#ez reyes x ofc

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Softer Pleasures - An EZ Reyes/OC One Shot Story.

Just a little smutty offering I had revolving around in my head. Enjoy!

Words - 1,104

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

“What is it,” she began, sighing as his tongue rolled in a slow circle, “about going down on me that you love so much?”  

He didn’t reply at first, but the raised eyebrow said enough, looking up at her as he sucked gently on her clit. “I’ve never been asked that before.” He continued to suck upon her, laughing a little, entertained that she should ask him such a thing, right when he was in the middle of doing it. “You’re expecting a reply, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm.”  

“Hmmm.” His tongue flattened against her, dragging over her bud slowly. “Alright, well it feels amazing, tastes amazing, fucking turns me on like you wouldn’t believe, and then there’s the way you react to it. How wet you get, and those little moans. Fuck. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to put my mouth back to making said moans happen rather than talking about them.”

The heat of his mouth had her gleaming as he laved at her once again, the nectar of her cunt saturating his tongue. In truth, words alone couldn’t describe how it made him feel, to pleasure her like that, his heartbeat quickened, skin tingling as little wells of contentment poured through him. And then she moaned again, a seraphim’s symphony to his ears, a summer sonnet of lust, thumbing her clit to gently drag the hood back, the tip of his tongue tracing tight circles, the song of her arousal filling his ears again.  

Pleasure draped over her like the swathe of silk, each flicker of his tongue making her arousal bloom, like summer flowers kissed by the first sun, awakened and reaching towards the light. Each lick was an ember ignited, heat winding and coiling low in her, his breath a hot tempest as his hands stroked over the soft round of her tummy, fingertips flexing as he drove the simmer through her.  

Her panting escalated, her lips parting on a soft cry. “EZ, please, I need...” Her words were cut short by the pull of his lips sucking upon her, the tip of his tongue pushing against her clit, increasing the pressure as she keened against him, her nails flexing against his shoulders. “Yes, like that, just like that!”

He peered up at her, cheeks hollowed, moaning low in his throat, the vibrations from such only adding to the bonfire of ecstasy that crackled up her spine, the burn of pleasure then settling low within her, her soft thighs writhing against his face as his eyes shone gold, his cock throbbing with the need to fill her.  

She drew a breath through gritted teeth, her walls in spasm as her fuse flickered and crackled, primed to explode, his mouth working her hungrily before the desire grew too strongly within him, sitting up and pushing her legs back, her knees pressed to her chest as he skimmed her folds with the head of his cock. He teased her a little before sinking in slowly, spreading her around him, his hands stroking the soft of her thighs.  

He was slow to begin with, enjoying the soaking heat that gripped him, almost every inch of him dragging through her in gentle trawl, his heart thundering as he watched the way she loved it, loved him within her, parting her legs to lean down to her, his lips finding hers. “Fuck, that pretty little pussy is heaven, I swear. God... ahhh.” He was always so overcome to be inside her, and the novelty never wore off.  

It was all languid, like a sensual drip of honey, thick and sweet, their mouths locked as tongues swirled, breath hitched, and moans poured like wine from one mouth to another, her hands stroking the thick planes of muscle that ridged his shoulders. She gripped onto them when he sank into her deeper, gasping against his neck, her teeth laying a soft bite as lightning struck through the marrow of her, EZ sitting up again as speed replaced the slow trawl. 

His gaze fell to watch his cock emptying and filling her, glinting in the low light, creamed with the silken satin of what sheathed him so well, moving his thumb to press her clit, rubbing sweet tingles, his mouth tilting into a grin as she cried out shrilly.  

She tightened around him, a velvet, vice-like grip that began to pull the waves building within him to greater strength, his mouth falling open as he panted hard, rutting into her with more urgency. She began to quake ardently, feeling sparks skittering along her spine and down her legs, moaning contently as he folded to kiss her sternum, moving upwards slowly until his mouth was returned to hers, offering kisses of voracious want.  

Their bodies pushed against each other in heated sync, her legs moving to hook around his waist and grip tightly as she panted against his mouth. Everything became fervidly uncontained, her hands gliding down his well-defined back, the plush velvet of her cunt pulsing around him.  

An upward tilt of his hips as he shifted slightly had her gasping, the hardness within her slick walls nudging different spots and prompting ebullience as she started to glow. His mouth dipped to suck her nipples in turn, a rumbling groan permeating the air, the heat of his cock delicious as she rolled her hips up against him, loving him pinning her there beneath his weight.  

“Ahhh, fuck!” he gritted, driving into her centre in frenzy, teeth grazing the column of her throat, his hips shuddering with effort as lightning struck through him, her own release gathering momentum.

Being unselfish, he kept going until he knew her wails were the siren song of her cresting, her body shuddering against his as she glimmered strongly, wailing into his shoulder. The illumination of golden sunshine gilded her, rays surging through her veins, lighting her up like the darkened horizon at dawn as he quivered against her, cock twitching, pulsing endless, hot waves of cum into her, his groans all grit and gravel before his body slackened, lying breathless in her arms.  

“You know how I detailed why I love going down on you so much?” he asked a few minutes later, still on top of her, stroking the side of her neck as he rested his head against her chest.  

“Uh-huh,” she breathed, still a little spaced out.

“I think I love this more, just lying here with you like this.”  

Truth was, he loved everything about her, every moment, every touch. She knew it, too, lifting his head and cradling his face, offering soft kisses as she hummed with happiness.  

[narcolini]

in his shadow

ezekial ‘ez’ reyes x oc: ava gomez, angst/comfort, 2119 words

warnings for depictions of grief, talking about dead loved ones

for day 13 of whumpril : blurry vision | support | “i think i need to sit down”

a/n: omg i have made myself obsessed with yet another silly little pairing with my silly little ocs but . realllly enjoyed this and i’m definitely going to be adding more of them throughout whumpril because :( <3 babies

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc​ (let me know if you want to be tagged)

It’s the worst day of the year, every year. Worse than the anniversary of his death, really, because in the chaos of it all, Ava had forgotten the exact date it happened. She can barely even remember which day of the week it was now. Just that it was an afternoon in the Fall, and she’d been working, so they called her office not her cell. She got the news standing at her manager’s desk, staring at the pinboard in front. Could tell you in a heartbeat what was pinned there, which leaflets she read while hearing the worst news of her life, but the date? That was gone like smoke, blown apart by a change in the wind.

His birthday, though, that’s a date she’s known for so long that it’ll never go. It just cycles around instead. Every year, quicker than she expects, it comes, goes, and then it’s back around the Earth to haunt her again.

Last year, she’d spent it doing all the things he liked to do, which involved wasting the night away with the Mayans, drinking everything they bought her—because that’s their way of paying respect—and she regretted it. Big time. Not just for the headache afterwards, but because it felt like he’d died all over again. The way they looked at her, the sympathy behind every put-on smile. It comes from a good place, she knows, but, God, it makes it hard to move on. Hard to celebrate his life, when she’s the focus point for the grief of everyone else in the room.

She planned to keep to herself this year: watch a movie, order pizza, be in bed before eleven. But she didn’t even last until midday before driving herself crazy with it. With the thought of him, the absence of him. She needed company, that was evident now, but she needed the company of someone who doesn’t miss him as much as she does. Someone who never met him at all.

EZ wasn’t home when she knocked, knuckles bouncing off the thin trailer door. He wasn’t in the clubhouse either, but she didn’t hang around long enough to ask why, or where he was. Couldn’t face the questions that would no doubt follow.

You good, Ava?

You need something?

Instead, she’s waiting for him outside, sitting on the dirt by a stack of tires. The trailer’s directly opposite her, door right in her eye-line. When EZ comes back, she’ll be the first to know, the first to catch him. She can throw her offer in the ring, ask him to hang, before anyone else can. Secure herself some company before she truly goes crazy. Wanna get something to eat? Or let me sit in your trailer, while you work out and I talk about my dead fiancé for hours?

If EZ wasn’t the person he is, she wouldn’t dare ask it of him, but he’s probably the only guy for miles that would say yes to both.  

She stretches her legs out, bare calves against the gravel. It’s been nearly an hour now and, God, it’s hot. The sun’s sitting right over her, searing into the parting of her hair, putting beads of sweat across the top of her lip. She should’ve brought a drink with her, stopped at Starbucks on the way for an Iced coffee. But it’s too late now. He can’t be much longer.  

Like she’d summoned him herself, there it is, the rumble of an engine, the gleam of polished chrome pulling into the lot before her. She’s been around often enough to know them from their bikes, the colour of them, the size of the body. It’s EZ, and he parks it infront of her, a stone’s throw from the sole of her shoes.

He kicks the stand down, squinting at her as he dismounts. How he’s managing it, she doesn’t know, all the layers, the leather, the denim. It’s hot enough to roast him alive stationary, never mind riding down the asphalt. He pulls his helmet off, scrubbing the sweat out of his flattened hair, before shooting her a surprised, ‘Ava?’

‘Hey.’ She stands quickly to greet him, too quickly, actually. The blood goes from her feet to her head in a second, vision blacking out so swiftly that she staggers forward a step, toes catching on the ground.

‘Hey—woah.’ He lurches forward, taking her arm to steady her. ‘You good?’

She is, it’s just the world that’s spinning, tipping on axis. Her vision is back now, but swimming with floating specs that won’t blink away. And her body’s cold suddenly, but damp from the heat still, like her blood sugar’s dropped through the ground itself.

‘Ava?’

He’s trying to catch her attention, her gaze, by ducking his head down in front of her, but if she straightens out of the bend she’s adopted to meet him, she’ll collapse—maybe. Will send the blood back up to her head and blind herself again.

‘I think I need to sit down,’ she says, voice shaking slightly.

‘Yeah, me too,’ he agrees. ‘You been sat out here for long?’

Ava nods, glad of his grip on her arm as he starts to walk them towards his trailer. It’s the only thing keeping her upright, the only thing making the floor seem flat and not sloping, spinning.

‘Sit here.’ He puts her on the step—which she falls into clumsily, face pale—then moves back to use his body as shade, angling himself until his shadow is cast over where she sits. ‘Put your head between your knees.’

‘Does that help?’ Her head’s in her hands currently, and that’s doing nothing at all.

‘Find out for yourself,’ he says, talking with a slight smile. ‘Come on.’

She complies, folding to put her skull between her knees, with her eyes squeezed shut. It doesn’t stop the spinning right away, but it does lessen the pressure behind her brows, and the tightness in her chest. Enough of a difference to make her wait there, curled up like a pill-bug on his step.

‘Better?’

She hums.

‘What’re you doing here anyway?’ he asks, happy to do so now he knows she won’t collapse at his feet. ‘It’s like, a hundred degrees out here.’

‘Wanted to wait,’ she churns out, ‘for you.’

He shifts, fidgeting in front of her. She hears the soles of his boots against the dry ground to know that he’s doing it. ‘What for?’ he asks.

And now all the plans she had, dissolve like they were never there at all. There isn’t one suggestion left that feels doable. Partially because she’s made herself sick, from sitting too long, standing too quickly, spending too much time in the sun, and partly because he’s already doing her a favour. He’s already stopped her from passing out in his arms, and now she’s supposed to ask him to act as a therapist?

‘Give me a minute,’ she says, lifting her head slowly. Her forehead is damp, and cold still, somehow, so she wipes it dry with both hands. Rubs her eyes until they’re bleary, then blinks until they’re back to focus. When she finally looks ups to EZ, she’s normal again, just about. Functioning enough to try a real conversation.

He smiles. ‘Welcome back.’

It’s an easy expression to mirror, EZ’s smile. She does it without even realising. ‘You got a few hours to spare?’ Time in your day to keep a widow company?

‘Sure.’ He nods, gesturing for the door behind her. ‘Got some sodas in the fridge.’

*

Inside, it’s surprisingly cool. The white paint of the outside is doing enough to reflect the heat and keep the trailer liveable, heavenly, really, by Ava’s standards. Like stepping out of a sauna and dipping your toes in the pool. The drink is a God send too, cold and sugary, and pouring more and more life into her with every added sip. It’s obvious that she made the right choice already, rocky start or not. EZ and iced sodas is way fucking better than Tequila in the club house. Better company in one, than there are in her entire troop of mourners—on today, at least.

‘So what’s up?’ he asks, after enough small talk has passed that it’s the only question left. ‘You don’t normally come looking for me.’ He ducks his chin, looking embarrassed for a breath. ‘Not that I mind hanging out.’

She sighs, slouching into the bench she’s occupying, her feet up on the one opposite. He’s stood still, leaning on the short counter to her left, waiting with his drink held to his chest. May as well tell him, then. May as well enjoy the luxury of getting to tell someone who doesn’t know already. His relative newness to the club is a gift that won’t last forever, after all.

‘It’s Sebastian’s birthday today,’ she says, ignoring the twitch of acknowledgment he gives. The, ah, makes sense, look he puts her way. ‘And I tried to have a me day, but, I don’t know. I guess I’d prefer some company.’

EZ nods, drinking to stall his response—she can tell. When you have to tell people, time and time again, my fiancé died, sorry, Sebastian passed away, you get used to allowing for that second. That pause while the living decides how to deal with the dead.

‘I gotta say,’ he starts, wiping his mouth dry afterwards, ‘I’m not sure why… I mean, I’m not good with this kind of thing. Knowing what to say.’

She snorts. ‘Good. That’s what I want.’ That’s why she picked him over everyone else, though she knows him the least, and they know her the best. ‘I love you guys, everyone, I really do. The club’s like the only fucking family I have left. But.’ She looks down, picking away at the damp label of her bottle. ‘Honestly, you’re the only one who, y’know, sees me and not Sebastian’s ex.’

It’s not like the others can help it, either, when she’s the walking reminder of the brother they lost. The only bit of him there is left.

‘And they all miss him too,’ she continues, defending herself though he hasn’t said a word against it, ‘I get that, but it’s just a lot. Especially today. I want to talk about him, sure, of course I do.’

Her throat catches. She swallows.

‘But you don’t wanna carry their baggage as well as your own,’ EZ finishes, nodding. ‘I hear you.’

‘Yeah.’ A breath, relief. He gets it. ‘It’s too much sometimes. I see the way they look at me, like they’re sorry for me still. It drives me crazy.’

He stands from his lean, crossing to sit in the couch she’s got her feet on. ‘Y’know,’ he says, ‘at Mom’s funeral, I left before the family could even talk to me.’

‘Really?’

He nods. ‘Same thing, that look. I couldn’t stand it. Was like she’d died all over again.’

She laughs, though it isn’t funny, because that’s it. That’s exactly it. ‘God, do you know how good it is to hear someone say that out loud?’ she asks, unable to swing the smile away. ‘Cause I appreciate everything the club does for me, y’know, the love is there, but, shit. Sometimes I wonder if it’d be easier to just leave and never come back.’

‘Yep.’ He snorts. ‘Been there, too.’

And yet, the both of them are still sitting here, in the trailer on the Mayan’s lot, because that’s the point, isn’t it? The love beneath all the annoyances.

‘You wanna tell me about him?’ he asks, and she can see in his eyes that it’s sincere. He wants to know, to meet Sebastian properly. It’s not just a polite offer to a widow in need. ‘All I know about, is the crazy shit they used to get up to.’

