZ standing exactly where you expect him to be. He’s in his kutte, which makes him look bigger in a way that Angel’s never seems to, broad and intimidating. Even with EZ’s baby-face plopped on top of it. Angel’s kutte makes him look younger somehow. Boy Scout, comes to mind.

‘Hey.’ You’re standing like a freak, you know it. Rigid and awkward, afraid to move and drop something. You hope your smile is doing enough to let him know it’s not him making you act like that. It’s all this shit Ridgeford wants. ‘How’s it going, Zee?’

He shrugs, hands half-pushed into the pockets of his jeans. ‘Not bad, doing some shit for the club.’ He tilts his head back, and you follow the gesture over his shoulder, to the other side of the street. 

There’s three guys there, members in their leathers. Four bikes parked in a row beside them. You don’t know them really, but you recognise the bearded one as Gilly, and the slim guy next to him as Coco. The other, you’ve never seen before, but ‘prospect’ is plastered on his back so big you don’t even need to ask. He must be as new to them as he is to you. 

‘Boys day out?’ you comment, shifting your gaze back to EZ.

He nods. ‘Yeah, killing time until Bish calls.’

Ah, Bishop. That’s someone you are curious to meet, considering how often he pulls the strings. Though, you aren’t sure how much club stuff you should be getting involved with. Sometimes names are better off left as just names. 

‘You not working today?’ he asks then, flicking his chin toward your obscenely full hands. 

‘Actually,’ you cock your hip, balancing the tray of drinks onto it, ‘this is work.’

He frowns. ‘I thought you had an office job?’

‘You and me both. Can you hold this?’ You put out the bag of muffins, giving him little option but to take it from you, and then push into your pocket for your car keys. The newspaper falls from under your armpit, because of course it does, post-its too, and EZ bends to pick them both up, holding it all without complaint until you have the passenger door open and waiting.

‘Hope they gave you a raise at least,’ he says, as you set the drinks onto the seat.

‘Nope.’ You turn to relieve him of your things. ‘Thank-you, that was seconds from disaster.’

His head shakes, it’s no problem. ‘And hey, you really should—’

There’s a whistle from across the street, meant only for him, but you both abandon conversation to turn to the source. Gilly is waving EZ over to him. Or, well, he waved once, and now he’s turned back to the other two men, who head toward the bikes parked by the sidewalk. 

‘Sorry,’ EZ says, already stepping backwards from you.

You shake your head. ‘S’fine, I gotta get back anyway.’ 

His speed picks up slightly as he turns, but then he stops abruptly—in the middle of the street—and looks back at you to say, ‘You should come around one day, to Pops. I’ll make us food.’

‘Okay.’ You smile easily, nodding. ‘Sounds good.’

*

You lasted ten working days before deciding that ‘unrelenting annoyance’ is more than enough reason to leave a job. Your dad disagreed. Ridgeford disagreed. So, naturally, you quit without notice, at the end of your shift at least, and took yourself to get a drink instead.

And you got drunk. Fucking horribly so. 

So drunk, that when you got home you fell asleep, and when you woke up, the room was spinning still. Then you ate, showered, sobered so quickly that even hot water couldn’t keep you from shaking, and then, God, then reality decided to step over the tub and join you under the shower stream. 

You quit your job. You were unemployed, again. 

The aftermath of that realisation was something you’ll never admit aloud; all tears and frustration and panicked Google searches for local openings, while your hair drip-dried onto your shoulders. It was like the break-up all over again, just on a smaller scale. Thankfully. You made a decision, you followed through with it, and the consequences were right there waiting to trip you up. The only difference was, this time, you attempted some sort of recovery right away. No waiting around for things to get worse. You were pro-active in correcting your mistakes, or at least you were trying to be. 

You haven’t had the guts yet to look over the applications you’d sent off. All you could do is hope they were coherent, at best. 

That was yesterday. Or early this morning, rather. 

Now, you’re watching re-runs of Masterchef from the confines of your bedroom—curled on your side, safely in pyjamas—because neither of your parents can go ten minutes without asking you about ‘what’s next’. What’s the plan, then? Why didn’t you take more time to think it over?

They’ll be asleep soon. Then you can finally venture out to make some food undisturbed. 

There’s that feeling again, the sinking, you’re living like you’re a teenager, feeling. Hiding out in your room, dodging questions about the future. God, how quick you’ve regressed. The home hasn’t changed, but it’s dragged you down with it. If you look out your window, the tire swing might have magically re-appeared, swaying in the dark. 

Your phone buzzes under your arm, so you twist your head to read the sender’s name and find it’s Angel. It always is lately. 

Keep me awake, please, he says.

You uncurl, stretching onto your back and resting your hands and phone on your stomach to type, Why? You in a meeting?

His reply is quick. He’s like that, you’ve realised, impossible to get answers from in the day, but fast as anything once the sun’s gone down. It reads, Gotta keep watch on somethin. Then, You know we don’t have phones in meetings.

Oh, yeah. He had told you that. You sigh. Am I enabling a crime, Angel? 

Sure, keep doing that.

Doing what?

Being annoying, he says, makes it real hard to fall asleep. 

You laugh, just once through your nose, and let your gaze drift from the phone screen to the TV on the wall opposite. The contestant’s Panna cotta hasn’t set in time, a fatal mistake, you imagine, from the colour of pink his face has gone. 

The phone vibrates with a new message. 

Okay, I take it back. Then another. Not annoying.

You answer quickly, saving him from overthinking any more silences. Relax, tontín, I was watching TV. Annoying you is a favourite hobby of mine.

He reads it, but sends nothing back. You return to the ham-pink chef and his melting dessert. 

After a minute or two of nothing, you get a text that says, Will you be up in a couple hours?

You blink a few times, like that’s a test that will provide any sort of answers, before replying, Up? Yes. Sociable? No. 

Wanna come to mine? I can pick you up on the way.

Wow, you say it aloud as you type it. Wow. So this is what it’s like to be a target of Angel Reyes.

There’s a small typing bubble that comes up, then stops and disappears, and then the same again. And again. Then, finally, a message makes it from his keyboard to your screen. If you don’t want to, you can just say no, it says. Don’t make it weird.

You feel a flash of heat up your neck, right behind the ears. Embarrassment. Sorry. You hit send. Sure. Send. Sounds good.

Cool. You stare at the screen until he says something else. Tell me about your show, then. I’m bored as fuck here.

-----

You wake to a relentless buzzing against your chest. It vibrates through your ribcage, pulling you from the sleep you don’t remember falling into. It’s not sudden, but a slow crawl back to consciousness, disorientating and delayed. The light of the screen blinds as you eventually turn it to your face, ANGELITO screaming at you from the caller ID, until you hit answer and put it to your ear. When you close your eyes again, the name flashes against the black of your lids. Burnt into your vision.

‘Hello?’ you manage, croaking through the haze.

‘I’m outside, biche.’

It takes you a second to realise who it is, and what he’s expecting. ‘Oh fuck.’ You pull the phone from your face to check the time. Midnight, six minutes past. ‘I fell asleep,’ you sigh back into the handset.

He clears his throat on the other end. ‘I figured. Want me to go?’

Your lids are drooping, head sinking further in the dent already pressed into your pillow. ‘Mmm,’ you hum. ‘No.’

‘Are you falling asleep again?’

‘No.’ You yawn. ‘I’m awake.’

‘Liar.’ You hear the rumble of his engine starting up through the phone, and through the window, too. You’re awake enough to hear that now; you’d missed his arrival entirely. ‘I’ll catch you another time,’ he says.

And he sounds disappointed enough to make you reply, ‘Just come in.’

A pause. ‘What?’

‘Yeah.’ You’ve said it now, you may as well go with it. It’s only Angel. 'But be quiet about it,’ you add. 

He laughs. ‘Be quiet about what? You not gonna let me in?’

You could, but, well, you’re letting laziness win for once. ‘Window's open.’

It’s still while he deliberates, minus the low-rolling of his motorbike, then the engine switches off, definitively, and you hear him say, ‘Shit, alright. Fuck it,’ before the line goes dead. 

You take that as your cue to sit upright and wipe the sleep from your eyes. 

A minute later and Angel’s shimmying your window up to allow a gap big enough to climb through, which he does surprisingly well. He makes it into the house, into your room, without too much catastrophe—a surprise given his frame, and his legs that go on and on— and it’s only once he’s standing upright again, that he causes any sort of disturbance. When he reaches back to shut the window, he knocks the lamp from your bedside in the process, and its wire sweeps all the shit cluttering the top of it onto the floor. 

He throws you a look, half apology, half stifled laughter of someone who shouldn’t be laughing at all, but it’s an expression you know you’re mirroring. He caught the lamp, at least. That wouldn’t survive the way moisturiser and broken phone chargers would. 

‘It’s fine,’ you tell him, allowing a sleep-sodden smile to poke through. ‘My own fault for being messy.’

He sets the lamp down, tunnelled light swinging across the ceiling until it stills. ‘Can’t believe you got me sneaking into your house like a fucking kid.’

‘Just be glad it’s not a three-story mansion.’

He laughs, then takes a sweep of your room in a shameless way. You know what he’s noticing; boxes, more boxes, clothes you can’t put away because the drawers are too small, shoes on top of shoes, and flat-packed furniture with no place to go. There’s only one clear space of floor in the room and he’s occupying it, the runway from door to bed.

He looks back at you like he’s about to comment on it. His arms are limp by his sides, his kutte looks copper from the glow of your lamp. The longer the silence sits, the more awkward he looks, out of place and out of character, and it’s creeping its way across to you. This is weird, it says, isn’t this strange? 

Before the idea can settle, you move sideways to sit against the wall, across the bed rather than straight down it, and bend your legs to leave him two thirds of the mattress to take. Unless he wants to sit on the boxes you haven’t, and probably won’t ever unpack, this is as much as you can offer as host.

