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myckicade · 9 months

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Back Home - Chapter One

Summary: You and Che had been so happy. Everything had almost seemed perfect. You hadn't counted on the bastard up and leaving you. Che's return is even less expected. You've carried on, rebuilt your life, and are enjoying where you're at. It's going to be a fight to see whether Che can fit back into the space he used to occupy, if that space still exists, at all.

A/N: C’mon, now, y’all… You know I couldn't pass this up, series end, or not. I wanted to get two others up first, but, as usual, this one just would not leave me alone! Contains spoilers up until... Well. This is the end of the road, so spoilers for the whole series!

P.S. SPOILERS: I’ve had to fuck about with the timeline a bit, as I have no idea whether Taza’s absence lasted five minutes, or ten years. This show is wonky, that way.

Teaser: It’s been a long time since you’ve found yourself speechless, but here you stand, speechless, and lost, and half-scared of something that doesn’t even exist.

This can’t be real, you tell yourself, the words shaping and forming and dying in your head before they can reach your lips. Your numb, trembling lips. All of you feels like it’s trembling. The cool breeze blowing in from the open door has little to do with the shiver working its way over your skin, much as you’d like to give it the credit right now. You know your face looks like you’ve seen a ghost. It has to. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to scream, or speak, or even sputter out a single sound. It’s been a long time since you’ve found yourself speechless, but here you stand, speechless, and lost, and half-scared of something that doesn’t even exist.

Yet, it does. It exists in the shape of six-odd feet of handsome, half-slouching, complete asshole of a man standing on your front steps. The two of you have been staring at one another for entirely too long, since the moment he showed his face, and spoke your name. It was – and still is – pathetic, how easily the sound of his voice made you weak in the knees.

Oh, this asshole.

“How’d you get this address?” comes flying out of your mouth so suddenly, it takes you a moment to realize that you’re actually the one who said it. You watch as Che, seemingly just as startled as you, shifts on his feet.

“I went by your old apartment,” he admits, finally breaking eye contact to glance down at his boots. “New tenant seemed to know you? She told me where you’d moved to.”

“Fucking Diane,” you sigh, glancing over Che’s head to take in a quick glimpse of the stars. You have a fabulous view of the night sky from here, much better than you ever could have hoped for at your apartment. He’s never seen this, you consider. Not from here. Not like he was supposed to. Che moves, barely a step to the side, bringing your attention back to him. “It’s been a year, Che.” Your tone is firm, probably a little harder than is strictly necessary, but you’ve practiced this. Sure, you may never have expected to see this rotten motherfucker ever again, but you’ve prepared yourself for the scant possibility that you’d one day get the chance to toss him back out on his ass.

The nerve. The fucking balls this bastard has, right now.

Che blows out a breath. “I know,” he agrees, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. His eyes are on you once more, a hesitance in them that shines against the light of the porch. You wait a beat, then two, and by five it’s clear he isn’t going to continue.

“That’s it?” you scoff. “You know?”

“I can leave, if you’d like?” It’s a genuine offer, you can tell. It’s not a threat. There’s no intentional manipulation in the letters. But then, there wouldn’t be. Che’s never been that type of man, certainly not to you. He’s honest, and decent, and devoted, and you need to stop before you remember every reason why you love him.

Before you lose sight of every reason to choke him with your bare hands and start caving into every desire you still have to wrap your arms around him, and never let him go.

Fuck. Angel is right. You’ve gotta’ get out of that book club.

Focusing back in on the matter at-hand (so to speak), you have two options before you. This is a man you haven’t heard from in more than a year. So much has changed. You’ve changed. He surely has, as well. It’s probably a bad, bad idea to do anything other than turn him away.

On the other hand… Well… You’ve missed him so damned much, and the idea of watching him drive away for good – again – already has your eyes welling up with tears. Fuck, you really can’t do it, can you? How fucking pathetic. You need, need, need to stick to your guns. Tell him he’s lost his chance. Tell him things are different now. Anything, anything to make sure you don’t weaken in the face of this choice.

But… Aside from this, this one big, huge thing, he’s never done a damned thing to upset you. To hurt you. The two of you have always played it straight in your relationship, all the cards on the table, full-tilt, no stops, feel free to pass GO! and keep on driving. You’ve thought about this more than once (twice, ten times and better), wondered exactly what in the world could have been so bad, so terrible, that Che had felt the need to run, instead of facing it head-on with you. Stepping out on you has crossed your mind. A late-in-life crisis of some kind. And the ugly possibility that you’ve never really known the man you’ve been in love with. For all you know, Che wants to tell you about the secret family he’s been keeping in Modesto. Wife and kids. Husband and kids. Do you really want to know?

Glancing up, you find Che shifting around again, two seconds from backing off the steps, and down the driveway to his bike. Whether on impulse, or by some crazy ass design, you make your decision. “Sit down,” you instruct, pointing to a patio table and two chairs set up at the corner of the porch. “I’ll be right back.” He nods, clearly surprised, all over again. You nod once, yourself, before disappearing into the kitchen.

What are you doing?

Reaching into the refrigerator, you retrieve two cold beers. You have the feeling you’re going to need one.

What the fuck are you doing, (y/n)?

You turn back from the door and pause. Would liquor be more suitable for this conversation? Might send the signal that this meeting is far more friendly than it has right to be. Giving Che false hope is something you would rather avoid, and a night of drinking liquor has never not led you two to the bedroom.

Decisions, decisions.

You shouldn’t be doing this, at all. No good can possibly come from it. Who’s to say the man outside is even looking for signs of hope? Two minutes ago, he was ready to ride off into the night, no questions asked. Can’t be he’s really too eager to apologize, right? He had that chance, and all you got was, I know. The fuck are you supposed to do with that?

Groaning, you shift both beers to the bend of your left arm and retrieve a bottle of Jose Cuervo from the cupboard with your right hand. It takes some maneuvering, but you finally make your way back out to the porch, balancing the beers, the liquor, and two shot glasses in your arms. Che immediately jumps up from his seat to help you, relieving you of the bottle and glasses, and you find yourself thanking him, as always.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Welcome, doll.”

Neither of you seem to know what to say for a hot second, staring at one another from across the table like two deer caught in cross traffic. You can feel your face growing warm, thankful for the dim glow of the Christmas lights you’ve left strung on the porch since early last November. They’re clear, warm and cool shades of white, with the ability to twinkle, and flash, and induce seizures on the right settings. Angel keeps telling you to take them down. (”It’s July, for fuck’s sake!”). Che has yet to comment on them, but you know he has already formed an opinion, which likely mirrors Angel’s, but with kinder, more considerate wording.

Clearing your throat, you take the seat closest to the door, where Che has chosen to box himself into a corner. He can hop the railing if he needs to make a clean getaway, but strategically speaking, it’s not the smartest move he’s ever made. Still, you pass him a beer, before setting up the shot glasses. Che reaches for the tequila and pours you each a shot. Smooth. Simple. Familiar. Something clenches in your chest.

“So,” Che begins, lifting up his glass. He looks your way, expectantly, until you do the same. He gives you an awkward half-smile, before you both down your shots. Fuck. It’s good stuff, but that first one tends to hit you where you live. “How have you been?”

Really? That’s his starter?

And, wow, it seems like you aren’t going to like any of his attempts tonight, huh?

Cracking open the can in front of you, you shrug. “Busy, I guess?” Another shrug quickly follows the first. “Had a lot on my plate, for a while. Opening the new store. Buying the house.”

Che thumbs at the lip of his can, not yet opening it. “I heard about that. Finally went ahead with it, huh?”

“I did,” you reply, around a sip of Labatt. “Brick and mortar, this time. No more working out of the apartment or driving around town making deliveries.” You look over and find a warm smile waiting for you.

“I’m proud of you,” Che murmurs, all sincerity and happiness. It’s your stomach’s turn to get all fluttery. “That’s awesome.”

Darting your attention elsewhere, you quickly down another mouthful of beer. It’s too familiar. You’ve said far too much. “How about you?” you ask, upon swallowing. You’re not looking his way. You can’t. This is already going all wrong. “Been up to anything fun?” Silence reigns for a moment. It’s unsettling, but you manage to bring yourself to look up again. Che is staring at you, all traces of his smile gone. In its place, an expression you cannot name. It’s almost sad, but not quite. A touch guilty, but not completely. You don’t like it, this look he’s sending your way, panic seizing you enough to blurt out, “I see you’ve cut your hair, again.”

“Don’t do that,” Che replies, almost immediately. His tone catches you by surprise, so low and serious you feel another shiver building at the base of your spine.

“Don’t do what?”

Che blinks, just once. “Don’t try to act like everything’s okay,” he continues. “We both know it isn’t.” That shiver climbs a little higher. True and fair though that is, it’s the only way you’re going to get through this. Cool indifference, at its finest. “While I appreciate not being greeted with a toaster upside the head, I don’t appreciate the passive attitude.”

Damn. Talk about caught.

“Got rid of the toaster,” you mumble after a moment, brushing imaginary debris from your pant leg. “I’m up to an air fryer now.” A laugh breaks free from Che’s mouth, and you fight the smile creeping across your lips in response. You’ve missed that sound so damned much.

You’ve missed him so damned much. The way he talks, low and smooth like the finest honey. The way he looks at you, heart in his eyes, like you mean the world to him, ten times over. You never expected to lay eyes on him again, let alone to have the chance to spill out everything you’ve spent endless hours grumbling about to yourself. Practicing in your head. The ugly words you’ve wanted to throw at him, and the calm manner in which you’ve wanted to deliver them. Now is that chance, and...

And the words won’t jump off your tongue.

“You’re allowed to be pissed,” Che continues, unknowingly encouraging you toward letting him have it with both barrels. “Hell, I’d be shocked if you weren’t.”

You sigh, deep and heavy. “I didn’t know what to be, for a while,” you admit, fiddling with the various rings on your fingers. Your right thumb brushes over the circle of silver on your left index finger. A medium sized band, with citrine stones embedded in the surface, and engraved, Love, Che. Even after everything, you haven’t found it in yourself to take it off. Tuck it away somewhere. Toss is out. You should have. You’d still have every right to do it, too. You just...

Can’t.

The silence must be getting to him, because Che is suddenly asking, “How are the kids?” Oh, boy. Now, here is where you’d really enjoy giving the man what for. Your poor babies. You could keep your calm for what you have been through, yourself, but your babies? You’ve been silent too long, again, it seems, from Che’s worried call of “(Y/n)? Are they okay?”

“Flint looked for you, every damned day.” There. Now it’s out in the open. You catch Che’s flinch from the corner of your eye, a smug sense of satisfaction coming over you at the sight. “It was a fight to get him to eat for about a week, he was so upset.” Flint, your old boy, had become Che’s little buddy over your time together. They’d go for rides in the truck together. Have naps on the couch like the two grandpas you’d joked they were. Walk together. Eat together, as far as Che sharing food from his plate. While your dogs are hardly Che’s responsibility, watching Flint suffer through that pain still sits with you like an open wound. Even now, the tears are gathering at your eyes.

“I never meant to-”

“Max destroyed some of your clothes,” you interrupt, not wanting to hear his bullshit until you’re done. If your feelings don’t come out now, they never will. “Two pair of pants, some socks, and your brown boots.” You pause, clearing your throat. “Wasn’t a full day after you’d gone. I think she knew.”

Che grimaces. “Girl always liked to tear my shit apart.” He sighs. “Not that I blame her.”

“I don’t, either.” You shrug. “I had enough respect for you not to go batshit on the stuff you left behind, and I packed everything away after I caught Max in the act, but the temptation existed.” Reaching out, you pour another shot of tequila for Che, and one for yourself, which you promptly swallow. He doesn’t touch his. “You left just about everything, too, I know you realize.”

“Kinda’ hard to cram my life in a backpack and saddlebags.” He leans forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, hands folded together in front of his face. He’s quiet for a moment, before bowing his head. “You know... I don’t wanna’ sit here and make excuses, and I’m not going to. I know what I did, and it was a dick move, and telling you ‘I’m sorry’ just isn’t gonna’ cut it.”

Finally, you fully look at the man beside you. It’s the first time he’s said those words tonight, even if they were only uttered to make a point. He’s right. No apology is going to cut it, not now. Words are just fucking words, something you’ve had to come to grips with over the last year. Actions are what matter, isn’t that what you two have always agreed on? He took off. Up and left you holding the bag on so much emotional shit, you’re still digging out from the avalanche.

But... He’s here now. That’s action, too. How much does that count for?

Shaking your head, a bit, you try to focus back in. Too many questions, too many possibilities, and too much familiarity are invading your mind. There is something far more pressing to begin with, prompting you to turn your body in your chair, so that you can give Che your full attention. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Che looks at you for a moment, relief in his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmurs, before nudging the tequila bottle closer to you. “You’re gonna’ want more of that while I do.”