‘Well, that is a good portion of it,’ she jokes, which feels good to do. Feels like unlinking one of the chains wrapped around her chest, to talk about him with someone that doesn’t carry the grief of him. It’s like introducing him for the first time. This is Sebastian, EZ, and he’s the reason we’re even here at all.

‘He would’ve hated this shit, for starters,’ she says, ‘making his birthday a day of mourning.’ But maybe it doesn’t have to be that. Maybe EZ can help her start a new tradition, cold sodas and fresh stories. ‘You ever hear about what he did in college?’

EZ shakes his head, settling into the cushion behind.

‘God,’ she laughs, ‘alright,’ and then she begins, talking as if Sebastian is right there beside her.

>>> part two

[drabbles-mc]

Nothing New (Part 2)

EZ Reyes x OFC (Lola Ortega)

Part 1 can be found Here

For Day 22 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: "Let's get you cleaned up."

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

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I think about these two all the time. My brain has been Bad lately so hopefully this still came out okay. I just. I love their angst and their constant push and pull. I want to make life easy for them but I can't lmao

EZ Reyes Taglist: @rosieposie0624 @noz4a2 @queenbeered @choochoo284 @thesandbeneathmytoes @mijagif @withmyteeth @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @buckybarneshairpullingkink @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @jveudlamoula @passionatewrites @nessamc @winchestershiresauce @artemiseamoon @littlekittymeow @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @beardburnsupersoldiers @justazzi @solidly-indulgent @danzer8705 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

The weeks that followed their last discussion felt precarious. It felt like there were still eggshells hidden around, waiting for one of them to step on them and reduce it to shatters. The distance that time had put between them was hard enough to traverse, but the extra miles that EZ was manufacturing to keep her away just seemed cruel, salt in an already-aggravated wound.

She could deal with limbo, to a certain extent. She expected it, even, as they got back into knowing each other. The usual routine for reconnecting with old friends had gotten thrown out the window the first night they saw each other after so many years apart, so now they were back-tracking and trying to do it over the right way this time. It wasn’t as easy as they’d hoped, especially with the bumps they’d already hit in the road, but they were determined to figure it out.

They existed in the space between friends and something more. It would’ve been simple enough to pretend that their first night together didn’t happen, or that it was just a mistake borne from too much alcohol and too many years apart. But the truth was that neither of them wanted that. Even EZ, for all of his self-sabotage, wasn’t ready to let her go now that he’d had her like that.

But that didn’t mean that he was ready to let her in, either. The push-and-pull of that muddied the waters, kept things from being simple. He could feel himself doing it, too, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. There were a lot of things that EZ still didn’t get into with her. He said precious little about the club. Part of her understood that, understood that there was a lot that happened with the club that anyone who didn’t wear a kutte wasn't allowed to know the ins and outs of. But she still wanted to get a better picture of what it was all about now, what this huge new part of EZ’s life meant for him, and for her, if she decided to stick around.

When EZ had left her apartment the day before, the last thing he said to he was that he’d let her know when he was back safe at the clubhouse. He didn’t say where he was going, didn’t say why, and Lola didn’t ask him to tell her either of those things. She knew that she was going to be met with vague answers, so she took what she had been given. That was well over twenty-four hours ago now, though, and from the way he had been talking it didn’t sound like whatever it was that he was doing was going to take that long. But she’d gone to work, come back home, and done it all over again all without hearing anything from him. So now she was back to sitting on her bed, trying not to overthink it all.

Letting out a deep sigh, she reached over and grabbed her phone off her nightstand, scrolling to the last text message she’d sent him. She sent it late the night before when she could feel herself finally about to go to sleep. Just a short, simple, “Hope everything is okay” that she never got a reply to.

She toyed with the phone in her hands for a few moments before hitting the call button. Part of her knew better than to get her hopes up that he would answer, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

After a long series of rings, she was met with the automated voice telling her that the person she was trying to reach wasn’t available. The couple seconds before the beep had Lola wondering if it was even worth it to leave a voicemail for him. If he didn’t have time to answer a text, it wasn’t more likely that he was going to give her a call back. Taking a deep breath, she managed to end the call just before the beep sounded.

She let her phone drop onto her comforter, running her hands over her face and back through her hair. Suddenly the stillness and silence of her apartment felt like a bad omen, like a calm before the storm. She didn’t know if that feeling would be more or less intense if she actually knew what the hell EZ and the rest of the club were getting into.

Another hour went by, and there was still nothing. No text, no call, no EZ miraculously showing up and knocking at her apartment door. If he hadn’t promised she’d hear from him, she wouldn’t be worrying so much. They were grown, they could go a couple days without talking—they didn’t owe each other anything when it came to that. But he was the one who had said he’d be in touch, and now it was radio silence.

Letting out a groan, she yanked the blanket off her legs, kicking it so that it bunched up at the foot of her bed. Swinging her legs over, Lola got up and made her way over to her dresser, changing out of her pajamas, trading in her comfortable shorts for jeans, swapping out one tank top for another. She swiped her phone off the bed, stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans as she left the comfort of her bedroom. She barely slowed down enough to slip her boots on, too focused on grabbing her bag and her keys and getting out of the apartment. It was a miracle that she remembered to lock the door behind her.

It felt unnaturally dark out when she pulled up to the scrapyard. They had a few scattered lights throughout the compound, something between a street-lamp and a light pulled from a high school football field. The light cast off from them just seemed to emphasize the rest of the darkness that was surrounding them.

Putting her car in park, she hopped out. The small handful of times that she’d been there, the gate had been open. She frowned as she looked at the heavy metal, wondering how she was supposed to get herself on the other side of it. Even in her younger more reckless days, that was one gate that she wouldn’t have been able to hop even if she had been stupid enough to try.

Raking her nails back along her scalp, she tried to figure out what her next plan of action was. It wasn’t like she could just call EZ to come and let her in. The fact that it was so quiet had her thinking that no one was around. Then it became a question of whether she was going to wait and hope someone turned up, or if she was just going to go all the way back home to sit and worry there instead.

Just as she was about to slump down and sit in front of the gate, she heard the rattling of the office door being pulled open. She froze, feeling hopeful and like she was trespassing at the same time. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited to see who it was that would be walking out.

The man was whistling, eyes on the ground as he watched his step leaving the building. It was only when he lifted his gaze to turn around that he noticed Lola’s car. Then, looking around, he noticed Lola. His eyes grew wide, but he didn’t flinch.

Lola had no idea who he was, but the Romero Brother’s shirt that he was wearing gave her a little bit of hope. Clearing her throat, she walked over to him. “Hi.”

“The scrapyard is closed,” he said, studying her like he was trying to figure out if he was supposed to know her.

“I know. I, um,” she didn’t know how much she should say, “I’m looking for EZ. He’s my…he’s a friend.”

“A friend,” he repeated.

She nodded. “Yea.” Both of them stood there awkwardly for a moment before Lola realized that she should probably tell this guy who she was. “Sorry.” She held her hand out, not batting an eye at his prosthetics. “I’m Lola.”

“Lola,” he said, like he was turning the word over in his mind. “I’m Chucky.” He paused. “EZ isn’t here.”

Apparently he’d gotten the memo about giving vague answers. “Right. Okay. I just, I’ve been waiting to hear from him and…nothing.”

He frowned at the worry in her expression. “I don’t know where they are.”

She believed that. She just didn’t know what she was supposed to do now. “O-okay. Thank you, Chucky.”

“Do you want to wait here?” he offered.

She couldn’t hide the relief on her face. “That would be great, yea.”

He gave a small nod before walking past her towards the gate. “No one else is here. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

She wasn’t as sure about that as he was, but she wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity. After she’d pulled her car in and parked it off to the side out of the way of the clubhouse, she found herself standing in the empty lot, feeling much more out of place than she already had, which she wasn’t quite sure was possible. Chucky lingered with her for a few minutes, clearly unsure about whether or not he should be leaving her there alone.

They were each seated on the steps that led up to the clubhouse, and Lola was about to apologize for holding him up, making his late night even later. However before she could, the sound of motorcycle engines cut through the silence in the air. Both their heads snapped to look towards the gate. Sure enough, hardly a few minutes later, the entire entourage of bikes, and the van, all came rolling in.

Chucky was up on his feet in a second, making his way towards where they were all starting to line up their bikes. Lola managed to get herself to her feet, but she hung back by the steps. She knew that she probably wasn’t supposed to be here for any of this. The less noticeable she made herself, the better.

She watched from the sidelines as each of the men began to dismount their bikes, taking their helmets off in the process. She saw Angel first, which was reassuring. A couple of the other men she didn’t exactly know but she’d seen them before when she stopped by to see EZ. Everyone looked exhausted, beat up in one way or another. However, as the sound of bike engines started to die off, all of them beginning to fall silent, she still had yet to see EZ. Her nails were nearly drawing blood from her palms as she clenched her fists at her side.

None of the guys seemed to notice her as they talked among themselves. Lola watched with bated breath, tears starting to well in her eyes as she waited for any clue as to what the hell was going on. She watched as Angel walked around to the back of the van, sighing as he yanked the back doors of it open.

“Alright, Boy Scout,” he said, sounding more exhausted than anything as he reached to help his brother stumble out the back of the van, “let’s go.”

“EZ?” the name came falling out of Lola’s mouth before she could stop it. Not especially loud, but the surprised yet concerned lilt in her voice caused everyone to turn and look at her.

It was only then that Chucky spoke up, turning and looking at EZ who was leaning on his brother for support, breaking the tense silence with, “Lola came looking for you.”

Angel tried to choke back a chuckle, knowing that it wasn’t the time or the place. EZ just shook his head, peeling his gaze off of Lola and looking at the man who had a knack for pointing out the obvious, “Thanks, Chucky.”

He took that as his cue to leave, giving a nod to the rest of the men who were standing around before taking off back towards the gate to leave. Lola started to make her way towards where everyone was standing, while most of the men started to disperse, heading for the clubhouse. Lola passed by them all without a word as she walked up to Angel and EZ.

“What are you doing here?” EZ asked when she walked up to him.

She frowned at his tone even though she knew it was coming. “I—”

“She’s helping me carry your ass to the trailer,” Angel cut her off, knowing that this was going to turn into an argument that he didn’t want to be part of. He looked at Lola before nodding at EZ. “Help me out.”

Lola was about to loop her arm around the other side of him when EZ waved her off. “I’m good.”

Angel rolled his eyes as the three of them slowly made their way towards EZ’s trailer. “Yea, you’re good. That’s why Creep had to ride your bike the rest of the way back.”

“What happened?” Lola asked, not able to contain her worry, her curiosity.

“Nothing,” EZ’s response came immediately, a knee-jerk reaction as he limped along.

Angel didn’t have the same reservations as he did. “He wiped out. Smacked his head off the blacktop.”

EZ rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad. Leg hurts worse than my head, honestly.”

“Yea,” Angel said with a scoff, “that’s because you’re missing some skin that’s supposed to be there.”

“Jesus,” Lola said quietly, going a few strides ahead of them so that she could pull open the door of EZ’s trailer.

EZ shot his brother a look. “Do you have to make it worse?”

Angel chuckled, shaking his head. “You do that just fine on your own with her, Little Brother.” He paused as he and EZ both awkwardly maneuvered up the stairs. “All those brains and you’re still a fuckin’ idiot.”

Lola only heard the latter comment, and it got an eye-roll out of her even if she wanted to laugh a little bit. “Angel…”

He dropped EZ rather unceremoniously onto the mattress, holding his hands up in surrender once he was done. “He’s your problem now.” He pulled her into a quick hug, and even through the brief gesture she could feel how tired he was. “You good?”

It took Lola a second to realize that Angel was talking to her, not EZ. Clearing her throat, she nodded. “Of course. Go and get some rest.”

“Yea,” he lightly squeezed her shoulder as he pulled away from her. He stepped past EZ as he reached for the door. “Call if you need me.”

EZ nodded, knowing that he wasn’t going to be doing that. “I will.” Once the door clattered shut behind Angel, EZ turned his attention back to Lola. He winced as he moved, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. “What are you doing here?”

“I got worried.”

“I told you I’d let you know—”

“And then you didn’t.”

“Well I wasn’t back.” There was more venom to his statement than he meant for there to be, but he didn’t apologize for it.

He wasn’t wrong, technically. He hadn’t reached out to say he made it back, because he hadn’t made it back. But that also wasn’t the real issue at play here. They both knew that, and Lola wasn’t going to let EZ try and turn their argument into something that it wasn’t.

“I was worried. I’m…I’m allowed that.”

“You can’t just be showing up here,” he said as he shook his head at her.

“You’d have more of a right to be upset about all of this if you were actually okay. But you’re not. I was right to worry this time.”

He shook his head. “I know. But I don’t,” he sighed, eyes dropping to the floor for a moment before looking back up at her, “I don’t want you involved in all this shit, Lola.”

“I’m not involved.”

“If you’re here, you’re involved,” he shot back.

The statement gave her pause. She figured that the reason he made the trek to her place more often than not was because there was just more room, felt a little more like a home than his trailer did. She figured that not really wanting her around the guys from the club was part of it, she just didn’t realize how big of a part it was.

“Well,” she shook her head as she started to gather up things to clean out the road rash that was only partially covered by his torn jeans, “I’m going to have to get involved eventually.”

“Why?”

Her brows furrowed as she looked over at him. “Are you planning on leaving the club anytime soon?”

“No, but—”

“And I’m not leaving you,” she cut him off, soft but firm. “So. You know…yea.”

For just a moment his angry façade cracked and real worry shone through. “What if something happened to you?”

She shook her head at him as she brought her things over. “Seems like you’re the only one who has things happening to them.” She held her hand out to help him up. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He winced a bit but otherwise held his tongue as he allowed her to help him up, trying to keep his weight off of the leg that took the brunt of the damage. If he didn’t know better he’d think that something in his hip got put in the wrong place with how much it hurt to try and move.

When EZ was sitting back down, she set about trying to clean his leg out the best that she could. She knew that there would be no getting him to the doctor over this, so she didn’t even bother trying. “Did you really just wipe out?” she asked as she cleaned.

He sighed, head dropping back so he was staring up at the ceiling. “Lola, don’t.”

“Ezekiel, come on. Even if I wasn’t here tonight, I would’ve seen this,” she gestured to his leg, “eventually. And I would ask then.”

“I know you think you wanna know all of this, know this part of me, but I’m telling you, you d—”

“How long are you going to be using that excuse?” she asked, wanting to sound angrier than she did. Tears started to gather at the edges of her eyes. “How long do I have to stay before you trust me?”

“We’ve hardly known each other for a month.”

She sat back on her heels at that, hurt all over her face. “That’s not true. You know that’s not true. I, I grew up three streets away from you! You played baseball with my brother all throughout high school! Don’t,” her voice shook as she tried not to let it crack, “don’t act like none of that matters.”

“It doesn’t,” he said, shaking his head, “Not when it comes to this.”

They both fell silent after that. Lola finished cleaning and wrapping his leg without much of an issue. She heard him hiss in pain a few times but she knew that if she tried to offer him any words of comfort she was just going to get herself worked up. Having the work to focus on for a bit was good, something to keep her emotions in check.

