#ez reyes x black reader

[saturnville]

I have to be that person for a second. I have released 5-6 fics in the last two weeks. why? because I fed off the love and interaction I was given. when you take the time to appreciate and interact with writers AND their content, they're more enticed and more motivitated to produce more content. so as you prepare to ask a creator to feed you more content, ask yourself if you're taking the time to REBLOG, like, and comment on their work.

thanks again for your guys' support. it pulled me out of a writing slump <3

[hennyjwrites]

Imagine making bet over your man Ez Reyes

“Mamacita I’m telling you Ez isn’t like that with any other woman except you.” Angel told you, chugging his beer. Coco agreed with him. You took a peek at your boyfriend Ezekiel who was behind the bar talking to Leticia. Angel put his beer down on the table and looked at you. “I’ve seen whores crawl out of here after fucking with my brother.”

You scoffed not truly believing it. “Ezekiel is a teddy bear, just with a gun and tattoos and you can’t make me think any different Angel, he’s not rough in any aspect, he’s the perfect gentleman.” You grumbled while taking a sip of your drink.

Coco smirked and leaned forward. “How much are you willing to bet on that?” Angel smirked, leaning forward too. “There’s a party here tonight. Let’s see how long boyscout can keep up that whole gentleman act if you piss him off good enough.”

You thought about it for a second before reaching into your bag. You pulled out a 100 dollar bill showing the boys. “100 dollars, says Ez will still be my teddy bear, no matter what I do tonight.” The two men agreed with the bet pulling out 100 dollar bills as well.

-

When you came back to the clubhouse you already knew what your plan was going to be. The dress you had on was already pushing it. Ez has told you this dress was only to be worn when you were with him. The clubhouse was crowded as you pushed your way through to the bar. Men were staring and whistling as you shoved past them.

Angel whistled as you sat down next to him at the bar. Ez was serving someone so you turned to him. “Damn! You really trying to send my brother back to jail tonight?” He joked. Coco slid next to him with a girl under his arm. “Boy Scout!” He yelled grabbing Ez’s attention. Ez looked over at him irritated. “Look at your girl, her ass is practically falling out!” You snapped your head towards him and a laughing Angel.

Ez took a look at you and what you had on and his smile dropped instantly. He kept his cool as he walked towards you. “Hey baby!” You smiled as you acted like you didn’t know what you were doing. Ez used his two fingers to beckon you around the bar table. “Cmere.” He told you gently. When you stood and walked over Ez got the clearest look over your ass. It bounced with every step you took towards him. Angel and Coco snickered at his facial expressions.

When you got in front of Ez you didn’t expect him to pull you by your arm into his chest. He held your arm between you both as your eyes widened. “What I tell you about wearing this shit?” He whispered in your face. You looked around and saw the only two looking at you both were Coco and Angel with big smirks on their faces. Ez grabbed your chin bringing your face back towards him. “I'm talking to you querida. Why’re you wearing this?”

You bit your lip shrugging your shoulders. “I wanted to look nice for you Ezekiel, I didn’t think you’d mind.” You whispered, leaning up and kissing his lips. Ez melted into your kiss, the little anger he had was leaving his body slowly. You smiled into the kiss, knowing you still had the rest of the night to piss him off.

When you pulled back ez looked over your body. “Sit down, you're staying near me for the night.” He looked you over and scoffed. You pouted and stomped your way over to a seat. You sat next to Coco and angel.

“Aww your teddy bear put you on punishment?” Coco teased.

“Fuck you Coco.”

Angel grabbed a beer and looked at you. “Not too late to call off the bet.” He smirked and put on an innocent face. “Just add an extra 100 and we’ll call it off.”

You scoffed and looked over at Ez who wasn’t paying you any attention but still had a smile on his face. “You’re outta your mind Reyes. I’m going to win.” Both men looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. They both stood up. “Have fun sitting here for the night.” Angel teased. They walked away, leaving you there.

-

When Ez said you weren’t allowed to move he meant it. Every time you tried to get up he would grab your arm and yank you back to your seat. You were on your third drink gently swirling the straw around the top. You looked back to see a guy was staring at you. When you caught his eye, he motioned you over. You smiled knowing that this could get ez to blow his top.

You turned and went to stand but Ez quickly caught your arm. “Sit your ass down Y/N, I wasn’t playing.” He gritted.

“I’m just going to the bathroom Ezekiel, I’ll come right back.” You lied. He looked you over for a second before letting you go. “Come back quickly, love.”

You stood up and made your way through the crowd towards the guy. He was exceptionally good looking but looked nothing like ez. You stopped when you got in front of him. “Wanna dance?” He asked, leaning down to whisper in your ear. You noticed that some of the clubhouse members were looking in your direction. You brought your attention back to the guy and nodded your head. “Yea Cmon.”

You brought him closer to the middle of the dance floor, and started to show out. You had your ass facing towards him as your hips moved to the music. He helped you move against him as he placed his hands on your hips. You didn’t even notice that angel and coco had made their way to the bar where your man was.

-

“Where’s your woman, little brother?” Angel asks with a smirk on his face.

“Bathroom.” Ez said, picking up another drink glass.

“Nah she ain’t boyscout.” Coc said, nudging his head towards you. Ez followed his direction and his whole demeanor changed. The guy had his face in your neck as he held you close against him, while you moved your hips seductively. “What the fuck?” He whispered, squeezing the glass in his hands. The glass broke as he watched the guy land a kiss on your neck. Ez practically flew from around the bar, and bolted in your direction. Coco and Angel smiled knowing the money was theirs.

-

You didn’t even realize what you were doing right now. You were still dancing with guys as multiple people stared at you both. They knew you were Ezekiel's girlfriend and they couldn’t believe you had the balls to do this in front of everyone.

You were suddenly pulled out of your trance when you were yanked into someone’s chest. You gasped slightly when the same hand was brought to your throat. You looked up and your breath hitched when you saw it was ez and how angry he looked.

“What’re you doing?” He hissed, holding you in place. Saying he was mad would be an understatement. He was pissed. His face had a slight red tint. You didn’t know what to say to him as your mouth remained open. “You don’t have a voice now?” He asked.

The guy you were dancing with suddenly intervened. “Hey man, you can’t do that, I had her first!” Ez didn’t even give another chance to say anything as he ignored him. He kept his eyes on your scared features. Everyone around you both were looking at you even though most were still dancing and having fun

“You think I’m joking right? I let your ass get up and you come over here being a hoe?”he chuckled as you kept silent. “Fine. You don’t wanna talk, I got something for you querida.”

Ez started to drag you towards the bathroom with his hand still in your throat. The guy you were dancing with grabbed your arm. “Hey man, where's your problem?” Ez let you go for a second and punched the guy. He fell out instantly as he was practically sleeping. You gasped as ez grabbed you again, yanking you into the bathroom.

“Ezekiel.” You whispered as he locked the door behind him and started to stalk towards you. “Baby I’m sorry.” Your words fell upon deaf ears as he pushed you over the sink.

“You remember how silent you were a few seconds ago?” He asked, looking at you through the mirror. “Yea stay that way.” He unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall to the ground. He reached under and rubbed your clit slightly, making sure you were wet enough. He grabbed ahold of himself, pushing just the tip into you. He watched as your head dropped, before he grabbed your hair and yanked you back up. “What did I tell you when we first got together?” He asked.

As soon as your mouth opened to speak, he shoved his entire length into you, making you cry out. He didn’t stop there, but instead moved harshly. “I can’t hear you querida.” He told you, slapping your ass. When you still didn’t reply to his question but moaned instead, he brought his hand around your neck, gripping it and pulling you back. “Answer me, I’m not playing with you.” He still kept the same pace as you struggled to answer.

“You told m-me, oh my god!” You moaned out as he hit your spot. “Finish what you were saying.” Ez told you. You mustered your strength to reply. “You told me, y-you dont s-share what’s your Ezekiel!” You cried out as he moved and brought a hand down to your, clit rubbing in fast circles to get you there quicker.

“So why did I see my woman, acting like a little slut, with someone else other than me?” He growled. Your legs shook as the coil in your stomach snapped and you came around him. “I’m sorry ez!” You moaned out quietly. Your legs gave out and buckled underneath you but Ez quickly flipped you around and propped you in the sink. He wasted no time sliding back into you, making your back arch, “Oh you're definitely going to be sorry.”

-

Ez walked out of the bathroom with you leaning onto him. The mobility in your legs were gone. Multiple people locked eyes with you but quickly moved them. Ez guided you out of the party with a smirk on his face. You heard the guys hoot and holler , cheering on ez as you left. He walked you into his trailer.

“Lay down sweetheart, I’ll be back in a while.” He whispered with a smile like he didn’t just fuck the life out of you. He was back to being your little teddy bear. You laid down and closed your eyes as you heard the door shut behind him. As you were heading to sleep, your phone went off.

Nut jobs: We win the bet😂

[berberriescorner]

What love language(s) do you think EZ Reyes, Angel Reyes, Chris Evans, and Rio each have?

Oh, I love this! Sorry it took a minute to get back to you. I wanted to think it over and put a great deal of thought into my answer. It's kind of lengthy, so brace yourself😂 . Just a reminder, this is based on my opinion y'all. Don't jump down my throat if you disagree😂.

Angel Reyes:

His love language would be words of affirmation. The oldest Reyes (well technically the middle 😂👀) loves reassurance. He finds that in the small things. Hearing you tell him, "I love you, papa," or "I appreciate you." Means the world to him. It's just something about the way you say the words, "I'm proud of you," that warms his heart. He may come off as a nonchalant jerk, but deep down Angel has a heart of gold. Though he struggles with communication. He appreciates that it comes easy to you. That you know when he's trying to shut you out. "Angel, I've given you two days to stew in your anger. I don't know what the issue is, but that changes today. Talk to me. What's on your mind? What can I do to help?" This is enough to get him to release all his emotions. He loves that you're willing to listen to him vent. He feels you are the only person that can actually hear and understand him.

Angel also spills over into the love language of physical touch. He loves it when you two are just lounging around. His head is in your lap as you run your fingers through his hair, giving light kisses here and there. He loves when you play with the rings on his hands. Angel knows the feel of his cool rings soothes your heated skin. The warmth of your skin is a result of the naughty things he's always telling you. He loves getting you riled up, knowing that in a matter of minutes, you'll be begging to feel those ringed fingers messaging your silky flesh.

Ezekiel Reyes:

Like his older brother, this Reyes blends two different categories as well. Having spent quite a bit of time locked up. I would have to say that Ezekiel's first love language would be quality time. Losing all that time makes him appreciate that he has it now. He would want to spend as much time with his lady as possible. They don't even really have to be doing much, he just wants to be in her presence. He would love nothing more than to stay in, cuddled under a blanket reading one of his favorite books to you. He loves that you snuggle into him and listen, asking questions about the book here and there. EZ reads until he hears light snores fall from your lips. Looking down, he brushes the hair from your face, placing a kiss on your forehead. He would probably stare at you for a few moments and then carry you to bed, tucking you and himself in.

Then there is his secondary love language as much as he loves quality time. Ezekiel also has an appreciation for acts of service. He deals with a lot, whether it be family or the club. The fact that you're always willing to step in and help him out, makes him love you even more. He loves that you always stop in and check on his dad. That you offer to help him with household chores and cooking dinner. He doesn't have to worry about him on runs, because he knows you're there checking and spending time with Felipe.

Chris Evans:

We all know he tends to be a workaholic. Every time we turn around, he’s starring in a different project. I'm going to guess that his love language is quality time. He comes off as someone who likes to stay low-key and to himself. Chris also seems like a homebody. I can picture him wanting you all to himself, opting for a quiet evening alone at home. It could be a candle-lit dinner that the two of you made together. Maybe even a night cuddling in bed, binging your favorite movies/tv shows. I can picture him staring down at you, smiling at how cute your laugh sounds. His hand rubs your arm as you cuddle against him, eyes glued to the television. Eyes still locked on you, he’ll pull you closer and place a kiss on your forehead. Chris takes in your features, appreciating that you look gorgeous in just your PJs. You feel him staring, and once you've made eye contact, that quality time turns into passion.