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#Che Taza Romero #Taza Romero #Che Romero #Che x Reader #Taza x Reader #Taza Romero x Reader #Che Romero x Reader #Che Taza Romero x Reader #Mayans MC #Mayans #Mayans M.C.#Mayans M.C. Spoilers #Mayans Spoilers #Mayans MC Spoilers #Mayans MC Fanfiction #Mayans MC Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fanfic

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drabbles-mc · 8 months

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Degrees of Separation: Chapter Index

Taza Romero x M!Reader

Summary: You transferred out of Yuma and into Santo Padre in a last-ditch attempt to outrun old ghosts and old problems. The small charter, located in an even smaller border-town, seemed like the perfect place to try and shake off everything that had happened to you so that you could start over. You were ready to live with your old secrets. But the deeper you get into the charter, the more you realize you may have simply traded in your old secrets for new ones, and this time you wouldn't be going down for them alone.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #taza romero #che romero #taza romero x reader #taza romero x you #degrees of separation #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #x reader #x reader fic

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broiderie · 1 year

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Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 14

Here's 14. It's a filler and you can probably tell it, but I have edited it too many times. It's just going to have to be good enough y'all.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of weapons. I can't think of anything else. Let me know if I missed anything.

Don't steal my shit.

The bike shop was only fifteen minutes away, so Creeper rode with Megan and Hank. He threw a fit when Megan started to get in the back though. “Nah, Little Princess. You ain’t taking the back seat in your own car. I’ll ride with the pooch,” he said.

Hank had let the top back down so that they could feel the morning sun, so the ride was more than pleasant. Bishop, Taza, and Marcus led the way and Megan grinned. She was slightly windswept when they got there, but she was smiling happily. None of the men who’d been with her the first day missed the contrast.

Hank came around to open her door aws Creeper got out on his side with Rex following him. “Alright, mi princessa. Think you’ll be alright this time?” he asked.

Megan smiled. “Yeah. I think so. Just don’t look at the prices, right?” She handed him her kutte.

“Right, Chica,” Taza said from beside them. He took her kutte from Hank.

Inside they all scattered. Taza went to the counter with Bishop to collect her patches and get them sewed on for her. Usually, she’d sew them on herself after being awarded them, but that wasn’t an option with her arm right now.

Marcus drew Megan over to the side where there were Harley accessories for dogs. Hank smiled and followed her, putting his hands in his pockets.

Creeper glanced around and headed for the electronics section. He was determined that Megan’s bike needed a better stereo - especially since he’d have to wire the new intercom system anyway.

Megan immediately noticed a leather leash when Marcus showed her the dog section. The leash that Happy had given her was nylon and a little rough in her fingers. She absently picked it up to look at it. She showed it to Hank. “What do you think?”

“I think it matches your gear better than the nylon one, and it never hurts to have multiple leashes, mi amore.” Hank smiled.

Megan bit her lip. “True. We should probably get an extra harness at some point too…”

Marcus picked up a set of food and water bowls. They were stainless steel with Harley logos around the outside. “Here we go. Rex needs food and water bowls still, right? You can keep the temporary one in your car for when you need it.”

Megan nodded, “Alright.”

“What about for at the clubhouse?” Taza asked as he joined them. “Get a second set that can just stay there too.”

Marcus added a second set.

Hank chuckled as he realized that Megan wasn’t freaking out about price when it came to her precious pup. He picked up a couple of chew toys shaped like motorcycle tires, holding one down for Rex to take immediately. “Gotta get him some toys too.”

“Yeah, but there aren’t a lot here. We’ll have to go to the pet store when we get home,” Megan said absently as she looked at the shelves.

Taza smiled. “We could order them online and have it all waiting at the ranch when we get home…”

Megan perked up. “Really?”

The men chuckled. “Really.” Taza answered her. “We’ll get you set up on Amazon on your phone when we get back to the casino, Chica. Then you can order away.”

“A doggy door would be nice for the back door…” Megan said.

“Whatever you want, Sweetheart. Doggy doors for every door in the house and clubhouse. The prospect can put them in,” Taza promised.

Megan laughed. “Thank you, Papa.”

“Of course. Now, we’ve got about a half hour to kill while they finish with your kutte. Let’s go look at human accessories,” he said with a smile. He drew her gently over to the women’s section. “Look. These are hair wraps. They help keep your hair from snarling on long runs.” He pointed to the long pieces of laced leather. “We need to get you some for your braids.”

Megan bit her lip. “Well… it would be nice not to have so much brushing to do after riding…”

Taza grabbed two in every color there. He also grabbed two more of the scarfs that Coco had taught Megan to use as dust masks. “One for each bike…” he explained.

Bishop called her over. “Hey Poquito - come pick out some more sunglasses.”

“But Tío- I already have a pair…”

Yeah, well, a girl deserves options and these are safety glasses too. They won’t shatter like regular ones do if you wreck,” Bishop pointed out. “You need some to keep in your car too. I”d rather it be these than some cheapos that’ll hurt you if they break.”

In the end, Megan chose three new pairs of sunglasses before Bishop was satisfied. Hank smiled as he watched Megan try to argue the other men in her life out of buying her more things.

Creeper came to her rescue. “Hey, Little Princess, come look over here. There might be some things you want for your bike.”

Megan glanced at Hank who nodded that he’d follow and went to look with Rex.

Creeper had already chosen a stereo system for her bike that would fit with the new intercom Bishop had bought her. But there were many other options to customize her bike. “I don’t even know what I’ll need though,” Megan protested.

“Think about being on your Pop’s bike. Anything you’d change if you were in the driver’s seat?” Creeper asked.

Megan thought. “Papa has to sit forward a lot on his bike - and it’s too tall for me. Even the footpegs in the back are a stretch from the bitch seat.”

“Alright. So your handlebars are closer to the rider and the bike is shorter. That takes care of most of that. That’s why they got you the Slim. It’s got a better seat height for a smaller rider,” Creeper explained. “The tank is painted to match your helmet, but it’s got a standard seat on it still.” He pulled up pictures on his phone to show her. “I’ll add the intercom and stereo when we get home.”

“It’s such a pretty green,” she said with a smile.

Creeper chuckled. “All I did was match Hank’s paint job. He chose the color.” He pointed to a phone holder and a GPS. “I’d suggest one of these, or preferably both. You’ll be a new rider - AND new to the area. This would mean your less likely to get lost if you ride alone.”

Megan nodded. “Probably a good idea then.”

Creeper picked them up with a smile. “Not that I think it’ll be a problem much, but I’d rather you have them if you need them.”

Hank smiled softly as Creeper walked Megan through his reasoning behind buying different electronics for her. She even allowed him to pick up another cell phone holder and GPS for her car. The bald man was patient and explained things carefully enough that Megan never questioned how much he was buying. By the end of it, her bike would be the most tricked out bike in the club, and he loved that Creep managed to do it without setting off her panic. He used logic and reason to keep her calm and convince her that she needed things.

Marcus caught his eye and lifted the finished kutte to show him. Hank grinned. It was perfect. “Alright, mi amore. Your kutte is ready. Ready to go?” Hank asked as she and Creeper paused.

Megan grinned. “Sure. Are the others done shopping?”

“Looks like it,” Creep said, pointing to the door where Taza a Bishop sat with bags. “Go on, Little Princess. I’ll meet you guys over there. I’m gonna have them ship the parts to the yard for me.”

Megan squeezed his arm gratefully. “Thanks, Creeper.”

“You’re welcome. Be there in a minute.”

Megan and Hank made their way to the others to meet up with Rex trailing along faithfully. On the way there, a jewelry counter caught Hank’s eye. “Just a minute, mi amore.” He tugged her over to the counter where there were various forms of Harley themed jewelry. This spot had everything from cheap children’s necklaces to a few high dollar pieces. He pointed at a small case of charms for charm bracelets. “I think earning your patch deserves a charm, Princessa.”

Megan smiled a little. “You might be right…”

The clerk behind the counter came over. “Looking for anything in particular, ma’am?”

Megan held up her left wrist to display her charm bracelet. “Just a charm to remember today.”

“Are you the one patching, honey?” the older lady asked.

Megan nodded. “Yeah… I am.”

“Well, I’ve got a few here that might work-” the clerk pulled the case out and shifted through them before laying out a charm that looked like a kutte, one that looked like a top rocker, and one that matched the crossed pistols on her new patch. “Any of these feel right?”

Megan touched the rocker with a tiny smile. “Is it engravable?”

“Sure is.”

“Would you put ‘Mayans M.C.’ on it, please?” Megan asked.

“Of course. Be right back.”

Megan smiled up at Hank, who kissed her gently. “Look at you. Picked it out all on your own too. I was expecting a fight.”

Megan shook her head with a small smile up at him. “No. You’re right. This one deserves a charm.”

“Good.” He kissed her again and squeezed her waist, before pulling out his wallet to pay for the charm before the price was announced. Luckily the nice lady either seemed to understand or she remembered Megan’s breakdown last time. She rang him up without question.

“Have a nice day, you two. See you next time.” He handed Hank the little organza bag with the charm in it.

“You too!” Megan said as they went to meet everyone else.

They all loaded back up and headed back for the casino. Creeper was fast becoming good friends with Rex. The big dog was perfectly content having his ears rubbed by the bald biker in the back seat.

“So… what exactly is the procedure here?” Megan asked. “I assume it’s more than just handing me the kutte, or Tío would have done that at the store.”

Hank chuckled. “I’m not actually sure either since the vote already happened. Usually, you’d wait outside Templo while we vote, we’d most likely scared the shit out of you making you think we’d voted no before Taza would hand you your new patched to sew on before the party. At least that’s what we do to prospects.”

Creep laughed. “Yeah - that ain’t gonna work this time. He’s probably just going to present it to you when we all meet for lunch before the Galindo meeting, Little Princess. We’ll combine your patch party with your birthday party when we get you home.”

Megan shook her head with a smile. “Y’all are determined with this party thing, aren’t you?”

Hank kissed her knuckles with a smirk. “You’ll enjoy it. Promise.”

Creeper half-grinned. “Damn right you will. We’ll make sure of it.”

“Maybe we should see if Venus and maybe Tig, Happy, and Chibs want to come down for it. Maybe we’ll have good news for them by then,” Megan suggested.

“Your party, mi amore. You invite whoever you want,” Hank assured her, pulling into a parking space.

Taza came to help her with her door as Hank, Creeper and Rex got out on the driver’s side. “Well Chica - what would you like for lunch? We’re ordering up to the suite,” he asked.

“I’m really not hungry, Papa - “ she said, looking up at him.

“Just something light then? You should eat before the meeting. We’re not sure how long Galindo will need us,” Taza explained.

Megan shrugged a little. “If you say so…”

“What about a salad or something, Princessa? Or a sandwich?” Hank suggested.

“Actually - a salad does sound good,” Megan admitted.

Creeper brought her Rex’s leash from where he’d taken him to do his business. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Taza chuckled. “Alright. Is chicken okay? Get a little protein in there.”

Megan laughed. “Sure, Papa.”

He kissed her head. “Alright. Your padrinos and I will order lunch and round up the others for Templo. You go rest a bit. Take your medicine. You should be overdue for it.”

“She is,” Hank said. “C’mon, mi reina. Let’s go decompress for a bit.”

Megan took Rex’s leash from Creeper with a smile and leaned in to the arm Hank slid around her waist as they headed for the elevators.

In the room, Hank encouraged Megan to lay down for a while after he got ehr to take her medicine. She protested, but he promised her that her papa had plans for them this evening and she’d enjoy them more if she wasn’t too tired.

“Will you stay with me?” she finally asked.

“Of course, mi amore.” He grabbed his book from his bag and sat himself against the headboard so she could snuggle down with her head in his lap. Once she was situated, he stroked her hair and neck gently. “Rest, mi princessa.”

An hour or so later, Taza poked his head in with a smile. “Lunch is ready, hermano,” he called softly. “Galindo will be here in about two hours.”

Hank sat aside his book. “Alright. I’ll wake her up.”

“Good. Her padrinos want her to have her kutte before lunch. They’ll be ready when you bring her out.” Taza patted the doorway and looked at Rex. “Rex, come.”

The dog looked to Hank.

“Go on Rex. Go eat,” Hank encouraged.

The big dog stood from where he was laying at the foot of the bed, shook himself, and followed Taza from the room.

Hank smiled down at Megan sleeping peacefully in his lap. He smoothed some stray hair back into her braid. “Time to wake up, mi amore. Your papa and tíos are ready with lunch.” He gently traced her cheekbone with the back of his fingers.

Megan’s eyelashes fluttered open with her little wake up squeak. “Mm?”

“Are you awake, baby?” he asked with a smile.

“Mmhmm,” she smiled and nuzzled against his thigh through his jeans.

He chuckled and shifted a little. He could feel the heat of her breath through his pants. “Are you comfy?”

“Very.”

“Good, but we still need to get up so we can get lunch in you before we need to meet with Galindo.” He rubbed his thumb gently along her jaw.

“Okay.” She stretched where she could before sitting up slowly.