‘Sorry, it’s the bed or the floor,’ you say.

The bed wins. He comes to life again, relieved by the invite, and flops down, back to the headboard, ass to your pillow—of all things. When he goes to lift his feet onto the comforter, you say ‘boots’ as a warning and he forces them off, laces still tied, before settling in properly. His legs stretch out, knees in line with the socked-toes of your feet. 

  ‘This what you’re watching?’ he asks, eyes quick to find the TV. ‘Teleshopping?’

‘It just came on.’ You reach across him, for the remote beside your pillow, and click down a channel. Some western film croaks back at you instead. 'How was your night?’ 

‘Boring as hell.’ He sulks. ‘Didn’t even get to fuck somebody up.’

‘You’re right, that sounds terrible.’

His head shakes, slow and exaggerated. ‘All that waiting around for nothing.’

You laugh, rubbing at your eyes like that’ll keep the sleep away. Even with him in here, you’re fighting off yawns, biting them back between conversation. ‘I don’t even know if you’re joking anymore.’ 

‘Ah, you don’t wanna know.’ He interlocks his fingers over his chest, somehow finding a way to look even more comfortable, then nods in your direction. ‘Besides, could’ve been here watching you snore. Way better use of an evening.’

You frown, recoiling slightly. Your skull hits the wall behind. ‘I don’t snore.’

His brow curves up. ‘Wanna bet?’

‘No.’ He’d lose. You hope.

‘Cause you’ll be doing it any minute now.’

‘I’m awake,’ you insist, pushing his knee with your foot. 

‘Yeah,’ he laughs, ‘and I’m fucking Jesus Christ.’

‘Good for him,’ you reply, before finally letting a yawn win its battle with your teeth. 

‘What?’

Of course, the joke went over his head with the glow of the TV. It flickers onto the wall behind him. ‘Don’t worry,’ you say, sliding sideways until you’re lying against the second pillow, your arm bent under your cheek so you can look at him still. ‘I’ll be funnier tomorrow.’

He puts a strange glance in your direction, but decides to leave it. ‘What’s got you so tired?’ he asks. ‘Thought you worked some boring office job?’

Great. ‘I do. I did.’

A pause. 

You sigh, hot air puffing over your elbow. ‘I quit yesterday.’ He says, what, why?, but you talk over him. ‘And then I felt so scared I’d made the wrong decision, that I stayed up all night applying for new jobs.’

He snorts. ‘Sounds real rational, carnale.’

'I know. I fucked up.’

‘Nah,’ he says, head shaking minutely, ‘so what? You’ll get another job. Something with less filing and shit.’

The way he says it makes you almost believe him, like it really could be as simple as that. ‘You don’t think I should’ve stuck it out?’ you ask, looking at the point where his jeans meet the crease in your bedding. Though, in the half-light of the room, it’s hard to tell where Angel ends and the bed begins.

He shrugs; you catch the drop of his shoulders as they come down again. ‘You lasted longer than I would.’

You laugh weakly, then the sound folds into a groan. You push your face into the pillow to smother it. 

‘It’ll be okay.’ He sighs. ‘Honestly. Shit could be a lot worse than quitting your job.’

‘I hope so.’ You turn back to him, then to the TV. ‘I’ve no idea what to do about it, tontín.’

He sighs, and slouches, then shifts completely, bouncing himself down so that he can lie parallel to you, with his arms folded behind his head. ‘Well,’ he starts, and you’re suddenly aware of how quietly you’re both talking, how softly it rolls between you, ‘what d’you wanna do about it?’

Silence. The movie fills enough of it to make it comfortable. 

‘Is it bad that I don’t know?’

He laughs, ‘No,’ and tilts his face to give you an exasperated look. ‘You think I know what I'm doing with my life?’

‘Yeah, actually, I do. You have a purpose, shady as it is.’

‘Which is not very,’ he adds.

‘Still. You know where you’re going and what you’re good at. I’ve been looking for that since college and…God.’ You feel yourself wilt. The rest of your complaint puffs out of you as empty air, a hopeless sigh. ‘Whatever.’

You can feel him staring at the side of your face. You watch the cowboys on TV like you’ve no idea he’s doing it. 

‘You’ll figure it out,’ he says eventually, nudging you with his elbow, ‘but if you don’t, who cares? Life’s too fucked up to worry about this shit. Just say fuck it and do what you want.’

‘Fuck it,’ you repeat blankly. 

‘Fuck it,’ he agrees. ‘And you can quote me on that.’

You snort. Dumb as it is, his approach to problem solving has soothed you in a way your parents could never. Either that, or you’re so tired that he’s started sounding wise. It helps, regardless, and you’re suddenly very glad that your mouth decided to invite him in before your brain could turn you against the idea. 

If he was closer, you might drop your head onto his shoulder. You settle for putting your hand over his instead. 

‘Thanks, Angel.’

He lifts his thumb to squeeze your fingers briefly. Then that silence returns and after a while, you feel your eyelids drop, and the pillow is just in the absolute right place, at the right angle, and he’s so warm it pours off him, honey into hot tea, drawing you in, away from conversation and floating. Floating.

‘It’s my kid,’ he says, and you might have dreamt it.

But you think, what? No, you say, ‘What?’

He repeats it. ‘It’s my kid. On the lock screen.’

You drag your eyes open. He has his phone out, propped up on his chest and shining blue-light against his features. 

‘Okay.’ You swallow once, pushing the sleep back into your throat. ‘Is he…?’ 

You don’t know what you’re asking. Angel answers like he does. 

‘He’s with his mom,’ he says, voice taut and uneven. ‘I haven’t met him yet.’

Your hand is still over his. If you pull it back now, it’ll mean something you don’t intend it to mean. If you push your fingers through his, that’ll do the same thing. You stare at them instead, unmoving on the bed between you, and try to find a reasonable response to his confession. 

His kid. You'd made the same assumption yourself, but it’d been easy to ignore without him saying it out lout. There was always the chance, somewhere, that it was a cousin, or a nephew. EZ being a father seemed more palatable somehow.

Angel’s gaze finds yours. Half his face is shadowed, his nose blocking the light from his phone. ‘You gonna say something?’ 

‘I’m thinking.’ Now’s your opportunity; you move your hand to your face without it meaning anything at all and use it to scrub at your eyes, before pushing it up and over your hair. The motions leave you more awake than before, but only just. ‘I can’t believe you let me complain about my shit, when you…’

God. You roll onto your back to stare at the ceiling. Things really can be worse than quitting your job.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, sighing afterwards. ‘I don’t know what to say. I mean, are you, will you—’

‘It’s real fucking complicated, biche.’ He looks up too. The flashing from the TV bounces against your chins. His phone falls face down onto his chest. ‘I want to. Shit, I’d have him home with me if I could, but it ain’t that easy.’

You can tell from the way he says it that this shit goes into the same category as club business does. The category of things he can only say so much on, information that you’ll get when he gives it, and no sooner than he can afford to. It leaves you in a limbo you can’t seem to think a way out of. You can’t find words of comfort, if you don’t know where the wound lies.

‘The mom,’ you say, carefully, ‘you aren’t together?’

He shakes his head, his hair making a brushing noise against the pillow beneath it. 

‘Do you want to be?’

It’s quiet while he thinks, and you’re so conscious of the volume of your breathing that you attempt to still it. Long breath after long breath, through the nose. You aren’t nervous. You aren’t asking to be intrusive. This is what friends do, this is how you help.

‘I just want to see my kid,’ he says. ‘Right now, I don’t even feel like a fucking dad.’

You nod, he carries on.

‘It wasn’t meant to be like this, y’know? I wanted to…’ A pause. A breath. ‘Maybe I was being stupid. Fucking hopeful when I shouldn’t have been.'

This time, when you get the urge to move across and put your head to his shoulder, you listen. Your cheek presses against the leather there. You watch his chest rise and fall, in and out of your eye-line, in sync with your own breaths.

‘I don’t think it’s ever stupid to hope for something you want, Angel.’  

He exhales; you don’t know if it’s a frustrated sigh, or a push of relief. 

‘You’ll be a good dad,’ you say. And you think about adding, you already are, but it stays behind your lips, waiting. 

>>>>> part four

[drabbles-mc]

Wrong For This

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

Inspired first and foremost by @withmyteeth​. Literally without her this fic wouldn’t exist. But also secondary credit goes to the song Favorite Place by All Time Low ft. The Band Camino. 

Warnings: language, angst

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Me? Taking my favorite Mayan and causing him pain? It’s more likely than you think. I’ve been crying inside over this idea ever since Cricket put it out into the universe. Also, it definitely made me want to finish my college AU that I have in the works for EZ. Anyway, I love these two and I will be 🥲 over them until further notice.

EZ Reyes Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @beautifullboo @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @lilah1903 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos​ @amorestevens​ @angelreyesisdaddy04​ @mijagif​ @frattsparty​ @winchestershiresauce​ @bellisperennis0​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @mveggieburger​ @littlekittymeow​ @thanossexual​ @xeniarocks​ @choochoo284​ @beardsanddetectives​ @bruxasolta​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @doritosandjellybeans​ @flacalatke​ (If you want to be added to my taglists, let me know!)

You felt sweat beginning to bead along the edge of your forehead, seeping into the graduation cap that you had struggled to pin and keep in place. Despite the cover of the tent, it was still late May in California, and you were packed tight with a bunch of other students who were very much in the same position you were. You heard someone a few weeks ago make a comment about how the graduating class was smaller than usual this year, and you wondered if that was actually the case because they still packed you together like sardines. You liked your classmates well enough, but you didn’t really want anyone this close to you when you were this close to overheating.

Another speech started, and that’s what you should’ve been paying attention to, but you weren’t. You were too busy being distracted by trying not to let your graduation gown stick to the back of your thighs. You and your friends all wore dresses under your gowns so you could take nice pictures together, but as you sat there trying to cross and uncross your legs without bumping the people on either side of you, you wondered if it was worth it.