You know what? I’m going to throw in physical touch as well. Chris has been on record saying he deals with anxiety. Hear me out. I’m willing to bet that he craves physical touch. It comes in handy when he’s dealing with stress or anxiety. I can picture the two of you spending time together in his hotel before a premiere or interview on a press tour. Yes, he’s walked the red carpet and sat down for numerous appearances, but his nerves run wild each time. With you by his side, the nerves and anxiety subside as you hug him tightly and kiss his cheek wishing him good luck for the night. “You feeling a little anxious, baby? Just relax. That charming smile and charismatic personality will get you through it,” you tell him as you rub your hands up and down his arms. The tension and worry slowly drain from his body from the feel of your touch. “Thank you, honey,” he pecks your lips as he prepares to head out.

Rio:

Actions speak louder than words with Mr. Gang-Friend himself. In my opinion, Rio is a blend of two love languages, just like the other sexy men listed above. The first is acts of service, and the second: physical touch. He takes pride in his work and loves being the sole provider of the house (even if his significant other chooses to have a successful career of their own). His partner speaks his love language by taking care of other things. Rio can always look forward to coming home to a warm meal. To him, it doesn’t matter if you cooked it yourself or ordered takeout. Just the act of making sure he’s eaten is enough to make him feel loved. You pick up any slack he may have with the kids when his work interferes. All of you understand the importance of what he’s trying to do for the family. It’s also little things, such as having a fresh cup of coffee waiting for him in the mornings. Rio loves the way you take care of him when he’s feeling under the weather. His stubborn ass will swear up and down that he’s not sick. “Baby, I’m fine. Just tired is all.” That’s until it hits him hard, turning him into a whiny sick man child. “Baby, can you make me some soup? Please and thank you, mama.” He’ll roll his eyes at the fact that you were right and call him out about it. He’s fully aware that you have other responsibilities, which makes him even more appreciative.

Are we surprised that the other love language is physical touch? Y’all know this man can’t keep his hands to himself, and he loves that you are the same. Believe it or not, what he appreciates most is that you always know when he needs it. Over time you’ve learned his moods and mannerisms. It’s not hard for you to tell when he’s had a horrible day. Rio doesn’t even have to utter a single word. You just know. One look at him, and you’re crossing the room to get to him as quickly as possible. Rio, meeting your embrace, soaks in the feeling of your arms wrapping around his waist. He grins at the fact that you have to stand on your toes to peck his lips. This small gesture alone is enough to ease his tense muscles. Rio will then spend time with the kids as you warm his plate. Once he’s nice and full, it’s bedtime for everyone. The two of you shower together once the kids have been tucked in. After a nice calming shower, the both of you fall into bed. He’ll slide between your legs, lying on your chest. As the pair of you cuddle, it makes him comfortable enough to vent about his frustrations from the day. Your hands massage his scalp and eventually lull him into a peaceful sleep.

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did answering it😆🥰! Be sure to leave your thoughts. Please feel free to comment and reblog, lovelies!

[cloveroctobers]

black mascara — EZ REYES

A|N: in honor of the season 5 trailer, I had to write a little something. This one will actually be small since I don’t have too much to go off of in writing this but I can’t lie and say I’m not a little fired up! So get comfy.

GIF BELONGS to: @dailymayans

·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆·

“See that crave for power…that’s seeping through your pores is exactly what’s gonna get you killed, Ezekiel.”

“…if that happens to be the case, I hope they know their prayers well because I’ll still be here from beyond the grave.”

She did not know this person that she sat face to face with. She didn’t even know what that statement means. Majority of the time Hadiza kept out of The Mayans business, despite the fact that her older brother Franky interacted with them from time to time. She knew Ezekiel way before he decided to join the club and although she’s seen the Mayans around town, she didn’t have much of a opinion when the man first brought the idea to the table a week before his release.

Now she wished she would have.

Back then she trusted that Ez knew what he was doing.

This Ezekiel was not the man she used to know.

Hadiza had a feeling this would happen, that as soon as Ezekiel got into the president’s chair, a whole new level of danger would be unleashed. She saw the shift in Ezekiel throughout his time in the charter happen gradually, that her worries started to keep her up at night. The lack of sleep even proposed her to talk to Felipe about it, who simply listened and still had faith in his baby boy until Gabby came around.

Which was kinda foul the longer she thought about it. Was her word really not good enough when she’s been around? She’ll have to take that up with Felipe at a later time, respectfully.

She’s known Ezekiel since high school…it’s been years since they stepped into their adulthood. However a good portion of Ezekiel’s youth was ripped away from him the night his mother died.

Yes people change…but not like this.

Hadiza was beginning to think that a piece of Ezekiel died with his mother that day but what could she say about him now? So much has happened since then and He wasn’t the same—sure it was foolish to think that he would be completely healed from that tragedy but the light in his pretty honey eyes, did not reflect what was beyond them or what was on the outside.

“So that’s it then,” she raised her shoulders, “you’re gonna waste your life away for reckless shit? You’re better than this Ezekiel.”

“What do you exactly expect me to do? This is the duty that I’ve strived for. And you’re looking at me as if we didn’t know it would always end up being this way. I know you didn’t think this shit was rainbows and daisies, you’re much smarter than gabby in that sense.” Ezekiel bit, yanking a cigarette from his pocket.

Hadiza shook her head, “speaking ill of the dead…somebody that you killed and claimed to love like she was just nothing to you. I’m not feeling this. Or you.”

“There’s the door, fucking use it,” Ezekiel flared his nostrils as he pointed at the exit, “you’re the one who came here trying to preach to me what I’ve already heard. And what I’ve told myself before back when I was weak. What? you thought shit was gonna change because it’s coming from you? I’ve got to be smarter than that, especially when it comes to the club and nothing you can say to me right now…matters.”

“Then what does, motherfucker?!” She was on her feet now, “greed? Selfishness? No wait. I got it, your ego.”

The man lifted his shoulders, not needing to say anything more or seemed to be the least bit phased by the irritation that was showing in his long-time friend’s frame.

“Going after the sons—

“I don’t want to hear it.” Ez glared, “I’ve seen enough wars to not fear a damn thing. Don’t you ever question: Where does fear get you, diza? Look in the mirror. Everybody pays a price with the cards they’ve been dealt.”

The woman chewed down on her bottom lip in annoyance, “and just how much are you willing to lose?”

“That’s something I’ve got to reflect on in my own time…but you’re here.” Ezekiel kept his eyes trained on the woman, puffing on his cigarette.

Before Hadiza could lose the courage she said, “Fuck your subliminal and fuck you.”

“We’ve already done that, remember? With Sofia watching in the background. I think the message then was very clear and something you should thank me for.”

That was so low and disrespectful, considering that Hadiza had a moment and went to someone who she thought cared about her well-being. At that time she just received the news that her fiancé wanted to break off the engagement after cheating on her with a co-worker and the first person she went to was Ezekiel. He was the first person she thought about and felt complete with—a mistake on her end, sure but she wasn’t expecting him to have company other than Sally.

The smirk that was on his lips was smacked right off by her hand. However that did not stop Ez from yanking on her wrist and getting into her face.

Anyone was fair game at this point.

This she knew deep down.

He could end it all, right here in this trailer.

What made her any different?

Did he even love her anymore? Or was she just another ploy in the way Ezekiel floated around life now? Hadiza was not part of the club so why was she becoming collateral damage?

“You don’t get to come here and think our friendship and reminiscing about the old times, or guilt trip me about Gabby, would stop me or save me from myself. That’s not your job, never was amor. Sorry I couldn’t live in your fantasy of being a good ol’ friend to you anymore. But that’s life, so either continue standing by and keep your mouth shut or take a walk and don’t look back.” Ezekiel gritted into her face and that hurt more than him squeezing her wrist.

The black ink dripped down her brown cheeks as she hissed, “you’re done to me.”

And this she hoped she meant. She couldn’t stick around and she knew Ezekiel was pushing her to do so but ultimately it was her choice. Her eyes stung from the makeup as she clenched them closed, fighting away the memories of their teenage years: watching Ezekiel love Emily, having intense debates over literature in class and outside of, him being there for her first heartbreak and attempting to get angel to drive him to the asshole who broke her heart house to egg it and piss on their front doorstep, to Marisol Reyes encouraging her to keep loving her son the best way that she knew how…

“Good,” Ezekiel breathed into her face, shoving her fist back down her by her sides.

He broke eye contact after awhile since she no longer had any words for him. He placed the cigarette back to his lips as he slouched back on the couch. Hadiza swiped the mascara from the bags underneath her eyes, deeply inhaling and battled with herself on what to do or say.

The words fell empty just like the relationship she once had with the man she called her best friend.

She sniffed as she snatched up her bag, making sure she had her keys before she took her exit. The door to the trailer opened on her way, revealing Sofia who easily picked up on the tension in the home. Her dark eyes shifted between the pair but Hadiza patiently waited for the wavy haired woman to get out of her way.

Ez pressed his elbows into his knees as he grunted, “What is it, Sofia?”

If Hadiza continued to be foolish she would have tried to believe that the tone of his voice was telling her something, besides him being an asshole. That perhaps he didn’t truly want their friendship to end but that’s the difference between the two, she didn’t have to be selfish.

“Um, you’ve some company. Bishop and Tranq are outside.” Sofia informed as she stepped into the trailer with Sally.

Ez quickly got to his feet, putting his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray and brushed his shoulder by Hadiza as he left the trailer. Sofia easily picked up on the woman taking a sharp breath at his actions but didn’t speak on it.

It didn’t take the most intelligent person to understand that something transpired between the two. Their relationship didn’t threaten what she had with EZ and in a way, Sofia actually thought it was beautiful. How their relationship didn’t appear to be transactional or circumstantial. How simply being next to each other was enough for them. Or it used to be. Yet Sofia wasn’t naïve to think that it would last with the new propositions EZ took on.

Sometimes that’s just the way life worked out and the sooner Hadiza figured that out…maybe she could protect her heart a bit better.

It was a little awkward as Hadiza had to collect herself, hand on the trailer’s door before she went outside. Sofia wasn’t one for words and she wasn’t sure anything she could say would provide comfort for Hadiza either. After what happened right here in this trailer, weeks ago, it’s not like the two had the chance to really talk about it.

They didn’t have to but it seemed like Hadiza always had a lot on her mind.

Thankfully for Sofia, Hadiza pushed the door open, not sparing her a glance, either placing herself on autopilot or trying her best to ignore her presence—it didn’t bother Sofia one way or another as Hadiza left the home.

“See you around then,” Sofia muttered, taking a seat on the couch, after the door clicked shut behind Hadiza.

Her long legs kicked up the dirt as she passed by the group of men on the side. She couldn’t get away from the place fast enough, feeling her heart being squeezed with each step she took.

“Hey,” Tranq started to call out to the woman but it was almost as if she heard nothing while she shoved herself into her car.

Bishop’s eyes were back on EZ as his eyes briefly burned into Hadiza’s retreating form. He just knew the Reyes brother fucked that up and it’s a shame because he was fond of the girl, despite her having a connection to a pig. Of course he never fully trusted her (by no fault of her own) but she was kind enough whenever she rarely showed up to club.

He kept it silent but he knew his body language did enough talking for him as EZ focused back on him.

“Tonight is the night, round everybody up.” Ez ordered, stalking off and daring a glance at Hadiza’s car and over his shoulder as he stood on the steps of his trailer, while she backed off the lot and sped away, eyes solely on what was in front of her and not what was left behind in the rear view.

Ez swallows down the small lump that wants to form in his throat but that wasn’t important right now. He had other things to tend to and Hadiza was no longer one of them.

Instead of running back, she ran to her mother’s arms who was less than thrilled to see her baby this upset over a man who she trusted to be good to her child.

Later Hadiza found herself in her mother’s hands again when she received the devastating but expected news from Angel Reyes on her door step. She broke down in the doorway right in front of him and she knew the eldest brother couldn’t handle that amount of heartache that he also shared, despite him placing a kiss to the top of her head and leaving her with one of EZ’s dog tags, he left her with the woman who gave her life to deal with the weight of the lost on his own.

Hadiza then sent a letter to Felipe a couple of days before she decided to take her life elsewhere, away from all that Santo Padre showed her. She wasn’t sure if there would even be a funeral or memorial but she had to get out while she can still stand.

Antigua was always a place Hadiza wanted to visit and now she can say that she lives here comfortably.

She left her mother on the front deck to get them a refill of her famous rum punch that was leftover from her mother’s house party yesterday night. Hadiza was humming to herself in solitude until she heard her mother screaming out to her from outside.

The woman did not hesitate to race around the house with a bat, ready to fight off any Osprey’s that decided to invade their property again. Hadiza held her breath as she yanked open the door, eyes wild as she searched for her mother on the deck.