When she was done, she got up and went to wash her hands in his kitchen sink, still not saying anything to him. EZ watched her, and he couldn’t deny that he felt a wave of guilt over it all. He knew she meant well, that she cared. He knew that she wasn’t just going to walk away, but that’s what made it all so much more difficult for him. She wasn’t the type to turn tail and run out on someone when things got difficult, she never had been. Sticking by him when they were kids had been one thing, it’d been easy—there was no real danger back then. But now there was, and he didn’t want to be the one responsible for hurting her, destroying a life that she’d spent the last ten years building for herself.

“Thank you,” he finally said.

She nodded as she dried her hands. “You’re welcome.”

There was a long pause before he asked, “Are you gonna head back?”

She shrugged—she hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Do you want me to stay?”

It felt selfish to say yes after all that he’d said to her. But he also had to think that if she didn’t want to stay, she wouldn’t have given him the option. “If you want.”

A sad, tired smile tried to lift the ends of her mouth. “Okay.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment as she went and grabbed one of his shirts to wear, letting her clothes land in a pile on the floor. She watched as EZ shrugged off his kutte and put it off to the side before peeling his shirt off over his head. He let that fall in the pile with her things as well. When he looked back at her, any calm he might’ve felt over the sight of her there, with him, wearing his things, was erased when he saw the way her eyes were taking in the bruises scattered on his body.

Without either of them saying a word about it, she crawled into bed beside him, neither of them minding the tight fit. She tried to carefully position herself around him so that she wouldn’t aggravate any of his injuries.

After a few minutes of laying there in silence with EZ’s hand lightly trailing up and down her back, Lola said, “I know…I know you look at my life and think that you shouldn’t be part of it.”

He exhaled, visibly deflating. “Lola…”

Propping herself up on her elbow, she looked at him. “You can’t keep using my life against me, using it as an excuse to keep me at arm’s-length.”

He toyed with the ends of her hair that were laying on his chest as she leaned over him. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to protect me from you. If anything,” her hand grazed over the scar running down his arm, “I should be protecting you from you.”

He let out a quiet chuckle at that. “Maybe.”

There was a beat of silence before the heaviness returned. “I don’t want whatever this, we, turn out to be, I don’t want it to be a fight every step of the way. It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“I know.”

She shook her head, bringing her hand so that it was cupping the side of his face. “Then you gotta stop fighting me, Ezekiel.”

He rested his hand over hers. “I’m trying, I’m just,” he let out a small laugh, “really bad at it.”

For the first time since he’d left, Lola felt the knot in her stomach start to go away. “Yea, I see that.” She let him weave his fingers through hers. “Pendejo,” she said softly with a shake of her head.

“You’re the one who said you wanna stick around,” he said, a smile on his face despite the exhaustion.

Allowing herself to lie down next to him again, she let her cheek rest against his chest. She pulled her hand away from his face and let her arm drape across him. “I do. And I will.” She felt the ride of the scar on his stomach beneath her palm. “I promise.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

SHAMELESS self-promotion plug, here!

THIS GIRL RIGHT HERE WRITES FOR EZ! Quite a lot, in fact! Linky linky - https://darklydeliciousdesires.tumblr.com/post/708819091983663104/ez-reyes-masterlist

Y'all write for every Mayan except Ez and I'm SICK 😤😤

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Mayans MC Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You will not be able to read anything marked as smut without your community labels turned to show.

Smut💦 Angst😨 Fluff ❤ Violence🔪 Gore🤢 Medical💉 Triggering material🚩

Angel Reyes

The Wager❤💦💦❤

Angel and Manny have a bet, you get to be the one decide who wins.

EZ Reyes

Coming soon

Manny

The Wager❤💦💦❤

Angel and Manny have a bet, you get to be the one decide who wins.

****

A Gentle Kind of Love Complete ❤❤😨💦💦

You and Coco meet overseas when you are doing aid work. When you move to Santo Padre to settle down, your life changes forever when you and Manny strike up a friendship.

Guero

The New Bartender❤💦

Out of desperation, Bishop hires a real bartender.

****

Bottles

The New Bartender❤💦

Out of desperation, Bishop hires a real bartender.

[artemiseamoon]

Rewatching one of my old favs (to finish Death Kiss) and all I see now is Bishop 😂

I’m at the motel scene now, and it’s all Bish & Blu in my mind.

[garbinge]

The Middle Reyes Sister

Collection of one shots of middle sister OFC Manny Reyes.

Tribute - Angel Reyes & EZ Reyes & OC Manny Reyes

Family Night - Ez Reyes & Angel Reyes & Sister!OC Manny Reyes

Siblings - Angel Reyes  & OC Manny Reyes

Break in - Bishop Losa x OC Manny Reyes 

[proceduralpassion]

More Than A Woman | Chapter 02

Pairing: Angel Reyes x OFC

Destiny "Desi" Maduro helps Angel and his son pick up the pieces after a recent death rocks their world. In the midst of doing so, the school psychologist navigates a rocky family life and adjusts to being thrown into the MC world.

Warning(s): language

WC: 1.4k

Angel entered the clubhouse a little lighter than he did when he left. He was immediately greeted with the smell of good food and wandered over to the kitchen area where there was slow-cooked barbacoa that Hank had put on the grill. There was no special occasion, the man just loved to whip out some grilled food every now and then. 

EZ was the first face he rounded upon once he reached the table that held the roasted meat. 

“Hey, man,” the younger Reyes brother greeted.

Angel nodded his head and replied with a distracted “hey.”

EZ stopped him from going towards the table by blocking him. “Pops picked up Santi?”

“Yeah,” Angel looked at him, “But I’m gonna try and start picking him up more. At least on some days.”

Small steps. Of course with the demands of the club, he wouldn’t always be able to pick his first grader up, but he was going to try and be more intentional about doing so. 

EZ smiled, “That’s good,” he ventured out on a limb by asking next, “How’re you doing?”

For the first time, he could somewhat answer truthfully. His previous discussion with Santo Padre’s elementary school psychologist, Ms. Maduro, wouldn't solve all of his problems, but he felt off to a great start. He walked out of their meeting feeling more motivated and clear-headed. So when he replied to his brother’s question with “Yeah, I’m actually feeling really better. You don’t have to worry about me, little brother,” he actually meant it.

Just then, Creeper popped his head into the clubhouse and yelled inside, “Yo, Angel, ya pops is here. He’s got Santi.”

Like always, Felipe never felt the need to venture inside. He always waited outside, not ever moving much further than beyond his truck. As Angel walked down the stairs and towards his father, he saw Santi holding his abuelo’s hand and shading his face with the other hand. 

Santi wasn’t exactly thrilled to see his father, but he wasn’t shying away from him either. Angel decided against reaching his arms out for a hug, but settled for dapping the young boy up. Santi returned the gesture and walked closer to him now that Felipe was backing away. Angel looked back up at his father, “I’ve got another doctor’s appointment on Tuesday, won’t be able to get him.”

Angel shook his head, “No problem, I’ll get him.”

And with that, Felipe got into his truck and turned the ignition. Ever since Dita, the man wouldn’t speak to his sons unless absolutely necessary. If it weren’t for Santi, the man would probably not lose any sleep over never speaking to his sons again. 

***********

Felipe mentioned not being able to pick up his grandson on Tuesday, but he had no problem getting him on Monday. In fact, he came to the clubhouse much earlier than usual. As in before Santo Padre’s Elementary classes were dismissed. Felipe’s demeanor was still calm, but there was a slight sharpness to his tone as he spoke to Angel.

“He got into a fight at school. Something over a toy at recess,” Felipe walked away again to get into his truck, but not before uttering a “Pick up your fucking phone,” to Angel.

Angel inspected his son’s face and was relieved to see no major marks or scratches on it. That didn’t mean he still wasn’t pissed that some “snot-nosed little fucker” picked a fight with his son. Of course, he didn’t know whether the other kid was the instigator or not, but that didn’t matter when it came to his kid.

He got his phone out of his pocket and realized that he did, in fact, have two missed calls on his phone. He was too busy across the border beating a rival’s ass. Oh, the parallels. 

One of the calls was from the school’s principal and the other was from Ms. Maduro. 

Just then, his screen flashed again with an incoming call. Recognizing the principal’s number, he roughly spoke into the phone, “Yeah, I know, I’ll be there in a few.” 

He was guiding Santi into the clubhouse as he spoke into the phone before bending down at eye level with his son. 

“Santi, stay here. I gotta go to the school and deal with this.”

Chucky was nearby at the bar and he walked around to greet Santi with promises of activities they could get into while Angel was away. Besides EZ, Chucky was the only one who was equipped to somewhat entertain the six year old. 

“Go ahead, Angel Reyes. We’ll be here until you get back.” Chucky shooed Angel off without so much as another glance as him and Santi went over to a table discussing the 64 pack crayon box that Chucky had gotten for him. 

**********

Angel looked at the school harshly for a minute before finally taking his helmet off and dismounting his bike. No matter what actually transpired, he was still pissed that his son had gotten into a fight. Logically, he knew that fights were a part of growing up, especially as a boy. Hell, he and EZ still sometimes tussled over meaningless things. Being reminded of his brother, he pulled out his phone to send a text EZ’s way just in case the Mayans VP was curious as to where he was at. 

He walked down the long school hallway and approached the open door to Destiny Maduro’s office. She obviously heard his nearing steps as she looked up expectantly just before he knocked the door.

“Mr. Reyes, come in,” she said while standing from her office chair. He motioned for him to take the seat across from the desk before sitting back down herself. There was a sympathetic smile painted on her face as she moved her laptop away. 

Angel didn’t waste any time trying to get to the bottom of today’s mayhem, “What happened?”

“Santi brought a toy of his to school. A LEGO Iron-Man? One of the boys wanted to play with it, but Santi wouldn’t let him. They got into a fight over it in the sandbox.”

Angel gave a sad smile, “His mom used to play legos with him. They made all kinds of superheroes together.”

Destiny mirrored his expression, “I’m sorry. I figured the toy had sentimental value. I know he’s probably attached to them, but I’m gonna recommend he doesn’t bring them to school. Not when they mean so much to him and can possibly get broken or stolen.”

Angel nodded his assent.

With the pause came Angel’s attempt to disrupt the somber energy, “Would it be bad if I tell him that I’m proud he whooped some ass?”

“Maybe tell him you’re proud he stood up for himself,” Destiny suggested with a laugh. “The fight was over before it really began so Santi’s not in any trouble other than the time-out his teacher gave him.”

“Thank you.”

“You should be aware,” Destiny started carefully, “that I’m keeping this in my notes for Santi. It’s not gonna go on his permanent record or anything, but it’s just something for me, so that I’m keeping up with every part of Santi’s development and well-being.” She never wanted her student’s parents to feel like their kids were being targeted or in danger of being expelled. 

Angel gave no resistance. He was convinced that Santi would be given detention or at risk for suspension. He was thankful that grace was given instead and made no fight or pushback. He thanked her once again and stood up.

“Hell of a Monday, huh?”

“Ha! Yeah, it has. Now, I’ve got to find some place to scrap my car.” Destiny had stood up, too. She was gathering her things and Angel probed the statement she just made.

“Your car?”

Destiny smiled, “Yeah. I got a new one a couple of weeks ago now that my Pinto finally gave up on me. It’s been sitting in my front yard ever since and my HOA won’t shut up about it.”

“You know I work at a scrap yard, right?”

“Oh!” Destiny gave a noise of surprise, not entirely sure of the man’s job, only that he was a part of the Santo Padre Mayans MC charter based on his kutte. She had the slightest inkling that all of their dealings weren’t entirely legal, which is why news of his legitimate job momentarily stupefied her. 

“Yeah,” Angel replied, “Will it drive a short trip?”

“Barely, but I might be able to get one final use out of it,” she chuckled. 

“Well, tell you what, I’m picking up Santi tomorrow. Why don’t you drive the Pinto here tomorrow and bring the title? I’ll tow it to get it scrapped, free of charge.” 

A/N: First off, thank y'all sooo much for the great response back to the first chapter! Glad you're enjoying the ride so far and I hope you continue to. Don't forget to reblog and lmk how you feel! Always love hearing y'all thoughts and predictions 😍

Taglist: @mijagif @drabbles-mc @kmhappybunny240 @babaohhhriley @nunya7394 @darqchilddaydreamz

[amysteryspot]

Mystery WIPs

A Woman's Worth - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader [Request] Anthony tries to save his marriage after realizing how much he had hurt his wife with his foolish actions.

You and I - Jay Halstead x Leia Seresin (OFC) - Crossover between Chicago PD and Top Gun: Maverick Leia goes through the pain of loosing someone she loves to the military career again.

Untitled - Ez Reyes x Reader Reader is grieving and Ez is the only one who can take her mind off of it for a bit.

Untitled - Alfie Solomons x Agnes Stewart (OC) x Thomas Shelby Tommy takes Agnes to London for a meeting at Alfie's bakery.

Borrowed Time [8] - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Crystal "Icebreaker" Kazansky The Dagger Squad celebrates their sucess at the mission and Crystal opens up about her father.

All American Nightmare - Jax Teller x Beatrice Winston (OC) The adventures of Beatrice and her love for his brother's best friend.

Sweet Begginings - Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader x Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw (polyamory)

Sugarplum needs a roommate, Bradley and Jake are tired of the Bachelor Officer Quarters, Bob intervenes to bring them together and help his friends out… what could go wrong?

Bitter - Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Reader is still bitter about her breakup with Jake, but sheisn't the only one that misses it.

Untitled - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Reader takes care of Tommy after yet another fight (before the war).

Last Update: 15/03/2023

[narcolini]

in his shadow - pt. 3

ez reyes x oc: ava gomez, 3426 words

warnings for alcohol usage and mild steaminess, 18+

for day 19 of whumpril: ‘i’m worried about you’

a/n: ok. mi gente, mi compas. this had all the intentions of being whump and angst and then. i dont know what happened. im so sorry to the whumpril creators but my brain said we flirting today and thats all i could do. anyway HUGE eyes at this development

tagging: @drabbles-mc @cositapreciosa​ my ez ladies 

previous part here

Her grand plan to make amends, went as smoothly as every other plan she’s had lately—which is not smooth at all, forever doomed to tip into something like disaster, apparently. She’d pulled up to EZ’s trailer undetected at first, which filled her with confidence that this would work. Had managed to get half the weights from her trunk, to the spot just beside his door, without too much noise as well. It was all going perfectly, really, until she dropped the last dumbbell onto one of the others, sending the pair of them clattering to the ground.

He didn’t burst out like she thought he might’ve, gun in hand and ready for assault, so she carried on with her mission regardless. Scooped the lighter one first, put it back into place. Turned her attention again to the one that stretched her arms out tight, too heavy, really, for her to be lifting at all.

Her dedication to correcting the mistake made her miss the door opening, made her oblivious to EZ standing in the frame of it now, half-dressed and rubbing his eyes.  

‘What’s this?’ he asks, voice breaking the silence. Deep, and sleep-trodden, from the step above her. ‘Some sort of reverse robbery?’

‘Shit.’ His arrival makes her jump, grip slipping momentarily. ‘Sorry.’

‘Was about to come out here swinging, Ava.’

Was about to tackle her to the ground, no doubt, demanding to know what she was doing at his place when he’s trying to sleep.