Hank guided her up before pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. He pulled his own boots back on, before going to help Megan with hers only to realize that her new ones had zippers on the sides. She slid her guns back into the holster she still wore and the knife back into its sheath. Sleeping had loosened her hair enough that she simply untied it and brushed it down with the fingers of her good hand.

“My kutte should conceal the weapons, right?” she asked, eyeing the discarded flannel.

“Should, mi amore. If we meet on the casino floor, we’ll have to check them anyway. Tribal law says no firearms on the casino level,” Hank assured her.

Megan nodded. “But my knife…”

“Can stay with you, as can Rex. Law only covers guns,” he said with a smile.

“Alright then. Let’s go eat.”

Hank shrugged into his kutte from where it was hanging on the chair in the room. “Alright, mi princessa.” He followed her out to the common room.

The entire Santo Padre chapter was waiting for them. Bishop stood front and center flanked by Taza and Riz with the other men behind them. Megan stopped in front of her tío. Bishop smiled down at her. “Last night, we voted to appoint you our armorer for the Santo Padre charter of the Mayans Motorcycle Club, Megan. Today, you get your kutte. This kutte is the symbol of your connection with our M.C. It’s as sacred as anything can be in this life and the true symbol of the brotherhood we all share. Always remember that.”

Megan nodded solemnly. “Yes sir.” She swallowed hard.

Bishop turned to Marcus who was standing back, holding Megan’s kutte folded over his arm, and reached for it. Marcus handed it over. Then he turned back to Megan, but he looked at Hank. “Tranq, we couldn’t decide who would patch her in. Marcus can’t - he’s not SanPad. Taza is her blood. Bylaws say blood sponsoring blood isn’t recommended. I didn’t feel right doing it when Marcus and Taza can’t. So… it falls to you, hermano.” He held the new kutte out to Hank. “Patch in our Armorer.”

Hank smiled and took the kutte from Bishop before going to help Megan put it on by easing her sling and slipping it over her casted arm before supporting that arm for her so she could slip her good arm in the kutte. He quickly redid her sling before smiling at her. “Megan Morales - Welcome to the tribe.”

Megan smiled back up at him as the men whooped and cheered.

Megan got hugs from everyone as Rex bounced excitedly around the room.

They sat down to lunch where Megan got her salad, but she barely ate any of it between talking to everyone. The men debated whether they should head directly back to Santo Padre to start planning her patch party after the Galindo meeting. Megan continued to insist that she wasn’t a patch and therefore there shouldn’t be a patch party.

“Fine then - your birthday party slash ‘appointment’ party then,” said Gilly.

“We need to give people time to come, man,” Coco said. “Bet the Reapers would come if we called. Oakland will probably want to represent too.” He glanced at Marco and José. “Right?”

Marco laughed. “Oh yeah. I’ll make the calls if you want. Give us time to get here.”

José nodded seriously.

There was a knock on the suite door and Bishop nodded for EZ to answer it. Adam stood there. “Mr. Galindo has arrived. We put him in the big conference room.”

Taza nodded. “Thank you, Adam. We’re on our way down.”

Adam nodded. “Don’t forget to check your weapons at the desk, please.”

Bishop nodded.

Megan took a deep breath and called Rex. She put his new leash on his collar, before looking to her father and Bishop. They both nodded in satisfaction. Hank pressed a hand to her lower back and she relaxed a little.

After checking all guns at the front desk, the club made their way to the large, comfortable conference room. It made Megan smile a bit as they passed the room where she’d waited so nervously to meet Taza.

Inside the room, Miguel Galindo waited with the older man Megan had met with Marcus - Devante. A blonde woman was there too, dressed professionally but obviously on Galindo’s arm. The men all greeted each other with handshakes.

“My wife, Emily,” Galindo said, “will be joining us.”

“Of course,” Marcus said with a smile. “Mrs. Galindo,” he greeted her. Then he waved Megan forward. “We’ve made some additions to our club as well.” Megan stepped up, keeping her head high. “You remember my god daughter, Megan. She’s also Bishop’s god daughter and blood daughter to Taza. She’s going to be handling our armory from now on. Princessa, this is Miguel Galindo.”

Megan held Rex’s leash tight and nodded to the cartel boss and his wife. “Mr. and Mrs. Galindo.”

“Ah yes. The little princess from Tennessee. Good to see you’re relatively unharmed from your run in with your… brother, was it?” Galindo asked.

“Foster brother. But yes, sir.”

“Good. I’ll have to make formal introductions to my head of security later, I’m afraid. He’s currently handling another situation, but you remember Devante,” Galindo said with a smile.

“Of course,” Megan gave a brief and business-like nod.

“We should get to business then,” Bishop said. “Megan…”

Megan stepped back to stand beside Hank as Marcus, Bishop, and TAza took seats with the head of the cartel and his advisors.

Miguel Galindo outlined the deal that he was forced to sign with the feds calmly and deliberately despite Devante protesting. When he was done, all the Mayans were tense. Then Miguel explained that he had an ace up his sleeve. His security detail escorted a young woman that they all recognized into the room. Adelita, the female rebel leader of Los Olvidados. The woman that the M.C. had been trying to track down for months.

Megan sucked in her breath and glanced at the rest of the M.C. for their reactions. Strangely - Angel, Gilly, Coco, and EZ looked the least surprised. She had expected Angel, at least, to blow his top.

“My organization is no longer at odds with Los Olvidados,” Miguel stated. He went on to explain that they wanted the Santo Padre Mayans to be the third party that they used to keep each other honest.

The arrangement was discussed in detail, with all parties agreeing. Megan stood back with her mind racing. The LO were huge. They had so much control over different parts of Mexico all along the border. It’s what made them hell to try to track. Did they have access to a port?

Hank leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Are you okay, mi princessa? Need a breather?”

Megan shook her head subtly, and stood on her toes to whisper back, “We need to meet with Adelita without Galindo.”

Hank frowned a little and ducked his head so he could hear her better. “Why?” he asked simply. He knew that her mind had seen something that the rest of them had missed.

“The LO,” Megan explained. “They could be our answer to our port problem. They’re huge. You can’t tell me they don’t have access to a port in Mexico,” she whispered quickly.

Hank’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“And for the twenty percent we were going to offer the Vatos - that’s a lot of supplies for Adelita’s orphans…” Megan explained with a small smile.

Hank grinned and couldn’t help but kiss her, hard. “Damn, Princessa. I love you and the way your brain works.” He glanced at Taza who was looking their way curiously. “Let’s run it by your papa.” He beckoned to Taza.

Megan’s father excused himself from the main group for a moment and came to meet them against the back wall. “Everything alright?”

Megan grinned at him as Hank answered. “Just La Princessa proving we were right to give her that damn kutte. She may have a solution to our Irish problem.”

Taza’s face went from shocked to absolutely proud as hell. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Megan outlined what she’d told Hank about the LO. She’d been listening more than they knew when they discussed the hunt for Adelita. “And,” she said, “it tied the LO to us as much as to the cartel, lessening the chance of a double cross even more,” she finished.

Taza smiled from ear to ear. He pressed a kiss to Megan’s forehead proudly. “Chica, you’re fucking brilliant. We’ll talk to Bish and El Padrino as soon as this breaks up. We’ll make sure to have contact with Adelita.” He nudged her chin with his finger. “Proud of you, Chica.”

Megan smiled some more. “Thanks, Papa.”

Taglist:

@jemmakates

@msjava1972

@drabbles-mc

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@xeniarocks

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beeroses · 3 years

Text

Tenemos un trato, Querida

@rebelwrites ‘ FanFic Friday is at your door and here is a lil Che loving that is much longer than I expected it to be when I started!! I know the character development we’ve got this season but I’ve tried going with anyone else and the story wasn’t working out for me as much as it did when I finally went with my gut, sue me!! Credit for the gif to the creator. Credit for Che to Raoul but also to Kurt Sutter and Elgin James!

Warnings : mentions of drugs and drug intake without consent (always keep an eye on your glass, people)

I’m gonna go ahead and tag you, @yosoynicolexo just because.. ya know ;)

- Slept well Querida?

You stirred under the covers and slowly peeked an eye out from underneath the warm blanket that covered you. You saw Che smiling at you softly. You sighed and got your head out from the warmth to be met with chills from the temperature difference.

- Yeah, better than I have in a long time.

You looked at him as he approached the tray he was holding in his hands, closer to you and sitting it carefully on the bed. On it were two cups and coffee. Bless him for being so attentive, you could’ve sold your entire family for a cup of coffee.

- Thanks. For everything.

He waved it off, chuckling.

- No I mean it, I can’t imagine what could’ve happened if someone else than you had found me yesterday. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if the person who put the drug in my drink came around before you did. Thank you for always looking out for me, you said sheepishly.

The night before, you had a couple too many drinks. And the last one, someone put stuff in it that made you lose all your senses. You could barely remember your own name. You were more than grateful that the worse you got was a deathly glare from Taza as he was taking you back to his ranch, safely and putting you in his guestroom, fuzzy blankets and lots of glasses of water around.

- You know how it is, Querida, I’ve got you, always.

He smiled but it was deprived of happiness. It was definitely the saddest smile you’d ever seen in your life. You wished it wasn’t turned to you, you wished that you weren’t the one that caused him to smile like that.

- Look, Che, I’ll get out of your air. You’ve done enough.. and so have I.. I think I should go. Thank you again, for everything, you said rapidly, just wanting out of this situation.

He looked down, and for a second you thought he’d let you leave without another word, which, at this point in your misery, almost made you cry your eyes out but held it in, at least until you were out the door. You gathered your things rapidly and went towards the door.

- Wait Querida.

You turned back around to look at him. He looked.. disappointed? Could it be it? Was he expecting more from you? Were you not living to his expectations ? You were actually even more heartbroken as you’ve always had a thing for Che but never made a move about it because of the age difference. But he always felt like more than just a friend. He felt safe and you felt cared for with him. But now, all you felt was like an utter disappointment and you didn’t know how long you could take that feeling.

- You don’t.. Please don’t say anything. It’s… I don’t think I can hear it… you said shakily, hearing your voice tremble.

- Querida, why are you like this? he asked.

You were wishing you had made a run for it and left before he could say those words. It made you even more miserable. You wished you could just disappear and never come back to Santo Padre.

- Why are you shaking, and crying, Sweetheart, what’s going on, talk to me. He asked again, worry in his voice, carefully taking a few steps forward, towards your entirely shaking body.

And then it flicked. He wasn’t questioning your entire life choices, just your current state. You almost burst out laughing at how panicked it made you.

- I’m sorry, I just… For a second there I thought you despised me. And I couldn’t live with myself if that was the case, you said, smiling sheepishly while looking at the floor.

- I could never despise you, Querida, he said, while brushing some hair from your face. Eres el sol de mis dias, Querida, no podría despreciarte, aunque quisiera*.

His hand stayed on your cheek and you felt the heat radiating both from it and also form your own face. Still unable to look up from the floor, you managed : «Que quieres decir?». You heard a small chuckle coming from him.

- What I’m saying, Querida, is that I could never despise you.

- Che, I understand the words… What does it .. mean.. ? and you heard him chuckle even more.

- I’m a stupid man. I’ve been trying to pretend that I was fine with the backseat role I’ve put myself in, with you. But last night.. Last night was my final straw. I can’t sit in the backseat anymore. I don’t wanna scoop you up like a damsel in distress, I don’t want to be your guardian angel… Let me finish before you leave, Querida. I don’t want to scoop you up, I wanna be the one that takes you out. I’ll still bring you back here, but hopefully, you’ll let me take you out from here too. I hate sleeping in the next room and not being able to cuddle you while you’re sleeping all the way over here. I hate bringing you coffee in my guestroom. I hate seeing you being treated anything less than like a Reina, mi amor.

You finally managed to look up in his eyes. He wasn’t disappointed, earlier, he was actually sad. And at this moment, you realize that you’ve been stupid too.

- I’ve put myself in the backseat too, with you. Who the hell’s driving, Cariño? you asked, with a sheepish smile.

He let out a laugh and a sigh of relief at your words.

- How about I drive us to breakfast?

- I’ll handle the backseat a lil longer. Maybe next time we’re both sitting in the backseat we could make it more entertaining, you know? He grinned at your cheekiness while you surprised yourself with your sudden confidence.

- Yeah, tenemos un trato**, Querida, he said, winking and pulling you in for a kiss.

*You are the sun of my days, I couldn’t despise you, even if I wanted to.

**We’ve got a deal, Sweetheart

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oscars-wifeyyy · 3 years

Text

Too Old?

Taza and you had been together for quite some time, despite you being considerably younger than him. You guys made it work...until he started growing farther and farther away from you.

It was the day that Taza got back from a run that lasted a week and to say you were excited was an understatement. The ranch was pretty boring without the love of your life so all you really did was work, cook some ramen, and clean. You missed his cuddles and the late night activities you guys did often. When it was closer to the time that the guys should be back, you texted his number and decided to wait for him to come home. However, hours passed and there was still no sign of Taza so you checked your phone and went to your guys’ texts to see he read it hours ago. Fed up, you slipped on your shoes and walked out in your sleep shorts and a hoodie of his to go to the clubhouse.