“What is it, ma?” Hadiza exhaled, seeing her mother sitting up on one of the wicker chairs.

Her mother nudged her chin towards the front and Hadiza cautiously took a step towards the railing. A few of her fingertips rested on the banister as she leaned over a bit, looking over at the new found community they both settled into. It was quiet as usual, air warm, seaweed scented, and fresh.

She wasn’t sure what had spooked her mother until her eyes settled down by the cars parked along the curb. Her eyes moved to the left a bit and she had to rub at one of them to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. It tended to do that the first couple of weeks she settled in the country. Lately she’s been okay. A figure stood by a identical golf cart (that they had in their driveway) that was parked right behind Hadiza’s car, fitted cap on their head as their hands held onto a mobile device.

Her throat went dry before she could even muster up and ask if she could help the person locate who they were searching for…because she knew it was him before those honey eyes looked up at her.

“Ezekiel.” She shuddered, feeling her mother get to her feet behind her, like the DJ Khalid meme, almost like she wasn’t still healing from the last Osprey attack two weeks ago.

Her mother also gripped onto the banister, “Oh hell no. I rebuke this demonic spirit, get away from here!”

And tossed the freshly watered plant at Ezekiel who side-stepped the assault.

“Hey, Mrs—it’s just me!”

“I know! Aren’t you supposed to be dead, you bastard?!” She yelled back.

Hadiza whispered at the woman, “Ma, please.”

The woman humphed, folding her arms as she waddled back to the chair, already aware how this would go.

Hadiza pointed the bat at Ezekiel, “wait right there.”

“Not if you’re gonna beat my ass.”

“I’ll think about it by time I get downstairs.”

Hadiza’s mother cackled at that, knowing she raised her baby with some sort of sense.

Hadiza couldn’t tell you how she felt but the brain fog was kicking in. She weeped over this man too many times just for him to be here in the flesh, like they all didn’t experience the hell he indulged in back in Santo Padre.

Her mother was right to think a demon was standing in front of their home. The anger Hadiza directed at EZ after receiving the news of his death was like no other emotion Hadiza’s had before but she found peace in Antigua.

She halted at the front door, noticing EZ fumbling with his fingers after the phone disappeared from his hold. Hadiza took her time going down the few front steps, crossing through the grass and down the slope to the gravel.

The man looked up at her approach, carefully reaching up to lift the cap from his head to mess around with the brim of the hat as Hadiza moved closer but almost not close enough.

His eyes immediately went to her head, noticing that the mountain of coarse hair that she had was long gone into a buzzed style now.

He smiled, “you finally did it huh? I know you’ve been eating ‘em up more than ever out here.”

And she couldn’t stand it, her eyes scanning the old yellowing of bruises and cuts on his face, puffing out a laugh at his compliment as she almost collapsed into his arms, bringing his body so tight to hers that he thought he would break her rib cage but he followed through with the same actions.

Her chin buried into his shoulder, one of his hands around the small of her back, and the other cradling the back of her head, he heard her sob against him and he couldn’t be more apologetic.

When they pulled apart, she held onto his face analyzing the marks on his skin before she inflicted her own attack on his lower half.

“Hey! Ow!” A good whack to the top of his head, made Ezekiel stop taking the hits as he gripped her wrists again.

Except this time was different, his touch was much more softer.

“I’m sorry okay. I’m sorry for filling your head up with doubts and making you believe that I didn’t give a shit about our friendship. When quite frankly—no pun intended, you’re the best got damn thing that’s been in my life.” His hands slipped into holding her hands into his own large ones.

And the way he was staring at Hadiza, let her know that this was the old Ezekiel she had missed. It was the spark in his eyes that made her feel safe, given what he got himself involved in.

He could see her mind spinning with questions, the corners of her eyes damp with tears.

“What did I say to you when we first became friends?”

“…’jalapeños on these nachos are missing and I make better ones than these whack ass ones you’re eating.’” Hadiza actually thought about this.

Which made a goofy grin appear on Ez’s face and he shook his head with a sigh, “yeah I think I did say that but after that? I said you’re stuck with me if you choose me. It would always be Kiel and Diza for life, remember?”

It was ironic that he wanted to think back when he basically was rude as hell to her about this in his trailer months ago. The bitterness was still in the pit of her stomach but the higher road wanted her to be happy that this man, her best friend, Ezekiel Lorenzo Reyes was very much still alive.

Hadiza wasn’t sure how the fuck he did it but here he was, wiping away her black mascara before holding her hands in his again.

A small smile appeared on her lips as she peered down at their hands, lifting their conjoined hands up to place her lips right on the back of his hands. Ezekiel let out a breath he wasn’t aware that he was holding.

“For life.” She repeated, staring at him underneath her eyelashes.

He nodded his head, not breaking eye contact as she pulled the necklace from around her and placed it back on Ezekiel where it belonged. He glanced down at it, a new wave of emotions hitting him as he realized a piece of him was always with the one woman he deeply cared for.

“Let’s get inside.” Hadiza told him, as he leaned over to place a kiss to her full cheek.

She turned, her hand still resting in one of his hands as he reached for the fallen bat with the other, “think I might need this if I try to give your mom a hug.”

Hadiza laughed, “Baby steps, Kiel.”

“That’s fair.” He answers from behind her, letting her lead the way to her new home.

Perhaps now here in the Caribbean, they had the chance to create a better life, a better friendship together with no more black ink or blood spills blinding the way.

·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆ ·˚ ༘☄. *. ⋆·

Continue along with my anthology works that were written during the spring season here.

[nunubug99]

I have some thoughts……and some prayers

Yep….never really feeling at home anywhere and always in survival mode

[bullet-prooflove]

Making Memories: Angel Reyes x Reader (feat: EZ Reyes, Felipe Reyes)

Tagging: @witches-unruly-heart @fleureeee @keyweegirlie @infinity-mars @danzer8705

Secret - You keep a secret from Angel.

Traditions - You and Angel make your own traditions this Christmas.

Home - Felipe knows your pregnant.

Angel’s worried, he’s worried because you haven’t spoken a word since the two of you have gotten home from the hospital and Angel doesn’t know how to fix it. He doesn’t know what you need, how to help you, he doesn’t even know how to help himself because that grief you’re feeling, he’s feeling it too.

It’s an ache in his chest, an acute pain that throbs through his entire body as he looks at you, curled up on the couch, your gaze fixated on the TV. You’re not watching the movie that Felipe’s left on, not really. Your gaze is distant, you knees tucked up underneath you. He wants to reach out and touch you but you feel so far away right now.

You don’t acknowledge him when he puts the mug of tea down on the end table alongside of you, not even when he takes up residence on the couch beside you, his palms pressed between his knees.

“Say something.” He pleads. “Please Lila…”

“I feel so empty.” You say softly, your eyes focused on the screen as your palm comes to rest on the space your son used to reside. “One minute he was there and the next…”

You’d miscarried tonight.

You’d been pregnant with his son Antonio for almost five months before he was snatched away from you. The bleeding had started a couple of hours ago, you’d known immediately that something was wrong, it was at the hospital they confirmed it. Your beautiful boy was gone.

“I can’t do this again.” You whisper, shaking your head. “I don’t want another baby.”

“We don’t have to.” Angel murmurs as he wraps his arms around you and gathers you up close. “This little family we have right now, I promise you, it’s enough.”

***

You have a memory quilt, it’s one that your Grandmother sewed during the final months of her life. It’s draped at the bottom of the bed you share with Angel for the colder nights you have in Santo Padre. It’s made of different fabrics, aspects of your history she’d collected throughout the years. You’d been thinking of making one for Valeria out of the baby clothes she was quickly growing out, you’d planned to do the same for baby Antonio after he was born.

It's past midnight when Felipe finds Angel in the garage, moving boxes of junk around. You’ve been asleep for hours at this point, in the chair in Valeria’s bedroom. You sleep there a lot recently, dozing off as you watch the raise and fall of her chest.

“Angel.” Felipe says, his voice gruff as he studies the chaos of the garage. His son is standing in the midst of it all, wearing a white wifebeater and black basketball shorts. His hair is ruffled, sticking up in all directions. “Angel what are you doing?”

“I need mom’s sewing machine.” He tells Felipe as he moves another box out of the way. “There’s something I need to do.”

“You need the sewing machine? At midnight?” Felipe questions and Angel sighs before turning to face his father.

“Lila is struggling.” He tells his father. “She feels like a part of her is missing, she doesn’t know how to move on and I think I have a way to help with that, I just…”

He trails off, expecting reproach.

“You need to find the sewing machine.” Felipe says instead as he steps into the garage and begins to shift some boxes. “The last time I saw it, it was over here.”

***

The problem they discover is that neither of them know how to sew. Angel thought it would be a plug and play situation and Felipe thought because he’s watched his wife do it so many times, he’d be able to do the same thing. The truth is it’s a lot more complicated than either of them realised.

It’s EZ that comes to the rescue, EZ  the boy scout, EZ who spent eight years in prison mending orange jumpsuits and sewing new ones as part of his ‘rehabilitation’.

The three of them fall into an easy rhythm. Felipe and Angel cut out the shapes, organising them whilst EZ uses the sewing machine to bind the pieces together. You’re up in Yuma at the moment, helping Manny set up the new pot farm. Angel thinks some time away will be good for you, that it’ll give you some space to work through your feelings.

“This looks like your old sheets.” EZ remarks, picking up a scrap of fabric during a break from the sewing machine.

Filipe’s making them coffee while Angel cradles his daughter Valeria to his chest, feeding her with a bottle.

“It is.” Angel tells him, wiping the spit up from around his daughter’s mouth with a towel. “This whole things a memory blanket. Valeria’s baby grows, Antonio’s things, the first time we…”

EZ drops the plaid fabric and Angel rolls his eyes.

“I’ve washed them since them.”

It takes them three days to finish the quilt. They work diligently, putting the whole thing together and when they’re done Angel can’t quite believe what they’ve managed to accomplish. It’s a patchwork of your relationship, your family. There’s pieces of him and the kids, but there’s swatches of Felipe, and EZ too. They’ve even managed to incorporate a shirt of his mother’s into the design.

“That looks good right?” He asks the other men as he holds it up for them to see. “I mean we did a great job?”

“Yea.” Felipe says, his voice a little rough because that’s his family right there, laid out on that quilt. “I think Lila’s going to love it.”

***

You’re tired when you get home that night, bone achingly so. Angel can see it as he takes your bag from you at the door. You smell like kush when he holds you and it takes him back to the early days, before Valeria, when the two of you were a little wild. He lets you get settled on the couch before he brings out the quilt. He doesn’t say anything, he just drapes it across your lap before he sits down alongside of you and gathers you close.

Your finger run over the fabrics, Valeria’s baby clothes, Antonio’s sleepsuit, your fingers come to linger on the plaid before you tilt your head towards him and say.

“Angel, did you make me a fuck quilt?”

You laugh then and it’s a rich, lovely sound that resonates through his entire being. It’s been a while since he’s heard that noise and he knows in that moment that despite the tragedy you’ve suffered, the two of you, you’re going to be alright.

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

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[imagineredwood]

Lie To Me

Request: Imagine the song Lie To Me by 5SOS for Angel? Ez? one of those two

Pairing: Angel Reyes x reader

Warnings: Breakups, emotional pain, angst with no comfort 😬

Word count: 580

Angel could feel his heartbeat in his ears as he watched you. Watching as you smiled and laughed. Watched as you took a sip from your glass. Watched as your tongue snaked out to lick away the drop that ran down your bottom lip. Watched as you fanned yourself, the alcohol warming you up in the stuffed bar. Watched as the man you were with took your empty glass from you when you swallowed down the rest of the drink. Watched as he ordered you another. Watched as you took it from him with a smile and wink. Watched as you leaned forward and offered him a kiss, the man indulging you and kissing you back in a way that showed it was not the first not the tenth time.

That was your new man. Angel knew. He could tell. In the way you touched him. In the way you enjoyed his company. In the way you looked at him.

Once upon a time, you looked at Angel the same way.

But not anymore.

Not since you left him for not giving you enough attention. Not since you left him for not being around enough. Too many late nights. Too many missed dates. Too many sleepless nights in an empty bed.

It wasn't his fault, not entirely. He tried. The club was just too important, and you were tired of waiting. Worried you were wasting valuable time.