She sighs, standing from her bend, the last dumbbell finally set into the bottom rack. ‘I was trying to get it all out before you…’ The words fade off, replaced by a smile. It doesn’t matter. She shouldn’t have been sneaking up on a Mayan, but the end result is the same now. ‘Peace offering?’ she says, unable to shake the question from the end of it. If he wants her to go, she will. But if he takes the gift willingly, she’ll get to leave with one less burden on her shoulders.

He softens slightly—though with the way he’s squinting into the falling sun, it’s hard to tell. He’d look like he was frowning if it weren’t for the small tweak to his lips. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

‘But I did.’ She pulls open the tote over her arm, grabbing the bottle from within and holding it up to him. ‘I brought Tequila too.’

‘Tequila?’

She winces, apologetic. ‘I don’t drink beer.’

He laughs, head tilting to the side, like he’s weighing up the idea. ‘Tequila it is,’ he says, stepping back for her to enter. ‘But if you get me wasted, Bish will—’

‘I know, I know, you’re on call.’ She waves him off. ‘I’m very familiar with leading prospects astray.’ Sebastian used to pull the battery from his phone and claim he was out of range, with no signal to answer when el presidente called. ‘We’ll be good.’

She just wants to break the tension for a bit, that’s all. It’s been a few days since he came to get Seb’s things, since she sent him away for telling her what he thought. They haven’t spoken about it—which wouldn’t be too unusual, considering she’s only had his number for a week or so—but it feels noticeably awkward somehow. Like they aren’t speaking on purpose. She’d been at the clubhouse yesterday, and only got as much as a nod from him.

The door shuts behind them, pulled to by EZ. He does’t latch it, but leaves a crack for the breeze, for the glimpse of orange sun each time the gap widens it. ‘You really didn’t have to bring all this over,’ he says.

‘I just wanted to…’ She spins, still clutching the bottle with both hands. ‘I don’t know, I thought it over and I realised you’re right. What you said, it’s fucking right.’

He nods, quiet like he knows there’s more. She follows him with her eyes as he steps past her, reaching for a t-shirt, then pulling it over his head as she continues.

‘So I wanted to say sorry for that.’ She takes a breath. Sorry and can we forget it, she means, can we pretend I didn’t turf you out just for trying to be a friend. ‘But, I also think you were really, really, dumb—’

‘I thought this was an apology,’ he laughs, frowning through it.

‘It is—shut up—you were really dumb for laying it on me there when I was already in a fucking weird headspace.’

His brows dip again, but the smile lingers. The t-shirt settles around him. ‘And you’re sorry because…I was dumb?’

‘Because you didn’t know I have a complex about my dead fiancé’s house,’ she finishes, trying her best to remain sincere, but now he’s smiling, she is too. ‘Sorry. For that. Sorry I didn’t take your advice and sorry I didn’t tell you why.’ She nods, huffs. Relaxes now it’s out in the open.

‘Well, thank-you, and thank-you for the…’ He gestures behind him, in the direction of the weights on the other side. ‘But I’m the one that owes you an apology.’

‘Oh, don’t do that,’ she groans, ‘I’m trying to be the better person here.’

He goes to fight her on it, half-smile lifting in his lips, but then decides against it. Concedes and lets her have this one. ‘Alright, call it even then.’ She knows there’s an apology under there anyway. ‘Want me to get some glasses?’

‘Please.’ She passes him the bottle, ditching her bag on the side, and turning to the—‘Oh.’ She stops herself. ‘You were sleeping.’

The two couches that were there last time have been joined by a third cushion, long and filling the gap in place of the table, making the living room into a bedroom. The sheets on top are twisted, his bed unmade and abandoned from when she had woken him up.

‘Late night?’ she asks, hovering by the end of it.

‘Yeah, sorry, you can just.’ He flits from the kitchen space behind her, abandoning the open cupboard, to waft the sheet free and flat. He smoothes it quickly, tossing his pillow to the opposite end. ‘I can put it away if you want.’

‘No, no, I don’t mind.’ Seeing him fuss over it is making her regret even saying anything to start with. She can practically see his ears reddening the longer he tries to make it presentable, can feel her own doing the same as a result. She should’ve just climbed on in the first place, as if nothing were different. ‘Get the drinks,’ she tells him, ‘I can sit here.’

He lets her past, nodding as she settles onto the end of the bed. She toes her sneakers off, then puts her legs up on the thin mattress and shuffles back until she’s sat against the wall. It’s hard to imagine sleeping here, with no space either side of it, and it being thinner and shorter, much shorter, than any normal bed, but it is cozy. She can picture that. If it were her trailer, she’d have fairy light around the nook it’s in, make the bed a den instead of a camping situation.

‘Here.’ He passes her a glass. ‘I don’t have ice, sorry.’

‘You’re good.’ Tequila is tequila. She doesn’t intend to savour it like he might.

He climbs over her then, opting to sit on her left. When he puts his legs out, stonewash jeans atop the sheet, his feet are a stretch away from meeting the wall on the opposite side. Hers barely reach his ankles.

‘Salud,’ she says, clinking her glass to his.

He matches her, but when they go to drink, hers goes back in one, sharp and potent, while EZ just takes a sip.

‘Jesus.’ He laughs, coughing out through the taste of it. ‘We’re doing shots now?’

‘I am.’ She frowns, swallowing a second time to get rid of the burn. ‘Don’t know how you savour this stuff.’

‘Well,’ he considers it, looking into his glass with a smirk, ‘usually I drink nicer stuff. This is, yeah, it’s pretty rough.’

‘Oh, wow,’ her eyes roll, ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t break the bank for our peace-keeping drinks.’

He laughs, teeth flashing, and she joins him easily, glad to be with someone who can take her sarcasm as it’s intended. ‘Damn, was I even complaining?

‘No, but you aren’t rushing to refill my glass either, so…’

He bumps her, shoulder to shoulder. ‘You’re closer. You go.’

*

She did, and now they’re three shots down, cheeks warm, eyes glazing. EZ still insisted on sipping his, which was pacing Ava in a way she needed but would never have managed herself. Once the first was in, that was it, as careless with liquor as she was in college.

‘Okay,’ she announces, humming afterwards, ‘no more for a bit. You take your time with that one.’

‘Yeah? You feeling it?’

She smiles up at him—because he’s still sitting properly, back straight to the wall, and not half way into the bed the way she is. ‘Just the perfect amount.’

He nods, his own glass balanced on his lap. ‘Alright. Perfect amount.’

Perfect, warming, spinning room, amount. They’re sitting close enough to be touching now, arm to arm, hip to hip. More warmth added to the heat stirring in her chest, and tracking down her throat. This might be the first time she’s enjoyed Tequila in years. Her new favourite way to drink, cooped up on EZ’s three-part mattress.

‘You know,’ he starts, clearing his throat in-between, ‘the other day, I really didn’t mean to…’ He rubs the back of his head, itching the words out of him. ‘I’m worried about you, that’s all it is. Trying to look out for you.’ He laughs. ‘And being a dick about it in the process.’

’S'okay.’ She shrugs, sleeves bunching against his own. They’d already been through this. He was right, she was wrong, the timing was fucking terrible. ‘No biggie, is it?’ She pauses, then decides against stopping there. ‘But…’ she adds, drawing out the word, turning the T over between her teeth.

‘Let me have it.’ He sighs theatrically. ‘I can take it.’

Her hand lifts, elbow on the bed between them, finger waving in his general direction. ‘The trying to look out for me part,’ she says. ‘I get it. You’re a gentleman, blah blah blah, but, please don’t. Y’know, just. Don’t. That’s half the pinche problem with the rest of those payasos.’

He smiles, ducking his chin like that might hide it.

Which it doesn’t, of course, because Ava catches it right away, her brows pulling together sharply. ‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ Another smirk. ‘Just that, well, you’re getting it.’ He takes a sip, hissing it back, then adds, ‘And also, you only ever speak spanish when you’re drunk?’

‘Drunk and bullied by my family,’ she answers quickly, sitting upright and away from the wall to look at him properly. That was beside the point. That wasn’t what he was smiling about. ‘Getting what?

‘How to tell people when they do shit you don’t like.’ He says it like he’s proud, like he wants her to do it again, even if he’s on the other end of the sharpened spike. ‘Now you just gotta times it by like, a thousand, and tell the guys to stop being so fucking weird.’

‘Hm.’ She slouches into herself, smiling. Alcohol or not, he’s right, she had told him—in fact, she’s always told him. It came out easier with him, somehow. Even the argument at her house was proof of it; she never would have told Gilly to leave like that, or Coco, or Angel. There was no Sebastian looming over her shoulder when she spoke to EZ, no old friendship that she had to be respectful of. Just her, just him. A clean slate had never felt so fucking good. ‘I can do that,’ she says, believing it.

‘Yeah?’ His brow arches. ‘You wanna go tell them right now?’

She snorts, loud and uncharacteristic of her. ‘God, no. Fuck, no. I’d say something completely out of order and make everything worse.’

She’d say all the things she’s struggling not to say now, holding back with just a tequila tongue and pure will power.

‘Like what?’ EZ asks, putting one ankle atop the other. Settling in like he expects her to have an entire list of forbidden topics to share.

‘Man, I don’t know.’ She combs through her hair once, detangling it on the exit, fingertips catching in the ends. ‘Honestly? Probably something like…’ She looks down, fiddling with her hands. ‘Never mind.’

‘No, what? Don’t do that,’ EZ bursts, grinning around the complaints. ‘You can’t do that.’

She shakes her head, attempting to dismiss his excitement, his building intrigue. ‘It’s just stupid. Shallow.’ Things she could admit to girl friends and nobody else, especially not him.

‘Try me.’

She looks him over, sitting against the wall beside her. Broad shoulders, soft eyes. A plain t-shirt with a logo she doesn’t recognise. He’s hardly a threat, hardly set up to judge her. There’s no kutte, no sign of the Mayans and all the shit that comes with them, just EZ. Ezekiel Reyes. The guy fresh out of prison, fresh in the club. Just as much of a clean slate as she wants to be.

‘God, okay.’ She sucks a breath in, puts her hands over her eyes like it might be easier to admit in the dark. ‘I think, well, I was going to say, sometimes I actually miss them hitting on me.’

He laughs, loud and deep and genuine.

She should have never expected anything less.

Her hands come down, desperate to defend herself. ‘No, like.’ She’s leaning forward now, a breath away from tapping on his stomach, from grabbing his shirt and making him be serious about this. ‘Listen, EZ, stop it. I can explain.’

‘Relax,’ he says, laughing still, but lifting his hands like he’s innocent. ‘I’m listening.’ The drink sloshes against his glass, meeting him at his lips afterwards.

‘Even when Sebastian was alive,’ she explains, talking through the scorching red blush in her face, ‘they’d try it. Not seriously, sure, but there was some fucking, jokey, acknowledgement that I’m, y’know, a fucking woman.’

He nods, holding back a smile by pressing his lips tightly together. He’s doing his best, he is, and if she wasn’t embarrassed on a deathly level, she’d be laughing with him. Instead, she’s paddling against the tide. Desperate to reach the side where he understands, and he isn’t laughing, and she doesn’t want to be eaten whole by the gap between the trailer’s couches.

‘Stop it,’ she pleads. ‘I know it’s stupid.’

‘It’s not.’

‘But now I’m on the other fucking side of the spectrum, and they act like I’m some wrinkly, old widow.’

‘It’s not stupid, Ava.’

‘Or a mother, actually,’ she continues, talking over him. ‘Like I’m Mom and Dad’s six feet under.’ And the rest of the club are the fatherless kids she’s left with, doomed to forever think she’s more mother than woman, more grief than life.

EZ’s quiet now, sitting back to watch her with a smile he isn’t bothering to hide. ‘Y’know, I can tell Angel to make a move, if it’ll make you feel better?’ A snort comes out of him, head shaking lightly. ‘Think he’d sleep with anyone who asked at this point.’

She recoils, face crumpling. ‘First of all, fucking, ew. Secondly, is that supposed to be a compliment? Am I that unfuckable?’

He laughs, nervous this time, blood rushing to his ears quick enough to be noticeable.

‘God, EZ, if I wanted to be humbled, I’d—’

He cuts her off, setting his glass on the windowsill behind. ‘Alright, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.’ He scrambles for words, palms raised to either side of his head, and then gesturing toward her. ‘You’re obviously, you know.’

She stares. She isn’t above begging for compliments, at least, not in her current state. Hot head, hotter heart. She smiles, prompting him to continue, ‘You know…?’

He matches her gaze, holding it, and her, still and silent for a moment. It’s dark in there now, the sun’s slipped beneath the horizon, just about, and neither of them have bothered to hit a light. The room’s dampened in a cool, blue, dusk. Just the green glow from the microwave clock, and the orange from the streetlamp through the window.

It feels smaller, suddenly. One room, one bed.

‘Sorry,’ she gathers herself, ‘sorry. I’m clearly in the desperate stage of drinking.’

It’s not on him to make her feel better, not about this sort of shit. It’s probably not a good idea, either, to even consider going down that road. Flirting with Mayans was only fun when it was harmless, when it lead to nothing because Sebastian was there, telling them to watch their mouths every time that they did.

EZ hasn’t looked away still, even though she’s looking down at her hands. She can feel him watching her. Brown eyes set.

‘I’m game,’ he says.

Her head tugs up. ‘What?’

He shrugs. There’s a smirk in the corner of his mouth, a glint in his eye. He looks boyish, charming, in a way he hasn’t before. ‘I’m game, if that’s what you’re getting at.’

‘But..’ She hesitates, doubt seeping through the pores. There’s no question in his meaning, from the way he’s looking at her, the way her heart’s beating in response—like it knows before she does, what it all means—but in his reasoning. His motivation. ‘Do you want to?’ she asks, hating how it makes her sound. It strips her back of confidence, wanting or not. ‘It’s not just, y’know, feeling sorry for the lonely widow?’

She’s older than him, and layered with baggage he could never dream of. Drunk and babbling about missing attention, even when it meant nothing at all. Surely he, of all people, has better choices, better options for fun, than a night with her?

His eyes flick to her lips. Just once, but lingering. ‘When have I ever said I feel sorry for you, Ava?’

‘Never.’ The word falls out without her having to think it. He’s never said it, never implied it, either.

‘Mhmm.’ He hums, and then he’s leaning forward, eyes on her mouth again, palm flat on the bed between them. ‘Can I?’

Can he?

She nods.

He kisses her once to test the waters; one hand to the side of her jaw, his lips gentle, careful even. When she doesn’t pull back, or screw up with regret, and guilt, the way he must have expected her to do, he goes again, harder, keener. Hit teeth catch hers as he deepens the kiss, a hot sigh pulled from the back of his tongue. She meets him there, kneeling to get closer, putting his face between her palms.

It’s the first time she’s kissed like this since Sebastian. Hungrily, uncaring of the time or place. Her lips open, wanting, her tongue tracing the edge. She puts a leg over his and then she’s sitting in his lap, all breath and heartbeat, and wild, spinning thoughts.

His hands are digging up her top already, shoving the material up her spine to her shoulders. They break apart long enough to get it over her head and onto the floor, then it’s back to kissing. He moves from her mouth to her jaw, then down to her neck. Puts teeth and panting breaths against the column of her throat.