You were brought back to the reality of the situation by Ben, the kid who had been in almost every single one of your classes with you the last couple years, “I’ll bet you five bucks that she makes a joke about Dr. Mitch in her speech,” he did a decent job at keeping his laugh a whisper but you weren’t sure if you were going to be so successful.

You leaned over carefully, not wanting to knock your cap against his, “I don’t take bets I know I’m going to lose.”

Every year the student who was graduating at the top of the class gave a speech. You didn’t have a problem with that, but it seemed like you’d already sat through so many other speeches and it was getting hard to focus. As scary as it was to let go of the place that had been the epicenter of your life for so long, the thought of what was coming next was too exciting to want to sit in front of hundreds of people that you didn’t know because they were here for everyone else.

Plus, despite how long it had been, there was the nagging thought in the back of your brain that if the universe had been just a little bit kinder, there would be someone else up there giving that speech right now. He’d probably still rag on the professors a little bit, you were sure, but you’d at least be able to focus on what he was saying. If the powers that be weren’t so damn cruel, it wouldn’t be Ben sitting next to you whispering side-comments each time a new speaker came up to the podium.

You hadn’t heard much from EZ since he went inside. You wanted to see him, talk to him, but school took over your entire life. You didn’t even really go home to see your family too often let alone go and see friends. But you knew that he was out now, out early at that, and that provided you with some comfort.

You’d sent the graduation information to Felipe’s address, figuring that he would know to pass it along to his son. You included your phone number, too, assuming that Ezekiel probably had a different one at this point. He hadn’t reached out, though. You didn’t know if he got the date and time, but as you looked out over the sea of people, you wanted to believe that he didn’t, because he wasn’t there. You knew it was a bit of a raw nerve to touch, but he was still your person and you wanted him there. But he wasn’t. Maybe it was still too bitter of a pill to swallow, seeing you up there and knowing that he was supposed to be there too. You had everything that the two of you were supposed to get together. You didn’t think of it that way, but it crossed your mind that maybe that was exactly how he saw it. Still, you hoped that that wasn’t the case, that he just didn’t get the memo. It was less heartbreaking to think that there was a miscommunication than to think that he knew and decided not to come.

Shaking your head, you focused on clapping along with everyone else when she girl wrapped up her speech. It was probably great, too bad you were too busy being wistful to really tune into it. For all the excitement, there was a tinge of heaviness in your chest too. It was all amazing, it was everything you had worked for, but this wasn’t how you pictured it when you got accepted all those years ago.

While you were waiting for the next person to go up to the podium, you scanned over the crowd again. Everyone started to look the same to you, all just stranger's faces out on the lawn. You knew for a fact that some of these people had flown in, driven obscene hours just to be able to see their son, daughter, niece, nephew, best friend, whoever graduate. It was heartwarming, even if you couldn’t quite relate.

And then you saw him. You couldn’t even attempt to downplay your surprise and excitement, a gasp slipping out past your lips as you covered your mouth in shock. You wanted to wave. No. What you really wanted to do was book it down off the stage and go hug him. It would be worth it, you thought, after so many years apart. If they’d handed out the diplomas already you would’ve done it, not like you needed to stick around for anything after that anyway.

He saw you see him, and despite the distance between you, you could still see the smile that broke out across his face. He was lurking at the back of the tent, not bothering to try and budge through people to find a seat. The rest of the ceremony faded into the background as you tried to get a good look at him. You immediately noticed the kutte that was draped over his black t-shirt, and you tried to push the slight sinking feeling in your chest away at the implications of that. His hands gripped the edges of it as he watched you, clearly taking the time to memorize everything about how you looked the same way you were him, although he was going to be much more successful in his endeavors. By the end of it he’d have an updated mental image of you locked away in his memory banks, a bittersweet thing to look back on when he needed it.

He wasn’t a kid anymore, that much you could tell. Along with the facial hair and fresh cut, he’d clearly picked up a solid workout regimen since the last time you saw him. He’d always been strong, but you could see it in the way he stood and carried himself that it was different now, that he was different. Even so, you knew that somewhere underneath all of that was the Ezekiel that you planned on sitting next to on this exact stage so many years ago. How someone could look so much more grown than the last time you saw them, and yet still somehow have that inherent sameness was beyond you. Maybe it was just because you knew him—he was always going to be EZ to you.

Another round of applause snapped you back to attention. You felt Ben nudging your shoulder and managed to pry your eyes away from EZ to see what he had to say this time. His jitters showed in the bouncing of his leg, the twisting of his hands. He had nothing to be nervous about at this point—they all made it, the hard part was over.

“One more then we finally get what we came for,” he whispered.

“Yea,” you murmur, “waiting eight years isn’t long enough—they gotta get those last couple of hours in before they finally hand it all over.”

When you redirected your attention back to the crowd, EZ’s eyes were still on you. Warmth crept up your neck and bled into your cheeks, only this time you were fairly certain it wasn’t from being trapped between your fellow graduates. You pressed your palms, dragging them down your thighs, but you couldn’t make yourself look away from him. You felt like if you did, he’d be gone again.

It felt like EZ hadn’t even blinked for the entirety of the next speech, eyes fixed on you still. If you’d been closer, or worse if you had been standing you were sure that you would’ve caved underneath that heavy gaze. The only thing that kept you tethered to your seat and the reality of the situation were the soft-spoken comments coming from the boy next to you.

“Shit,” Ben reached and excitedly patted your arm during the next round of applause, “It’s time.”

You were just as startled from the contact as you were by the realization that everyone in your row of seats was beginning to stand up. You had to chuckle at the slight disorganization of it all. Sure, they were sending you out into the world to save lives, but going up to get diplomas row by row was proving to be a difficult task. Truly, you expected nothing less.

Everyone clapped for everyone. The entire crowd applauded for each person, and there was something so wholesome about that to you. You knew for a fact that you weren’t the only person in present company without an entourage to hype you up. It was nice to know that it was a communal effort now.

You cheered a little extra loudly for Ben, knowing that he had been the only tether keeping your insanity intact through it all. You laughed as you listened to his mom and aunt, clearly able to hear their clapping and hollering above everyone else. It was heart-warming, and it showed on Ben’s face too.

For whatever reason, it didn’t hit you that you were up next. The sound of your name came through the microphone and speakers, and you snapped to attention. It was the shortest walk you’d ever taken on the enormous campus, but it felt like it took more out of you than the last years all pooled together. Your fingers were trembling slightly as you accepted your diploma, a little stunned still that this was all really happening, that it was actually over.

You turned and looked out at the sea of people seated on the lawn. Everyone was clapping for you despite the fact that they didn’t know you. It was nice, and it made you smile, but the only person you really cared about was still lingering at the back of the crowd. The bright smile on his face made all the years of struggling on your own for this worth it, it washed away all the time that put a chasm between the two of you. You didn’t remember the last time you smiled so hard.

The air thickened with excitement and anticipation. Everyone, not just you, was eager to get the hell off the stage and wrap this whole thing up. Closing remarks couldn’t come fast enough. Despite all the time you knew that so many people spent decorating their graduation caps, when you were all dismissed for the last time on campus, everyone took them and threw them up into the air. Now it was all of your turns to cheer and clap. You threw your arms around Ben in a hug, laughing as he lifted you for a moment before setting you back down. The two of you exchanged a quick goodbye and keep in touch, along with a few other people, before you looked back out at the crowd again. Your eyes scanned as quickly as you could, and you caught a glimpse of him amidst the ocean of moving bodies. Bundling up your graduation gown in your hands, you made a beeline for the stairs, slipping past your classmates who were still congratulating and saying goodbye to each other.

You stuck out like a sore thumb as you weaved through the crowd, the stark solid color of your gown sticking out among the rest of everyone’s nice outfits. You felt your shoulder collide with a few people along the way, and your apologies were half-hearted as you all but raced to the back of the tent, fully intending to bodyslam EZ in a hug. Your heart raced in your chest as you finally broke out of the thick of the crowd. Looking around, you couldn’t see him right away. Your heart sank as you continued to search for him. Glancing at the chair beside you, you saw a beautiful bouquet of red roses. You glanced over your shoulder, trying to see if someone had forgotten them in the midst of the excitement. But when you looked at the card, you saw your name in EZ’s unmistakable scrawl. The man truly should’ve been a doctor with his handwriting.

You didn’t bother to open the envelope, instead swiping up the items and taking off towards the parking lot. Your heels sank into the soft grass and dirt with every hurried step, but you hardly even noticed. No doubt people were watching you like you were insane, but you didn’t care. There were far more important matters at hand.

As your feet finally hit the blacktop, you heard the sound of a motorcycle. He was already halfway across the lot, and despite the fact that he wasn’t going to hear you, you still shouted his name. Your legs were as unsteady as your breathing as you watched him peel out of the lot. If you didn’t have the flowers and the card in your hand, you wouldn’t have truly believed that he even showed up, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick of your imagination.

You could feel the sweat on your back and without a second thought, you practically tore off your graduation gown, letting it drop to the ground beside you. You fought the urge to sit on the blacktop as you tucked the bouquet of flowers under your arm in order to open the letter. You tried to pretend that you didn’t notice the nervous shaking in your fingers as you unfolded the letter, not having any idea what to expect.

Your heart crumpled in your chest as you soaked in each word. You could hear his voice saying them so clearly despite the fact that it had been years since the last time you two spoke. Despite the time and the distance, he was still your Ezekiel, and that love never went away. Any letter that started and ended with I love you was either packed with promises or regret in between, and EZ had given up on making promises a long time ago. But your heart pounded hard against its confines in your chest as you reread it over and over again, bottom lip trembling because you could still feel the love in every word, even if they weren’t the words that you wanted to hear. Of all the things that had changed, the love still hadn’t, and you were starting to think that that made it all hurt more.