'We won't be young forever, Angel.' you had told him. You wanted a man that would be around often, put you first. Not one you had to share with a club. And by the looks of it, you'd found him.

Angel tore his eyes away from you but continued to steal glances. On one, you looked in his direction at the same time and locked eyes. Angel felt his pulse quicken. But just as quickly as you had looked at him, you looked away. And you didn't look over again. You stayed focused on your friends and your man, and it killed Angel. He was falling apart. Barely ate, barely slept.

You on the other hand had never looked better. You were glowing. Eyes bright. Smile sparkling.

Happy.

You were happy.

Without him.

Finally happy.

He didn't fault you; you deserved to be happy. It just hurt that you were when he was left in shambles, feeling like everything had crashed down around him. He couldn't move on it seemed. Couldn't forget you, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how desperately he tried to replace you or pretend you didn't exist.  He had tried to erase every trace of you from his life to try and heal, and all it took was putting eyes on you once to undo whatever minuscule progress he had made.

He watched as your man got up, making his way to the bathroom, a small line queued up inside. He'd be in there for a little bit. At least five minutes.

Maybe that was all he needed. Just five minutes. Five minutes to talk to you. Five minutes to see where your head was at. Five minutes to see if it was real, even though he knew it was. Five minutes to have some more of your attention, dirty looks from your homegirls be damned. Five minutes to ask you if you still loved him. And if that universe was in his favor, you would lie, so he could hear you say it one last time.

General taglist

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

Mayans MC taglist

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

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

Angel taglist

@maciiiofficial @abby-splace @redpoodlern @justazzie @myakai13 @fanfictiontrash9

[onesstop]

love this series so much!!! you're such a great writer 😭😫

I’ll Take Your Man(s) Masterlist

YN and EZ have been best friends since middle school. She’s stuck by his side through thick and thin, even when she’s going through her mess of a life and he abandons her for Emily. Then one day, she meets and bewitches the husband of the woman she hates the most, Miguel Galindo. Now YN finds herself effectively taking the attention from not one, but both men smitten with Emily. So does she choose her childhood best friend who was too afraid to voice his true feelings or does she chose the devil that wasn’t hesitant about expressing his feelings towards her?

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten 

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

[your-space-brain]

The Space Between

Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes x Reader - One Shot

Gif does not belong to me.

Moved from @spacedbrainnn

The way he looked at you could’ve melted a nun. His dark eyes were so brooding, with so many thoughts trapped behind them that he just couldn’t voice. His complicated mind held so many trapped notions that wouldn’t forth from his lips. He was given the curse of remembering everything.

You were his object of affection. He looked at you and the corners of his lips turned up, the subtle action lighting up his whole face. You watched him walk to you and raise his hand, to touch your fingertips to his.

You did the same, touching your fingertips to his rough ones, if it wasn’t for the clear barrier between you of glass. Instead, you were met with the smooth coolness, and he pulled his hand back as quickly as it was put up.

You could never be too sure in prison. There were eyes and ears everywhere, and as EZ picked up the black phone, so did you.

“Hey, mi ciela.” The phone receiver was pressed close to his mouth, so he could talk lower, so the others didn’t hear. He didn’t need you used as a weapon against him on the inside. His voice slowly soothed your nervous system.

“Hey, EZ.”

“How are you doing out there?”

“It’s lonely.”

“…I know.”

He didn’t regret taking the heat for the Reaper Run. He didn’t regret the beating that he got from the cops. He regretted leaving his heart behind on the outside.

“Have you been taking the money that I told Angel to give you?”

“Do I ever?”

He exhaled, a faint chuckle leaving his lips. You never did. You were so stubborn. You were about as headstrong as he was, if not more. If the situation was different, you’d argue with him.

“You need to. It’s my money.”

“I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about you.”

“I’m good, miel, I’m good.”

“There’s money on your books?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I got me, querida.”

“I know, but…” There was a moment of silence, your desperate eyes looking at his calmer, more stoic ones. “Are you keeping busy in there?”

“I try. They rip books down the spine so you only get part of them. Kind of hard to read a book when you start and stop right in the middle.”

You frowned, and changed the subject again. “Does it hurt bad?” You asked of the marrings on his skin from the police batons.

“Not too bad. Reminds me to keep moving.”

“Did they—”

“Reyes.”

They didn’t need to say it. Time’s up. 5 minutes, once a week. Your heart jumped in your throat as he stood.

“I love you.” You were desperate. He looked you right in your eyes, and you knew he wouldn’t say it.

‘I love you.’ He mouthed, before nodding as if to confirm it before he turned away. You could never be too careful. Showing emotion just got you hurt in there. 604,800 seconds, you would wait, just to get your 300 seconds with him.

— end —

[the-hinky-panda]

Vanishing Act (Kevin "KJ" Jimenez Fic)

Title: Vanishing Act (Part I of II)

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Kevin "KJ" Jimenez x Fem! Reader

Summary: You've lost everything: family members, your job with the US Marshals, your life, all because of one man: Lincoln Potter. When you get word that he's put a hit out on one DEA Agent Kevin Jimenez, you decide maybe you might get an ally in your quest for revenge. You just have to keep both of you and KJ alive until you can get your revenge on Potter.

***

Kevin Jimenez was never a lucky man. 

He was intelligent, detail oriented, dedicated to his work but luck had nothing to do with it. It certainly had nothing to do with the current state of his life, that was for certain. Two years of borderline obsession with the Galindo cartel that resulted in divorce papers from his wife, custody arguments about the kids, and for what? If luck had played a part in his life at all, then at least he would still have his job after all that. 

But Kevin Jimenez was never a lucky man.  

That is, until today. 

He has no idea how he managed to stand in the middle of his living room, bullets ricocheting off the walls, pictures, and decorations, and not so much as get nicked. 

Larry Bowen, on the other hand, is not so lucky. 

KJ is still standing in the middle of the room, no place to go for cover. Bowen is dead, two gunshots to his chest. EZ Reyes is to his right, Angel Reyes directly in front of him, and a third figure, a woman, dressed in black to his left. All three have guns pointed at each other. All he can do is hope his luck holds while the three armed assailants work this macabre interaction to its conclusion. 

“Put the fucking guns down!” the woman shouts. 

“You put your fucking gun down!” Angel yells back. 

EZ takes a shot at her, clipping her shoulder and she returns the favor, plaster from the wall next to his face exploding with the impact of her bullet. Angel raises his gun in KJ’s direction but the woman fires again, this time hitting Angel’s gun and knocking it from his hand. 

“Fuck!” Angel shakes his hand from the shock of his weapon being hit. “Who the fuck are you?” 

Your eyes are zeroed in now on EZ, who’s crouched low by the wall in the kitchen. Slowly, he takes his finger off the trigger of his gun and holds it up. You do the same and every one takes a breath. The three of you don’t move any closer to each other but you all do holster your pieces. Now that the immediate danger is over, the adrenaline surge that KJ felt with the instinct of fight or flight and he could do neither finally explodes. 

“What the actual fuck is happening?!” 

Both EZ and Angel are suspiciously quiet. It’s you, to everyone’s surprise, that answers. 

“Potter put a hit on you.” You motion to the two brothers. “My guess would be he hired these two bargain basement thugs to do it.” 

Angel shakes his head. “‘Bargain basement?’” 

EZ’s jaw ticks. “I was more offended by thugs.” 

KJ feels the sharpness of the betrayal of the hitmen being family in his chest. 

“Either way,” you continue, “Potter wants you dead for some reason, which means it’s in my best interest to keep you alive.” 

KJ swallows. “You want Galindo? The Cartel?” 

“I want Potter.” 

It doesn’t surprise him that the odd ADA has made enemies along the way in his career. There’s a story behind the venom you use when you say Potter’s name. This isn’t about saving him at all. It’s about using him as leverage. And as much as that would have infuriated him in the past, staring down the barrels of three guns and a dead boss have altered his perception somewhat. 

“Look,” EZ says, “whatever deal you have with Potter-” 

You hold up a hand. “Let me stop you there. Because I can tell you all about the deals that Potter makes. I guarantee that one or both of you are looking at a lifetime sentence in jail which will magically go away if you put a bullet in this man’s head. And if you don’t, you’re going to suffer, your family is going to suffer, and no one is going to have a happily ever after.” 

“What are you proposing?” Angel asks. 

You take out a set of car keys and toss them at Angel. “I have a car sitting three blocks over at the back of a dead end street. It’s set up with a pipe bomb underneath it with a remote control, the garage door opener clipped to the visor. There’s already a body in the front seat, same height and weight as your target. And I’ve already planted his ID and some other belongings in the car.” 

Angel looks at the keys. ���Why didn’t you just blow it before you came here?” 

You raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to need to add a couple more bodies to the car before I blew it.” Your eyes land on Bowen. “Glad I waited. If you’re worried about an investigation from the coroner blowing the cover, don’t. I’ve already paid him off to say it was Agent Jimenez.” 

“You’re CIA.” The realization leaves his mouth before KJ can stop it. Your efficiency, your thoroughness, your resources all point to Black Ops level type shit. But you’re here by yourself, that much is obvious. If you had a partner, they would have been involved in the firefight. They would help with the body. You’re rogue. 

“Something like that.” You state it with finality before turning to Angel and EZ. “Potter’s going to show up here to look over your handiwork in about twenty minutes. I suggest you get this poor son of a bitch out to the car and blow it before he arrives. Whatever deal you all had will still be honored.” 

EZ looks over KJ. “And what about him?” 

“You’re going to forget all about him. He’s my problem now.” 

***

Apparently, two hours into the drive up the coast, KJ realizes he’s not the only problem you have. That “clip” of the bullet from back at the house is still bleeding. He’s been watching the red stain grow, soaking the fabric of your black shirt and even spread to the upholstery of the driver’s seat of the Jeep Cherokee that may or may not be yours. If that wasn’t concerning enough, the thin sheen of sweat and pale coloring of your skin definitely is. 

“You should let me drive.” 

You scoff. “You don’t even know where we’re going.” 

“I would if you tell me.” 

“Not going to happen.” 

He sits back in the passenger seat. “Of course not. You’re just going to pass out from blood loss in another hour and run us off the road. So glad I survived the hit to die in a fiery crash somewhere near San fucking Bernardino.” 

“Are you done?” You shift in the driver’s seat trying to position your injured arm on the center console so it has some support. “Thought you would be a bit more appreciative of me saving your ass back there.” 

“Only to kill us both out here.” 

“Fine.” You jerk the steering wheel and pull the car over to the shoulder of the highway and slam it into park. “You want to drive, have at it.” 

You climb out of the driver’s seat, cradling your injured arm against your chest as you stalk your way around the car and stop at the passenger side. Before you can change your mind, he climbs across the console and slides into the driver’s seat. He sits back and feels your blood start to soak into his shirt but there’s no way for him to stop that from happening. He supposes this is the price he has to pay to survive the car ride. You clamber into his vacated passenger seat with an angry, yet tired, huff. 

“So?” 

You roll your eyes. “So, what?” 

“Where are we going?” 

“North.” 

“How far-” 

“North,” you repeat before leaning your head back and closing your eyes. 

North it is. He pulls back on the road and drives for the next two hours in silence. Whenever there was a cross road or interchange, he took whatever direction that was north. The gas light turns on somewhere around Bakersfield and he pulls off the highway to a gas station right by the exit. He pays for the gas, pumps it, uses the restroom and you still haven’t moved from your slumped over position in the passenger seat. When he returns to the driver’s seat, he pokes your leg, gives your elbow a slight shake and you come to, mostly. 

“Where…”

“Bakersfield,” he answers. 

You look around the gas station that he has yet to pull away from. It’s the middle of the night, hard to see any details past the bright service lights of the station. Your tired eyes squint, trying to see into the darkness, trying to see whatever threat may be lurking out there. “We have to keep going.” 

“Why?” 

“Away,” you slump back against the seat. You’re weak from the blood loss, and still very pale. Your eyes are having difficulty focusing. “From Potter.” 

“I thought you wanted to take him down.” 

“Take him down, we need to go up.” You laugh weakly at the statement. 

You’re not making much sense and with his life completely topsy turvy at the moment, KJ needs you and all your faculties. He reaches over and lays his hand on your forehead, like he used to do for his kids. You swat it away haphazardly but thankfully you don’t feel feverish. “Alright, we’re stopping for the night.” 

“No!” You sound like a petulant child. 