‘You sure you want to?’ he asks, pulling back to look up at her. His eyes are darker than she expected, not glinting with possibility anymore, but deepening with need, lust.

She nods, chest heaving into his. ‘Yeah,’ she says, and then she nods again, pinching brows as she realises it herself, ‘I think I need it actually.’

She needs to be looked at like that again, to have someone’s palms to her thighs and her ribs and the cup of her breasts. To know that she can be wanted, for herself, for her body. To know it can happen again, now that he’s gone.

‘Will you?’ she asks.

He laughs—light and breathy—but nods, sincere in his answer. When he leans forward to kiss her again, he’s smiling. They both are. Lips to wanting lips.

>>> part four here

[appropriate-writers-name]

Day Dreams.

Ezekiel “Ez” Reyes x OFC Eliza Quintana

Warnings: None but intense feels😭, RIP y'alls hormones

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: I can never forgive myself for how lonely I made myself feel writing this, but Ez deserves the world in a hand basket and I stand by it 🤧✊🏾

So this is a mini series filled with stand alone one shots of Ez and an OFC named Eliza. They don't need to be read in any specific order now, but in the future if I decide to add back story it'll be separate. These are just random scenes for when I get in the mood to be Ez's baby mama lmao

Anyways, this is what I do instead of focusing on the Lemonade Series smdh, I gotta do better lol

You can check out more of my works on my Masterlist and join my Taglist!

(Gif Credits to @azularen)

Ez was startled awake, the soft sounds of fussing and cooing rousing him awake from his pleasant slumber. He lifted his head slightly to look down at their newly shifted positions. There was a baby on his chest; a soft head tucked into Ez's neck, a chubby hand greedily fisting his shirt, his silver chain tangled between the tiny fingers. Ez's large right hand was covering almost the entirety of the infant's back, effectively hiding the woman's hand that lay between his and Andrés.

His eyes moved to see the woman who had been occupying the majority of his thoughts for the last four months. She was tightly pressed against Ez's firm body, her front pressing against his side, with her head peacefully resting on his chest. His left arm had wound around her tightly, securing her to the safety and comfort his body provided her with. As the baby fell back to sleep with the help of some shushing from Ez, Ez closed his eyes to retreat into the imaginary.

He imagined claiming the baby laying against his chest as his own. He thought about the woman laying against him, how she would be his wife, and the three of them would be a family. He imagined coming home to this house with his own key, his presence expected at 6pm sharp for dinner every night. A smile crept to his face at the thought of the many scoldings he would receive over being late, and how he would drag Angel with him so they could both share in her playful wrath. His heart swelled at the thought of Sunday dinners involving the entire club, Chucky and Letty included, as well as his pops, hosted at his home. He imagined the holiday parties, and the different celebrations they would have for every occasion.

He envisioned coming home with toys for Andrés and ice cream and french fries for his pregnant Mrs., her belly swollen with their first unborn child. He felt a warmth in his chest at the thought of his own baby growing within her womb, excitedly awaiting it’s entrance into the world. He imagined the different stages of her pregnancy, her belly getting bigger every day. He felt his hand squeeze her waist slightly as he thought about how it would feel to rub her belly and feel the soft kicks of his baby.

A vivid scene started to play in his mind. He would be coming home in the afternoon a little earlier than usual, coming to hear his two sons, eight and seven, loudly arguing over who was cheating in a game outside in the backyard. He would chuckle as they reminded him of his relationship with Angel growing up. As he emerges on the back patio of their home, he would find his wife and five year old daughter engaged in their afternoon tea, his usual chair now occupied by Gloria the Hippo. He would bend down to kiss the woman of his dreams, the butterflies still present after 8 years, giving his beautiful baby girl a kiss on her forehead as she insisted he wash his hands to get ready for tea. He would wave at the boys, both too busy trying to prove the other wrong to even acknowledge their father.

He'd reenter the kitchen through the sliding glass doors, smelling the mouth watering aroma of a home cooked meal baking in the oven, moving his way up the stairs. The hallways would be littered with an obstacle course of toys, crooked family pictures on the walls alluding to his sons' rough housing while he was away at work. He would make sure to stop by the twins' bedroom, double checking the integrity of the baby monitor, the three year olds peacefully taking their midday nap. He would shake his head with a smirk, thinking about the amount of energy the terrorizing twins would have to wreak havoc on the Reyes household.

The door to his father's bedroom would be ajar as usual, as he would often be away at the carnicería. It would take much persuasion to get Felipe to move in with them. With Ez having his own family, the relationship the two had had before would no longer be the same. No more were the days of falling asleep on the couch after watching the game, or coming by for breakfast every morning before going to the club. Ez's attention was now on his ever growing family, his wife and children taking up whatever left over time he had away from the club. After the death of Marisol, Felipe had leaned heavily for Ez's and Angel's support for a family network. Now with five grandchildren and a new daughter, the only thing that may have held him back was the memories in his house in which he had raised his own kids and loved his wife in. As a compromise, they’d recreate Felipe's bedroom in their house, as well as adding much of the decor and China pieces into the decoration of their house. Ez and Eliza had created a beautiful altar for her in the family room, the children saying goodnight to her every evening.

Ez imagined entering his master bedroom, a room that would have changed since he first entered all those years ago, now accommodating both of their belongings. He would shower and dress, getting ready to join his family when he would spot a small onesie on the made bed, something out of the ordinary for his neat-freak of a wife. “Last One, I Mean It.” would be written on it in cursive lettering, a rush of warmth flooding Ez's system as a boyish smile forced its way through the surprise he was feeling.

Gripping the tiny piece of clothing to his broad chest, he would excitedly make his way to his family still out in the backyard. His wife would look up at him with a twinkle in her eye, a gentle smile gracing her face as she saw the look of pure adoration and joy in his eyes. She would rise up from her tea party, earning a whine from the princess seated beside her. Her hips would sway as her long sun dress blew in the wind, making her look ethereal. Her hand would lay across her lower stomach, the little life shielded there in the safety of it's mother's womb, growing rapidly. He would pull her close to him, pressing her flush against his body as he smiled down at her, pressing his lips to hers in a passionate embrace, eliciting a groan from his children who will have seen their parents physical display of love so many times, Ez would think they'd be used to it by now. She'd pull away and narrow her eyes at him, telling him that this was indeed the last one, pulling a wicked smile from Ez who reminds her of her words "as many as you want".

The 5 year old will have lost all her patience by then, demanding her mother return to the tea party, scolding the adults for being rude and lacking manners. Ez would join in, his daughter already having his tiara ready for his head to adorn. Ez would spend his time playing referee from afar as his two sons argued over who was cheating, sipping cold watered down tea and nibbling on salty scones his daughter had made while being reminded time and time again “pinky up”, and glancing at the baby monitor screen occasionally while keeping an ear out for the oven timer. His life would be perfect—she would make his life perfect.

Another round of fussing drags Ez away from the domestic fantasy and back to his reality. This time no amount of shushing would calm the baby, his wails only growing louder, startling a sleeping Eliza awake. She adjusts her position, with her hand pressed against Ez's chest to prop herself up, she looks down at the sight before her with an adoring look and a soft smile. She reaches for her baby, pressing him to her chest as she moves to stand from the couch the three of them had been cuddling in, the movie long ended and the throw blanket forsaken on the floor.

"I should get going," he offers, sitting up with his feet now on the ground, the time on the cable box indicating that it was well past midnight.

"Nonsense, Ez, it's too late. You can stay." She says, her body bouncing up and down to effectively quiet the baby, now contently sucking on his fist over her shoulder. "I'll go find some clothes for you, I think my brother left some from the last time he came around. I'll go get them and a towel, you can shower while I get Andrés a bottle." And without space for Ez to argue, she had turned around to approach the stairs. Ez shook his head, smirking at the woman he had just dreamed up a life with, her nurturing heart solidifying what he already knows he wants. He follows her, hearing a rustling in one of the guest room dressers. She emerges with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, reaching in the hallway linen closet for a clean towel, before guiding the Mayan to her bedroom.

"Everything else you may need is in the bathroom. I'll be in the next room with Andrés, I'll be back in a bit." She tells him, reading his body language carefully. He's somewhat tense, as if in conflicting thought, looking at the clothes in his hands a little longer than one would. "Ez," she gently calls for his attention, walking away from the door and back to him. With a hand on his cheek to hold his attention she tells him "if I was uncomfortable, I wouldn't have asked you to stay. If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to sleep in here, you can sleep in the guest room, or if you want to leave that's okay too." Her tone is patient and her eyes are kind, "I just plan to sleep. We just cuddled on the couch, I think we can manage moving to the bed" her playful wink causes Ez to release his tension at her reassurance with a grin and a chuckle.

With a sweet peck to his cheek, she turns to leave and feed the hungry baby. Ez's eyes refused to leave her retreating figure as she crossed the room to the bedroom door, his eyes watching her wide childbearing hips as a smirk and a blush cross his face as he thinks back to his vision. With a shake of his head, he enters the bathroom to wash up.

Once finished and changed, finding no Eliza in the bedroom, he moves to the nursery, watching her stand by the crib as he leaned against the door frame. Her body swayed softly as she held the bottle to his mouth, humming a soft tune that Ez recognized as a popular radio song Eliza had complained about not getting out of her head. He watches for a moment, before his paternal instincts surfaced; though this was not his son and this was not officially his woman, he had become very protective of the pair. He truly wanted to be a father, and Angel had teased him many times, saying that Ez was having too much fun "playing house". He couldn’t help his reaction to them, feeling like a puzzle piece that just fit. There was great chemistry between him and Eliza, feeling an easy flow in their dynamic that he could escape to when his life got so out of control.

He moves away from the door frame, no longer able to fight the magnetic pull he was feeling. He wrapped the smaller woman in his large arms, cocooning her and the baby in his protective presence. Her head laid perfectly back against his shoulder, his cheek pressing to her temple as he looked down at the small infant cradled gently now in both of their arms. He laid one hand on the baby's tummy, Andrés’ grippy hands instantly finding Ez's large fingers, struggling to wrap them completely around. His other arm went to rest below the baby, offering assistance and support, allowing him to take on much more of the baby's already light weight.

As she melted further back into Ez's warmth, he could feel the vibrating hums from her chest in his, and she could feel the strong thump of his steady heartbeat against her back, almost lulling her. The soft sounds of her baby suckling always provided her with a sense of security that Andrés was okay: alive and well, safe and sound, happy and full. With her eyes closed for a moment, she allowed herself to release her worries for the night—Ez was here now. Though she had only been a single mother for a few months, the constant worry about every detail was magnified as she had no one to share the care of Andrés with. It was all on her, and it was taking a toll. With Ez, he was so careful with Andrés, so loving and nurturing, and it felt natural to rely on him.

In this very moment they could both step out of reality and, as Angel always teased, play house. She knew, in the few short months she'd known Ez, that he was what she wanted; as a friend, a partner, a lover, and a father to her son; Ez knew that she was the woman he was meant to be with. Neither one of them could describe it, knowing it was happening fast, but nothing could have felt more right to the both of them. They didn’t have the most conventional relationship, going a lot slower than most would. This was different for both of them; Eliza not sure of how to navigate dating with a baby and Ez not sure of how to date someone with a baby. They were figuring it out together at their own pace, wanting this to be as organic as possible, not wanting to depend too heavily on the opinions of others. Her home was a safe space, where no one could interject their opinions of how the two of them engage.

“I love you, Ezekiel.” the words slip past her lips quietly as she felt a heat in her chest at how much the man holding her had changed her life in the last few months. She expected to feel fear at the confession, but there wasn’t any—it felt right to tell him. She felt his arms pull her impossibly close to him in response, there is a quiet that falls over them, but to her surprise she’s not alarmed by his silence. He releases her, maneuvering himself around her to take the now sleeping baby from her arms and placing him in the crib. She watches in awe of the large man with the tiny baby; he was a Mayan, capable of doing unspeakable damage with his bare hands, but here he held this innocent infant so sweetly in those same exact hands. 

He turned back to her, his soft expressive eyes boring into hers as he took a step forward reaching for her hips, her hands going to rest on his exposed forearms. He pressed his chest to hers, the intensity of his gaze making her breathing hitch. The two of them just stood there, looking deeply into the other’s eyes, an act that would make many uncomfortable. She felt her bottom lip tremble slightly as a rush of overwhelming emotion washes over her as she got lost in the sea of emotions swirling in his eyes. A hand leaves her hip, coming to rest on her cheek as he wipes away a stray tear that fell from her eye.

“I love you, Eliza.”

[calif0rnia-lovers]

'writing is hard af & honestly, you're killing it' shoutouts

providing feedback & helping circulate stories is super important. so I put together another group of stories i’ve read recently that left me thinking ‘chef’s kiss. pure perfection.’ it's been a few months since I've done this. check 'em out for your weekend reading. tried to grab some for different characters so there's 19 stories total

including the key I use for my masterlist (bc I know smut isn't the vibe for some)

key: 💦 = NSFW 💙 = Fluff 💔 = Angst 🔥= No Smut, Just Great ST

marvel:

1 a hand to hold | @heyiamthatbitch 💙

pairing: sam wilson x reader

2 a job well done | @angrythingstarlight 💦

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

3 catching Peter Parker’s interest |@supremethunda 💙

pairing: peter parker x black!reader

4 eternal flame (prologue) | @xuberanthartt

pairing: steve rogers x black!oc

5 erase every trace | @angrythingstarlight 💦

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

6 opening up | @pointbreak-odinson 💦

pairing: frank castle x black!reader

7 puffballs | @canumoveurseatup-no 💙

pairing: bucky barnes x black!stark!reader

8 the fourth horseman | @smallestchances 💦

pairing: thor x reader

9 time | @pointbreak-odinson

pairing: sam wilson x reader

10 training day | @piratesfromspace 🔥

pairing: frank castle x reader

11 with great responsibility comes |@basicjetsetter 💔

pairing: peter parker x black!fem!reader

mayans mc

12 are we on a date right now? | @brattyfics 💙

pairing: miguel galindo x black!reader

13 budding romance (part I) | @superhoeva 💙

pairing: angel reyes x florist!woc!reader

14 bullseye | @angelreyesgirl 💙

pairing: angel reyes x reader

15 day dreams | @appropriate-writers-name 💙

pairing: ez reyes x ofc (eliza quintana)

16 ice cream & ferris wheels | @imagineredwood 💙

pairing: creeper vargas x reader

17 little bunny | @thisiswhatshefelt 💦

pairing: ez reyes x black!reader

18 tiktok prank | @jeonsblackgf-writes

pairing: angel reyes x black!reader

henry cavill:

19 the road to paloma | @thetaoofzoe 💙💦

pairing: captain syverson (sandcastle) x you

[artemiseamoon]

Death Kiss

Status: COMPLETE

Bishop Losa, Reyes brothers and Ocs | Mayans x Vampire (1998)

A mini fic | part of Frightfest | ✨✨A03 story link ✨✨| moodboards | Moodboards

Previews - tumblr main and @artemiseamoon-updates | Full works post to A03

Summary

Blu and the Sugarplums are hired for a private party that turns deadly. In the aftermath of blood and death, the survivors team up with vampire hunters for survival.