You pulled up to the clubhouse and motioned for Chucky to let you in. When you got out of the car, you sped walked inside and slammed the door open, scaring the members standing around the door.

“Where. The fuck. Is. He?” You seethed.

Bishop motioned his head to the corner and you turned and saw the Apache with a cigarette in between his lips. You stomped your way to him with a deadly gaze, but all you got was a glare back from him.

“What the fuck, Che?” you growled at him.

“What?” Che glared at you.

“You know what, pendejo,” you clenched your fists, “why didn’t you answer my text? I don’t give a shit if you texted that you were gonna be here. Just fucking tell me that you were safe,”

“You are not my mother,” He stood up tall to you, “I can do whatever the fuck I want,”

You scoffed, “ok. If you can’t man the fuck up and tell me what your problem is then this ain’t working out,” you walked out and back into your car, but the passenger door opened and Taza got inside.

“Why are you with me?” Taza stared straight ahead, “you’re young and have life ahead of you,”

“Really, Taza?” you sighed and put your hands through your hair, “why the fuck do you have a question about that? I could leave you, yeah, but here I am fighting to keep this relationship standing. I don’t give a fuck about all these other men that want me because I am so in love with you. Can we please go home and cuddle?”

“Yeah,” Taza smiled, “You can drop me off here tomorrow morning,” the Apache leaned in and gave you a small kiss on the lips, “I’m sorry for acting like that inside,”

“You’re gonna make it up to me, alright,” you smirked, “the only way you know how,”

#che romero #taza romero #che taza romero #taza romero x reader #che romero x reader #Mayans MC #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc x reader #mayans x oc #che taza romero x reader #che taza romero imagine #taza romero imagine

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michaelirby · 3 years

Text

michaelirby's masterlist

Here is a collection of my fics, have fun reading 🤍

(all fics from my old blog will be marked with *)

codes: 🌼 - fluff 👀 suggestive/implied smut 🥵 smut

🥀 angst 🍑 author's favorites

Bishop Losa

- Control *🥵

- Cream Sweaters *🌼🥵🍑

- Honoring Your Memory *🌼

- A Woman Like You pt1 *🌼🍑

- A Woman Like You pt2 *🥵

- Starry Eyes *🌼 🥵

Hank Loza

- Guiding Light pt1 *🌼🍑

- Guiding Light pt2 *🌼👀

- In The Rain 🌼🥀

- A Proposition 🌼🍑

Taza Romero

- It's About The Acceptance* 🌼

#mayans fx #mayans mc #bishop losa #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa imagine #hank loza #hank loza x reader #hank loza imagine #taza romero #che taza romero #taza romero imagine #taza romero x reader #my masterlist #my writing

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mayansmcsblog · 3 years

Text

The prank war- pt2

part one is here

~sorry in advance for any grammer/spelling mistakes~

Ever since last week, the guys have "initiated" a prank war amongst each other.

Taza and Hank refused to even step foot in the clubhouse for anything other than meetings at this point. They always seemed to get dragged into whatever prank was being pulled regardless if they wanted to be involved or not.

Hank was the main body shield, everyone would run to him for protection but he didn't do much other than stand in the way of the person trying to attach the one standing behind him

All of the guys were constantly on edge, especially Angel, he seemed to get the blunt of it all.

Over the time period of just one week he had been drenched, pushed into oncoming traffic, locked in a basement for 6 hours, shot with paintballs numerous times then Coco, Gilly and Ezekiel had even dressed up as feds and "raided" his house at 3am....needless to say he was a little on edge around everyone

You felt bad for him, of course, but it didn't stop it being funny.

"What if we wrapped his bike in bubble wrap and wrapping paper?“ You asked, sitting on the floor of bishops front room next to the coffee table tapping the pen against the notepad in front of you.

You and Bishop were sat gathering ideas on what you could do to as a revenge prank on Coco since he had called Bishop out at 4am last night saying the clubhouse was being raided when in reality- it was not, meaning Bishop turned up to an empty clubhouse with a piece of paper on the bar saying 'sorry prez, if we are in this war...so are you'

He was sitting on the sofa drinking a beer and scrolling through google looking for ideas.

"That's actually a good one, write it down" setting his phone and beer down on the coffee table he turned towards you, taking advantage of him setting his beer down you quickly took it and took a sip

"What if you ask him on a date?" Bishop proposed. You couldn't help but immediately spit the drink out, your eyes wide in shock of what he asked

"Huh? Sorry can you say that again" you asked clearly frazzled by the idea

"I said what if you-"

You quickly cut him off "Never mind I heard you the first time" setting his beer down you stood up and sat next to him on the sofa "are you mental?"

He laughed at you "no just- hear me out okay"

"No" you interjected

"Why not?"

"Because!"

"Because what?"

"If I was going to go on a date with anyone it definitely wouldn't be coco fucking cruz"

Okay definitely didn't mean to let that out-

Bishop stared at you for a few moments, clearly thinking for some sort of comeback or a response

"What?”

"Nothing forget about it" standing back up you went to walk out of the room but he grabbed your wrist just as you were about to walk past him

"What does that even mean?" He asked looking up at you

"Nothing bish forget about it" pulling his grip from your wrist you headed towards the bedroom

"Y/N!" He shouted. You could hear him getting off the sofa

"I said forget about it" closing the bedroom door you locked it, knowing he would try to get in so locking it was the best option.

Would it annoy him? Yep, that was your whole intention

Your phone was still on charge, resting on the bedside table. Sitting on the edge of the bed you picked it up and couldn't help but stare at your lock screen

It was you, Bishop, Angel, Coco, and Ez from when all of the guys took a trip up to Stockton and decided to bring you along

You were standing next to Bishop, his arm around your waist and your head leaning on his shoulder, a slight smile on both of your faces. Angel and Coco stood beside Bishop holding up their middle fingers in an attempt to look tough meanwhile ez stood next to you, clearly laughing at coco and Angels antics

Can never have a good photo with those two in it

Unlocking your phone you saw there were around 30 messages in the group chat.

Nothing new there.

Opening it you were presented with chaos. Skimming over them the main things said was that Angel had been pranked yet again, but this time by Letty and Coco.

Brilliant so now there are 6 of you in this prank war. Strangely, you had not been pranked yet which gave you the upper hand of getting someone else before they got you.

Bishop, Coco, Angel, Gilly, Creeper, and now Letty were involved. You already knew Letty and coco would team up for even better pranks constantly but no one would suspect you to get involved. Right?

"Y/N open the door" you could hear Bishops muffled voice beyond the locked door.

"Don't you have stuff to do?" You knew there was a club party at 8 which meant Bishop probably had to be here by 6 maybe 7 if ez was setting up.

There was silence on the other side of the door for a few seconds before he spoke up once more

"Are you mad or something? I was only messing around" you heard him slump against the door. He would never push you to do anything you didn't want to but why coco? You never wanted him. It was always Bishop.

You could hear his phone ring from the front room but there was no movement meaning he was letting it ring out. It rang a few more times before the house became silent once more..but that didn't last long because your phone started to ring.

Glancing at the screen you saw it was coco.

Oh how ironic.

Guess that's who was calling Bishop too

"Coco what-" you answered but was cut off

"Where the fuck is Bishop!” This voice was frantic, something you had never heard or expected to hear from him.

"He’s outside wh-"

"Get him to the club now”

Before you could respond he ended the call. It took you a few moments to realize what happened and when you did you immediately got up and opened the bedroom door

Almost immediately he attempted to enter the room , putting your hands on his chest you pushed him back.

"Coco needs you at the club like right now-" you started but were cut off by two lips pressing against yours.

As much as you loved kissing him- now wasn't the time, so once again you pushed him back

"What?" His brow furrowed

"Coco needs you at the club! called me all like mad and frantic he needs you at the club like right now-"

"The fuck does that mean?" Turning down the hallway he began to speed walk back to the front room "What the hell did I miss?"

Following him you saw him gathering all his things and putting them in his pockets. "I don't know he just said he needed you there like right now"

You heard him groan as he searched the table for something "Where are my keys?"

"By the front door"

Looking at you he snapped his fingers "of course they are by the fucking door"

Sitting on the couch you could hear him grabbing his keys and lacing his shoes before he opened the front door and shut it again.

Assuming he left already you let out a deep sigh and closed your eyes.

"Y/N" opening them again you were greeted with Bishop leaning over you

"I thought you left"

He lent down a little more and pressed a kiss to your lips "I couldn't leave without doing that first"

You pushed him slightly in the direction of the front door as you stood up "Go idiot"

"You stayin the night?" He walked backwards, still looking at you

"Yes now go"

"Okay"

You watched as he opened the front door and left.

You knew he said you should ask coco on a date as a joke but some part of you couldn’t help but think he was serious in some way. Maybe it was his way of saying you shouldn't be with someone like him.

maybe you were just being paranoid right?

----

Sleeping peacefully...what even is that? If you weren’t awake worrying about the guys then you were sleeping- but it definitely was no a peaceful sleep, if it wasn't a nightmare it was simply a restless sleep.

Opening your eyes your gaze averted to the ceiling for the third time tonight. You knew it must of been around 1 in the morning by now, yet there was no arm around you or any movement anywhere in the house or any snoring coming from the other side of the bed...so where was bishop..because he clearly wasn't here.

Maybe something big happened with the club? I mean he left at 5 so, maybe he’s just caught up in something...right? Like he’s fine...he’s fine like totally fine...he’s probably not hurt or anything...right?

You must of fell asleep once again at some point because the next thing you knew was you were waking up and could feel the weight of a arm slung around your waist accompanied by a hand upon your stomach, holding your back against his him....but his hands were cold so he couldn't of been here long

See everything is fine..nothings wrong..he's okay, everyone's okay

You moved his arm off of your waist so you’re able to turn to face him. His eyes are still closed but you know he’s awake because his face wasn't relaxed.

"Bish" you whispered. He didn't reply to you verbally, only humming in response "what happened"

"Want me to start with Angel or Ez?"

"Either"

"Well Mr. coco big bullocks thought it would be funny to knock Angel out and use the fucking forklift to put him on top of the bike shed then left him there to wake up but forgot about him so Angel was stuck up there for two fucking hours since he couldn’t jump down so i had to get him fucking down" he explained, slight irritation lased within his words.

The visualize of Angel being stuck on a roof was highly amusing however the sheer concept that coco was able to knock him out was even more amusing

"Wait wait wait...coco knocked him out?" Bishop nodded, finally opening his eyes to look at you "how?" you spoke in-between laugher

"Hit him with a chair" bishop stared, not even a hint of humor was upon his face....he was completely serious

"He...he hit him with...a chair?" you repeated, trying not to laugh more then you already were

Bishop nodded, confirming your repetition

"What happened with Ez?"

"Alot"

"Alot?"

He once again hummed in response, closing his eyes.

"Wait no don't go to sleep, tell me"

"In the morning"

"No, tell me now"

"Y/n" he warned

"What"

"Sleep"

"No"

"Sleep or ill knock you out like coco did with Angel"

"You don't have the guts" you teased

That got his attention, he opened one eye and looked at you "wanna test that?" He asked, you stayed silent "exactly now go to sleep"

Maybe i do i wanna test that

"so violent" you whispered, thinking he wouldn't hear you

"that's it I'm getting a fucking chair" he quickly began to make his way out of the bed but you pulled him back by his shirt

"no no no i swear ill go to sleep" you begged. Humming in response he lay back down onto his back, pulling you into his side so you could lay you head on his chest.

what the hell happened to Ez?

"bishoppp pweesss tell meeeee" you begged once again, raising your voice higher to be annoying

"no go to sleep"

twat

------------------

Tag list:

@chibsytelford

~~if you want to be added to the tag list send me a message!~~

○ if you enjoyed this please reblog//like

○ An; i know this is like 4 months late and i apologize for that! This was more of a fill in chapter so im thinking of doing one more part to finish this series of and that will conclude the series

○ For future writing references i will probably only be doing one lines or one shots

#bishop losa fanfic #obispo losa fic #bishop losa fanfiction #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa imagine #bishop x reader #mayans mc #angel reyes #michael irby #ezekiel reyes #johnny coco cruz x reader #coco cruz x reader #che taza romero #hank losa #gilly lopez #creeper vargas

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crowfootwrites · 3 years

Text

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

Soooo, I know I said this was going to be the last part, but I'm nothing if not a wordy bitch. So there will actually be one final part after this, which will offer more explanation and serve to wrap things up.

Warnings: angst; family drama; pregnancy & pregnancy complications; depictions of pain; emergency medical personnel and hospitals; language | Words: 1,243

Part I of The Boyfriend | Part II of The Boyfriend

Taglist: @chibsytelford

The soft morning breeze caressed your cheeks as you sat in the old rocking chair on the porch, your cup of tea resting steadily on your swollen belly. You gazed out over the quiet ranch, Taza’s horses grazing contentedly in the distance, trees bursting with birdsong as the sun started its slow climb over the horizon. Your due date was just a couple weeks out, and you couldn’t wait to have your baby in your arms.