“Fuck,” there was no one around to hear the whispered word that fell from your lips as you dropped your face into your hands. How could he have been so close and yet still so far away?

Wiping away the tears as best you could without ruining your makeup, you folded up the letter and tucked it back into its envelope. You swiped your gown off the blacktop with a shaky exhale, not left with any other choice but to go back and grab your purse and keys so you could leave. You didn’t want this to be how it all ended, but as you started the long walk back, staring at the bundle of beautiful roses in your hands, you were starting to think that maybe you didn’t have any say in the matter.

[minimel-fics]

People Watching

EZ Reyes X Reader

If he is the one to interrupt your peace while hiding away from the party downstairs then you’re okay with that.

This fic is inspired by the song People Watching by Conan Gray and contains paraphrasing of lyrics from that song.

Masterlist

x x x

Stanford was not known as party school because of its shining academics but that didn't mean parties and over the top ragers were an uncommon occurrence, afterall what would a college experience be without at least a little partying? Parties just weren't your scene, you would rather be back in your dorm making progress on the multiple essays that were due after spring break but your best friend had dragged you away from your overheating laptop and large stack of notes to an overcrowded frat house. Of course the moment you had stepped into the house your friend had disappeared, leaving you to navigate the drunk crowd on your own. You had gotten pulled into many casual conversations and heated debates by students you were hardly acquainted with on your way to the kitchen where all the booze was located, knowing that even a minuscule amount of alcohol would loosen you up enough to not bolt out the front door before the next song played.

You had mingled enough to get your way through two beers before you suddenly began to feel your senses become overwhelmed by the atmosphere of the frat party; the music was much too loud causing even the most simple conversations to become elevated into yells, cigarette and pot smoke created a haze that made your already warped vision worse while their smells mingled with the strong stenches of beer and sweat. You refilled your plastic red cup with beer in a futile attempt to quench your growing thirst as you passed through the kitchen before dragging your tired feet up the staircase to find a quiet room to escape to. You twisted and tugged on all the door handles but the rooms were all locked or occupied by frisky couples before you spotted the crimson curtain that hid the large glass sliding door leading to a vacant patio. Pulling back the curtain, you struggled with the jammed lock before sighing in relief when it clicked and the door easily slid open. Your lungs ceased their burning as the fresh air invaded your senses and cooled your hot skin as you moved to lean on the metal railing to over look the party that had begun to spill out into the backyard. You were thankful that no speakers had been set up outside as the muffled music allowed you to think without bringing on a headache. Your eyes swept over the party as you observed- a game of beer pong that garnered cheers when a player made a shot, the girls who had taken over the hot tub with glasses full of wine that was much too expensive to be at a simple frat party, there were a few people floating in the pool for relaxation that were either ignoring or unbothered by the dive competition happening at the other end and couples were lining the perimeter of the yard, embracing as if tomorrow they would be departing to war instead of going home or on brief trips for spring break.

You had been so caught up in your own observations that you had not heard the glass door open and close nor the footsteps of Ezekiel Reyes as he moved to lean on the railing next to you.

“Mind if I join you?”

Your heart jumped into your throat at the voice that was suddenly very close, nearly dropping your beer as you turned to the boy who was now chuckling at the expense of your fright. “Holy fu- what are you doing out here?”

“I seen you come out here looking a little frazzled, thought I would check on you.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly before he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m not exactly a party person.” You admitted, looking back out over the yard as you took a small sip of your beer. You had met Ezekiel in your Ecology class last semester, you often sat next to each other in the class but never really conversed unless it was about the material your professor had assigned, when your friend had discovered that you thought the boy that you sat next to was cute she immediately did a little digging- which was how you found out that his muscular physique was from playing baseball, he was studying to become a doctor and to your misfortune was in a long term relationship with his high school sweetheart.

“So you are hiding out here.”

“It might sound weird but sometimes I like to just people watch.” You spared Ezekiel a quick glance, finding his eyes sweeping over your leaning form, “I’m not much of a people person, I’d much rather prefer hiding out in my dorm so I haven’t gone on any great adventures and people watching let’s me live vicariously.”

“It’s not weird, I think everyone does that sometimes, I know that I do.” He would definitely not admit it to you but lately the person he found himself most intrigued with was you, the almost magnetic pull he felt towards you was the reason why he had spotted you stumbling up the staircase nearly frantic. “Tell me about that couple over there.” Ezekiel sent you an encouraging smile as he bumped his shoulder against your own lightly.

You followed his line of sight to the couple that was hiding away in the far corner of the yard, the girl sitting in her boyfriends lap as they clung to each other, she threw her head back as she laughed at whatever he had whispered to her in their quiet sanctuary.

“I’ll start with the obvious, she’s too in love to notice that most of his jokes are mediocre and laughs a little too hard at the smallest quip.” You spoke as she laughed again, the sound was boisterous enough for the both of you to hear it over the muffled music. “They count how long they’ve been together by the month, 49 months makes it sound like they’ve been together for much more than 4 years and she wears a ring on her left hand but they tell everyone that they’re not engaged, they’ll take that step after they graduate.”

Ezekiel was eerily silent as he listened to your observations about the couple, his grip tightening on the rail caught your attention as his arms flexed under his burgundy hoodie. “They stay up until 4am talking about their future, marriage and a small army of kids,” Ezekiel spoke, the depth and emotion of his voice nearly startling you after the extended silence you shared, “Their minds too clouded with their feelings of young love to face the obvious, once they graduate and face the real world they will realize they just weren’t meant to be.”

“Why so cynical, Reyes?” You joked as you took another sip of your beer, softly elbowing Ezekiel as he let out a deep sigh.

“I was in a relationship, Emily, she-“ He paused, swallowing down whatever blame he was about to place on his now ex-girlfriend for their demise the last time he had been home, “We tried to make it work but the distance was just too much for us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you.” You rested your hand gently on his shoulder in an attempt to bring him some comfort, not use to having to console people you barely knew before you offered him your half-full red cup.

“You’ve never had a breakup?” He accepted the plastic cup, easily finishing its contents and pulling a face as his tastebuds were met with the flavour of warm beer.

“I’ve had relationships and I’ve watched them end but I have never really been in love, not seriously.” You admitted, casting your eyes down at the pool below to avoid your shame and any pitying glances of the boy you so badly wanted the chance to fall in love with. The brush of his fingers against yours was quick but very much intentional on his part, your head slowly lifting to find him looking at you with a shining intensity. The door abruptly opening behind you caused you both to jump apart, feeling as though you had been caught in a compromising position. You shuffled past the group that was now taking over the previously empty patio back into the house, Ezekiel following along behind you until you stopped at the top of the staircase.

“I should probably be getting back to my dorm,” You sent him an apologetic look as your stomach tightened into knots, you were certain the partiers had ruined your chance with Ezekiel, “I’ve got an early flight to catch and if I have another beer than it will be impossible for me to avoid a hangover.”

“You mind if I walk you back?” He sent you his classic megawatt smile that never failed to make you swoon as he stuffed both of his hands into the pocket of his sweater, seeming almost nervous as he prepared for rejection.

“I would appreciate that.”

x x x

Join a taglist here.

All Mayans: @chibsytelford @beeroses @mijop @bellisperennis0 @un-poetryy @kate-moon @rosieposie0624 @partypoison00 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @mayansxlover @shanty-lol

Ez taglist: @justazzi @spnaquakindgdom @pearlkitten33 @lilsylvia

[rae-gar-targaryen]

like the inside jacket of any good novel [tdr-verse] [college!ez x reader]

A/N: In honor of the 2k sleepover, the wonderful @amorestevens may or may not have mentioned a hope for a lil drabble with our fav academic-turned-romantic rivals... Ezekiel and his literary love. So I decided to cobble together a bit of a blurb JUST for you! But is it ever just a blurb with me? ENJOY WHATEVER UNEDITED MESS THIS IS. Summary: They’re back by popular demand, and on a not-study study date. I’m tossing in one of the prompts from the list BECAUSE I CAN: “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…” Pairing: EZ Reyes x Reader (set in the College!AU of “Those Damned Romantics”)  Rating: T-ish with mentions of something more? After all, what is the inside jacket of a book but a bit of a tease as to what’s inside... ? Word Count: 1.3k HAHAHAA NOT A BLURB AND I AM DOOMED TO SUFFER. 

--

When was a study date not a study date? 

This isn’t a riddle -- there was a clear answer. The answer?

When said “study date” was with Ezekiel Reyes. When your pen and your notebook were tossed somewhere across the room, rather than beneath your hands, and the focus of your attention. When what was beneath your hands and what was the object of your attentions was the infuriatingly musclebound boy from your Lit Seminar. When, instead of his nose in a book it was nudging at the very center of you. When he had flipped your flashcards out of your hands in favor of slipping you out of your shirt. 

The two of you had progressed passed clandestine hookups in the library beyond the sight of others and progressed to ... well, whatever this was. Where you had gone from resting against his headboard with your book in your hands to ... well, you both could fit on the bed, so enough said.  To where the sight of you coming and going from his room in the baseball team’s house was not an uncommon one these days -- in plain view of god and Ezekiel’s teammates .... which, may have been everybody, as far as you were concerned. 

Speaking of studying -- you really had come over to review lit notes. You had a quiz on allegory on Monday, and if you couldn’t come up with examples from one of each of the books you’d read so far this term, you were sure to fail... 

And while you were determined to study the classics, Ezekiel was determined to study you. His dark eyes roved over you, as though they could see right through you. And maybe they could.

He spent every day in class reading the weighted words of the legendary romantics, eager to devour every word that would fill the pages of his own worldview, would allow him to gain an understanding of everything he felt, just what you meant to him. To give words to that which is otherwise wordless.

By nature of his major, spent his days studying. How to reason through every thought, every feeling … only to come up woefully, frustratingly short when he tried to describe what it meant to him to be with you. 