Overall warnings

vampire stuff, some gore, sexual situations, deaths, a person gets held up and their car stolen but w/o any physical violence (not diminishing how shitty that act is, but in case anyone is sensitive to that, know there is no violent act involved) accidents (like a car crashing)

Characters

There are a few, so below is a key if you need it, or to come back to it as you read.

Bishop and the Reyes Brothers

Their team of vampire hunters (only some mentioned by name like Jim, Chris )

My Ofcs: Blu and Luz (Blu is 38, Lux is 27)

The Sugarplums aka the working ladies, there are about 10 of them (only some mentioned by name like Luz, Hazel, Candy)

Side characters: Father Adam Guiteau, Sheriffs (Sheriff Perry), Deputies (Deputy Kyle), etc. , Father Gio

Mayans note

I did not have the heart to kill a bunch of the Mayans guys, I love them too much. So I am just using Bishop and the Reyes Brothers for this, the rest of their team is filled with made up side characters.

Tumblr previews (a03 links included)

Read directly on A03

Chapter one: sugarplum and blood

Chapter two: a place to lay low

Chapter three: it’s starting

Chapter four: welcome to the team sweetheart

Chapter five: end of the line

Chapter six: no going back

My main Oc, Blu

[brattyfics]

family day | writer wednesday

Pairing: Ezekiel Reyes x Black!OFC [Lena] Summary: Lena comes to the clubhouse to meet the guys. Tags: Angsty Fluff, Unresolved Feelings. Word Count: 1.5k

“Come by the clubhouse this weekend. We’re having a cookout. A family day.”

Lena tutted her skepticism while Ezekiel spoke. She had only caught glimpses of the Mayans’ gatherings, parties, whatever, but nothing about them screamed family-friendly. “Pops and Angel will be there.” She wanted to giggle at him using his father and brother as bargaining chips, but his voice had gotten more desperate with each word until he was almost pleading. She pouted on the other end of the line. He wasn’t playing fair.

“And most importantly...you?” Lena teased. He smiled. She could hear it in his tone. “Yeah. I’ll be there too. You?” She let out a dramatic sigh as if he were pulling her leg, but she had already made up her mind.

Since she and Ezekiel reconnected, Lena found herself in Santo Padre every other weekend. Usually, she arrived early on Saturday mornings, and Ezekiel held her close on his pull-out bed (which was surprisingly comfy considering). When they finally awoke for the day, he took her on little adventures. It was always something sweet and exciting-- an intimate ride on the back of his bike to somewhere beautiful. They revisited the beach, this time during the day. He chased her around in the sand, tickled her from behind in the salty water. Lena was able to stop and relax, see things she would never have been able to otherwise. It was so easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle of city living. She missed the simplistic beauty of nature.

Other times, he took her places to remind her of the past. The Carnival they frequented as teenagers, to the old ice cream parlor down the street from his dad’s shop. They spent all the time they could together, and when Ezekiel was busy with club business, she spent the time with her parents, helping them out around the house with whatever she could. There wasn’t much to do, there had never been, but something about it was enjoyable. Being in Santo Padre felt like stepping into a time machine. Nothing had changed. It was psychological warfare on Ezekiel’s part, but Lena never called him out on it. So, she relented, the way she always did when it came to him. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

True to her word, Lena arrived at the Mayans clubhouse around noon, several homemade cakes in tow. Ezekiel met her outside as she was getting out of the car. “I didn’t know you still baked.” It had been a hobby of hers in high school, something inexpensive and fun to do while stuck in the house. Many things about her had changed, but some hadn’t. The thought made him smile. Maybe there was more hope for them than she thought after all.

“I told you, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

“I know, but I don’t like to show up places empty-handed. Can you take this, please? I need to get the other boxes out of the car still.” Ezekiel scooped the cardboard cake box from her. She kissed his cheek in thanks. It was out of instinct, an old habit, but he froze.

“What, I can’t kiss you now?” Yes, they had been sleeping together. Quite often, actually. And they had been going out on what most people would call dates, but they hadn’t been kissing. Not really. It would make what they were doing real. Lena avoided it as much as possible to protect herself. But the lines had started to blur, and she couldn’t distinguish the nostalgia from her real feelings. She would have to make a decision soon.

Ezekiel took advantage of her being distracted, pushing forward until her back rested against the closed car door. He sat the cake box on top of the car. “You can kiss me as much as you want. I just prefer you do it...” His lips brushed against hers. “...here.” She couldn’t think about anything when he kissed her like that. Nothing but him, the way he tasted on her tongue, what he felt like up against her. She closed her eyes tight and tried to memorize it all, kissing him with just as much desperation.

“Damn, Prospect, I know you’ve been out of the game awhile, but you should at least get the lady inside the trailer first!”

And then Angel fucking Reyes had to go and ruin it.

Ezekiel broke the kiss with a groan, giving his older brother a scalding look over his shoulder. But Angel didn’t care about things like not interrupting people or being polite, so he made his way over to them anyway, clapping his baby brother on the back. “Give her some room, bro.” He tested his luck, elbowing Ezekiel to the side. He filled the space, pulling Lena into a tight hug before his brother could retaliate.

“Are you really using me as a shield right now?” She complained, arms loosely hanging at her sides.

“Yes. Now, hug me back.” Angel would hold onto her until she did what he wanted. She knew that for a fact, so she brought her arms up to wrap around his midsection. “It’s good to see you.” He mumbled into her hair. “You too.” And she meant it, squeezing him back before letting go.

“Ooh. What’s this?” He cajoled when his eyes caught sight of the box.

“Cake.” Ezekiel answered for him dryly.

Angel snorted, rolling his eyes. “Obviously, Boy Scout. What kind is it, Lena?” She glanced over her shoulder at it, to be sure. “It’s vanilla cake with buttercream icing.”

“Vanilla? Aww, man. Where’s the chocolate? You know that’s my favorite.” EZ cut his brother’s complaining short. “You don’t like it, don’t eat it.”

“Shut up.” Two words from Angel was all it took for the two of them to start bickering. Angel grabbed for his brother’s thick neck, trying and failing to pull him into a chokehold. Ezekiel got the upper hand, and then the two of them were grappling, kicking up red dust in the process while they talked shit to each other. Lena sighed and stepped out of their way. “I see nothing’s changed.”

The sound of their scuffle gathered the attention of the other Mayans. Coco, who Lena thought she recognized as Angel’s friend, was among them. The shortest man of the group headed the bunch, kissing his teeth when he saw the fuss was just Angel and Ezekiel. Again.

“Break it up!”

Lena flinched, and she wasn’t even doing anything wrong! The brothers broke apart immediately, then sat down in the dirt, out of breath and wearing sheepish expressions. They were children. Lena refrained from the “If Marisol were here...” speech she so desperately wanted to give, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Hi, querida. You must be Lena.” The man introduced himself as Bishop, taking her hand to kiss.

“Oh, yes. Hi.” She squeaked out, suddenly shy. Ezekiel stood, grabbing hold of her waist, and took over the introductions. “Guys, Lena. Lena, this is...” He went down the line one by one, and she smiled politely and nodded along. She was flattered that they already seemed to be familiar with her. Ezekiel had to run around talking about her all day. The thought made her heart ache.

Bishop directed the guys to help her with the rest of the stuff. Tranq balanced a cake in each hand, Coco taking the bag with the cake cutters and plastic forks. Angel was pleased to learn that one of them had chocolate-flavored icing with yellow cake on the inside, just the way he liked it.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Bishop told her with a smile, patting her hand one final time. “Nice to meet you too.” She called after him while Ezekiel muttered something under his breath in a grumpy tone.

Lena got to know their guys and their families. She learned she had met Coco before, and she got to meet his teenage daughter, Letty. She was sweet in an adorable, hissing cat sort of way. Lena teased Ezekiel about Letty having a little crush on him, but he denied it. Swore Letty just appreciated him for helping her out with something. He wouldn’t elaborate on what the something was.

“I get it now.” Lena told him when they found themselves alone by the abandoned fire pit. She sat on the wooden bench next to him, halfway into his lap, a warm flannel blanket on top of them. He watched her closely. “You do?”

“Yeah. You have a place here. Community. Family. It’s nice.” They had played a card game earlier. The guys traded friendly insults across the table, but it was all out of love. She felt it.

“Mhm.” He looked down and cleared his throat. “Does that change anything? For you?” Lena considered it, drowning in the hopefulness in his hazel eyes. How could she tell him no? Say goodbye forever to those eyes?

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m not sure what I was expecting. Everyone’s so nice. Well, except Angel, but I already knew that.” Ezekiel smirked. “Yeah, he was born an ass.” He brought the cold beer bottle to his lips to sip, and then he got quiet.

“Do you think you’d like to come to another?”

Lena nodded. “Yeah, I think I would.”

Notes: Inspired by this week's prompt by @autumnleaves1991-blog. Card game is only briefly mentioned, but what can I say, I followed the muse?

@thesandbeneathmytoes​ This is for you. I’m slowly pulling it together. ❤️

General Taglist:

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes

[irrelevantwriter]

Angel’s Goodbye

Pairing: (Mayans MC) Angel Reyes x Latina!OFC

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluid, Angel being hot as fuck, Angel’s ringed fingers (bc that shit fucks me up hardcore)

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: A booty call. Porn without much plot.

A/N: Okay, so this is all Ashley’s @negansdirtygirl22​ fault! I had this fic more than halfway done and now that Ashley is thirsting over Angel’s fine ass like I am, I decided to finish and publish it. This is purely self-serving and I’m okay with that. Please read, enjoy, and share with your friends!

*Masterlist in bio.

*******************

Isabelle hummed softly to herself as she finished putting away laundry that had been sitting in a basket for nearly a week. The television was on in the background, but she wasn’t paying it any attention. The bedroom was awash in a soft light, the darkness of the late hour not lost on her. A small shiver ran up her spine as she walked on bare feet across the hardwood floors to put her clothes away. There was a slight chill in the air and she made a mental note to turn the heat up before she went to bed.

A door opening and closing within the house made her stop abruptly, the scrap of lace she’d been putting away clenched in her hand. The noise had startled her and she listened for just a beat before the sound of familiar voices eased her nerves somewhat.

“Angel?” She called out, stepping closer into the darkened hallway. Two figures stepped forward and Isabelle clutched her chest at the scare. The two men smiled down at her, one looking like a lovesick puppy and the other looking away out of respect for her state of undress.

“Hey, baby…” Angel rasped, his hands immediately coming forward to rest on her rounded hips. He leaned down to place a chaste kiss to her lips and her body responded automatically, reciprocating the action.

Isabelle looked behind him at the other man and smiled sheepishly, trying to use Angel’s body as somewhat of a shield to her scantily clad form. She was wearing shorts that were probably categorized more as underwear and a thin shirt that dipped low off one shoulder…not a bra strap in sight. It was her sleep attire and while not suitable for company, it was perfectly comfortable for bed.

“Hey, Ezekiel…” Isabelle gave a small wave and the younger Reyes returned it with a smile, trying to avoid looking at her naked legs. She belatedly realized she’d waved with the hand that still clutched a wad of black lace and hastily threw it onto the bed and out of sight. Both men smirked in amusement at the gesture.

“Hi, Isa…sorry to show up so late.” EZ apologized, knowing his older brother had not given Isabelle notice of their arrival, judging by her surprised reaction.

“No, it’s okay. I’m sure my darling, thoughtful boyfriend meant to text me.” She said with a pointed stare and arched brow directed towards the man who still held her against him. His hands roamed towards her backside, a smirk planted firmly on his face as he stared down at her.

“I thought it. Did I do it? No.” He said with a smile. “You know me better than that, mi amor.”

Isabelle smiled up at him, unable to be mad at the love of her life for too long. And he was right, she did know him better than that…better than most.

“What’re you guys doing here anyway?” She asked, directing the question to EZ because Angel was too preoccupied with his hands on her ass to provide a real answer. Isabelle was just thankful EZ couldn’t see that his older brother was trying to grope her in front of him. Though he probably had an idea. And Angel had tried to do worst in front of his brother. He got some kind of thrill out of making EZ turn red, whether from anger or embarrassment.

“Pit stop, baby…on our way back to the clubhouse to handle some shit.”

Angel surprised her by answering, but she nodded in acceptance. It was nearing ten o’clock, but the MC forced the guys to keep strange hours. It wasn’t unusual for Angel to be in and out throughout the day and night. It wasn’t ideal, but she’d learned to deal with it.

“And your bikes? Didn’t hear them when you pulled up.” She inquired, squirming against Angel as he rubbed his facial hair against her neck. He knew what that sensation did to her and she pushed back against his chest to keep from moaning in front of EZ.

“Came in the van.” Angel mumbled, finally untangling himself from her. He moved so that EZ could see her full on and she struggled not to grab the throw blanket she kept at the end of their bed. EZ shook his head and laughed at his brother’s antics, all while still diverting his eyes away from her.

“I’m gonna go to the kitchen.” EZ called out, already turning away from them. The awkwardness of the situation was becoming far too apparent.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge, EZ. And beer. Help yourself.” Isabelle called as he started to move further down the hall. He turned to nod his head in acknowledgment.

“Thanks, Isa.” He said, a genuine smile on his face. It warmed her heart. The younger Reyes seemed to be having a tough go of it as of late so anything Isabelle could offer to the man, who she also thought of as a brother, she would.

“Bout time…” Angel growled once EZ had disappeared into the kitchen. He attached himself back to her, his hands now firmly griping her ass and his lips connecting with the flesh of her neck. She was caught off guard as she gripped Angel’s shirt in her hands and struggled to get her bearings.

“Lil brother doesn’t know how to take a fucking hint.” He murmured against her neck. She laughed, but angled her face so that he was forced to look down at her.

“He does. He just does it to fuck with you…you both do.”

“Yeah well, I miss my girl.”

Angel’s voice was soft and low as he changed the tone of the room from playful to intense in seconds. She loved that about him. He would pick the most unpredictable times to be vulnerable with her. He trusted her enough to do that. It made her heart beat faster and her thighs clench in want. She’d missed him too.

“Did you bring your brother to a booty call?”

Her words made a real laugh break from his lips and she felt warm inside when the sound filled her ears. His face went back into her neck, his mouth not just ghosting across her skin anymore but now marking her. It was a clear display of ownership. Angel loved to flaunt her, case in point, the little display he’d put on in front of his brother, but he also liked to make it known that she was not on the market. The whole idea was incredibly sexist and barbaric, but she couldn’t help the rush of arousal that swept through her every time he marked his territory.

“Your brother is in the kitchen, Angel.”

The words were meant to be a stern warning, but they came out breathy and more like a moan. His tongue was lapping at her skin, his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His calloused hands ran up and down her back, his rings making her shiver as they ran across her now heated flesh.

“So, we gotta be quiet then.” He challenged, his hands already moving to the waistband of her black shorts. He was edging them closer to the bed while a foot kicked out and caused the bedroom door to slam shut. That had to be obvious to the man in the next room.

“Ezekiel’s gonna know what we’re doing.” She tried again, though she doubted she’d get through to him. And with the way he was caressing her, she didn’t think she wanted to.

“He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine.” Angel whispered as he picked her up, allowing her legs to instantly wrap around his waist. Their lips finally met in the passionate embrace they were so used to and it felt like home. Isabelle got lost in all the sensations. She lost herself against his lips and tongue. She let her hands grip his thick strands of hair as he rubbed himself against her. The denim between them created a friction she wanted more of.