A soft tapping drew you out of your reverie and you glanced over your shoulder to see Taza pushing off the door frame with a tender smile, coming to sit in the chair beside you. He was wrapped in a flannel robe, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Qué estás pensando (What are you thinking)?” he asked quietly, interlacing his fingers with yours on the arm of your chair.

You smiled dreamily. “Just ready to meet them.”

Taza grinned, nodding his agreement. “Any day now.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, watching as the sun brightened the sky and the world stretched to life.

You felt the shift in Taza’s demeanor before he even opened his mouth, his hand twitching almost imperceptibly in your grasp.

“Have you given any more thought to your dad’s message?”

You heaved a considerable sigh, jostling the teacup on your belly. Your father had sent you a text message the week prior, apologizing for your mother’s “inexcusable” behavior at dinner, and asking how he could make things right. Your father was a good man. You knew he wanted to fix things, that he ultimately wanted to be involved in his grandchild’s life. But it irked you that the apologies were coming from the wrong person. There had been nothing but radio silence from your mother. And while you had never been particularly close to your parents, and your relationship with your mother was obviously flawed, the process of becoming a mother yourself had you overanalyzing your entire personal history.

You had tried, over and over again, to understand your mother’s perspective. But ultimately, you had reasoned that perhaps the two of you just had diametrically opposed values. You had hoped that your mother would have the opportunity, over the course of your pregnancy, to see how wonderful Taza was, how loving and stable. How much you loved each other, and how ready you both were to welcome a child into the world. That his age didn’t matter, and neither did the lack of a marriage certificate. And most of all, that those things were your decision to make and that she should trust you enough to make good choices for yourself. But after your mother’s most recent blow-up, you were done. You had come to understand that she was never going to see things that way.

Then came your father’s text. You could tell it hurt him to be so disconnected from you, and you hated to be even part of the reason for his unhappiness. At the time, you had responded asking for time to think about things. But you were honestly no closer to a solution than you had been then.

“I met with him.”

You whipped your head around to frown at your boyfriend and he rushed to explain.

“He texted me, mi amor, and I felt bad. I couldn’t imagine if we had a daughter and I wasn’t welcome around her.”

“He is welcome,” you snapped. Taza gazed at you skeptically.

“You and I both know your mother would give him hell if he came here to see you,” he reminded you.

Your jaw clenched impulsively. “Sounds like a personal problem,” you ground out, although you knew Taza was right. You wouldn’t want you put your father through that. You heard Taza’s mild sigh beside you and echoed it with one of your own.

“I just don’t know what to do,” you grumbled. “I don’t know how to fix it. And I also don’t think it should be on me to fix it. She’s the one with a problem.”

Taza chuckled and patted your hand. “Let’s hope this baby doesn’t wind up with your stubborn streak or the two of you will put me in an early grave.”

“Oh, you think I’m the one with the problem?” you demanded. You were nothing if not relentless.

“No, amor,” Taza replied, backpedaling. “I think both of you have things you need to work out with each other. Besides, it’s been a couple of months. Maybe she’s come around?”

***

You should have never agreed to him going on a run this close to your due date. It was only for the day, but as your luck would have it, he had been gone no more than an hour when you felt the rush of water between your legs. And it was in that moment that you knew something was very wrong. Sharp pains tore across your lower belly like white hot fire. You cried out, clutching at the kitchen countertop, trying to keep your legs under you. Panicked tears sprang to your eyes as your mind reeled.

You snatched your phone off the counter, doubled-over in agony. With trembling hands, you hit Taza’s speed dial button. He answered as your belly spasmed and you cried out again.

“Something’s wrong,” you whimpered, your teeth clenched together against the pain. Tears tumbled over your cheeks.

“Fuck!” Taza growled, and you heard him shouting something away from the phone. Your knees buckled and you found yourself on your hands and knees on the floor. You set the phone beside you, hitting the speaker button in a panic. Your breath was coming in shallow bursts and a small ache was blooming in your chest. Your thoughts spun chaotically and you couldn’t seem to grab on to just one. You could hear Taza through the phone, talking to you again, and you honed in on the familiar sound.

“Baby, I’m turning around but I’m an hour away. You need to call an ambulance, ok? Can you do that for me, amor?”

A sob slipped out as you opened your mouth to respond. You clutched at your belly, as though it could soothe the child inside you. The two of you were going to be well and truly alone for this. “Yes,” you cried. “I love you, please hurry.” You ended the call to frantically dial 911.

The arrival of EMTs and the ambulance ride to the hospital were a blur, the hurt dulling your senses to everything that wasn’t the scorching razor edge of pain in your belly. You vaguely remembered answering questions, and one of them taking your phone, talking to Taza reassuringly in the background of your mind. You asked, sheer panic gripping your chest, if your baby was alright. You didn’t get an answer as the EMTs whirled around you, hooking you up to wires and oxygen. Your heart raced, thumping like it would burst out of your chest and you clamped your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breath.

When you arrived at the hospital, you were rushed into an OR, watching the hospital lights flash above your gurney as though you were in a televised medical drama. In the OR, the beeping and piercing alarms of multiple monitors ricocheted in your skull, punctuated by waves of discomfort. You remember someone in scrubs placing a blue plastic breathing mask over your nose and mouth, and then darkness.

Part IV of The Boyfriend

#mayans fx #mayans mc #mayansmc #taza romero #taza romero x reader #taza romero imagine #mayans mc imagine #mayans oneshot #che taza romero

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thescriptofsharkboyandlavagirl3d · 2 years

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Che + Joe

Prologue

Che 'Taza' Romero x Original Cis Male Character (Joseph Balik)

Author's Note: I've recently finished binge watching Mayans after originally only seeing the first seasons and losing interest. After watching the story line about David, I fell in love with Taza and was searching for fics with male readers or characters as the love interest but there are none that I could find so I decided to just write one myself.

I don't 100% know what the MC's opinions on queer people are because it's not entirely clear in the show so I'm making my own assumptions. Bishop is evidently not impressed when Che reveals his bisexuality and Isaac stated when talking to Coco that one of the two ways that will get you killed in the club is homosexual behaviour. Bishop's distain is a little muddled due to the fact that it is mixed with his reaction to finding out Che killed Riz so it's not entirely clear how much of the reaction was centred around Che's bisexuality. As well, when in confrontation with the Swole Boys, Angel refers to their bikes as ' homo-cycles', evidently displaying prejudice behaviour, referring to something you don't like as 'gay'. On the other hand, Bishop has never displayed any clear disgust for his ex-wife's queerness as she now is married to a woman after they split. So I'm going with that the Mayans don't outwardly, violently hate queer people and will be amicable with Joe but it is unacceptable within the club as enforced by their rules and members will display various micro-aggressions toward queer characters and queerness in general throughout the story. Some characters in and out of the MC will display more hostility towards queer characters so this is a warning for readers who may be triggered by homophobic ideals, language and actions. If any of you have any ideas or sentiments towards how you view the member's of the MC and their thought on the LGBTQIA+ community, feel free to share them with me.

Given Raoul's age of 63 in 2018, I'm placing Taza at about 60 years old. Joe, who is physically and a little personality wise based on Antoni Porowski, will be be about 41 years old.

Chapters in the future will be explicit but will contain warnings for anyone who may find that uncomfortable.

Warning: N/A currently

Words: 731

Summary: After years of struggle, Joseph Balik opens up a new cafe in the middle of Santo Padre. With the overwhelming presence of the Mayans, Joe is eager to keep out of their way. Plans are quickly altered when Vice Presidente literally crashes into Joe's life, sending both of their lives in to a chaotic spin

It didn’t take long for word of Malino’s to spread through Santo Padre. The town was slight enough to notice any new movement in a years old abandon shop front along the main road. With a breath of fresh air and bright façade in the arid desert environment, Malino’s was quickly overrun with customers eager to evaluate the new establishment.

Opening the café had been in the works for years. Having immigrated from Poland at a young age, Joe was no stranger to the teasing quips and mocking accents of the school yard. It didn’t take long before Joe was shifting the cadence of his speech in the hopes of sounding more akin to the smooth drawl of a regular Californian kid. Soon, everything that made Joe himself, had been replaced with the customs of a new country and the denial of his heritage. It had taken years for Joe to reconcile with the internalised distain for his differences.

It had been early college days at USC when Joe had met people who began to reshape his image of himself. Surrounded with those of unwavering pride in who they were and were they came from, he began to delve deeper into what he had stubbornly tried to push down since childhood. Through the revision of his culture, it had been the food of his homeland that had become the strongest connection in practicing and celebrating himself and where his family came from. This had quickly sparked a deep love for cooking and sharing his food with those he cared for.

This love had only blossomed from there. Soon abandoning previous life goals, Joe had begun to squirrel away any spare coin he could muster in the hopes of saving up enough to establish his own café while continuing his college degree. Despite set back after set back, he had achieved what had once only be a dream, now twenty years passed.

Joe had caught wind of the vacant store front in the southern Californian town of Santo Padre after months on the search. With a price point under budget, the decision to purchase was a no brainer. As a result, the store had been riddled with faults, covered in mould and filth with loose wires and damaged walls, leaving weeks of repairs and restorations. Despite this, Joe’s optimism had yet to falter with years of determination to back him up. With preparations finally at a close, Joe’s dream was coming to fruition in front of his eyes.

Through the first weeks of opening, Joe was hard pressed to find a moment of peace. Between juggling the financial aspects of running a café as well as managing staff and taking place as head baker, he was struggling to find sleep each night before 1 am. As a result, it wasn’t a surprise that Joe had found himself lacking all concentration on the job, discovering himself chest to chest with a man instead of delivering a customer’s apple tart.

Despite his new residence, it hadn’t been difficult for Joe to notice of the loud rumbling that would shake the streets of Santo Padre. The local charter of Mayans weren’t shy in showing off their rides, flashing their vest around town in the sweltering heat of the sun. That being said, Joe had been adamant in avoiding any of the men at all costs. It didn’t take a genius to assume what those men thought about men like him. While it was an assumption of their views on queer people, those assumptions may end up saving his life and Joe wasn’t about to chance that on the principle of giving others the benefit of the doubt and not assuming on their behalf, especially when it came to dangerous men in a motorcycle club.

However, after one look at this man, Joe had almost thrown the sentiment out the window. Their matched height had entitled a clear view of his deep brown eyes with a sight of his strong nose and thick facial hair. The intricate lines detailing his face had almost been entrancing enough for Joseph to forget to be embarrassed by the seconds previous collision and his current response to the Mayan in front of him. With a quick flick at the corner of his mouth, the man had clearly taken note of Joe’s intimidated, flustered reaction.

He was in for it now.

#mayans fx #mayans fandom #mayans imagine #mayans oc #Taza Che Romero #original character #original male character #polish #che romero #queer romance #lgbtq #bisexual #poc fc #taz romero x oc #taza romero x reader #taza che romero x reader #taza che romero x omc #gay love #sons of anarchy

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bullet-prooflove · 10 months

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The Beauty of the End Part Two: Reckless Michael 'Riz' Ariza x Reader (feat Taza & Creeper)

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life, @danzer8705 @mysoulisasunflower @vannabanana1995 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @sxmmarie @camelia35 @queeniesdiary @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @genius2050 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @oureternalbond @rubes2323 @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @librarian1002

It’s Creeper that notices the change, he’s the only one that stays sober during nights at the club house so he’s always the most perceptive. He notices that Riz sticks around for longer, that he spends most of his time drinking and getting high, that he hasn’t laid a hand on his guitar since he returned from Nashville, that he’s paying a little more attention to the girls at the bar. He hasn’t talked about you in weeks, and every time your name comes up he pretends he hasn’t heard it.

It comes to a head during Poker Night at Vicki’s. They’ve been to a thousand and one of these events, they’re a way of blowing off steam after a tough run. Some of the guys take a girl upstairs, others drink, do a little pot, Creeper just likes to play the game because while everyone else is distracted, drunk or high, he cleans up big.

When Riz pulls a girl into his lap he’s taken aback, he can tell the other guys are too. He hasn’t so much as looked at another woman since he’s been with you and now he’s whispering in a whore’s ear as she plays with his hair. When he takes her upstairs to bed, they’re all too fucking shocked to say anything. Creeper raises his eyes to the ceiling when the distinctive noise of the headboard slamming against the wall in the room above breaks through the silence.

“What the fuck is that about?” Taza asks him as he sets his cards face down on the table.

Creeper shakes his head.

“He hasn’t been the same since Nashville.”

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

When he’s done fucking the whore, Riz tells her to leave. He waits until she slips out of the door, still barely dressed before he climbs out of the bed and lights a cigarette from the pack he keeps on the dresser. He lingers by the window, staring out into the darkness, trying to ignore the state of his reflection in the glass.