“Yes,” he states firmly. “You need medical attention and rest.”

“No hospitals.” 

On that, he had to agree with you. “No hospitals. You have a first aid kit in here?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cheap hotel it is then.” 

Your head falls against the glass of the passenger side door with a thunk. “Sure know how to show a girl a nice time, Agent Jimenez.” 

He pulls back out on the highway, wanting to get past Bakersfield proper, and find something out of the way on the outskirts. “Guess I’m not an agent anymore.” 

“Guess not.” 

He presses his lips together, grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. He supposes he’s not a lot of things anymore: agent, husband, father. All those things are in the past, dead and blown up on some dead end street in his neighborhood. There’s only one thing that he still has, that’s still his. “You can call me KJ.” 

He waits for you to give him your name but you’ve already passed out again. 

***

You’re quite pretty. The early morning light paints your skin in a soft, hazy glow. Your hair is still mostly pulled back into a ponytail but strands have escaped and curled around your face. But KJ is certain the most attractive aspect at the moment is that you’re still asleep in the front seat of the car. You’re quiet, not angry, snapping at him with sharp sarcasm with a nihilistic edge.  

You’re at peace and you’re lovely. 

He sighs as he opens the passenger side door and rests his hand on your shoulder. Your brow furrows in your sleep but you keep sleeping so he squeezes your shoulder until your eyes flutter open. Immediately you’re on alert, sitting up straight and trying to take in your surroundings. 

“Where-” 

“North end of Bakersfield somewhere. Come on, I got a room for a couple hours so we could get that gunshot wound under control. Get some rest.” 

“I’m fine. Bleeding’s stopped by now.” 

“Yeah, well, it still needs to be bandaged.” 

“We need to keep moving. We need to keep going north.” 

He’s tired, bone tired, weary of dealing with one clusterfuck after another. He needs a break, a block of time to reassess the situation and come up with a plan. “Well, I need a fucking moment to breath. You said you need me because Potter wanted me dead. If that’s true, you’re going to fucking follow me into the hotel room. Let me patch up that wound and get some real sleep before moving forward.” 

“Look, I know the DEA-” 

“You don’t know shit!” he snaps. “You don’t know shit about me, about what I’ve had to fucking sacrifice for this fucking case! You probably don’t even know that those two ‘thugs’ that showed up to kill me were family.” He feels tears stinging his eyes. “Mi familia. Mi sangre.” 

You don’t back down, but you do soften a bit. When you do speak, there’s no harshness to your tone. “You’re right. I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.” 

It’s a hollow victory but he’ll take it at the moment. He goes to the back of the Jeep and takes out the two duffle bags, slinging his bag over his shoulder and carrying yours. When he comes back to the passenger side, you’re standing next to the car but have a death grip on the door. He can see your muscles shaking from the effort to keep you upright. He slips his free arm around your torso and is surprised that you don’t protest. Perhaps you know just how bad a shape you’re in at the moment. 

You lean on him for the short walk across the parking lot and then follow him into the room under your own power. It only lasts until you make it to the small wooden chair. The hotel room is basic, bare bones, but it looks relatively clean. He still pulls the comforter off the bed before putting the bags down on it. 

“Where’s the first aid kit?” 

“It’s in my bag, towards the top.” 

He unzips the worn, leather bag and finds a smaller bag, equally as worn, sitting on top of clothes. He carries it into the bathroom and opens it up. There’s a good sized bottle of rubbing alcohol and he uses that to sterilize the counter and sink. He sees you in the mirror, leaning on the doorframe and unbuttoning your shirt. Well, trying to at least, as your hands are shaking from the injury and its side effects. 

He steps over to you and immediately starts undoing the buttons himself, concentrating on the task and the reasoning behind it. The sooner he can patch you up, the sooner he can sleep. He expects you to swat him away, determined to do this intimate act yourself, but you don’t. You just lean back and let him do it, helping only when he starts to peel the semi dried fabric from your injured arm. He also expected your fire to come back, that ice cold determination to see your mission through but it hasn’t. You’re still leaning against the door jam, right shoulder and arm bloodied, clad in your jeans and simple black sports bra. 

You look tired, weak…soft. 

He turns and reaches for a clean washcloth, soaking it in the alcohol, before starting to clean the blood from your arm. “So you’re not CIA.” 

You hiss and jerk your arm when the alcohol runs into the wound but still your movements. “What makes you think that?” 

What makes him think that? He certainly can’t say the truth, that you lack the hard dissociative edge that he’s seen before in CIA agents. You’re staring at him through the haze of pain but you’re very much reading his expression. So he throws out the question that’s been plaguing him since he left Santo Padre. 

“Why didn’t you just kill Angel and EZ?” 

You take in a deep breath through your nose and release it slowly. “Because I know how Potter works. The people he sends to tie up loose ends are just as much the victims as the people they kill.” 

He couldn’t argue with that statement. 

“You’re right,” you say. “I didn’t realize they were related to you. How?” 

“Second cousins.” He scoffs. “Not like they were my brothers.” 

Something akin to pain, but deeper, passes through your eyes. It happens so quickly, he thinks he may have imagined it. 

“And I’m not CIA. I’m a US Marshal,” you confess quietly. “Well, was one at least.” 

He’s cleaned away most of the blood so he can see the wound. It certainly isn’t a clip, the bullet went completely through the muscle of the underside of your bicep. It went clean through though, but the bullet wound is still oozing blood and will continue to do so until it’s packed and bandaged. “Let me guess, witness protection?” 

“Right again.” You glance down at the wound. “Guess it was more than just a clip.” 

He pulls out cotton, gauze pads, and bandages, laying them out on the sterilized sink counter. “Spoken like someone who’s never been shot before.” 

“My line of work we tried to prevent situations from getting to that point.” 

“Sounds like you were successful.” 

“Until I wasn’t.” 

He wonders if he’ll reach a point when he’s able to talk about this clusterfuck with the succinctness and resignation that you just did. But you’re talking and that’s something he wants to encourage. The more he knows the better. “So how did Potter fit into that situation?” 

You’re quiet for a moment. “You almost done?” 

And just like that, the conversation is over. He wraps the bandage over the cotton and gauze and fixes it in place with a metal clip. “Done.” 

“Thank you.” You pick up your bloodied shirt and toss it in the trash. “Are you hungry? There’s a Burger King across the street.” 

“No,” he starts cleaning up the bandages. “I’m good. You?” 

You shake your head. “Maybe after some sleep.” 

Which brings up another issue. There is only one bed out there. By the time he repacks the first aid kit, you’re already under the sheets and balanced on the right edge of the bed. He debates taking a shower, getting into a clean set of clothes, and then laying down but it all seems to be too much of an effort. Instead, he lays down on top of the sheets and stares at the cheap, popcorn ceiling. He listens to your breathing, wondering if you’re just going to stop mid-inhale from the blood loss. IF he’s going to have to take you to the hospital for an infusion and proper stitches. But you don’t. And soon, he finds himself being drawn under the blanket of sleep listening to the steady exhalations of you next to him.  

***

When KJ wakes up, it’s completely dark in the room. He listens for your breathing but doesn’t hear anything. There’s nothing. No sound, no movement, no warmth. 

“Fuck.” 

He turns on the light next to him and braces to find your dead body. But you’re not there and somehow that’s worse. You’ve left him stranded in northern Bakersfield with no car, no new ID, and fifty dollars in cash. What exactly did he expect though? He has nothing on Potter, less than nothing in fact. His entire career in the DEA has been completely erased. The sight of his office being stripped and torn apart still makes his stomach churn. 

There’s nothing for him to do until he figures out where he’s going to go and how he’s going to get there. He gets up, grabs his bag, and heads into the bathroom to get cleaned up. He tries to come up with a way to make some money while he showers. Without being able to use credit cards or withdraw from his bank accounts, if he even has them anymore, he’s going to need to make some fast cash. Maybe the hotel needs some extra help and he can get enough together to get somewhere further away from Santo Padre. 

He’s pulling his t-shirt over his head when he hears a noise come from the other room. He had left his gun on the back of the toilet and he picks it up as he peers through the steam left over from his shower. The door is partially open, light flickers in from the faulty streetlight outside the room. The smell of fresh food: charbroiled and smoked meat, cheese, and grease hits his nose and causes his stomach to growl. There you are, struggling with bags of food, a hurt arm and a stubborn, dented door to a cheap motel room.  

You didn’t abandon him. You didn’t leave him in the middle of nowhere. 

“Jimenez, some help here?” 

He tucks the gun in the waistband of his jeans as he moves to help you through the door. “Sorry. I, uh, I thought you left.” 

You give him a slightly concerned look. “I did leave. To pay for a few more hours for the room and grab some food. You okay there?” 

The relief he feels at your return shouldn’t be as strong as it is, but here he is. Heart slowing from its rapid pace, a slight burning to the back of his eyes. You didn’t leave. You didn’t abandon him. This too means more than it should. He puts the bags of food down on the small desk and re-locks the door. You drop into a chair, exhausted and pale. 

“You shouldn’t have gone out there by yourself.” He tries to sound chiding but it lacks conviction. He’s still too relieved that you didn’t leave him behind. “You’re still recovering from the blood loss.” 

You pull a hamburger out of the Burger King bag and unwrap it. “I’ve dealt with worse.” 

He gives you a disbelieving look and you slowly cave. 

“Okay, okay, I haven’t actually been shot and had significant blood loss before.” 

He starts pulling food out of the other bags. “What did you get?” 

“I didn’t know what you like to eat so I got a bunch of stuff.” You point to a plain white plastic bag with styrofoam containers. “That’s supposed to be some award winning BBQ, coleslaw, and potato salad. There’s also some more Burger King, lo mein and egg rolls, and a meatball sub.” 

“What, no Indian food?” 

You take a large bite out of the burger. “I owe you some chicken tikka masala then.” 

He takes half the BBQ and sides, sitting down on the other chair at the small desk. It only takes a couple bites before he realizes just how ravenous he is. He can’t remember the last time he ate. He can’t really remember how much time has actually passed since the events in the living room. It seems like a lifetime ago already. You’ve finished the burger and are reaching for the meatball sub. 

“I don’t normally eat like this.” 

He motions to your shoulder with his fork. “It’s the blood loss. Your body is trying to make up for what it’s lost. Protein is the best thing to eat.” 

“You’re not just saying that to keep the potato salad all to yourself, are you?” 

He looks over at you and sees a small smirk at the corner of your mouth, a slight brightness of mirth in your eyes. 

You didn’t leave him. 

Not yet, anyway. 

***

You finally tell him where you’re heading: Olema. It’s a small, touristy town along the coast about thirty miles north of San Francisco. You have a friend who runs a bed and breakfast there and who is willing to give you both some space to regroup. Right now though, the plan is less focused on revenge and more on healing. You try to drive but have to pull over two hours in because you’re still too weak to keep your head up and your eyes open. 

“You can get some sleep. I can use Google Maps-” he stops himself short. That’s right. You made him toss his cell phone into the car before Angel and EZ blew it up. No phone along with everything else. All his pictures of his family, his soon to be ex-wife, his two kids. The loss of something so simple like a picture hits him like a tidal wave and he has to forcibly swallow down the lump in his throat. 

You open the glove compartment and pull out a slip of paper, writing the directions down. “Here, just keep taking the 5 up to the 580 West. When we get to San Rafeal, you’re going to get on the 101 North. Then we hit the 1 which will take us straight into Olema. If I’m asleep by the time we make it into town, you can stop at the Due West Tavern. It’ll be on the left side of main street about a mile into town. We should get there towards the end of dinner.” 

He takes the slip of paper and tucks it in the visor, hoping you don’t see the sheen of tears in his eyes. But he knows you probably do. You’re incredibly astute and detail oriented. He figures you wouldn’t be successful in your job if you weren’t. “Thanks.” 

You’re quiet for a moment. “Eighteen months.” 

“What?” 

“That’s how long I tell people that it takes to adjust to their new lives. Eighteen months.” 

He feels another wave of grief hit him. “That sounds like forever.” 

“The first year is hard. You remember all the anniversaries, routines, holidays and traditions. Once you get past that first year, that’s when you stop existing and start adjusting. It takes another four to six months to settle into the new life then.” 

He remembers what it was like when his mother died. The first year had been terrible, all the memories and holidays exacerbating the loss of the quiet, kindhearted woman who endured hell on earth so he wouldn’t have to face it alone. “It’s like the grieving process.” 