“Bed.” She demanded breathlessly, and he followed without hesitation. The soft mattress met her back as Angel laid her down. Her long, black hair fanned out around her as he hovered above her. His dark eyes watched her intently, his face not giving away anything. But Isabelle knew what he was thinking. She knew what he was feeling. Because she was thinking and feeling the same things.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous…”

His voice was like grit and silk all at the same time. Years of smoking made him sound dangerous, but the emotion behind his words gave him away. Isabelle smiled almost shyly up at him through dark lashes. She could feel her body respond, her brain becoming drunk off pheromones. Lust and love had her spreading her legs, inviting him to the place she needed him most. He accepted the silent request and began to undress before her.

Angel’s eyes seared through her as he threw his leather off and worked the buttons on his flannel shirt. She watched, teeth biting her lower lip in anticipation. Tan skin with splashes of dark ink were revealed to her inch by inch. Her own dark eyes were feasting on the display. Even though she’d seen him naked a thousand times, she felt like every time was the first. It still felt new. He still made her feel the butterflies.

A crooked smiled crossed his lips as he removed his shirt and went to the buckle on his belt. Isabelle moved from her spot, eager to taste him. She moved towards him on her knees, his hands immediately steadying her as they settled around her waist. She only smiled up at him as she laid her lips across his scarred and tatted chest. A heavy hand tangled itself into her hair, rings pulling at the strands. A low groan escaped his lips as she moved over his chest and to the spot just below his ear that made him come alive under her touch. She licked a path from his collarbone to his neck, small hands sliding over the firm muscles of his abdomen. She let a delicate finger trace the trail of dark hair that disappeared under his jeans and his hand immediately tightened in her hair.

“I need you, querida…” A hand stopped her from continuing and she nodded. Foreplay was not a necessity at this point.

Angel gripped the edge of her shirt, dragging it slowly up her body. She could feel her nipples peak once the cool air met her overheated skin. His rough hands palmed each breast once her shirt was out of the way. She pushed herself further into him, urging him to be greedy and take all of her. His mouth descended on hers again as he went back to her shorts, now pushing them down to reveal herself. She maneuvered the shorts off her body, throwing them behind her.

Angel gently pushed her back onto the bed and she obeyed. He went to work on his own pants once again, his gaze never leaving hers. She could hear the thud of his boots as he removed them, his boxers and jeans following. He grasped himself, letting her see the effect she had over him. Isabelle moaned, intoxicated off the sight. She rubbed her thighs together impatiently, blood pumping to her center at an alarming rate.

“Ángel…” She purred softly, knowing the cadence in which she said his name would bring him to her. And it did. He moved over her, caging her in as he attacked her neck and chest. His facial hair scratched at her skin, but the burn only heightened her arousal. His hands moved everywhere and all at once. She returned the sentiments in kind. Her hands ran down his back, her hips arching up into his to persuade him inside. His hard flesh was nestled between her legs, teasing her opening.

“Ready for me, baby?”

His lips were right by her ear, pulling her further under the waves of passion she was riding. She answered him by opening her legs wider, ensuring he slipped into her slightly. It was a teaser. A promise of what was to come.

He groaned above her at the action. He sat up and gripped himself, rubbing along her swollen lips. He was coating himself in her essence, readying them both for the plunge. Slowly, almost painfully, Angel entered her. The feeling was euphoric.

“Fuck, baby…” He cursed lowly against her collarbone, forehead pressed tight to her cheek.

Isabelle moaned, limbs tightening around his body as he began to thrust lazily above her. She dug her nails into is back, aware of how much he was a slave to the sensation. She was awarded with a hiss and a sharp thrust of his hips, her cervix reaping the benefits. She bit hard into her lip as the sound of her slickened walls reverberated in the room, the sound of him entering her obscene.

“Oh, Angel…fuck, right there.” She whimpered, head thrown back so that his mouth could have free reign of her flesh. He was balancing over her, the angle of his thrusts now more pronounced. A heavy hand with thick silver rings came to her throat and rested there. Her pulse jumped at the action, inexplicably turned on by it. He squeezed lightly and a moan shot past her lips in delight.

“You like that?” He growled into her ear, hips punctuating his words.

Isabelle’s body answered for her as her walls clutched him tighter, a slight spasm rolling through her. She used her foot to urge him deeper, urged him to penetrate her soul. She knew it was impossible, but she could never get enough of him. He always left her craving for more, even after they’d both satiated the other. It was an ongoing cycle…one that she didn’t want to end.

The headboard began to thump against the wall with his rapid movements, his end nearing. Angel squeezed her neck again, tighter than the last, while his forehead rested against hers. The moment was highly erotic and it made Isabelle’s spine arch harshly off the bed.

She could see the comprehension in his eyes, recognizing how close she was. She watched as he removed his hand from her and brought it to his mouth, using his tongue to slicken it. Her eyes rolled back and her toes curled when she felt his calloused, spit-soaked fingers assault her clit. An unintelligible sound left her throat as she tensed and rolled with the waves of her intense orgasm.

Angel continued to fuck her through it, catching each contraction with his hips. Only towards the end, when her body was tremoring in small bouts, did he hold still. He looked down at her twisted body, a post-coitus glow now coloring her tan skin. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, her walls still fighting to suck him in.

“Damn, you’re still going.” He commented in amazement, eyes glued to where they were both still joined.

Isabelle whined as he began to move again to chase his own bliss. He stayed upright as he moved, captivated by the way she accepted him. She could feel the slickness between her thighs, aiding Angel’s thrusts. His hands held her wide, his tongue peeking from the confines of his bearded lips. A wayward strand of ink-colored hair fell into is eyes. He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth as he moved inside of her, the chords in his neck prominent as he neared the finish line.

“Shit, baby…I’m gonna cum.” He breathed as he gave two more thrusts and stopped, gripping her fleshy thighs as he released within her walls.

She savored the feeling, watching from beneath hooded eyes as he threw his head back and gave himself over to her completely. It was a hypnotic sight and one she would never tire of.

He eased up his hold on her, red indentions in her skin replacing his fingers. She longed for his marks on her body, the proof that he was there before and would be again. He grimaced as he slowly eased out of her slack body, soaking up the way he spilled from her depths. He took his time. He always did. He had a fascination about teasing her body once he’d made her cum. It was deliciously cruel.  

She let out a wince as he rubbed himself against her, coating them both in stickiness. He bumped her abused clit and she jerked away, overstimulated and exhausted. He snickered at her reaction, pleased to see her so thoroughly fatigued.

“Ángel…you know how sensitive I get.” She gently chastised, unable to close her legs against his ministrations. He stood between them, hands now lovingly caressing her thighs and hips. He got especially tender after sex and liked to be constantly touching her in some form or fashion. It was a side to Angel no one but her got to see. And she was addicted to it.

“God, you look so fucking good like this.” His hands smoothed up her hips from her thighs, and finally to her breasts. He cupped them in his hands, teasing her nipples back into hardened peaks.

Isabelle found herself blushing from both his words and his actions. The way he was staring down at her made her feel like she was the only person he saw…the only one he’d ever want to see.

“Lemme take a picture of you, mi amor.” He licked his lips seductively, attempting to persuade her.

Unfortunately, it was working. The man had swagger.

“En serio?” She threw back with a raised eyebrow. She had a smile on her face, finding his boldness amusing.

He continued to caress her body, going from her breasts and back down to her stomach and thighs. His hands were rough from hard labor, but he touched with a softness that made her beg for more. The man was a complete oxymoron. He looked mean. He looked tough. He looked like he’d kick your ass. But underneath he was the true definition of a gentleman. He spoke with wisdom that many overlooked. And he was always the first to show his love. He was hers. In every way possible.

“I can take it on runs with me. Something I can use when you aren’t with me.” He bent down and rubbed his facial hair into her neck, still trying to plead his case for a picture. “No one will see it but me.”

Isabelle found herself ready to say yes before he’d even started begging. The man was a charmer and he knew how to use it to his advantage.

“Hey, Angel! Bishop called. We gotta head out.” EZ’s voice suddenly cut through the mood and the closed bedroom door.

Angel sighed, knowing he’d lost his chance to convince her. She laughed, running her fingers through his hair as he collapsed against her chest.

“I don’t wanna go.” He pouted with a sigh, lips grazing the side of her breast. She smiled warmly at his reluctance to leave her, mirroring his feeling.

“Will you be home later?”

“Yeah, should be. If it changes I’ll let you know.” He replied sleepily, her motions in his hair causing him to become far too relaxed.

“You should go, mi amor…Don’t need EZ coming in to drag you back.” She joked as he began to lift himself from her body.

“Like to see him try.” He flirted with a wink, his hair now ruffled from her fingers. He helped her sit up, hands cradling her face. They kissed, tongues moving together in tandem. His fingers tangled in her hair, something she noticed he did often.

“Te quiero, mi dulce.” He mumbled against her lips, soft brown eyes reflecting the sincerity in his words and voice.

Isabelle caught his lips again, stroking his biceps. “Te quiero, mi Ángel.” She replied once they’d broken apart.

He began to get dressed, handing her clothes to her as he went. When the last button on his flannel was done, he moved towards her and kissed her quickly on the lips. Isabelle tightened the sash on her robe, forgoing redressing until she cleaned up Angel’s mess.

“We’ll finish that conversation when I get back.” He warned with a ringed finger pointed in her direction. A dangerous smirk adorned his lips, that playful look back in his eyes.

“We’ll see about that.” She teased, knowing she was a goner. “Cuidado.” She pleaded in a more serious tone, catching his eye as he walked to the bedroom door. He grinned, a mixture of love and mischief.

“Always am, baby.” He opened the door and shot her one last heart-melting smile before he was shouting for his brother. “Let’s go, Prospect!”

Isabelle shook her head and laughed, listening to them bicker as they left. She felt her cheeks heat when she overhead EZ teasing Angel about what he’d heard. Angel being Angel, only boasted, not the least bit embarrassed.

She listened to them drive off, heart swelling and thighs sticking. Angel always knew how to give the best goodbyes.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dark Passenger - An EZ Reyes/OC Story.

So besties, I have folded spectacularly and decided to post the first chapter, just to see what the reaction is. Cue me sitting here now chewing my nails to bits as I wait to hear if it’s any good! If you enjoy it, please do let me know, and since I haven’t written a full length story for EZ yet, if you want to be helpful and put the word out to any EZ lovers out there who you think might enjoy it too, please feel free! 

Oh, and just to reiterate going on from my announcement post, this fic will centre around dark!EZ. He will be manipulative and toxic. The boy scout has died, but eventually, there will be a redemption arc. Until then, though, don’t expect a smooth ride with him! 

Words - 4,459

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.  

Maybe, if Ezekiel Reyes hadn’t been so consumed by an unquenchable thirst for revenge against the Sons of Anarchy, maybe if he hadn’t instigated calling a kill switch vote upon Marcus Alvarez with quite the gusto he had, he perhaps might have left time for El Padrino to warn him of such, before he was ousted from the head of the table.  

Heavy is the head that wears the crown. At that moment in time, the crown was a weight upon his head unlike anything he’d previously known, but he would not relent. He would not cease, not until the Sons had been pushed down via the clout of the Mayans, made to fall in line, their necks tethered like fierce guard dogs upon heavy chained leashes, each link a Mayan brother yanking back should they stray too far, ever reminded of the power they had over them.  

That power? Heroin.  

They now moved huge quantities for the Lobos New Generation cartel, their product giving the Mayans the footing they needed to crush all others beneath their weight. The streets were flooded, the prison supply now pushed exclusively by the MC, the once aptly named poison charter now standing tall and strong above all. Santo Padre led.  

The poison still swirled, though. For one man, he was only too happy, it would seem, to let it infect his veins. Yet it did not weaken him, or rather, it did no harm to the man he now was.  

The old EZ? It had all but killed him. Poisoned to death by power, greed and bloodlust. It was an opinion shared by everyone who had a seat at the table, as five pairs of dark brown eyes flitted between one another, and the large bag upon the table, placed there by their president. El Rey Oscuro, they called him in the safety of the shadows, out of the reach of his ears. The dark king. There was little light left within EZ, and they all knew it, saw it, felt it. Yes, they were back on top, untouchable, but at what cost?  

There upon the table sat the price they knew each of them would likely be set to pay for, sooner or later. The top rung of the ladder they stood upon was not without its complications, of which EZ was attempting to iron out.  

“I dunno, man,” Angel began, each other man silently thanking him for being the first to speak. “Heroin is one thing, but getting into this shit? Naw, I ain’t seeing the benefit in moving it.”

EZ rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth, his forearms flexing as he knitted his fingers together before him. “Fentanyl is more powerful than heroin, many, many times over. We aren’t moving it, per se. We’re cutting our product with it.” He paused, lifting his chin a little more, the dim templo light catching the golden tones of his irises, hues the others were surprised did not burn red. It was as if hell itself had begun to swirl within him at times, after all.  

The dark king continued. “Since the unfortunateness of the warehouse fire, our first shipment for the LNG destroyed, forcing us to move an inferior quality replacement as you all know, we need to earn points with our supplier, build further trust, show initiative. We might have the heroin trade sewn up, but it’s with garbage. It’s moving, but not as quickly as the LNG would like. This sets us apart and transforms the product to one of superior quality, if we supply it to them in order to do the cutting. It’ll bring in more cash for us, too.”

Everyone remained quiet, the men shifting uneasily in their seats, their leather kuttes feeling heavy upon them, the hard wood of the chairs stifling, binding, reminding them of their place. Everyone else was held down beneath their force, but them? They were beneath the boot and the unshakable will of one man.  

It didn’t mean, however, that they would remain unquestioning in their fealty.

“EZ, while I agree we need to show such, we gotta be careful with this shit,” Bishop began, lighting a cigarette. “That stuff is deadly. If it ain’t cut correctly, it’ll set us apart in the fact that there’ll be a trail of dead bodies all leading back to us, thousands upon thousands of croaked junkies. That’s the kind of shit that gets us watched by certain governmental department eyes more so than we already are.”  

The words of his VP were, as usual, steeped in fact and good sense. EZ was, if nothing else though, a man who covered all his bases.  

“I have a chemist, one who not only is prepared to work exclusively for us in order to synthesise the fentanyl, but once moved across the border, be there to examine the cutting process and make sure it is precise enough to give the product the correct edge, thus eliminating the overdose danger. If it’s voted in, I will take him to meet with Galindo and Soledad personally, since I already broached the latter with this suggestion. She was keen, of course I told her I would need to take it to a vote, so that is exactly what we are assembled here tonight to accomplish.”

He waited expectantly, his eyes scanning the faces of the five men who sat around the table with him. Bishop spoke first.  

“No. It’s too much of a risk, especially with the eyes on us since Creep’s arrest. The heroin is moving, and that’s all we have to worry about, EZ. You’re talking about quality of product like it’s our name on the line, like we’ll be affected by it. We won’t. We’re the mules. Let the LNG worry about whether anyone thinks it’s garbage or not. We still get our cut regardless.”  

Hank was next to weigh in. “It’s a no from me, too. It’ll bring too much heat. That chemist might know what he’s doing, but can you really vouch for every single person cutting the heroin to get that kind of delicate balance right, thousands of times over? It’s way too much risk.”