He looks like hell. His eyes are glassy from the whiskey and the weed, there’s dark circles underneath them, highlighting the bender he’s been on over the past couple of days because despite the fact he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to speak to you, you’re still calling. Each and every time he’s seen your name pop up on his screen, it's like a fucking knife in his chest, so he blocks you.

Somehow that makes it worse.

He sits down on the bed, taking a drag before he blows out a smoke ring and watches it evaporate into the air. The sex didn’t do anything to quench the anguish in his chest. He wonders how many will be enough, how many women will it take before he forgets you?

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

Riz was a ladies’ man before he met you and in the ruins of your relationship, he takes up the mantle again. He fucks his way through Santo Padre, Stockton and Bakersfield, it doesn’t matter when, where or who. He gets the shit kicked out of him on the reservation for fucking a Blackjack player’s girlfriend in the bathroom. He simply laughs in the other man’s face, telling him he should be keeping his girl more satisfied. Both Taza and Creeper have to pull the other guy off him, because Riz gives up fighting after the second punch. His face is a mask of blood and he’s still smiling, he looks fucking crazed.

It’s Taza that approaches him in the end.

Riz is lying on his bike outside a rest stop, staring up at the sky and puffing on a joint. He watches the clouds pass overhead as he inhales, holding the smoke in his lungs for as long as possible before releasing it. Taza kicks the base of his boot, jerking him back to reality. The bruising on his face is starting to come out, a blossom of pink, purple and green all fading into the natural hue of his skin.

“You’re gonna need to get yourself tested, the way your chasing tail.” Taza comments, plucking the joint out of Riz’s mouth before tossing it on the ground and crushing it beneath the heel of his boot.

“I always glove.” Riz informs him, before sitting up so that he’s straddling his bike.

“What the fuck is doing on with you?” Taza snaps at him. “You’re a fucking mess. You’re not even going home anymore; you just sleep at Vicki’s and fuck anything that moves.”

Riz simply shrugs. He hasn’t been forthcoming with any of the details and Taza finds it frustrating because the Riz he knows, the one he’s been friends with since the very beginning, has always been an open book. He doesn’t know this man. This stranger hell bent on self-destruction.

“You don’t have to be a shrink to see that you’re trying to fill that hole in your heart.” Taza tells him, throwing his leg over his own bike and pulling on his helmet. “I don’t know what happened, but you need to get your shit together real quick, because I’m not sure how much longer Bishop is gonna let this go.”

Riz says nothing, instead he pulls out his sunglasses from the top pocket of his kutte and pulls them on over his red rimmed eyes.

“You’re banned from Vicki’s by the way.” Taza informs him as he adjusts the strap under his chin. Riz’s head snaps up towards the older man and Taza gives him a look. “Until you get your head on straight, you’re not to go back here.”

“Is that an order from my V.P?” Riz asks him, his gaze straying to patch on the other man’s kutte.

“Do you need it to be?” Taza asserts with an even stare.

Riz shakes his head before hitting the kick pedal of his bike with his foot and pulling off into the road. He isn’t wearing his helmet and that scares the shit out of Taza, he watches as the other man disappears into the distance, his hair streaming into the wind behind him. Taza knows a thing or two about hating yourself and he thinks that’s what he’s seeing when he looks at the other man, a chasm of self-loathing so deep that nothing will ever be able to fill it.

“That looks like it went real well.” Creeper says from beside him as he sips from a take away cup of coffee.

“As well as it could.” Taza says with a sigh as he shakes his head. “This can’t go on much longer, he’s going to get himself killed.”

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

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#che taza romero #taza romero #taza #neron vargas #creeper vargas #neron creeper vargas #michael riz ariza #riz x you #riz mayans #riz x reader #riz ariza #michael ariza x reader #michael ariza

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myckicade · 3 years

Text

Prompt: Which totally begs the question, does Taza get jealous? What would that look like?

A/N: I just want to say… Thank You. I love Taza, I really do. If they wanted to add him to the show, a bit more (*cough*hint*cough*), I certainly wouldn’t complain.

That said, this was enjoyable to put together. I like the challenge that comes with each different personality.

Jealousy Thursday continues! The fuse was lit with Bishop. Now, let’s fan the flames with Taza!

Title: Unbecoming

Teaser: This is why you should never make dinner reservations.

Tapping your foot against the side of the bar, you steal a look at your watch. A quarter passed six. As opposed to the last time you looked, at eleven minutes passed.

See, this… This is why you should never make dinner reservations.

Something came up. Something always comes up. You’re doing your best to understand that, really, you are. You know what you signed on for, after all. And, it did seem like it was a surprise need to call everyone together, just as you’d been ready to head out.

“I’ve gotta’ steal him from you, for a minute,” Bishop had apologized, with a sincere enough smile. “Fifteen minutes, tops. Have a drink, while you wait. On the house.”

Fifteen minutes… Bishop’s fifteen minutes sure as hell feels a lot like an hour and twenty. (And, yes, you’re still counting). You’d be on your second or third beer, by now, if you didn’t have the presence of mind to know that, duh, you’re driving to the restaurant, tonight. Well, maybe. You’ve already pushed that reservation back, once. After a second time… You might as well just cancel.

A loud ruckus behind you startles you from your thoughts. Glancing over your shoulder, you take in the sight of a selection of Mayans gathered around a table. They’d exited the back room, about fifteen minutes prior, and you were disappointed that Che wasn’t with them. Still are. He and Bishop are still back there, flapping their gums about who knows what. You don’t know, and you don’t ask.

You just… wait.

Anyway, at least you have the noise of the other guys to listen to. From where you sit, it looks as though someone has grown a little over-excited, and tipped a beer over. Right onto Angel. The man has stood to his feet, an irritated look on his face, as he pulls the front of his shirt away from his skin.

“The fuck?!” he bellows, looking to his brother, beside him. “I just opened that beer, bro!”

EZ has a wide, shit-eating grin on his face. “Sorry, man.”

You roll your eyes. You don’t know Angel, all that well, but… If there is anyone destined to be pissed off over a spilled beer, he seems the type. A nice kid, with a big gap between his ears, granted. But, still, a nice kid. Said nice kid is presently yanking off his kutte, draping it over the back of his chair. His shirt comes next, peeled over his abdomen like a fucking GQ model. Would it be overkill to roll your eyes again, you wonder? He’s not a bad-looking guy, no, and his abs certainly are a thing of beauty. (How that’s possible, you can’t fathom, for how much you’ve seen him drink). But, that’s really about it. He’s not your type.

Your type is going to owe you, so big, for missing this dinner date.

You’re about to turn away from the lean, mean, beer-guzzling machine, when something catches your eye. Well, hello. It’s fucking beautiful. Big, but not too showy. Solid, thick. Impossible to miss, and it makes a statement. You haven’t seen that on him, before now. Where has he been hiding it?

Oh, get it out of the gutter. You’re totally staring at Angel’s belt buckle.

It’s a nice buckle. It looks to be some sort of tribal design, worked into the metal with what must have been a sure hand. You really have to go ask him where he got it. You’ve been to every shop for four towns, and no one has anything close to the quality of what he’s wearing. While that design isn’t what you have been looking for, if it’s custom? You’ll pay a pretty penny to get what you want made.

The buckle comes closer, and you can see more detail. What you took for a tribal design reveals itself to be a serpent, of some sort, possibly a dragon. The work is so fine, even the scales are visible.

“See somethin’ you like?”

You jerk your head up, to stare, wide-eyed, right into Angel’s expression of amusement. Apparently, two and two equal five, and you didn’t compute that the buckle coming closer meant that Angel was coming with it. (Heaven, help you). He’s still shirtless, having put his kutte back onto his bare back. And, oh, hell. He must think you were staring at his abs.

You’d hate to have to tell him, his jewelry is more impressive.

Instead, you give him a smile. “Actually… Yes, I do.” This time, his eyes widen, eyebrows going for his hair line. “I really want to know where…” You circle a finger in the air, a few times, slow and lazy, before tapping it against that serpent. “…-You got this little beauty.” Angel looks down, and, fuck, he looks like he could choke. Flustered, and, is that a blush? It’s hysterical, it truly is. Did he really think you wanted a piece of him? Really?

Apparently, you had him going, as he has to look away, and clear his throat. He looks to the girl behind the bar, and nods. “Can I get another beer?” She makes haste, sliding a fresh bottle across the bar top, in the blink of an eye. No wonder this guy has a head as big as all outdoors. These broads just fall all over him, don’t they? Angel lifts the bottle toward his mouth, pausing to give you a fleeting side glance. “Got it across the border.”

“Mexico?” you ask, quite needlessly. You really haven’t thought to check, there. But, then, again… You don’t exactly have occasion to country-hop, very often. “Damn. That’s where all the good stuff hides.”

Angel nods, as he swallows his mouthful of liquid. “No offense,” he begins, tone highly suggestive that he knows he’s going to offend you, regardless. “But, you don’t seem like the belt buckle type.” He turns to face you, leaning to rest his elbow on the bar top. Casual as can be, which is hysterical, when you recall how pink his face had been, just a moment before. “So, was that actually a come-on, or what?”

The balls on this kid. You scoff a laugh. “No offense,” you mimic, tone suggesting more than just offense. You may just straight-up hurt his feelings. “But, you just don’t seem like my type.”

He smirks, and shakes his head. “See, I’m everybody’s type.” At least he took it well, you figure. Angel takes another swig from his bottle, before setting it on the bar. His eyes haven’t left you, all the while, but they are beginning to narrow. “So, if you ain’t tryina’ pick me up… Why the fascination with my wardrobe?”

Or, the lack, thereof. You toss that thought aside, and put on a pleasant smile. “Che has a birthday coming up. I want to get him a buckle, but it’s been a bitch. I’ve been to every shop in the area, and then some... Nada.” You lift your own beer to your lips, and take a sip.

“Yeah, the one guy in town who did ‘em right… I dunno’. He died, or got deported, or somethin’.”

Well. You haven’t choked on a drink, in a while. This is refreshing.

Angel’s eyes widen, again. “You gonna’ make it, or what?” A couple of coughs get you through, and you soon remember how to breathe. You nod, by way of response, pointedly ignoring Angel’s snicker. “Well, if you don’t kill yourself on that shit…” He shrugs. “You tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll check the shop, next time I’m down. Send you some pictures, if you want?”

Oh. Oh, well. “That’d be very nice of you.” You suddenly feel a little bad for all the rotten thoughts you’ve had about him. Just a little. Reaching into your pocket, you produce your business card, and hand it over to Angel. “Thank you.”

The grin that covers his face… Well, there’s no mistaking that he and EZ are related. “I’m a nice guy,” he preens, pocketing your card. “Just ask anybody.”

“Funny,” comes a voice from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you come face-to-face with Bishop. “I tend to think you’re a bit of a pussy.” Angel rolls his eyes, but doesn’t respond. Must just be good-natured ribbing. Bishop turns a smile on you, next. “Sorry to have kept him for so long.” He’s not, and you know it. Business is business, according to Che. It takes as long as it takes.

“It’s all right,” you reply, returning the smile. “I had decent company.” You eye Angel, who wiggles his fingers in a cutie-pie wave. How ridiculous. You look over Bishop’s shoulder, next. “Where is the old man?”

Bishop chuckles. “Little boy’s room.” You smirk. “Should be right out.”

“Thank you, Bishop.”

“Hey, no problem, (y/n).” Bishop pats you on the shoulder, before collecting a beer from the bartender, one he didn’t even have to ask for. You know his status around here, but it still amazes you, somewhat, to see it in action. “You and Taza have a good night, huh?” You nod, and he heads for the table of Mayans across the room.

Beside you, Angel is back to grinning. “Big night, tonight?”

You don’t even get the chance to respond, before Che is slipping up behind you. “Probably not anymore,” he sighs, looking from Angel, to you. He grimaces. “I’m sorry, (y/n). Think we can still make it?”

You wave a dismissive hand. “I have a better idea.” Standing from your chair, you face the man you’ve been waiting a long, long time for. And, you don’t just mean the last few hours.

“Oh?” Che sounds intrigued. It’s a good sign.

“I’ve got a frozen pizza, and a half gallon of ice cream back at my place.”

He purses his lips, for a second. “…-What flavour?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s so damned adorable. “Black raspberry.” He inhales, deeply, and you know you have him. “How about it? The game is coming on, too. It’ll be a perfect Thursday night.”

Che laughs, quietly. “Throw in a beer? You’ve got a deal.”

“We’ll stop at the store, on the way home.” You’re practically beaming, all frustration at missing your reservation forgotten. It amazes you, sometimes, that Che has the power to do that, just by existing. You grab your jacket, and look back over your shoulder. “Thank you for your company, Angel.”

He lifts his beer bottle to you, in salute. “Likewise. I’ll be in touch.” He pushes off the bar, and heads back to the table. “Night, guys.”

“Night, Angel,” Che chimes in, before sliding his arm around you. He sounds tired, his arm sitting a little heavy over your shoulders. “You ready?”

“Beyond,” you agree, and start for the door.