“That’s exactly what it’s like.” You turn your head and study his profile for a moment. “It’s okay to grieve, to feel the loss. It’ll help shorten the adjustment period if you acknowledge the emotions for what they are.” 

“Grief.” 

You hum as you fold your legs close to your chest and put your feet on the dashboard. “Survivor’s guilt is a big one too.” 

Bowen. He can still see the dark red stain of blood soaking into the jute rug and spilling out onto the hardwood floor of the living room. He chances a quick glance over to you, your relaxed posture, half closed eyes. He’s detail oriented too and wonders if you’re in a sharing mood now. 

“Who did Potter take away from you?” 

You pick at a rip in your jeans. “Everyone. Everything.” 

He waits to see if you’ll elaborate but by the time he looks over, you’re already turned towards the door and asleep. He glances up at the directions you gave him and estimates there’s only about another two and half hours of driving ahead. So he does what you suggest and he sits with his grief for that time. 

***

You’re still asleep, curled into a ball in the  passenger seat when he pulls into the gravel parking lot of the tavern. He wonders if the place is open given there’s only two cars in the lot despite it being seven forty at night. He turns the car off and releases a long sigh. He’s drained. Emotionally, mentally, physically. Now all he wants to do is sleep for about a week. He reaches over and gently squeezes your arm. 

You sit up immediately and take in your surroundings, letting out a slightly disgusted noise. “Can’t believe I slept all the way here.” 

“Six to eight weeks.” 

You open the passenger side door and slide out of the car. “What?” 

“That’s how long it takes for someone to get their strength back from significant blood loss.” 

You nod as you start to make your way towards the front door of the restaurant. He takes a moment to take in the area. The sky is not completely darkened by night yet. The smell of the tavern food, fish and steak, drifts through the air and mixes with a sharper, cleaner scent. He knows he should know what it is but he can’t put his finger on it at the moment. 

“Hey,” you shout and he sees you’re holding the door open for him. He hustles his way over to you and follows you into the building. You’re familiar with the place given the ease in which you navigate the formal dining room and lead him into the dark bar area of the tavern. Everything is dark wood, the floor, ceiling beams, bar, tables, chairs even. 

“Sorry, kitchen’s closed-” a man appears from behind the bar but stops mid sentence when his eyes land on you. A large smile breaks across his face. “Hey, you made it!” 

“Hey, Tony!” You give him a one-armed hug. “I know it’s late but-” 

“I got you.” He motions to a corner booth, away from windows and a guttering candle in the center of the table. “Have a seat and I’ll scrounge up something for you guys. I’ll call Mom too, let her know you’re here.” 

“Please tell me you have some clam chowder left over,” you ask, easing yourself down into the booth. 

“For you, I will find some.” He turns to KJ. “What about you?” 

He has to admit, he’s hungry again and anything sounds good to him. “I’m not picky.” 

Tony claps him on the arm. “My kind of customer. What do you guys want to drink?” 

“Whatever’s on tap is fine for me.” You’re already propped up in the corner, your injured arm resting on the table. KJ can see some slight bleed through your shirt. Tony notices it too. 

“I’ll bring some whiskey too. Make a couple boilermakers out of it.” 

KJ slides into the booth across from you. He can’t tell if it’s the poor light but your skin tone is still ashy and you look exhausted. “So, Tony and his mom are going to help us?” 

You nod. “Tony’s mom, Amelia, used to be my boss. She was my mentor, taught me everything I know. She’s retired now but helps me out when I need a safe place to crash or stash people for a short time until witness protection can iron out paperwork.” 

“She’s the one who runs the Bed and Breakfast?” 

“Yeah. It’s a good front for moving people quietly. A good blend of tourists and fugitives. It helps that Olema is out of the way for most people.” 

“Why do people come here?” 

“Mostly for the hiking trails in Point Reyes National Seashore. There’s lots of hikers and backpackers that come through here. There are some horse stables and you can do trail riding too. But in a state where you also have National Forests like Redwoods, Sequoia, Lassen, and Yosemite National Park, this little place gets passed over quite a bit.” 

Tony comes back with two bowls of rich looking clam chowder, a container of oyster crackers, two beer glasses, a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. “Alright you two, eat up because mom is on her way and says she’s a lot to discuss. You know what that means.” 

You roll your eyes but immediately reach for a spoon. KJ looks at you expectantly. “What?” 

“What does that mean?” 

A small frown crosses your face. “It means we don’t have a lot of information to work with. I don’t know why she’s surprised though. Potter is as slippery as an eel in an oil spill.” 

“How long have you been chasing him?” 

“About five years now.” You close your eyes when the first spoonful of food goes in your mouth. “No more talking about Potter. This food is too good to be ruined by conversation about that asshole.” 

KJ actually finds a small laugh inside of himself before picking up his own spoon.

[saturnville]

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[hennyjwrites]

HennyJ’s Baes Masterlist

“You can’t handle this”

[berberriescorner]

“Get Your Act Together”

Part of the “Say What Now?” Song Series

Characters: Angel Reyes x Black!Reader.

Summary: A reader who’s petty and needs to teach jealous and possessive Angel a lesson.

Warnings: Strong language, sexual content, suggestive themes, possessive behavior, and jealousy.

Word Count: 2,900+

AN: This one is for my lovelies @darqchilddaydreamz and @ravennaortiz! Be sure to give my babies a shout-out for encouraging me to finish this one. They gave me the push I needed to do so. I hope all my loves enjoy this one. Yes, I’m aware, the dress is different in the storyboard, but it still gives what needs to be given. Okay!

Inspired By💖:

People closest to you, whether friends or family, always expressed that they envied your level of pettiness. It was as if you were the queen of petty. Your best friend often compared your skills to a lioness hunting its prey. If someone pissed you off purposefully, you weren’t always quick to act. It was much better when you waited, letting that person feel they had gotten away with something. Once you noticed it had slipped their mind, that they were comfortable. That would be when you took the time to get revenge. Pettiest bitch alive.

Your current mood and setting could be used as an amazing example. There you were sitting at the kitchen island. Eyes focused on the portable LED makeup mirror propped on the counter. One hand held your eyelid as the other drew a precise wing. Music flowed throughout the house and you rocked your hips while sitting on the bar stool. Your hair had been curled and pinned. You wanted the curls to set in before taking them down. You were fresh out of the shower, almost fully dressed, and smelled divine. To avoid any makeup spills, you had slipped into your silk robe.

The song had switched just as you put the finishing touches on your look. The track that started was perfect for how you were feeling. It was fitting for the little plan you had set in motion. Revenge was for sure sweet. “Beating Down Yo Block” by Monaleo flooded the house. Sliding out of your robe, you started letting your curls loose. Walking over to your heels, you slid them on as the song’s beat sunk into your veins.

Using your fingers to comb through the fresh curls, you started rapping your favorite part. “Bitch I’m fine! Slim waist, pretty face, he know I’m a dime.” Still combing through the curls you dipped to the ground, dress riding up a bit as you did a little twerk. The sound of bikes approached your driveway and you smiled to yourself. Damn, I have perfect timing. 

Giving a classy little twerk in the living room mirror, you continued to rap the lyrics, “Ain’t no pressure ‘bout no ninja, tell his ass to fall in line.” The front door opened and your alarm was disabled. You heard him call out to you. You stayed silent, a devilish smirk played upon your lips. Angel walked into the living room. Your eyes met in the mirror as you said the next line in the song. This time, your ‘Megan knees’ were in full effect. “Cause for this next line you gotta look me in my eyes. If you think I’ma sweat you, you out your mothafuckin’ mind.”

Angel was too mesmerized by your ass in the little black dress you had on. He had picked up on the subliminal message of the lyrics but was more interested in your attire. His eyes scanned over you, as his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He could feel himself hardening. That was until he remembered you two weren’t alone. He growled seeing Coco to his left and Ez to his right. Both men were ogling you. Ezekiel’s reaction was more shocked. Coco’s grin was a mile long as he sat there eating every bit of the image up.

Angel being jealous and possessive, barked at you, “Stop throwing ass in front of company. Pull that short-ass dress down. Where the fuck do you think you’re going dressed like that anyway?”

“First off I was here, by myself, getting ready, and enjoying my company. I can twerk as much as I want in my damn house. You barged your tall lanky ass into my shit. Stop talking to me crazy, Angel. To answer your question. I’m going out with my girls.”

“Our shit.”

“Sleeping here almost every night doesn't mean a thing to me. You still have your place and my last name hasn’t changed.

“If you wear that short-ass dress, we’re going with you. Your ass is damn near out.”

“Stop being dramatic. No, it isn’t! I do not need a babysitter, Angel. If you can do you, I can do me, right?”

Angel understood what it was all about now.

“Why do you have to be so petty? How does that much evil fit in such a short body?”

Your shoulders shrugged, as your hips swayed to the mirror to touch up your lip combo. Angel walked up behind you pulling you into his chest. His lips ghosted your bare shoulder, giving it a playful bite, and his hips thrust against you.

“Stay here with me, mi dulce. I want to get you out of this dress.”

You felt him press into you and fought back a whimper. You refused to allow Angel to have his way. You pushed off of him. 

“I’m going out tonight in this dress, end of conversation. On second thought, I take that back. Let’s have a chat about dresses. Mine is an issue, but it wasn’t a problem last weekend,” you purred.

“Last weekend? What are you talking about?”

Yeah, playing dumb is not going to slide this time, jackass.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Angel.”

Your obtuse boyfriend looked to Coco and Ez for help. Both men threw their hands up, wanting no part of the conversation.

“Here let me jog your memory. Remember when I walked into the party at the clubhouse last weekend? When you hadn’t noticed, because you were too busy entertaining that fucking hang around. The one who conveniently dropped her phone and bent over to pick it up. Had all three of you dumbasses staring at her bare ass. I couldn’t give one iota of a fuck about your boys staring, but you? Yeah, that’s a problem. You want to be possessive? I’ll do the same. You want to stare at other bitches? Let’s see how you feel about other men eyeing me, Papa. My dress isn’t nearly as short as the one that thirsty hoe had on. I’ve told you one too many times not to play with me. Now I’ma show you better than I could ever tell you, baby.”

Angel tried to save face in front of his friends. He mumbled, “Nobody worried about shit. Go out, it won’t affect me as much as you think, Mami.” 

Your eyes locked in with both EZ and Coco. You all smirked, communicating without even saying a word. He wanted to be cute in front of his little friends? 

I can be funny too, and have them help a sista out. 

Your heels clicked over to Angel. Sliding your hands on his chest, you looked up at him with fluttering lashes. Face painted with an innocent expression, you stood on your tiptoes to steal a quick kiss. He smiled down at you thinking he had won. You leaned in and teased him.

“Ass fat. Kitty fat. I got all these men wishing they could have that. Baby, just admit that you love it here,” you smirked trying to get a rise out of him.

Angel kissed his teeth and was about to say something sarcastic, but Ez cut him off, “God, I did not need to know that,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry, bro but he needs to be reminded of what he’s got at home,” she teased the flustered Mayan.

Kissing his teeth Angel retorted, “You the one acting up. Better chill out before I give you some act right.”

“I mean come on ‘mano, that ass is fat. You better appreciate that fine-ass woman,” Coco challenged.

Angel looked at him as if he had lost his mind. It took everything in Ezekiel to keep from laughing.

Still staring at Coco like a madman he replied, “Bitch, do you want me to shoot you? Stop looking at my girl’s ass!”

Ezekiel wanted in with busting his brother's balls. Like a typical annoying baby brother, he joined in on the fun, “Sister or not. We’re not real blood, so I’ve gotta agree with Coco, brother-.”

“Don’t finish that fucking statement, Ezekiel,” Angel warned.

Ez and Coco exchanged a knowing glance before the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“What? It’s the truth! That’s a nice ass, with a nice set of ti-.”

In a split second Angel was lunging at Ezekiel. With your help, Coco managed to break up the scuffle among the brothers.

“Jesus, bro. Learn how to handle a joke!”

“Fuck both of y’all,” Angel pouted, no longer enjoying being the brunt of the joke.

“No disrespect. My bad, it is fat though,” he chuckled along with Ezekiel.

“Bunch of bitches,” Angel groaned.

Feeling you had tortured him enough for the evening, you walked over to him wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Hey, look at me,” you cooed, gripping his chin softly. 