“I think it’s a good idea. I vote yes.” Of course, Nestor would. Angel rolled his eyes, muttering something well under his breath. When it came to their president, the newest member of the club was nothing short of sycophantic in his eyes. Some might disagree, and state that his opinion was tainted by the fact that he disliked him, that Nestor was simply playing safe by showing loyalty during his fledgling months as a newly patched brother.  

Gilly and Angel’s votes were both against the idea, EZ’s demeanour changing in a nanosecond as he brought the gavel down, defeated, and extremely displeased by such as they all filed out of templo. The men who had voted against him could only hope that he would see the sense in their reasoning eventually, but until then, they knew El Rey Oscuro would be like a bear with a sore head.  

Picking up a beer and a bourbon from the bar, Bishop walked over to join Angel on one of the couches, sitting down with a sigh, handing him the beer. “He’s getting worse.”  

Angel’s eyes widened, his jaw twitching as he bit down, grinding his teeth slightly. The VP had noticed him partaking of that a lot of late. “You’re right, Bish. I know we all voted for war, but shit, mano. I live in the biggest fucking regret for voting that kill switch in. He ain’t ready to be at the helm.”

“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like all of his decisions have been bad, I have to give him a little credit,” Bishop began, his thumb picking at a slight flaw in his bourbon glass. “We’re back on top because of him and his choices, but when he brings ideas like fentanyl to the table, I wonder where the fuck his mind is at. He’s reckless, and you’re right. When he behaves like that, he isn’t ready for it. We gotta try and keep a firm pull on his reins. He might be the head, but us, brother, we’re the neck.”

Angel had heard this before. “And the neck turns the head in whichever direction it wants, right?”

“Right.” His eyebrows fluttered, Bishop taking a deep breath before raising his glass to his mouth. “For as long as we possibly can. The weight of the head can always break the neck.”  

That statement didn’t fill Angel with much hope, but he had to hold a belief that somehow, his brother would settle more, and the days of him being labelled El Rey Oscuro would become a thing of the past.  

While they sat drinking and discussing, the man himself left a half-drunk beer at the bar, the headache he had coming on only exacerbated by having to share space with the men who had voted against him. He was pissed off, and sought a distraction from it, somewhere where he could feel like he was the one in charge, somewhere he could relax, preferably with something pretty to look at.  

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Yes, he needed a distraction.  

The Luna Lounge was a relatively new enterprise within Santo Padre, the owner of such wanting to offer punters a classier feel to the surroundings in which they viewed the scantily clad women twirling around poles along the long, elevated stage that ran along the back of the bar. It didn’t matter how much he dressed it up, it was still a place to drink beer and see tits and ass. Except the beer was mostly imported and the tits and ass were of superior quality to those within the smaller, grimier establishments dotted around the bleak back streets of the border town, so it had that going for it, at least.  

EZ took a seat, a guy who looked like he was all but ready to finish his shift greeting him with a tired smile, taking his drink order. Once furnished with a beer, he moved around to the stage side, scanning what was on offer as women of various appearance clocked him, all brandishing the same warm smiles full of sensual allure, those smiles not quite reaching their eyes.  

And then he saw her.  

She was breathtaking, and he could tell as he sat down before where she slowly shimmied around a pole that she had absolutely no idea how stunning she was, but god, how she worked what she had. She should have been on the front of a magazine cover, not swinging around a pole in platform shoes and underwear much too cheap to be befitting of her beauty. She was, as the other girls were too, a little lacking in lustre behind the eyes, likely wondering how life had led to them strutting around a stage for their cash, ones and fives thrown up, tens and twenties from the more generous clientele.  

Camille could feel his eyes on her before she even turned around to view him. Tall, dark, handsome. Not many of his type frequented The Luna Lounge. In fact, she wagered he likely didn’t need to pay girls to take their clothes off and dance for him at all, looking the way he did. A mere click of his fingers would be all it took, she thought to herself, sauntering over before any of the other harpies she shared the stage with clocked him.  

“Well,” she began, crouching before him, her full lips curving in a way that made something very pleasant run through him, “aren’t you the most handsome thing to walk in here all night.”

Taking a bill from his pocket, he reached for her thong, tucking it into the elastic. “Hmm.” The noise he made confirmed he agreed with her statement; of course, he did. He’d seen himself in a mirror, he knew what he had.  

Camille looked down at her hip, seeing the bill was a twenty, turning back to him with a smile full of promise. “That’s very generous of you, handsome.” Running her perfectly manicured nail slowly down his cheek, she felt a little ripple of excitement when he turned and kissed her fingertip, his dark gold eyes focusing in on her. She liked it when they made her feel special.  

“How much time does that buy me with you dancing right there in front of me?”  

“Just enough to keep you throwing up those bills if you want more.” With a wink, she slowly rose to standing, her feline glide taking her back to the nearby pole, hoisting herself up and locking her legs around it, leaning back gracefully as she slowly turned, her blonde curls tumbling, the shining blue of her eyes fixed upon his.  

He watched her intently, focusing on the way the black lace of her underwear accentuated her body, her breasts obviously not her own, but well done enough that they didn’t look ridiculous. Not like the bad boob job currently grinding into the next pole down with the kind of uncouth gusto that didn’t exist in the blonde who was captivating his attentions with her elegance. She’d accentuated her tanned skin with little sparkles, sweeps of glitter highlighting the curves of her hips, the rise of each breast and the lithe muscles in her long, slender legs.

She was immaculate, even down to her matching mani and pedi, glittery black fingers and toes, the sooty smudge of her smoky eye makeup the same, care and effort put into her appearance. Yes, she was most definitely too good for twirling around a pole for a living, but EZ wasn’t about to tell her that. It was her job to make him feel good, after all.  

“So,” he asked after a while, Camille returned to right in front of him. “How much to get you by yourself?”  

“A standard lap dance will cost you forty. A full nude version, sixty.”  

He licked his top lip, nodding. “I think the extra twenty is worth it.”  

She smiled, gracefully getting down from the stage. “Give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll meet you just over there by the blue curtains, Mr President.” She winked, running her hand down his arm, her pulse fluttering. God, the muscles. She loved it when they were gorgeous. And he was the president of an MC, too. A man of power, she noted. She liked that even more; it made her feel special that he’d chosen her.  

Returning to the dressing room, she changed into a nude-coloured set of lace undies, a matching dress too, leaving on the peach toned sparkly nipple pasties she wore beneath her bra, fluffing her hair, spritzing on her favourite perfume, adding a few more sparkles before changing her shoes to match. Clear lucite with pale peach ribbons tying each one to her delicate feet and ankles.  

Leaving his almost finished draught beer on the side of the stage, EZ was on his way over to the curtained area when he saw the shimmering light of the blonde appear, Camille reaching for his hand with a soft smile that was one hundred percent allure, leading him through the curtains and into the private room. It was decorated all in dark blue, with thousands of twinkling lights strewn across the ceiling, looking like a starry sky, small booths dotted around, four other girls present, all in various stages of undress as they worked their charm for the respective men who had paid for their time.

EZ took a seat in the circular booth, Camille leaning forward, resting her hands on his thighs, her lips tickling the outer edge of his ear. “Get comfortable and enjoy, handsome.” She rose slowly, her body beginning to sway softly to the beat of the music, the song unfamiliar to him, but the tones just as sensual and richly delicious as the blonde who danced before him. Her striptease was natural, unhurried and sensually suggestive, enticing him every step by the way she made a show of something as simple as removing a dress.  

He tried to fight against the spell he felt himself falling under, the enchantment of her reveal, wanting to remain in control, the one who had others bend to his will, in order to redress the shifted balance that the lack of success at templo had left him feeling. She was here to soothe the stinging within, but he would remain objective, and her his subject.  

Perhaps someone should have explained the finer details of the purpose of a lap dance to him. He was the one paying to relinquish control, and let a beautiful woman distract him with fantasy, if only for a short time. His stance over such was certainly telling over where his mind was on the subject of losing even one ounce of control in any aspect of his life, though.  

Camille felt it, too. While she didn’t know his inner thoughts, she knew he sat there tense, fighting against himself somewhat. She leaned into him, her bra clad breasts brushing his chest through the grey, long sleeved t shirt he wore, soft meeting hard, hoping to coax a little of the tension out of him. Once again, her body dipped against his, a soft, sweet moan spilling from her lips, turning on her heel and seating herself in his lap, gently rotating her rounded butt against his crotch.  

She timed it, waiting for just long enough for his pulse to escalate, standing again, her hands smoothing over her body as she unhooked her bra, the front fastening then secured by her palms as she turned back to look at him over her shoulder, a smouldering pout accentuating her lips. Turning back to him, she moved in a graceful glide to the last bars of the song, the room quiet only for a few moments before a song he recognised instantly began to play.  

Venus in Furs was one of Camille’s favourites to strip to, internally beaming to herself as she moved fluidly, her hands working in tease over her breasts before finally revealing them, the glitter of her pasties catching the dim light, sinking to her knees to crawl toward him, hands grasping his thighs and slowly stroking upwards as she brought her body up between them.  

Mounting his lap once more, she locked her eyes onto his, gently gyrating against him a few times before bending back fully, her hips rolling slowly, her hands coming up to pull at each pastie, casting them away before she sat back up again, each blush nipple stiffening a little, trailing her fingers down his cheeks as finally, she saw the corners of his mouth upturn.  

“Got him.” she thought, watching his shoulders relax, knowing it was only a matter of time. Bare naked tits usually did the trick, though. Continuing to grind herself against him, she felt his breath hit her neck, knowing she was escalating him, giving him a few more seconds before she stood, moving back to her floorshow dance, leaving him feeling as if someone had yanked at the rope of his resolve... and unravelled it completely.  

The way she’d just moved against him had utterly blown his mind, ensnared him further than her enchanting display so far, pulled him away from himself and, what he needed most, made him forget. Here, he didn’t need to be in control. Finally, he got it. But fuck, how he wanted more.  

And that was exactly her design.  

“This no touching rule is getting more difficult to stick to by the moment,” he blurted, not able to prevent the words from leaving his mouth. Her allure, her scent, her moves, her body. Her. She’d got her hooks into him, and he couldn’t help but let the complimentary statements keep on rolling off his tongue. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”  

She smiled, smoothing her hands over her breasts, placing a foot up on the back of the booth to the side of his head, her body undulating, EZ inhaling a sharp breath. Oh, the urge to turn his head and skim a lick over her ankle. Camille saw it, too, the state she was working him up into. “I bet it’s the only thing you can think about, isn’t it? Running those big, powerful hands all over me. You have to be good, but me? Mmm, not so much.”

Lowering her leg again, she seated herself in his lap, wiggling against him, her body moving in a serpentine roll, turning her head, her breath fluttering against his cheek as she felt something very big beginning to harden against her butt. A gorgeous, jacked Latino guy with a big dick; he was definitely one hundred percent her taste, but he was work, and she had to remind herself of that.  

One more seductive dance before him, this time undoing the ribbon ties of her thong, and she was back astride him, grinding herself into him harder this time, her body pressed tightly against his, EZ physically moving his hands beneath his thighs, the temptation to grasp her almost too much to resist.  

“Yeah, do you want me, gorgeous? I can feel that you do. God, it’s so big,” she purred, her hand gently grasping his jaw as she rotated against him, EZ feeling himself spinning. There they were, client and lap dancer, and the heat that escalated between them was very, very real. More potent than either of them could have anticipated. There it was, the first thread of connection linking between them, and it crackled like a live wire.  

“You could pull my cock out and get on it right now, and I wouldn’t stop you, and no one would know. You want it, don’t you? Yeah, you wanna fuck me.”  

And god, how she did. It was unmistakable, the heat of her want as he watched the fire of it dance in her eyes, a blaze of lust that was unmistakable, that wasn’t an amped up bluff performance for the purposes of allure. However, she was in control, and she remained that way, working him up, and up... and up, until he felt his cock twitching against her, hot and hard, dying for release, tingling violently until... no she wasn't going to make him... fuck. Yes, she was. She’d actually made him cum in his pants, while staring him right in the eye entire time.

God... fucking... damn.  

He certainly hadn’t expected that, Camille climbing off him, picking up her underwear and sliding them back on, her dress following. He took her money from his pocket as he stood somewhat uneasily, adjusting his jeans, tucking the bills into the corner of her bra, eyeing her appreciatively. “What time do you finish?”

“1am,” she confirmed, fluffing her hair, resting her hands to her hips.  

“Good, I’ll wait,” he spoke, leaning to her ear. “Because the next time you make me blow my load, I want to actually be inside of you.”  

She smirked, running her fingernails down his chest, her face nearing his, still teasing him with the allure, the promise of more, until it ground to an abrupt halt. “I’m not that easy, big fella.”  

As she sauntered away, for the second time that night, EZ felt frustrated at not being able to attain the goal of having others to bend to his chosen will. While he knew the table vote would remain resolute, the same would not be said for the blonde stripper.  

He’d make her comply, because he knew she wanted him just as much as he did her. It was only a matter of wearing her down, but he would. Being on top of everything in his world was the only acceptable place for Ezekiel Reyes, and before the week was out, he very much intended to be on top of her.  

Exiting the private room, he walked back to the bar while Camille headed for the dressing room, sitting down in front of a pale beauty, with long black hair and a plentiful collection of tattoos.  

“Evening, sexy,” she purred, sinking to her knees and leaning close to him in brazen fashion.  

He replicated the lean, looking her up and down. “How’d you like to earn a hundred dollars?”

The corners of her mouth tilted. “You just came out from a private dance, and you want another? Shit, Camille must be slipping.”

“No,” he confirmed. “That girl I came out with, Camille, you say? I wanna know when she’s working this week. You tell me what hours, and the hundred is yours, babe.” To show he wasn’t bluffing, he pulled the bill from his wallet, sliding it across the shiny surface, his finger remaining. Raven looked down at it and back up at him, figuring it to be the easiest hundred she’d make that night.  

“Wednesday, seven ‘till two, Friday and Saturday, six ‘till one.”  

His finger left the top of the bill, using it to tickle under her chin with a wink. “Thanks, gorgeous.” Armed with the information he needed, he left, all the while planning his return.  

Ezekiel Reyes; he was a man who got what he wanted in the end. And damn, he wanted Camille. Meanwhile, the lady herself sat in her chair in front of her makeup mirror, sinking a shot of tequila from the bottle she always had stashed in her bag for emergencies. The owner didn’t allow the girls to drink while they worked, but in this case, she needed a little jolt of strong alcohol.  

God, the way he’d looked at her. Sure, she was in the business of having men look at her like that, especially when she was grinding herself into their lap, but there was an intensity to the man with a chest about as wide as the hood of her car, and a cock that felt so big, it likely had its own zip code. The intensity of that stare, though, a stare she knew she’d reciprocated with honest intent, it was burned into her mind. There’d been a connection there, and suddenly, Camille cursed herself for not being quite as easy as he presumed her to be.  

Because of her profession, she’d always been a little uptight about the speed with which she had sex with a guy, though. Two hours later, while she was alone in her house watching a pan of pasta bubble, she closed her eyes and saw him there, the dark, sexy man whose name she didn’t even know.  

What she did know, though? He’d be back.