A poet who couldn't articulate, grasping at metaphorical straws that manifested themselves as blank pages, unable to find a deserving word. A philosopher bereft of reason, left to puzzle and ponder through hazy, menial mental smoke.

And there you were, the sun-goddess sent to shine a beacon of light to guide his way. His Sol, his Theia.

Amorous feelings, his Aphrodite. When had that happened?

It was cliche to say that there was a thin line between love and hate. But the two of you had drawn that line time and again, hadn’t you? Flirted with it? Jumped over it? Erased it and re-written it? What exactly were you now? 

Of course, Ezekiel thought, you were maddening. That was clear. But if you gave as good as you got, didn't that make you equals?

"If we’re talking allegory, then ... you're like Persephone,” EZ breathed between pecks, his lips focused in their path, an intentional line down the slope of your neck. “Freed from the underworld  to bless the Earth with new life. I can't imagine a corner of the world your warmth doesn't touch.”

You sighed as his tongue escaped from behind his lips to brush a particularly sensitive spot somewhere behind your ear. 

“Be careful, EZ,” you breathed. “That sounds an awful lot like love.” 

You had skated your fingers beneath his shirt to map the planes of his back. Fingers that had flipped their way through page after page of historical, eternal romance. So you knew it when you saw it, when you heard it, right?

“It’s not love,” Ezekiel broke away from your neck to look into your eyes. Was it a lie if he could look you in the eye while he said it?

“It’s not?” You challenged, raising your brow at him. “Well, it isn’t allegory, either. It’s simile,” your lips quirked a mean smirk. 

If he could be cruel with your feelings... it’s not as though you hadn’t shown you could give as good as you got. 

You gripped his chin between your thumb and your forefinger, wrapping your legs around his tapered waist just a bit tighter as you held him in position above you on his bed. Refusing to let his amber eyes leave yours...

"And if we’re going along with your simile, Ddes that make you my Hades? Eager to have me in your warmth, to be full of the life I would give? Does my warmth reach your heart, Ezekiel?” 

You rolled your hips beneath his as you spoke. What was that he had said some time before about you being a tease? Downright untrue, in your opinion. 

You were all smooth skin and warm promises beneath his weight … Ezekiel was starting to think he had no choice but to ache for you this time, delighting in the crack-and-flashes of heat he knew were shooting through your writhing body at his touch. Just his touch. 

He knew it was there, because he felt the heat, too. And what were the two of you, if not joined? Of one mind, and one body? 

But if at first it seemed like you were winning? He would lie, lie again. Deflect 

"I'm so under your skin, it's not even funny," he smirked, refusing to melt at your words as his heart was wont to do. 

But everything about Ezekiel was made for romance, sculpted by an after-hours, heartsick oracle. His eyes awash like oil swirling against candlelight, his long fingers beckoning you from within, and ahem, from within... luring you, to pray to him like a wrathful god waging war on your piteous heart.

And you would play the game. Taking Ezekiel’s wrist in your hands, rocking your hips to flip the two of you so that he was beneath you now. 

“Under my skin? You’re woefully unqualified to make that diagnosis,” you smarted, trailing both of your hands from Ezekiel’s waist across the rippled planes of his chest, coming to rest just beneath his collarbones, dipping your head down to brush your mouth along his. Just a slip of something sweet. 

"It doesn't cost you anything to be nice, ya know," EZ’s grip tightened on your hips, as if to scold you. 

You whipped your head up to meet his eyes, your grin wild, a flash of teeth.

"No? Just my time and patience, then, which I'm already woefully short on. Didn’t I come here to study?” 

You made to swing your leg over, to remove yourself from Ezekiel’s space. To retrieve your notes and some semblance of sanity. Away from this clouded heat that always seemed to overtake you whenever you were around Ezekiel. Like trying to peer through stained red glass.

“We are studying,” EZ’s grip didn’t waver, keeping you in place astride his hips. “Anatomy.” 

You rolled your eyes, smacking EZ’s chest with the barest swat of the back of your hand. Half-hearted. Unlike your actual heart. Which this stupid boy held in his stupid hands. 

“You’re corny,” you sighed. Ever (feigned, but never Ezekiel mind) exasperated. 

EZ’s lips split into his signature wide, million-watt grin. All too easy to win you over. Whose to say it wasn’t love? 

“I know it’s two in the morning, but would you want to ...” EZ gestured at the rumpled, empty space beside the both of you in his bed. 

“Stay?” You queried, batting your eyelashes. “Of course, Ezekiel. Who actually comes over at two to study?” 

Sure, the shrieking giggles you made as Ezekiel flipped the two of you again, attacking your neck with nuzzling brushes and tickling kisses, were a little undignified. Maybe so were the gasps that Ezekiel could rip from you with an insistent tongue and clever fingers -- but girl, dignity left a long time ago with this boy, didn’t it? 

---

We’re having a sleepover! Submit your requests here. 

Tagging: My fellow EZ/TDR beloveds @superhoeva @joannasteez @blessedboo @brattyfics @withmyteeth @isisafrofairy @thematthewmurdock @cinewhore @artsymaddie @diaryofkali @cyarikashakira @bendro-pascarnes @moonlight-prose @phoenixhalliwell @brattyfics @luxurybeskar @justanotherblonde23 @kijahslove @flightlessangelwings @emmaveale123​

[tea-reads]

Steph’s December Writing Challenge - Bonus #3: Home for Dinner

A/N: Last one for Ezra featuring Cee! Enjoy :)

Ezra (Prospect) x reader (Modern AU)

WARNINGS: none

.

.

.

“Ooh, don’t mind if I do- ow!” Ezra huffed and reeled his hand back after you slapped it away from grabbing a cinnamon roll, fresh from the oven. “You’ll have to wait until Cee gets here, Ez. She wouldn’t like you pinching her favourite snack.” You said, unfazed by Ezra’s pleading puppy dog eyes. “She’ll be here soon, my love, please be patient.” You reassured him, reaching out to cup his cheek and brushing your thumb against it. “Of course, my dear.” He promised, leaning into your touch.

Ezra would help out by setting the table for the three of you and preparing dinner with you. Cee might be in for a surprise when she sees the additional family member. As soon as the doorbell rang, Birdie started barking and ran towards the entrance to greet the expected guest, Ezra calmed her down as he trailed behind to open the door.

“Hey, little bird - oof ” Ezra chuckled as the young girl immediately hugged him tight. “Good to see you again.” He said and hugged her back.

“Missed you, Ezra,” Cee said, but the sentiment was abruptly interrupted by the dog whining, “and who’s this?” She asked excitedly, letting go to crouch down and pat Birdie. Cee felt the collar and pulled it around to read the name tag.  “’Birdie’?” She looked up at Ezra and gave a quizzical look - Ezra chuckled and shrugged. “Birdie’s a stray and so she has been under our care. We’re fostering her, but it looks like she wants to be part of the family.” Ezra explained. 

Cee asked where you were to which Ezra replied you were cleaning up in the kitchen. “Woah, is that…?” She sniffed the air. “Yes! Cinnamon rolls! You better not have taken one.” She got up and made her way down the hall carrying her small suitcase. 

“Don’t worry, I kept an eye on him.” Your voice rang out. Cee’s eyes lit up once she saw you folding a tea towel and hanging it on the oven handle. She dropped her luggage and dashed towards you - spotted her just in time - hugging you as if she missed you most. You laughed, wrapping your arms around her and steadied yourselves as she almost put you off balance and made you fall. 

“College must be brutal, huh?” You joked and Cee groaned. “Tell me about it, I missed you guys way too much - and you and Ezra put everyone’s cooking to shame.” She added, making you laugh again. 

“Well, lucky for you, dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” You told her, pulling away and giving her a warm smile. 

“And we missed you too, Cee. Welcome home.”

[sincerelyasomebody]

Two Became Three || Johnny "Coco" Cruz & Leticia "Letty" Cruz

(GIF: @angels-reyes)

A/N: With the awesome response for Mama, I decided to write up a "pre-Mama" setting. I hope you all enjoy it! If I'm being honest this Cruz family dynamic is likely to become a series of sorts👀. Because these two deserve so much more😭😫. Coco and Johnny are used interchangeably. If the Spanish translations are incorrect, please let me know. 

Characters/Pairings: Coco x Reader (romantic partnership) ▪︎ Letty x Gabby (friendship) ▪︎ Gabby x EZ (mentioned) ☆ Bishop (mentioned) ▪︎ Chucky (mentioned) ▪︎ Mayans MC (mentioned)

Summary: The start to a wonderful, dysfunctional yet endearing family. 

Warnings: angst, fluff, language 

Word Count: 1829

- ♤ - ♡ - ◇ - ♧ -

The living room was becoming (Y/N)'s personal race track as she continuously walked around the coffee table in the centre. Her eyes would dart between the landline and her phone. She tried to calm herself down, but the 'what ifs' going off in her mind wouldn't allow her to do so. The familiar rumble of Cocos truck stopped her pacing as she jumped onto the couch. Pulling the edge of the curtain up, she was momentarily blinded by the headlights flashing at her. 

Once she spotted the teenager in the passenger side, she let out a sigh of relief. (Y/N) readjusted her body on the couch and waited for the pair to walk inside. She braced herself for the argument. 

The front door and screen door opened up with Coco leaning against them, "what the fuck were you thinking, Leticia?" 

"You're overreacting," she replied and headed straight for the kitchen. 

"You were at a college party!" Coco yelled as he slammed both doors, "how the fuck did you even get there?" 

She opened up a cabinet and grabbed a muesli bar, "I… just got there," shrugging her shoulders she tore the bar open, "nothing was gonna happen." 

Coco walked over and stood at the entrance of the kitchen, "carajo! The only reason nothing fucking happened was because I showed up!"