“Baby, you know they’re joking. If anybody tried me like that, I’d curse them out. Relax, you know you give them shit about their significant others as well. Luckily you have sense enough not to try that shit in front of me, because I’d kick you in the balls,” she smiled innocently. Now calm down and give me kisses, papa.”

His arms wrapped around your waist as he lifted you off the ground. Three pecks and a hungry kiss later, EZ and Coco stood there rolling their eyes.

“All this lovey-dovey shit is making my stomach turn. Cut it out,” Coco grumbled.

“One more, mama. Make it real good so Coco can lose his dinner.”

He leaned in to capture your lips. It was slow and dirty. All teeth and tongue. Without breaking eye contact, his left hand trailed down your back. Stopping at your backside, he grabbed a handful. His left hand lifted from your waist as he flipped his brothers off.

“Now how can you get mad, when you know for a fact that it's fat? Look at how you just gripped the shit out of it. You got any sisters or cousins packing something that serious? Hook us up,” Coco begged.

It was your turn to flick them off. Pulling away from the kiss, you bounced over to your brothers. Raising on tiptoes you slapped them both in the back of the head.

“That’s for staring at my ass!”

Another smack.

“That’s for conveniently forgetting you both have old ladies. Whom I adore. I’m snitching on you bitches. Do I have any sisters or cousins? Get out my face with that mess, joke or not, I’ll beat your ass. Angel’s all the heathen my family can tolerate,” you joked.

Angel sat back with his arms crossed admiring you. Feeling his stare, your eyes connected as you bit your lip.

Both men sandwiched you in between giving you bear hugs. Ezekiel kissed your temple before pulling back.

“Lo siento, hermanita.”

“Yeah, querida. We didn’t mean any harm. It’s just Angel makes it so easy to fuck with him.”

Angel raised both middle fingers to his brothers. Your arms wrapped around his waist tightly. With a tug of his shirt, he understood your signal to lower himself to your height. You pecked his lips several times. He stood there smiling like a love-struck idiot as you wiped your gloss from his lips.

With a pat on his chest, you made a beeline to your handbag. You made sure you had your keys and cell phone. With confirmation, you turned in the direction of the three men.

“Alright baby, I’m heading over to besties. I’m leaving my car at hers, and she’s driving us to the bar.”

Angel cut you off, growling your full name. “I’m serious, querida. If you’re wearing that we’re coming too.”

The two of you stared each other down. You refused to give in to his demands. With a shrug of the shoulders, you responded, “Then I guess y’all hittin’ the bar tonight.” The keys in your hand were tossed across the living room as Angel caught them. He looked at you, head tilted to the side.

“Oh, you thought I was changing? No, baby boy. I hope you three didn’t have any plans.”

To the three men’s absolute horror, not only did they have you to watch over. EZ and CoCo were pissed to learn that the besties you were hitting the town with were their old ladies. They too, had on dresses that left little to the imagination.

When you went for revenge, it was always the most pettiest, delicious thing ever. The Mayan men spent the next two hours threatening anybody who so much as looked in your direction. They sat at the bar mugging, while you and the girls danced the night away.

Later that night after everyone had returned to their homes, Angel sat in the recliner. His eyes collided with yours as you swept into the living room fresh out of the shower. He looked pissed as you giggled, standing between his legs.

“What did we learn today,” you asked in your best kindergarten-teacher voice.

“What the fuck are you on about, querida?”

You leaned forward running your hands up his arms. You crawled into his lap, smiling mischievously. Your arms linked behind his neck as you rocked a bit. Inwardly you did a little victory dance as you heard him groan.

Your face stopped inches away from his. The two of you were close enough that your breath fanned one another. “Don’t play dumb. What did you learn, Daddy?”

“That you’re a petty ass woman.”

“Boy, stop! You already knew that.” Your hips circled on his lap. Angel's hands gripped your thighs tighter as he groaned, “Fuck.”

“Answer me, Daddy,” you cooed, rocking your hips back and forth over his hardening erection. “I’ll even help you out. Repeat after me.”

“I learned,” you started, pressing against him harder. You halted your movement, waiting for him to repeat it.

Angel kissed his teeth, “You gonna take this away,” he started, palming your covered mound. Your breath hitched, as you fought for control. Unable to say anything, your head nodded.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, “I fucking learned,” he growled.

“Not to pay thot-ass, hang-around-ass hoes any mind.”

“I’m not saying that shit, Mami.”

“Ignacio,” you growled back, “Just say the shit so we can fuck already.”

“Fine! I’ll ignore every thot ass hoe who steps foot in the clubhouse. Does that work for your pretty ass,” he asked, giving your left cheek a light smack.

“I mean, I guess.”

Angel cocked his head back, “You guess? Mi dulce, you know I don’t want that girl. She was being thirsty. That’s what they do.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You look at women’s asses all the time. Why is it cool when you’re all like, ‘Babe, look at her ass! Sis, packing a wagon,” he mocked.

“That’s different. You gotta have permission, love.”

“You know you’re crazy as fuck. Right?”

“Yep! Enough of this. Do you want to make it up to me? Take me upstairs, put me on my back, and eat me until I can’t see straight.”

With an evil smirk, Angel had you in the bedroom, on your back instantly. The head he’d given caused your vision to blur. Without any time to come down, Angel flipped you onto your knees. He buried himself deep, pulling at your curls. Angel bent you into the perfect arch. He was in no mood to be nice. Flashes of you in that dress being ogled ran through his head. He pinned you to the mattress as his hips snapped against you. The both of you, shouting every time his tip tapped that spot.

He used both hands to smack against your supple flesh. Angel's fingers dug into your hips as he gave you one punishing stroke after another. His long digits made their way back into your mane. He tugged on it pulling you up and against his chest.

“You weren’t mad. Right, mi dulce? You just wanted to get me all worked up, yeah,” he rasped sexily. His hips circled, pushing deeper, “You ain’t gotta pick fights to get slutted out, Mami,” he groaned. His free hand crept down your belly. It slipped down, down, down until it reached your bundle of nerves. 

Angel pulled out slowly until it was just the tip. His lips trailed kisses over the shell of your ear, leaving a playful nibble on the lobe.

“That’s it—ain’t it, Mami? You were in the mood to be my little slut, hm?”

Angel didn’t bother waiting for a reply. His hips surged forward, slamming his length to the hilt. The moment his tip tapped against those delicate nerves, he pinched your clit. He chuckled at the piercing scream you released. Your body trembled as his fingers circled the sensitive bud. The circles stopped once you came back down. Angel laughed again as your body went limp. He held you up, brushing hair out of your face, his kisses dusting your forehead.

“You’re alright, mi dulce. You did so good for me, mami.”

Your eyes blinked as you smiled lazily. Drunk off good sex, you slurred, “Thank you, baby,” head leaning back against his chest.

Angel's voice rasped, “Oh you think we're done? Mm-mm, mi vida. We’re just getting started. You whined feeling him pulse inside you. “Don’t whine now. Worked up was what you wanted. Now you gon’ take it. Be a good girl for me and get daddy off, yeah?” Angel's voice dropped dangerously low as he whispered, “I’m going to fill you up, and then you’re going to clean up your mess. Put that pretty mouth to use.”

Angel’s words must have replenished your energy. Your lip tucked between your teeth, as your channel spasmed around him.

“Seems like you're ready for it after all,” he replied, giving you light strokes.

Being petty came with the loveliest of benefits. Here’s to hoping this man fucks up again.

How did we like it, lovelies?! Comments and reblogs are GREATLY appreciated💖.

My Lovelies (Tagging)💓:

@darqchilddaydreamz @ravennaortiz @astoldbychae @thirtysomethinganduncensored @sunshine-flower @hornyslasher

@playgurlxoxo @cosypinky2 @thebumbqueen @tashawar

@jup1ter1nk @badgalbeyy @wbbwife @becauseimher

@phomoe @beachyserasims @tbmotw @baddieweebwaifu4

@sweetmems3 @moo-meadows @kj77 @vampkennedy

@black-bisexual-simp @cocooned-butterfly @thatbrowngruul

@booksandlatenights @jayblackpanther @percosim

@glimmerglittergirl @yoshiluvs @diamoniquehayes

@joysmiled @mickeyme7 @lovearynacemn @cjricks98

@alika-4466 @hope4rain19 @bl00dr3gin @3xclusivemariii

@1andonlytashae @greasemonkeydarling @hennyjwrites

@montegobaesworld @po3ticb3auty @trunichole15

@missbee1095 @thebaileybugle @tbugger01 @gabbywontlose

@buttershea07 @joyfulfxckery @starrynite7114 @niaaalovesficton

@nightlywords7 @introvertllux @ticosas @chxrryp0p

@olyvoyl

[samwilsonsbabymama]

EZ’s Claim

18+

Pairing: Ezekiel Reyes x Black Reader

Summary: Pure smut

Warning: Smut, creampie, a touch of cockwarming, more smut, i think that’s it.

Word Count: 594

A/N: @nxxstybrat​ requested a while ago that I write something for EZ similar to this fic and this is what I came up with. I do have another EZ fic in the works, so I might make it a part 2 to this fic or a stand alone fic, I haven’t decided yet. Not sure when I’m actually gonna write it though lol I typed this last night on my phone lol there are probably a lot of mistakes but I’ll fix them at a later date. I hope you all enjoy!

✨I don’t give anyone permission to copy/translate/repost/rewrite my work. Minors, DNI at all. ✨

EZ had you belly down, spread eagle underneath him. His fingers were locked with yours as he nipped at your throat. His hips slowly pushed his dick deeper inside of you as you gasped at the pleasure. The backs of your thighs were on top of his as he begged you to spread them wider.

Your gentle tears fell onto the sheets as he fucked you slowly. You attempted to push back against him pushed back on him, silently begging him to go faster. He chuckled and continued his slow pace, wanting to pull yet another orgasm from you. 

You were teetering on the edge; you only needed something to send you over.

EZ slid his hand down your side. It would have tickled under any other circumstance, but your mind was focused on his destination. EZ gripped your hip before slipping his hand beneath you. His fingers instantly found your clit and his touches brought you to and over the edge.

You came, crying his name softly into the pillow. You didn’t realize you were crying harder until you felt EZ kissing your tears away.

EZ pulled himself out of you and you whimpered at the loss. He shushed you and he turned you over. He smiled at the blissed-out look on your face before he kissed you deeply. Your arms instantly went around his neck as you pulled him close. You could feel him hard and heavy on your thigh and your body shook with anticipation.

EZ pulled back and gripped his dick in his hand. Your legs spread automatically and he smiled. He tapped your lips with his dick once, twice, three times before he slid the tip in. Your breath quickened with excitement as you waited for him to continue. 

But he didn’t.

He pulled out and laid his dick on top of your lips. His eyes glazed over as he watched your slick coat him. You whined each time his head reached your clit. You wanted him, but you knew all of this would end if you rushed him.

His eyes locked with yours once more.

"You got one more in you?" He asked. You both knew that you did, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"One more, baby, please," you begged. Your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard you. He flashed you that million-dollar smile before he slowly slid back home.

He hooked your leg around his waist and pulled you flush against him.

"I don't know if one is going to be enough, I might want another, and another, and another one after that." His hips punctuated each word, and you held on for dear life.

Your cries filled the air and EZ moaned in your ear telling you how good you feel. You babbled something about wanting him to fill you up, something he'd never done before, him being the Pullout King, but this time, you wanted to feel it all.

His breathing became uneven, and you knew he was closer than he let on. You clenched around him, in an effort to make him cum.

"Cum in me, please," you begged. You felt his hips stutter just before he groaned in your ear and you felt his warm cum shoot into you spurt after spurt. You rubbed his back and kept him pulled close to you as your breathing returned to normal.

You felt him twitch inside of you seconds before he began to thrust again. "I'm gonna need another one, baby girl," he said, before claiming your lips once again.

[Part Two]

A/N 2: If you ‘liked’ it, please reblog or leave a comment/reply even if it’s only an emoji.

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER DRABBLE — 2. Angel Reyes 🌨️

A/N: gif belongs to [user: @pedropcl] now it seems like it’s next to impossible to find decent gifs through the gif search up here especially when it comes to this man. S/o to google this time around! Anyways here I am writing for another angel but the main angel? That I usually write for lol. For once it’s nothing too serious—well kinda…and might actually fit into the drabble category. Let’s pat myself on the back…maybe. I write my AN’s before I actually write the content 😬

S/N: decided to add Dante Torres from Chicago PD into the mix because I have a crush on Benjamin levy Aguilar and loved him in that Netflix series with Veronica mars (she’ll always be Veronica mars sorry y’all lol) and there’s no content on him. He’s only mentioned in this so don’t attack me too much if you read this and I’m new to the Chicago PD series and his character which is why I didn’t write any scenes specifically with him.