There are three slices of pizza left of the table, in front of you. The game is in the third quarter, and there’s a third Panther injured, and sitting on the sidelines. Taza is on his third beer, and the dog between you, on the couch, is serving as your third wheel.

Taza isn’t big on coincidences, nor does he lean toward superstition. But, the number three is weighing on his mind.

Neither of you really has a stake in this game. The score is average, the commentators are pretty typical, and you can’t seem to understand how Houston is losing, when Carolina lost Christian McCaffery to a hamstring injury, in the first half. You’ve grumbled about it, at least a dozen times. They’re doing their best, is the best answer Taza can come up with. It nearly spring-boarded off his tongue, before he could stop it. It would be a dead giveaway, that his focus is somewhere else. And, he’s trying, he really is. Pizza, drinks, football. It’s a very, very normal night.

Except that, no, no, it really isn’t.

Now, it can be said that Taza is a lot of things. Peaceable, where possible, sure. He’s getting too old for fist-fights, every other day. Intuitive, absolutely. He probably wouldn’t be V.P., otherwise. The position wasn’t designed for a complete dumbass. And, for everything that Taza is, there are plenty of things that he isn’t.

Stupid.

Irrational.

Young.

All right, that last one’s probably just vanity talking. (Never much took himself for a victim of that one, either). It doesn’t make it any less true. He’s holding up all right, he supposes. He can still ride, and hold his weapon straight. He has his hair, and his sight. All of his teeth. Sure, he gets up in the middle of the night, these days, the need to piss so bad he’s frequently sworn off all liquids, after noon. He doesn’t have the stamina he once had, loathe though he is to admit it, but it’s not as if he has a lot of trouble in the bedroom. Once in a while, things may not go… according to plan, but you haven’t complained. You might ask, “You doing all right?”, more often than he appreciates, at times, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

Well. That was a peppy little inventory of his face-first slide into old age.

Really, all-in-all, things are going pretty well. The two of you mesh in an interesting way, given the generation gap. You don’t treat him like a geriatric, or as your elder. You understand a lot of his outdated references, far more than he has ever encountered in anyone of… any age, honestly. Life, philosophy, it’s like… It’s like talking to himself, sometimes, when he talks to you. You just get it. It’s beautiful, and amazing, and he can’t believe that, out of all the billions of people on this planet, he found you. Moreover, that you want to be with him.

This is probably why he can’t get the scene at the clubhouse bar out of his head.

He wants to ask what you and Angel were talking about. He wants to know, so fucking badly. You’d been staring at Angel – a very shirtless Angel – when Taza stepped into the room. And, that stare was intent. Focused. You’d established, very early in your relationship, that looking will always be a forgivable offense. Appreciation of another being doesn’t jeopardize your love for one another. But… You’d touched. Your fingers were on Angel’s belt. The kid was in his smoothest stance, beside you. “I’ll be in touch.”

He wants to ask, but he can’t. Jealousy isn’t very becoming.

Angel is a nice kid, Taza supposes, all things considered. A bit of a man whore, maybe. Definitely a walking ad for penicillin. The ladies – and, plenty of the guys – love the hell out of him. A few tacos short of a combination plate, but a real talker. Fun-loving, and energetic.

Little bastard is probably a fucking three.

Heaving a sigh, Taza settles more heavily into the couch. It’s a comfortable sectional, and – embarrassing, though it is – he’s more than just a little bit in love with your chaise lounge. You have the best taste in furniture of anyone he’s ever encountered. Truthfully, you have the best taste in everything. Music, food, décor. And, according to you, your taste in men is absolutely impeccable. Your words, not his. He tries to draw on that, as something close to comfort.

It’s not that he’s suspicious, not really. Not really. In the entire run of your relationship, he’s seen you deep in conversation with other Club members half a dozen times, at best. Twice, you’ve given Coco advice on feminine needs for his daughter. Creeper has asked for details about your car, trying to decide whether it is worth buying his old lady one like it. Another conversation had been with Hank, the two of you tuning out the rest of the room, while he gave you tips on where to buy the best treats for Flint.

Smiling, Taza reaches down to pet the mentioned pooch’s head, where it rests on his thigh. He knows his visitor is bothered, not having left his side, all night.

Bothered. That’s one way to put it. And, quite frankly, Taza feels like an old fool. You’ve been entirely honest about your preferences, that you have zero interest in men your age, and younger. That they’re all ‘overgrown children’, and ‘don’t have their shit together’. But, according to you, the worst part is that they don’t understand you. You operate on different levels.

You and Taza operate on the same level. He understands you. And, you tell him, all the time, that you find his age to be a turn-on. You’re forever leaving him in a silent fluster, telling him he’s gorgeous, and sexy. That he’s the only man that’s ever made you feel so good. So whole. You don’t care that he’s set in his ways, because it doesn’t stop you from trying to urge him into trying new things. You don’t care that you sometimes wear him out after a single round, telling him that sleep is ‘a beautiful thing’. You don’t care that he doesn’t sport a perfect six-pack, unless he’s carrying a six-ring of your favourite beer. You still make him feel desirable. You make him feel young, and worthy of the love and attention you bestow upon him.

You’re amazing. Everything he never thought he’d find in another soul, ever again.

“Well, that sucks,” you complain, pulling Taza’s wandering attentions back to the television. He’s been so absorbed in his own worries, he’s missed the entire fourth quarter. At least he’d called the win, in Carolina’s favour. “So, whaddaya’ say, old man? Ice cream, and SVP?”

Taza looks at you, for a moment. A long moment, really taking you in. Your smile is so soft, teetering on tired. Your hair is tussled, probably from a rough finish on that game. (Hey, nobody told you to root for Houston, tonight). Yes, you’re amazing. You’re beautiful, and you’re perfect, and you don’t need to tell him what you and Angel were chatting over. He just needs to trust in you, and in the security of your relationship.

“Sounds good to me, (y/n).” You lean over, careful of Flint, and press a gentle kiss to Taza’s lips, before getting off of the couch. Taza watches you walk away, before closing his eyes, and taking in a deep breath. He holds it for a second, then slowly lets it out through his mouth.

No, jealousy is not very becoming, at all. Thankfully, it has no place, here and now. After all, he’s the one on your couch, cuddled up with your dog. He’s the one who gets to enjoy your company. And, come Hell or high water, he’s the one you’ll wake up with, tomorrow morning.

For the record, Taza loves the belt buckle you gift him for his birthday. The metal has been worked to include four incredibly detailed feathers, adorned with three turquoise stones, and an ethically-recovered bear claw. He seems to like that part the best.

And, by the time you tell him that Angel helped make it possible, he’s forgotten all about his insecurities. All he remembers of that night is how the ice cream melted on the counter, after he followed you to the kitchen, lifted you into his arms, and carried you to the bedroom. He’d had the strangest urge to show you how sorry he was for ruining your night out.

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#mayans m.c. fanfiction #mayans m.c.#taza x reader #taza romero x reader #taza x you #taza romero x you #anonymous request #fanfiction requests #ask box fic #Jealousy Thursday #che taza

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drabbles-mc · 8 months

Text

Degrees of Separation (3)

Taza Romero x M!Reader

Chapter Index

Warnings: 18+, language, smoking

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I realize it had been approximately 10000 years since I wrote for Mayans/SOA but I swear I'm still around and kicking. Bringing this story back from the dead after basically a year of not updating it 😂 But it's a longer chapter so I'm gonna pretend that that makes it okay lmao. I've missed writing these two, though. Lord knows I love me a good slow burn. 😌

Mayans Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @mijagif @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @nessamc @withmyteeth @crowfootwrites @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @justazzi @darqchilddaydreamz @danzer8705 @camelia35 @thanossexual @kishie8 @callmejaye (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was a smooth ride back to the clubhouse the next day. There were minimal stops along the way—everyone just wanted to be back home. Between how busy the last couple of days were, and the sun constantly beating down on your back on the return trip, you were exhausted by the time you rolled into the clubhouse lot.

Everyone was hopping off their bikes, the guys in the van piling out, all of you stretching as you tossed your helmets onto your bikes. You looked around, trying to get a feel for what they were all planning on doing. You just wanted to go home and sleep, never mind the fact that it was still probably far too early to go to bed. But if everyone was going to hang around for a bit, you weren’t just going to take off.

You watched as Angel, Gilly, and Coco headed directly for the clubhouse. You were mentally gearing yourself up to follow suit when you heard Taza’s voice coming from behind you. Sometimes it felt like the man could see your plans before you even said or did anything about them.

“The rest of us are going home,” he told you as he stepped so that he was standing next to you.

You didn’t try to dial back your relief. “Yea?”

He laughed. “Yea.” He nodded towards the clubhouse. “They always pull late ones when we get back if everyone is in one piece. You can stay if you want, but,” he shook his head, “the rest of us just want to shower and sleep.”

“Thank god.” You laughed.

You reached into your kutte, pulling out your pack of cigarettes. Placing one between your lips, you grabbed your lighter as well. It took a couple tries, but you finally got it lit, taking a deep inhale and tilting your head back so that when you sighed, the smoke flowed straight up. You felt Taza watching you, and despite the fact that he declined the night before, you still gave him another wordless offer. He chuckled, caving and taking you up on it this time around. He pulled one out of the pack and allowed you to light it for him, watching as you carefully shielded the flame of your lighter from the light breeze threatening to blow it out.

“Do things usually go that smoothly?” you ventured to ask, assuming that if anyone was going to be honest with you, it was Taza.

He nodded, pulling a drag off his cigarette. “Yeah,” smoke flowed out between his lips with each word he spoke, “usually. Not always,” he chuckled knowingly, “but usually.”

You laughed, shrugging. “I could get used to that.”

He arched one eyebrow, clearly curious. “Things not go that smoothly in Yuma?”

You held the smoke in for a beat longer than you usually would before releasing it with a deep sigh. “Not for me.”

Taza studied your expression as you said that, the way that you weren’t looking directly at him as you spoke. Despite that, he could still see the tension in the way that you stood, the way you forced the deep breath out. He wondered if this was going to be the moment when you finally opened up about whatever had gone down in Yuma that made you transfer out. There were usually stories of some kind to accompany why men would shuffle between charters. Or, at the very worst, there were rumors, which while they weren’t ideal it would still give people some sort of an idea as to why the changes were happening. But it had been radio silent with you. Yuma didn’t say much, and you said even less. Truthfully, Taza wasn’t interested in Canche’s version of anything, but it would’ve been better than nothing.

But you still kept it in, whatever thoughts were racing around your mind at the mention of your last charter. Maybe one day down the line you would talk about it, or maybe it was just going to be another thing that got buried in the pile of happenings that you never forgot, but never discussed. If Santo Padre was going to be anything resembling a fresh start, you figured that leaving the past where it belonged was the best course of action. Giving things a voice didn’t always work out for you in the past.

Somehow, even with the overwhelming urge to pry, Taza didn’t say anything more to you about it. He was no stranger to having skeletons that he tried to hide from view. You both stood there, passively tapping the ash from the ends of your cigarettes smoke swirled up around you.

“Those runs are every month?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He nodded, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Least once a month, yeah.” He looked at you, a curious expression on his face. “You want to be put on the rotation?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Hell yeah.” You dropped the last of your cigarette, snubbing it out beneath the toe of your boot. “Felt good to be back on the road again.”

“I’ll let Bishop know,” Taza said, nodding as he got as much as he could out of the cigarette pinned between his fingers.

“Appreciate it.” You smiled as you gave Taza a light clap on the shoulder. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“Sounds good.” He watched as you walked back over to your bike, finally letting the end of his cigarette drop and hit the ground when you clipped your helmet on to drive off.

The next few days were quiet. There were no calls for Templo, and you didn’t have any yard shifts which you were thanking your lucky stars for. You took advantage of the downtime to try and rest, and to put some minor attempts into making your new place feel a little more like home. You’d never been good at the decorating thing, always counting on whoever you were living with to have a stronger knack for it than you. The plants that were struggling in your window sill, and the few picture frames tacked on the wall in your tiny living room were about the extent of your décor. You’d been saying that at some point you were going to have to remedy that, and now some point was here.

Looking around, you weren’t really sure if it made the apartment feel that much more like home. But it at least no longer looked like what would pass for a low-budget motel room. Now, you figured, you were at least in low-budget hotel territory. It was a step in the right direction. For once, you missed having a roommate.

Flopping down onto the couch, you came to the immediate conclusion that the throw pillows were a good purchase. It blew your mind how much a fucking pillow cost, but for all the times you ended up falling asleep on the couch instead of in your bed, you supposed it was a decent investment, and apparently it would brighten up the space, or whatever all those people on the HGTV channel would say.

You were halfway to falling asleep when your phone started buzzing in your pocket. You snapped awake, digging it out and bringing it to your ear without checking to see who was calling. “Yeah?”

“Yo. They called Templo.” EZ was clearly trying not to laugh at the fact that you sounded as tired as you felt. “Bish wants everyone here ASAP.”

You sat up, running your free hand down your face like that would wake you up. “Alright. I’ll be there.”