Letty turned her attention to (Y/N), "anything you'd like to add?" When she wasn't given a response, she scoffed, "as if I give a fuck what you think."

She brushed past Coco and walked down the hallway. The slamming of a door let the adults know she was in her bedroom. (Y/N) took a deep breath as she got to her feet and stood in front of her man.

"Don't do it." 

He arched his eyebrow, "you think I'm gonna let her disrespect you like that?" he shook his head and pecked her forehead, "ain't fucking happening." 

Letty had moved in with the pair about two months ago and during that time she took full advantage of being away from the clutches of her grandmother. With her newfound freedom she had been disappearing (or "exploring" as she called it) different parts of Santo Padre whenever she felt like it. Sometimes she'd go off on her own and other times she'd take Gabby. 

Unfortunately, this particular night was different. Gabby was out on a date with her boyfriend Ez (the newest patch member of the Mayans) which meant she didn't join Letty on her excursion. Thankfully she was able to provide the details of where to find her when (Y/N) called her in a panic about the teenager not being home. Once she received the details, she thanked her and immediately rang up Coco to inform him of his daughter's whereabouts. 

Before he could make his way to the hallway Coco's burner buzzed. (Y/N) didn't need to read the message to know that he was most likely being told about some club business. Despite it nearing the early hours of the morning, she knew that sometimes Bishop would call an impromptu meeting. 

"At least you're already awake?" (Y/N) offered as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her hands played with his hair.

"I guess," his eyes darted towards the hallway and back at her, "if she ends up running off while I'm at the clubhouse–"

"I'll call you." 

He kissed her and savoured the moment before pulling away from her. Walking over to the front door, he glanced back at her and blew a kiss. (Y/N) chuckled, grabbing it and holding it to her chest, completing their goodbye routine. 

She turned around as he shut both doors and locked them. The moment she heard his bike start up she decided it was time to get to bed. She was due to go back to work in a few hours and wanted to sleep before having to do so. 

-- ♡ -- ◇ --

After Letty's eventful Friday night, Johnny decided he was done giving her chances. Her phone was taken away and the only times she could leave the house was for school and if Chucky needed an extra set of hands. At first the teenager continued to rebel until she realised another day would be added to her punishment. (Y/N) was proud of the way her man was stepping into the role of a parent. Letty was working into her third week of punishment (she had another week left) and (Y/N) could see the change in her. 

Whenever (Y/N) entered the house, she was greeted with a 'hello'. It may seem little, but Letty acknowledging her presence (in a positive manner) definitely kept a smile on her face. Letty was helping around the house more and started joining Coco and (Y/N) for dinner instead of eating in her room. Coco was also seeing changes in his daughter and hoped she would continue to make positive changes. He had left for a run a couple of days ago and would hopefully return soon.

The sound of drawers opening and closing was the reason (Y/N) woke up. Her eyebrows furrowed at realising she wasn't in her bed and then remembered she had fallen asleep while watching (television show). Looking to her left, she noticed the outline of the teen moving about. She smiled when she felt the softness of a blanket, realising Letty must've thrown it over her. Slowly getting to her feet, she stretched and reached for her phone. The numbers 04:22 blared on her screen.

(Y/N) got up and switched on the light, causing the teenager to jump, "are you looking for the chocolate chip cookies I baked?" Just like her dad, Letty had a sweet tooth. (Y/N) chuckled and pointed towards the top cabinet on her right, "it's in the tin at the back." 

Letty waited for (Y/N) to walk out of the kitchen, but instead the woman opened up the fridge and pulled out the carton of milk. She watched as she grabbed two glasses and poured the milk inside. The teenager grabbed the chair and climbed on top of it to reach the cabinet. She opened it up and pushed some items out of the way to grab the tin. Closing the cabinet, she stepped off the chair and dragged it back to the table.

(Y/N) was already sitting at the table and pushed a glass of milk across it for her. Letty took a seat and opened up the container and pushed it between them. She waited for (Y/N) to help herself to a cookie, before grabbing one of her own. 

"I'm sorry for waking you up," the teenager gave a sheepish grin, "I was trying my hardest not to be loud." 

(Y/N) smiled, "it's alright," she bit into her slightly soaked cookie, "now you know where to go… but, you've gotta make sure to put it back in the same cabinet you brought the container out of." 

"Why?" 

"Because then your dad'll know where all the extra cookies are." 

Letty laughed, "you hide the extra cookies because of my dad?" 

"Yes and that cabinet," (Y/N) pointed to it, "is the only one where I can cover the container without anything looking out of place." She dunked her cookie into her glass, "remember that for next time, okay?" 

"Okay." 

The pair continued to munch on their cookies (with the occasional dunking) and sip their milk. (Y/N) enjoyed the comfortable silence that fell among them. Her eyes drifted towards the living room and remembered the blanket. 

"Thank you." 

"For what?" Letty asked.

"Covering me with the blanket." 

"Oh… I… uh, didn't want you to get cold." 

(Y/N) smiled and was about to talk about something else when she heard the rumbling of Coco's motorcycle. Her eyes widened and she scrambled to drink what was left of her milk, closed the container and passed it to Letty. 

"Quick before he comes." 

Letty picked up the tin and dragged the chair to where it was moments ago. She jumped up onto it and pushed the container towards the back of the cabinet. Making sure it stayed hidden behind the assortment of items inside of it. She jumped off the chair and pushed it underneath the table just as Coco entered the living. His eyebrows rose when he took in his Old Lady and daughter standing in the kitchen. 

"What's going on here?" He asked as he walked towards the duo.

(Y/N) chuckled and brought him into a hug, she kissed him on the lips and cheek before stepping back, "just chatting, everyone okay?" 

He nodded, "we all made it back. Don't worry," his attention switched to Letty, "mija, everything okay?" 

Letty nodded, "yeah…" 

Coco slowly approached her and kissed the top of her head, "that's good to hear." 

Before he could move back, the teenager wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. (Y/N) smiled as she watched Coco gently rub her back and kiss her forehead. She loved seeing the father-daughter pair show affection to each other. Letty released her hold and took a step back.

With a blink of an eye, Letty pulled (Y/N) into a hug. (Y/N)'s eyes grew wide at the contact (so did Cocos) and before she could return the gesture, the teenager had let go. Letty smiled at the pair and then turned on her heel to leave the room. (Y/N) watched the teenager disappear around the corner, before she glanced at Coco with a bright smile. She did a little shimmy moving towards him and held onto his arms as she jumped up and down. 

"Coco… she – did you see that? She hugged me! And she smiled! Oh, she's got a beautiful smile," (Y/N) stopped jumping, "wow… I-I can't believe it. I got a hug and a smile, Coco!" 

He laughed as she danced around him, reaching out he pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. (Y/N) squealed when his fingers trailed up and down her hip. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head up. Her eyes sparkled with joy. 

Unbeknownst to the pair, Letty had done a U-turn at the end of the hallway. She decided at the last second to ask (Y/N) about something. However, at the sound of excitement she paused and peered around the doorframe. A smile stretched across her face, when she spotted Coco and (Y/N) embracing. She looked away when Coco reached down to grab (Y/N) by the ass and slip his tongue into her mouth.  

"Gross," she shook her head and made her way back down the hallway, "I didn't need to fucking see that." 

Despite the recent image in her mind that she was trying her best to get rid of, the teenager couldn't help but feel as though she finally belonged. 

This was home.

-♤ - ♡ - ◇ - ♧ -

Spanish Translations: 

Carajo - fuck

Mija - girl

[heyitsperfect]

I still love you - Ez Reyes

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, mention of death, kissing

A/N: First of all...THANK YOU for giving me a new favorite song and thanks for the request, I hope you like it. This is only leaned on the events in the show. 

Request by  @jennyaraiza23 : Can I request a one shot or a short story I would like an EZ Reyes x reader angst with happy ending also add the song of Olivia Rodrigo drivers license thank you

It was a cliche to fall in love with your best friend, but here you were standing at the porch of the Reyes household while Marisol was telling you Ez is not there. You know exactly where he is though. Emily Thomas. The girl who has Ez’s heart. You thanked Marisol and left with your car. You wanted to show it to Ez cause you finally got your license and wanted to let him know. 

Weeks passed and you hardly spoke to Ez anymore. He was too occupied with Emily now. Then Marisol died. It was the summer you left for college. The last time you saw him was two weeks before his mother died and if somebody told you, you won’t see your best friend for the next 8 years, you would’ve probably started laughing. 

He shot a cop and was sent to Stockton. You visited him as many times as possible and it broke you everytime a little bit more that his oh so beloved girlfriend left him all on his own. Not you. You were there for him, falling harder and harder for him. You still loved him, after all the time. Ez is the one for you. 

He wrote you letters, told you not to come anymore because he didn’t want to be a burden for you. You confronted him on your next visit, told him you loved him and that you won’t stop visiting him. He threw you out and never let you visit him again. 

After you graduated you moved back to Santo Padre. It was home. All your friends and family still lived there. You were driving through town remembering all the good and the bad times. You parked your car and made your way to the carniciera Reyes to visit Felipe and grab some meat for dinner. Felipe was happy to see you. He told you about a few things, Ez becoming the prospect for the Mayans and Angel already being a member. He also told you where you can find Ez if you want to see him. 

As you left the shop you ran straight into Angel. 

“Whoa there.” “I’m sorry” you both spoke at the same time

“Y/N is that you? Damn you look good. What brought you back?” Angel was standing in front of you with a big smile on his face. He always saw you as the little sister he never had.  

“Yes, it’s me,ehhmm, thank you and I’m back for good. Graduated college and got a job here as a bank manager.” you tried to answer all his questions in one go. “But look at you Mr Reyes, still the pantie dropper like in high school I guess.” you had the biggest grin on your face. 

“Nah….even worse.” he laughed. “Have you seen my little brother yet?”

“No, but your Dad told me where I can find him.” you looked down fiddling with your fingers.