Prompt: #24. “Lift me up so I can put the star on the tree.” + #16. “We can’t put this photo in our Christmas card.”

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ . ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙

　　

Angel didn’t like what he was seeing when he pulled up to his house that weekend. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions but he recognized the car that passed him by before he parked his bike next to your car in the driveway. He wasn’t late so he didn’t know why someone else was pulling up to his house uninvited.

And he had something to say about it.

“Yo!” Angel called into the house as he dropped his keys into the dish by the front door.

He stepped into the living room to see you swaying in front of the Christmas tree, joint attached to your full lips. Angel almost got distracted by the way your ass filled out those gym pants but he was on a mission. Then he picked up on the music full of Afro-Beats, which meant you were in a good mood and something inside of him provoked him to disrupt that.

Angel licked his bottom lip, getting one last look before he lightly touched your upper back to get your attention. And what did he do that for? You slightly jumped and spun to aim a high kick at your attacker, who you didnt recognize as Angel at the start.

Thankfully he dodged your long leg and called out to you, “whoa! Aye, querida. Relax! It’s just me.”

“Angel?! What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?” You muttered around the joint as you exhaled.

Angel sucked his teeth, “I called out to you as soon as walked in the door.”

“I’m having a jam session right now, you know I don’t hear nothing when I’m dancing.” You wiggled your hips and held out the joint to the man who plucked it from your hands.

He took a hit and deeply exhaled as you carried on, spinning around him while he lightly shook his head.

It was time to get down to business.

“Whatchu do all day? Have anybody over?”

“Mmm nope. Spent the day doing a wash and go, listening to music, and putting the tree up. Now I get to relax.” You told your boyfriend while you continued dancing.

Angel called out to alexa to stop the music, shutting it off much to your annoyance. You held your hands out silently asking what he did that for and awaited a response from the party crasher.

“I saw a car on my way coming in. The same car that pulled up to the club once before…you know anything about that?”

Why would you? Your poked your head out in confusion and rolled your hands, “just spit it out already Angel, you’re getting on my nerves trying to play the accusing game.”

“Are you cheating on me with that egghead oink oink motherfucker? D’Angelo?”

A laugh couldn’t help but to burst out at Angel’s description but the look on his face was anything but humor.

“You mean Dante?” You asked, turning back to the couch in search of the remote.

Angel waved his hand around, still holding onto your joint, “whatever his name is. Are you sleeping with him?”

“I don’t cheat on people I claim to love. I don’t move like that and you know it so stop insulting me.” A heated stare went his way and Angel felt himself having to take a deep breath.

Of course he knew that. That was his own insecurities and previous actions getting in the way. He knew you were solid and would never, you already warned him if that’s something he did or even thought about when it came to your relationship then it was automatically a wrap. You had such power about you, like it seemed like nothing could hurt you, like you were invincible and it was incredible to watch. Angel didn’t want to be the one to fuck with that, not purposely.

And he really did care for you, which is why he didn’t want to believe that you could cheat on him. However he knew that you could just get up and leave whenever you wanted and that thought alone scared him. He never felt that way more than once before.

You didn’t need him and he knew that. Yet you still showed him love in a way that he wasn’t used to. You were patient but firm, which is why you weren’t raising your voice at his foolish accusations.

“I—I’m sorry but he was here right? I’m not completely bugging, I know that much.”

Plopping down on the edge of the couch you waved the remote around as you briefly thought about it, “…yeah he was. He stopped by for a minute, he didn’t come in out of respect for me.”

Angel huffed, “respect for you? What about me? He don’t pay no bills around here, he should be asking my permission to be anywhere near you.”

Sighing you said, “he doesn’t need your ‘permission’ to be around me. He’s my friend and been my friend since we were teens. Also you don’t know if he was here because of whatever case he’s working on and before you get paranoid it has nothing to do with you or the club. I would let you know that. Do you see me on your dick about the bartenders you used to mess around with? Now no. So stop your bitching and lift me up so I can put the star on the tree.”

Angel took a long drag from the joint at your words. He didn’t know who you thought you were talking to but he liked it.

“Why don’t you call the egghead back over here and he could do the work,” Angel mocked, “you already put the tree up without me.”

“You told me it was fine! Every time we planned to do it during the weekend you got called into the club. I asked you not once but thrice so don’t start, angel.” You scowled, getting to your feet and pulling your gym pants further up your waist.

Sighing Angel leaned over you, placing the joint into the dish to hold for him. He stood in front of you who peered up at him with raised brows. His hands massaged the sides of your neck before trailing up to rest against your cheeks, his hands were always rough but cool thanks to the rings that decorated his fingers.

“Love you lots you know,” he started, making you roll your eyes, “no for real, listen I do. It’s just that im fully aware I got the full package here and I don’t want nobody getting in between that. Especially no fed that your friends with…I dunno what it is with you and my fucken brother being friends with the opps.”

You sent a jab to the man’s abdomen who winced as you said, “don’t talk about franky like that, you know that’s family.”

“Oh shit, I keep forgetting.”

“Yeah, I don’t see why after everything he’s done.”

Angel made a chirping movement with his hand and stepped back before you could fight him some more, “don’t expect me to be friendly with egghead Da Vinci either.”

“I don’t think he wants to be your friend anyways.” You answered, making Angel furrow his brows as he began removing his vest.

He tossed it on the couch as he exasperates, “why? What his ass say? I’ll fuck him up.”

Laughing to yourself you shook your head, not instigating anything further. You knew Dante scooped Angel out because he cared about your well-being and didn’t think the man was good enough for you. It was always like that when you started dating but Dante also knew you would do whatever you felt like doing no matter what someone had to say.

You always had a mind of your own.

Yet Dante Torres was diligent and rebellious and and that didn’t change when it came to you, his best friend.

Dante also knew the boundaries he had to respect out of the sake your relationship but that didn’t mean he had to like Angel Reyes. At the end of the day he had a job to do and when he was ready he could take down the whole club if he really wanted to. However he was leaving to Chicago for a couple of weeks and he just knew something would go down without him even prying.

“And then you’ll be in jail for assaulting a cop and that’s a hard charge to get out of.” You let out a low-whistle, remembering a family member who took that route in his early twenties and just got out at the age of thirty-four last year.

Angel scoffed but said nothing more not wanting to waste anymore breath on some guy that didn’t matter to him. Instead he searched the empty box for the crown that was your star for the tree and held it in between his teeth. While he did that you decided to turn the music back on, just in time for Angel to grip you by the waist to face him. He then pulled you around to be in front of him, you glancing back at him in question as he motioned for you.

“You know what to do, spread ‘em.”

“Ask nicely.”

Angel gave you a look making you laugh as you got into a jumping Jack pose without the jumping. Angel fixed the crown back between his lips before he crouched down in between your legs. Once his neck was in between your legs, he kept a tight grip on your legs before he lifted you up into the air.

“So this is what it’s like being seven feet tall?” You asked as Angel carried you over to the tree.

Reaching downwards you gently took the crown from his mouth and reached upwards. Angel’s hands tightened on your upper thighs as he leaned towards the tree more, eyeing as you slipped the crown right on top of the very decorative tree.

“Tree looks nice as fuck, Querida. How long it take you?” Angel used one hand to touch one the rose gold ribbons you had wrapped in it.

“Thank you, baby.” You beamed, knuckles now pressed into your hips as you admired your work, “I actually started on Friday, getting everything from the basement, mom came over on Saturday then she pissed me off trying to dictate how it should look as if she didn’t decorate her tree and my sister’s tree already. And I just finished today. It’s perfect.”

Angel chuckled to himself. He knew how your mom could be, she was a interior decorator herself so it only made since that she wanted to take over the whole process. Now angel was really kicking himself from missing out on this, you lost your cool whenever it came to your mom despite the love you had for her. Yet your mother is very stubborn and sensitive wrapped into one. He tried to question how your dad handled a woman like her but he knew your dad wasn’t rocking with him like that.

“Ah it is.” Angel began to crouch, making you grip for something as he began to do some squats.

“This what we doing?”

“I missed the entire weekend to work out, let me have this. Count for me?” Angel encouraged while you held on tighter.

The man slowly took working out seriously through persuasion of you. Also working as a phlebotomist encouraged you to take not only your health but others around you seriously. You always found health class and physiology interesting so it was no surprise to your family and friends that you got into this field.

And so you did, getting to fifty before Angel decided to call it quits.

“You did great,” you mentioned as Angel took the time to focus on slowing his breathing.

Once he did, he lowered you down to the ground with a nice slap to your ass of course.

“Thanks for being my weight and letting me in between those thighs.”

“Oh, shut up.” You playfully shoved the man, who laughed yanking you to his slightly sweaty frame to pepper your face with kisses.

Later…Angel sat at the kitchen table, eating the Sunday dinner you prepared while your eyes went over a series of photos on your laptop.

“Angel, what is this?”

Angel stopped chewing the lamb and peered over at you, “what?”

“Why did you move these into the possible Christmas card options?” You spun the laptop around to face the dark haired man who smirked at the image.

Angel continued eating, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Angel…” you exhaled and rested your fingertips against your forehead, “Our reenactment of Janet Jackson’s rolling stone cover and her ex husband with your hands on my breasts and you in a Santa hat is not appropriate to send to my granny or my parents. We can’t put this photo in our Christmas card.”

Angel shrugged his shoulders, “why not, it’s art? It’s Christmas, it’s supposed to be happy.”

“Would you like me sending this to pop?” You quizzed.

Angel pretended to think about it, “he wouldn’t keep it anyways and would probably call me up to yell at me about it. I’d love to see the look on his face though. We look sexy, what’s the problem?”

“These were for our eyes only. For fun.”

“Which is what Christmas is all about.”

“I thought it was about celebrating the birth of Jesus?”

“Fuck if I know, I was raised catholic.”

Your eyes instantly went to Angel’s who met your stare. He laughed to himself, “I know how that sounds, be quiet.”

Grabbing the computer back you shook your head at the unbelievable man. Scrunching up your nose, you lifted your glasses further up the bridge of your nose as you clicked onto the next set of photos.

Angel licked his fingers, finishing off his food before he patted his belly. “Here’s an idea, why don’t you send that one to your old homeboy? Maybe he’ll get the message to stop coming around when I’m not here.”

“I’m not doing that to feed your ego.” You easily responded, eyes trained on your screen.

Angel got up from the table to place his items into the sink. He actually took the time to wash them to place into the rack. Once finished he walked over to you, leaning over to see what other photos you were looking at. You took a good thirty photos together so there had to be something in there that was satisfactory in your eyes.

He didn’t really care to be honest, “Whatever you pick will be cute as shit that your granny will keep pushing for us to give her a great-grand baby.”

Almost gagging you shuddered at the thought. Being pregnant terrified you, sure babies were cute and everything but the whole process of carrying and actually giving birth did not sound like a 10/10. You’ve watched enough horror stories and heard enough horror stories to know that’s not exactly what you wanted right now. Or ever? Of course that could always change but the full discussion of children with Angel made you uneasy.

He already had a son and previously lost a son, which didn’t sit right with you, however it was none of your business. Although, you didn’t exactly enjoy the idea of possibly raising a child with a man that was hardly there…but that was not a conversation that you wanted to have tonight.

If Angel picked up on this, he chose not to say anything about it when you know he could have. Instead he just placed a kiss on your temple, his beard briefly scratching at your skin before he left your side, saying he was off to take a shower and leave you alone with your final decisions.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ . ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙

Continue along with my anthology December prompts here.

[mamasturn]

saw @mauvecherie-writes post about lack of interaction from followers, especially as a Black woman who caters to whom she identifies with. that right there is one of the main reasons writers dwindle and become what readers view as inconsistent. like she mentioned, majority of us do this for free. the least readers can do is REBLOG! yes, hearts are nice, but it doesn’t put our work anywhere. it doesn’t get our work on other pages and feeds. liking keeps it hidden away in your account.

i personally THRIVE off of interaction and my feelings do get genuinely hurt when i see it for everybody else, particularly non-Black authors, when i am putting out quality work.

i say all that to say, don’t be half ass. support the people who are sharing their passion with you. it’s not hard.