“He is there at the moment, go see him. He misses you, even he won’t admit it to me.” Angel spoke and hugged you goodbye. You made your way back to the car and drove off. As you made your way to the scrapyard to see Ez you thought about all the things that happened in the past. About all the what if’s. What if Emily never came into his life, what if you had the courage to tell him sooner how you feel, what if….

As you arrived at the yard you parked your car and got out of your car. The lot was empty except one bike and a car. You stood in front of your car as the door of the trailer opened and what you saw broke your heart. Emily Thomas, no, it was now Galindo, came out of it and Ez trailing behind her. They said their goodbyes and Emily kissed his cheek. It looked so familiar to you, like history repeating itself. 

After Emily left Ez turned around and walked in your direction. As he looked up he stopped, his expression like he saw a ghost. You couldn’t move either. It felt like an eternity as you two were staring at each other, nobody dared to say something. 

“Hey Y/N” Ez spoke finally. It snapped you back to reality. 

“Hey. Are you and her…” you couldn’t finish that sentence, alone the thought of them together hurt you.

“Emily, no no no. She needed help, I told her to go.” you didn’t know what to say so you just looked at him as he slowly approached you. As he was standing in front of you, he looked you deeply in the eyes, his hand came up to your cheek caressing it with his thumb. You closed your eyes enjoying the skin to skin contact.

“I’m so sorry for pushing you away, for hurting you. I thought I would protect you.” Ez whispered. 

“I don’t need to be protected….all I need is you.” you finally looked him in the eyes. He pulled you close, your head resting against his chest, your arms around his middle while his arms are around your neck and shoulders. 

“Please forgive me Y/N. I can’t lose you again.” he said close to your ear. 

“I forgave you a long time ago….I still love you.” you whispered the last part in hope he didn’t hear it. 

“I love you too, always have and always will.” he kissed your head as you tightened the grip around him.

It was a cliche to fall in love with your best friend, but in the end it turns out to be the best that could’ve happened to you. Ez and you talked about everything and remained friends at first, but after a while the lines between friends and lovers vanished. In the end you had him sitting next to you in your car driving around town, like you wanted to do it after you got your drivers licence.

[swaghumanoidnickelhero]

I posted 41 times in 2022

That's 41 more posts than 2021!

29 posts created (71%)

12 posts reblogged (29%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@darklydeliciousdesires

@berberriescorner

@breanime

@hennyjwrites

@ingeniousmindoftune

I tagged 8 of my posts in 2022

#rio x reader - 4 posts

#nbc good girls - 3 posts

#daughter reader - 2 posts

#2500 likes - 1 post

#tumblr milestone - 1 post

#manny montana - 1 post

#manny mayans - 1 post

#rio imagine - 1 post

#dad!rio - 1 post

#felipe reyes x reader - 1 post

Longest Tag: 21 characters

#felipe reyes x reader

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Rhea x Rio x daughter reader 1

Pov your Rhea and Rio teenage daughter and this is your life .

See the full post

2 notes - Posted November 4, 2022

#4

Emily Reyes

You moved from Santo Padre to college and now you decided to come back home

You have some missed calls from your brothers

Angel hello

You hi sorry I was busy

Angel it's ok sis I'm glad your ok

Ez joins the call

Ez Emily Marisol reyes

You hi ezkeial ingancio reyes

You I was packing for home

Ez wait

See the full post

2 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

#3

Rio x reader

Flashabcks you slowly waking up after a hectic night of love and passion

You look next you and see your husband Rio looking at you

You morning amore

Rio morning mi Vida

You can we go back to sleep for a little longer

Rio sure sweetie

You lay on his chest and you too cuddle for a little longer

See the full post

4 notes - Posted November 4, 2022

#2

Rio x reader

You been doing meetings all day and your missing rio

You get ready to go out in your cutest outfit that you can find and head out the door

Mick opens the door for you

The girls see you but have no idea who you are and why you're here

Beth to rio who's that

Rio faces lights up like the gif above

Rio nobody to you

Rio goes up to

Rio hey mama

You hi papi I missed all day

Rio me too Mami

You who ate they

Rio our new business partner

You okay

Rio hey

You what

Rio go to my office and wait for me

You okay papa

You wait in the office

Rio so what with the auttuide

You nothing

Rio uh huh

You too end up cuddling in his office while mick handles business

19 notes - Posted November 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Rio x wife reader

You walk into the bar and seeing your husband you walk over to him

You hi mi amor

Rio hi baby what's up

You nothing much you good

Rio yeah just a little tense

You why what's wrong

Rio just business darling

You uh huh well what can I do

You let's go home

Rio mi amor

You mick

Mick hey boss

You do you think you can handle this

Mick yes ma'am

You ty he will see you in the morning

Mick alright boss

You You let's go

Riocoming love

Mick Goodluck

Rio ty

He drives you guys home and you head into the bathroom

You want to take a bath together

Rio sure honey

You too take a bath together ad talk about everything

Rio baby

You yeah

Rio this feel so good this is exactly what I needed

You I'm glad

You get out the bath

See the full post

26 notes - Posted November 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[drabbles-mc]

Good Things

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, alcohol

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Despite the title...this is a sad one. It’s been a minute since I’ve written for EZ, and this story totally and completely took on a life of its own once I started writing it. Hope you enjoy! xo

EZ Reyes Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @amorestevens @angelreyesisdaddy04 @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @bellisperennis0​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @mveggieburger​ @thanossexual​ @xeniarocks​ @choochoo284​ @littlekittymeow​ @beardsanddetectives​ @soltaasbruxas​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ (If you want to be added to my taglist let me know!)

You really hadn’t planned on going to the clubhouse to begin with. It’d been a rough week and you finally had a night off after school. And, as much as you loved the guys, you spent so much time at the clubhouse working behind the bar that when you got some time for yourself, you wanted to spend it in the comfort of your own home, a place you felt like you didn’t really get to be much these days.

Between school, and family, and working at the clubhouse, it was amazing that you actually got a Saturday night to yourself. There were a few shows you wanted to catch up on, and you couldn’t wait to order in and not worry about cooking. The thought of spending the night curled up on the couch with your blankets and pillows was the only thing that had gotten you through the hectic few days before.

And yet, when you got the phone call from Angel saying that you should come through because there was someone there that you’d want to see, you began scrapping all of your plans. He didn’t say who it was, but he didn’t have to.

It had been years since you last saw EZ, and the ending didn’t exactly come about on good terms. The two of you had gotten into a huge blowout right before you each went off to college. Then, before you could fix any of it, everything happened with his mother and he wound up in prison. On so many occasions you had almost made the trek out there to visit him, but you could never follow through. Deep down, you also worried that you were the last person that he would want to see. You were heartbroken enough, the last thing you wanted was to face more rejection.

There was something about the tone in Angel’s voice, though, that gave you a sliver of hope. So despite the fact that you were halfway changed into your pajamas, you took a deep breath and recalibrated for the evening.

As you were driving to the clubhouse, you noticed that for the first time in ages, there seemed to be clouds rolling in over Santo Padre. Part of you wondered if it was a sign that you should bail and just go back home, but you didn’t want to believe that. Instead, you pushed down a little harder on the gas pedal in an attempt to get there faster, get there before you could fully talk yourself out of it.

When you rolled into the lot, it was already busy. For some reason it felt busier when you were on the other side of it. Nights never seemed this chaotic when you were behind the bar, but you knew it was a typical Saturday night. Taking a deep breath, you locked your car and tucked your keys into your pocket, making your way closer to the clubhouse as the sky continued to get darker.

The first person you locked eyes with was Angel, and you let out a deep sigh of relief as you made your way up the steps onto the porch of the clubhouse. Despite the smile on your face, he could see the tension you were holding in your body and he immediately pulled you into a hug. Kissing the top of your head, you could feel him taking a deep breath.

“I’m glad you’re here, querida.”

You chuckled, “I think I’m glad too.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” he reassured you as he loosened his hold on you, “It’s been a long time.”

“Yea,” you nodded, “it’s been a real long time.”

Angel never knew the details about what had happened with you and EZ before everything hit the fan for the Reyes family. He had a general idea, but as far as you knew, unless EZ filled him in, Angel just knew that the two of you had a rough falling out. There were times when you almost talked to him about it, but it all seemed so pointless once EZ went away. Angel had stopped bringing his brother up to you a long time ago.

“He here already?” you asked as you stepped back from him.

Angel nodded his head towards the clubhouse, “He’s inside.”

“He know I’m here?”

“This is your clubhouse, querida.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line for a moment, “So that’s a no?”

“He’s not the one who needed a heads-up.”

You huffed, but you didn’t argue the point any further. You tried to force your feet to move as you nervously twisted your hands in front of you. Angel watched you carefully—he wanted to offer to walk in with you but he also knew that whatever was festering between you and EZ was something the two of you needed to address yourselves. He gently ran his hand up and down your back once more before giving you the slightest nudge towards the door.

Taking the hint and running with it, you made your way into the clubhouse, which felt so much lighter and warmer than the dampening air outside. Slowly making your way towards the bar, you scanned the entire vicinity for EZ. You actually found yourself wishing that you were working—it’d put a barrier between the two of you, and would also give you an excuse to step away if you wanted to or had to. But you had no such luck, so instead you sat down on one of the bar stools and continued to look around for him.

Part of you wondered if he’d left, because you didn’t see him anywhere. You wondered if he heard you were going to be there and took off. You wouldn’t blame him—you were thinking of doing the exact same thing.

Just as you were about to get up and try to make a quick exit, the door to the back room swung open and EZ walked out, a case of beer securely in his grasp. Your eyes grew wide as you took him in—you knew that it was technically the Ezekiel that you’d grown up with, but he was someone different now. It wasn’t the kutte, or the muscles—there was something in the way that he carried himself, something in his eyes.

When he saw you, he did a double-take. The surprise on his face was barely perceptible. He’d always had a somewhat decent poker face, but you knew that this must’ve really caught him off-guard.

Sliding the case of beer underneath the bar, he looked back up at you, “Hey,” his tone didn’t convey much emotion either way.

You didn’t know if you wanted to jump up and hug him, or turn and book it out the door. Your body wasn’t letting you do either as you sat there, hands trembling slightly as they rested atop the bar. Clearing your throat, you forced out a response, “Hey, EZ.”

The silence that followed felt like it was about to cave your chest in. You regretted everything about showing up. You wanted to get up and walk away, but you felt glued to your seat. As hard as you tried to will your feet to move, they wouldn’t. Suddenly the music playing in the clubhouse felt impossibly loud, the body heat and scent of alcohol and nicotine mixing together clogging up your throat and making it hard to breathe.

EZ saw it all on your face. A lot had changed over the years but clearly some things hadn’t. Grabbing two bottles, he nodded towards the side door, “Need a minute?”

You did, but sitting alone out on the deck with EZ felt like a bad idea. You took in the expression on his face—he wasn’t smiling per se, but a softness appeared in his eyes that sent a surge of reassurance through you. It’d be a waste of a trip to not at least have a real conversation. It didn’t mean that you had to talk with him about everything that had happened, but just to have a shot at paving over the terrible way things ended before with a better memory.

Finally, you nodded and stood up from your stool, “Yea—I can’t do all this shit right now,” you chuckled nervously as you gestured to the entirety of the clubhouse.

The two of you quietly snuck out the side door. No one seemed to take notice of either of you, and you were extremely thankful for that. The air was chilly, and it felt heavy with the rain that was bound to start falling soon. Your body involuntarily shivered as you sat down on one of the chairs beside the door, EZ taking a seat next to you. It was the closest you’d been to him in years.

After a long stretch of silence, you said, “Angel didn’t mention that you were prospecting.”

He didn’t look over at you as he shrugged, “It’s all still new,” he took a deep breath as he stared at the label on his beer bottle, “I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight.”

You didn’t know if you should say that Angel told you to come. The two of them seemed like they were getting along but that was always a delicate thread and it wasn’t one that you wanted to pull on. Leaning back in your chair, you told a lie that wasn’t really a lie, “Last-minute decision.”

His nod was slow as he mulled over those three words. Finally glancing over at you, he raised his eyebrows slightly, “They said you’re working here now?”

“Yea,” you nodded before taking a sip of your drink, “It’s not my career or forever job…but it pays the bills and is getting me through grad school for now so…”

“Grad school?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “Got about three semesters left.”

“Good,” his tone was soft as he leaned forward and rested his elbows against his knees.

He wasn’t looking at you anymore, but you were still watching his every move. His brows furrowed slightly as he idly picked at the label that was wrapped around the amber glass in his hands. His lips dipped down into a small frown, and you tried to remind yourself that the disappointment wasn’t personal, wasn’t really directed at you.

“Always figured you’d go back for more,” he finally spoke up again. You knew that underneath that sentence was the implied just like I was supposed to, but he wasn’t going to lay that burden on you. Not the first time he saw you after so many years without you, wondering how you were doing.

This would usually be the point in the conversation where you asked him how he’s been, ask him what he’d been up to. But you already knew. And you knew that it wasn’t a discussion that he was going to want to have with you, or with anyone for that matter. Why would he?

“I thought about you a lot,” he was staring off into the distance as he said it, “when I was inside. I didn’t want to—it felt unfair. But I thought about you all the time.”

“Yea?” you weren’t expecting that from him, not after how things had played out.

“I always thought about you getting out of here—always figured that you did. You’ve always needed more than Santo Padre has to offer.”

“You were the only one out of the two of us who ever said that,” you took another sip of your beer. You could feel the bitterness rising in the back of your mind, and you fought hard to keep it at bay, “I thought about you too. I…I wanted to go see you but…”

He took a long drink from his bottle, “That was probably for the best.”

You didn’t know if things were going better or worse than you expected. The idealist in you wanted things to go right back to how they used to be before EZ went to prison, before both of you said and did a lot of things that you were never going to be able to take back. But you knew that that was unrealistic. He was talking to you, though, and that was better than the worst it could’ve gone.

The silence between you was cut by the sound of rain beginning to patter against the tin roof above your heads. You looked up, smiling a little at the sight of rain for the first time in a long time in Santo Padre. Goosebumps broke out over your skin and you chalked it up to the chill in the air brought on by the clouds overhead.

“Did it make you miss it here?” you asked before you could stop the words.

He looked over at you, confusion on his face, “What?”

You hesitated, but you knew that it was too late to turn back now, “Being inside…did it make you miss being in Santo Padre? Or…or were you still looking forward to getting out and going anywhere but here?”

“I didn’t think I was getting out,” he replied honestly, “I…I killed a fucking cop,” he looked over at you and you could see the heaviness in his features as he said those words out loud, “I was sure I was going to die inside those walls.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I didn’t,” he sighed deeply, and you couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of disappointment or preparation, “And now I’m back here.”

“I know it’s probably not where you want to be,” you told him, “but I’m glad that you’re here.”

He let out a hollow laugh, “Are you?”

“I am,” you made sure that your tone was sincere, if not a little annoyed with his flippant response, “I hated you for a long time, but even when I was at my angriest with you, I never wanted you to go through what you went through. I hated you but it was only because I loved you.”

Those words had been sitting like weights on your chest for years, and they were finally out in the open. Despite the fact that he was looking at you, you couldn’t match his gaze. Keeping your eyes set forward, you watched the rain starting to trickle and run off the overhang that was keeping the both of you dry.

“You don’t anymore?” he asked.

“What?” that got you to look over at him.

“You used past tense,” he drummed his fingers on the outside of the now-empty bottle in his hands, “You don’t hate me anymore?”

“What good has hating you ever done me, Ezekiel?” you shook your head.

“I never hated you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, “Yea,” his expression sobered, “I know I wasn’t good to you, wasn’t fair. But it was the only thing I could think to do. And, with the way things played out, I know it was fucking terrible but I’d do the same thing over again if I had to.”

“Why?” you fought to keep your voice level, “Was the thought of loving me really that terrible?” feelings that you thought you’d buried years ago were clawing their way to the surface.

“It had nothing to do with not wanting to love you,” he waited for you to look over at him, “I need to know that you get that.”

“Then what was it about?”

There was a long pause before he asked, “Do you remember the last time we talked?”

You scoffed, “I’m not you, EZ, but yeah, that one I remember.”

He set the bottle on the floor before leaning back in his chair, running his hands down his face, “You were so fucking honest. And I couldn’t, I wasn’t,” he sighed, dropping his head for a moment, “I wasn’t ready for that.”

“Nothing I told you that day was new,” you tried not to let any bite bleed into your voice.

“Knowing it and hearing it aren’t the same. I couldn’t unhear it, you know? I’ve listened to those words on repeat for years. And you kissed me and suddenly every plan that I had felt like it was wrong. And I couldn’t handle that.”

“So you ripped me apart?”

“I was eighteen!” he shook his head, “What the fuck else was I going to do? I didn’t know how to cope with that,” there was a brief pause, “There’s a lot of shit that I’ve done that I regret. But that…what I did to you, that’s definitely towards the top of the list. I’ve spent so long thinking about how to apologize for it. I’ve tried but I could never follow through on it. I’ve ripped up hundreds of letters, and chickened out of dozens of phone calls because I don’t fucking know how to tell you that I’m sorry. But I am. You didn’t deserve what I did to you.”

You never held your breath on it, but you had spent so long wanting to hear him say those words to you. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes as the rain against the tin above you began to clatter louder and louder.

Taking a deep breath, you looked over at him, “Thank you.”

He figured that after everything that’d already been said, going for broke wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, “You said you don’t hate me anymore…do you still love me, though?”

“I wish I didn’t,” you figured the least you could do was match his honesty, “but I do. I probably always will because, well, how perfect is that?” you shook your head and finished off what little was still left of your beer.

You didn’t ask EZ if he loved you. The look in his eyes gave you all the answer you needed to that question. But you knew that if you asked, and he told you, all the years you’d spent trying to piece yourself back together were going to go right down the drain. You loved him, and he loved you, but there was a chasm between the two of you now. The distance between the two people sitting on the clubhouse porch, and the two people who argued on the steps of Felipe’s house that day so many years ago felt untraversable.

And EZ knew it. He wanted you to ask—he wanted to tell you how much he loved you back then, and how much he still loved you now. But you weren’t giving him the opportunity. The silence you met him with spoke volumes.

“I hope this is a good thing for you, EZ,” you nodded towards the clubhouse, “You need a good thing.”

He felt the air get sucked out of his lungs as you said that. He had no idea what he was in for when he offered to have a beer with you, but it wasn’t all of this. He was glad that you both got some things off your chests, but he had no idea where the two of you were supposed to go from here.

You need a good thing.

He mulled it over. The club would be a good thing. Angel would be a good thing. But not you. You weren’t the good thing, not anymore.

Pulling your legs up so that you were sitting cross-legged on the chair, you looked back out at the rain bouncing off the dirt of the lot surrounding the clubhouse, “Thanks for the beer, EZ.”

The nonchalance that he’d met you with when he first saw you in the clubhouse was being thrown back in his face, and it stung, “You’re welcome.”

He stood up off his chair, grabbing both your beer bottles as he went. You contemplated letting him walk away without saying anything else to him, but you couldn’t help it, “Hey.”

He looked back at you as he pulled the door open, “Yea?”

“Welcome home,” there was a small smile on your face but you knew he could see the sadness in your eyes.

He nodded, his grip subconsciously tightening around the bottles in his hand as he felt his chest get heavier, “Thank you.”

[rae-gar-targaryen]

... the college!EZ vibes tho.