Luckily you were still in the clothes you’d gone out in before, so getting ready really just meant slipping into your kutte and putting your boots back on. You grabbed your helmet and took off out the door, double-checking to make sure that you’d really locked it.

You weren’t the last to show up to the clubhouse, but even so, there were still a good number of bikes already there when you showed up. You put yours in line with everyone else’s, leaving your gloves and helmet on the seat before making your way over to the clubhouse steps. Before you even opened the door, you could hear some of the chatter coming from inside. No one sounded angry, which was a good sign, but you still had no idea why Bishop had called a meeting.

You made your way over to the bar, never quite sure where else you should go. That was another thing you still had on your list of stuff to figure out. Everyone else seemed to have some sort of a routine, a group that they gravitated towards. You hadn’t found yours yet. Each time you thought about it, you thought about your quick exchange with Angel on the run. For all the ways that the guys like to bust his chops, you couldn’t help but to think that maybe this time he had a point.

Bishop’s voice ringing through the clubhouse cut down any chance for you to think too much more about it. You downed the last of your beer before getting up to head towards the sliding glass door. EZ was tossing your bottle and a few others into the recycling bin behind the bar when Bishop called out for him too.

“You too, prospect.” He nodded towards the room. “Might need your help with something.”

Your expression showed your mixed feelings of impressed and confused. Prospects in Templo didn’t happen often. Again, maybe it was different in Santo Padre, but you knew for a fact that in Yuma the circumstances had to be dire for that to happen. You wondered if there was more going on that you should all be worried about. The way EZ chuckled and shook his head let you know that he saw the confused look on your face. He fell into stride next to you once he came out from behind the bar.

“Least I know I’m not the only one out of the loop on this,” he joked before tossing his phone into the basket.

“What’s this?”

He laughed. “Exactly.”

You listened as Bishop, Taza, and Hank all explained what had been going down in the prisons. They were your drugs. Sure, technically they were Galindo’s, but Mayans were the ones distributing. Your charters were the ones distributing drugs that were making people drop like flies. It was more than just a one-off—it clearly wasn’t user error at this point.

Sitting back silently, you also listened to the plan that they were formulating to get to the bottom of all of it. It sounded a little batshit, to be quite honest. It was all hinging on EZ’s brain. Apparently he had an eidetic memory. You had no reason to believe that that wasn’t true, but you also found it a bit bold to be using it to essentially write off an entire charter as snakes. No one else seemed to share the same reservations, though.

“This doesn’t leave this room,” Bishop said as he looked around at all of you. “Got it?”

Everyone gave their version of yes before Bishop nodded, bringing the gavel down and effectively dismissing everyone. You stood up, pushing your chair back, and were about to start heading out of the room when Bishop spoke up again, this time only saying your name. It sent a tiny jolt of fear down your spine but you fought not to let it show as you turned around to face him and the other two men sitting at the head of the table, the only others who hadn’t gotten up from their chairs.

“Yeah, Pres?” you tried to sound casual enough, hoping it hid your nerves.

He nodded towards the chair that was on the opposite side of Hank, one that brought you to their end of the table. “Sit.”

There was nothing for you to say, so you just waited for the rest of the room to clear out. You temporarily snagged someone else’s seat for the sake of not sitting at nearly the opposite end of the table from Bishop while he spoke to you. You rested your forearms on top of the table, crossing them so that your hands rested by opposite elbows. There was no way for you to know for sure what your expression looked like, but you hoped it was something adjacent to relaxed, maybe even a little confident if you could muster it.

“Settling in alright?” Bishop asked when the room stilled again.

You chuckled out of nerves. “I think so, yeah.” You paused for a beat, looking at his expression, then those of Taza and Hank. It always seemed like everyone had a better game-face than you. “This like, what, a ninety-day eval or something?” you joked lightly.

Taza let out a quiet laugh at that, and it even got a bit of a smile out of Bishop before he replied, “Yeah, pretty much.”

You gave a slow nod, trying to take the temperature of the room. It didn’t feel tense enough for you to think that things were about to go poorly. “Alright. Why don’t you guys tell me how I’m settling in, then.”

Taza smiled, maybe a little more outwardly amused than he should’ve been. “We think you’re settling in alright too.”

“We just need to know if you’re planning on staying,” Hank finally spoke up, “now that you’ve seen what we do here.”

You had no hesitation as you nodded. “I wanna stay. I’m—I’m gonna stay.”

Bishop was studying your face, looking for any crack in any possible façade that you could be putting up. “You’re sure on that?” He saw the way you were about to shoot something back, but the slight lift of his hand from the table stopped you. “I need to make sure my club is fuckin’ steady. You left Yuma. I didn’t ask why—I don’t really give a fuck why, either. I just need to know if you’re gonna wanna leave here too.”

You managed to keep your composure, not wanting to get heated enough to the point where you’d have to get into it all. Instead, you took a deep breath, set your shoulders back, and shook your head. “I’m not planning on leaving.”

There was a long drag of silence. Long enough that if anyone in that room was holding a lie together by a thread it would’ve snapped. You must’ve seemed steady and sure enough for Bishop’s liking, for all of theirs, because everyone in the room relaxed. Except Taza—the one person in the room who hadn’t seemed tense in the first place.

“Good,” Bishop finally said. He snubbed his cigarette out before dropping the act and letting himself smile. “Now we won’t have to do this shit again.” He saw the relief on your face and he just nodded towards the door. “Go on, get outta here.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately getting up and letting yourself out. The usual thrumming of the clubhouse hardly even registered as you quickly made your way through and out the door. You stopped on the deck, just needing fresh air as you braced yourself against the railing.

The creaking of the door opening behind you caused you to turn around. You chuckled and shook your head when you saw it was Taza. “You know that was coming?” you asked.

He chuckled, nodding. “Of course I did.”

“Didn’t think to warn me?”

He shrugged as he leaned on the railing next to you. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

You shook your head, not looking at him but not really looking away from him either. “Bit of a risk, isn’t it?” You turned to look at him only to find him already facing you. “Asking me if I’m gonna stay after going over all that shit with the other charters?”

Taza shook his head. “No risk.”

“No?”

He shrugged. “I had the feeling you weren’t gonna flinch.”

“If I did?”

“We had plans in place for that too.”

“Jesus Christ,” you said with a shake of your head.

He chuckled, clapping you on the back. “Good thing you didn’t flinch, huh?”

“Yeah.” You had to laugh a little. You knew what you were dealing with—at the end of the day it was still an MC. “Real good thing.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #taza romero #che romero #taza romero x reader #taza romero x you #degrees of separation #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans au #x reader #x reader fic

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bucksangel · 3 years

Text

It’s About the Acceptance

Pairing: bi!Taza Romero x bi!Reader (Reader is described to have breasts, but no gender/pronouns are mentioned, and no description of race or body type is mentioned(please let me know if i missed anything))

Summary: “Pain is different for everybody, but I understand how hard this can be, how hard it is to lose someone over things outside of your control. But I’m here with you, until the end of time, mi sol. You’re who you are for a reason, and I love every bit of who you are.”

Word Count: 2k

Gif made by me

Warnings: angst, talks of homophobia, but taza comes to the rescue being very soft and encouraging, lots of emotions, lots of love

Tip Jar

tag list: @melaniecraig80 @est1887 @iamthegraham

Posting new fics over on @michaelirby

Once again, Santo Padre delivers another heat wave, the sun above shining down and scorching its people. The little wind that does pass through just picks up dirt and sand, making it difficult to breathe without coughing. Luckily, you’re not outside - anymore. Spending your off day tending to the ranch had you working up a sweat and bordering on heat exhaustion. Now that you’re finally inside, you’re peeling off the sports bra you’ve come to regret putting on this morning, and switching your jean shorts for looser, more comfortable ones. However, just because you’re inside doesn’t mean you don’t still have things to do.

You’ve decided just that morning that you were going to reorganize the various bookshelves around the house. What with the spotty wi-fi and an older-than-most TV, it gives you something to entertain yourself until Taza gets home. The two bookshelves in your bedroom were easy, it was mostly dusting and rearranging the few pictures, memento’s, and a collection of children’s books your mother had since she was a child that she passed down to you (despite most of them having the binding broken and a missing page or two, you insist on keeping them for the memories).

It’s while you’re in the process of sorting through the shelves in the living room that you see a photo album (a scrapbook is more accurate) you had made a few years ago. To be totally honest, you’d forgotten about it. It blends in with the other books so well that it’s hard to recognize it at first glance. You’re filled with a rush of happiness as you run your fingers over the cover, the memories in this album were the best of the best, things you wouldn’t have changed for the world. You decide then that the assortment of items scattered across the floor can wait to be put back in their places.

Sitting comfortably on the couch, your legs are folded underneath you and the book lays on the cushions. Thumbing idly through the pages, you smile at some of the pictures and laugh at others, your heart expanding at every memory that comes flooding back. You’re only about ten pages in when you hear footsteps making their way down the hall. Mildly alarmed, you spin your head around and jump slightly. Taza’s presence nearly right behind you had startled you, but you’re thankful it was him and not an intruder.

“What is all this, mi alma?” He nods his head towards the mess on the floor and then the empty bookshelves, and you giggle.

“I’m organizing, obviously,” You smile up at him, and it widens when he shakes his head.

“Well, you seem to have gotten distracted then,” Taza chuckles softly, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head so he can lean down and place a gentle kiss on your forehead. “What are you looking at?” Again, he nods to the book next to you.

“Oh!” You gasp, turning back to it and lifting it so your Old Man can see the pages. “I made this scrapbook when I was twenty, it holds some of my favorite memories.” Glancing down towards the album, your smile softens. A picture of you at twelve years old reading to your baby cousins fills your body with joy.

Taza smiles down at you, he’s always happy as long as you are. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” He asks, he’s never looked through the book, the occasion just hasn’t come up, but he’s more than happy to look back on your childhood and teen years with you.

“Sure,” You say, voice soft as you look up at him with a glimmer in your eyes. Taza moves around the couch to sit next to you and you place the book on your thighs so he can see.

You’ve talked to Taza about your friends growing up, and now that he’s able to put faces to the names, he somehow understands those stories and anecdotes a little better now. Thirty pages into the book and there’s a collage of pictures of you and your best friend Megan. You’re both about fourteen in the photos, the clothes you’re wearing and the odd poses make that very clear.

You’re barely able to register the pictures when Taza asks, “Who is that?” You can tell he’s curious, and as you turn to look at him, your throat closes, mouth impossibly dry. You know you can trust him, you trust him with your life, and, logically, you know he would never judge you. That doesn’t mean that telling someone for the first time that you’re not straight isn’t a little scary. But, you suck it up and figure that this is as good a time as any.

“She..” You voice trails off, and you look back down at the photos with a sad smile. “She was my best friend, ever since we were twelve we were inseparable and insufferable.” Chuckling softly, the page gets turned and another picture of you and Megan, this time in the matching outfits you wore on your first day of high school, sits in the middle.

It’s his sixth sense, Taza can quickly pick up on your mood changes, and your mood seems to have changed drastically. So, he decides to try and lighten your spirits with his next comment, “You definitely look like you got into some trouble.” He smiles when he’s able to pull a laugh from you.

“Oh, definitely. But everyone around us was just jealous of the fun we were having, I’m sure of it.” Your smile widens a little and you look back up to Taza, who’s already looking at you. And you know what he’s about to ask, so you decide to beat him to the punch. “I know I haven’t talked to you about her, it’s a little bit of a… sore topic.” Smiling weakly at him, you glance down to where his hand envelops one of yours.

Breathing deeply, your eyes meet his again, and the absolute love and care he has for you causes a twinkle in his eyes. It’s a beautiful sight, truly. His hand squeezes yours, and you think that it’s now or never. “We were friends for what felt like forever, we clicked immediately. There were always sleep overs and we’d go on spring break vacations together with our families. She was my best friend. She was one of the few people I was so sure would be in my life forever. But-” You cough slightly, a weak attempt at covering up the quiver in your voice.

Taza’s hand squeezes yours again, gently encouraging you to continue. “She moved away when we were seventeen, it was a sudden change, neither of us knew it was coming. But, her family found out that I was bisexual. I’d known since I was thirteen that I wasn’t like the other girls at my school, and I’d told Megan all about it. She was the first person I felt comfortable with to share that with.”

Another gently encouraging squeeze and a tear runs down your cheek that your boyfriend is quick to thumb away. “When we were fifteen, she finally felt comfortable enough with herself to come out to me, and I was happy for her. I knew how hard it was to figure out who I truly was and she was there, by my side with me for it. So I was going to be there for her. The only problem was that her parents, they-” You cough again and sniffle, your eyes never faltering from Taza’s gaze. “Her parents weren’t the most understanding nor loving people. To this day I don’t know how they found out but, when we were sixteen, they got word that I wasn’t straight and they forbade Megan from speaking to me ever again.”

Your man places a soft kiss to your forehead, and you find the courage to continue with the story. “Of course, we still hung out, we just had to be careful about anyone seeing us and it getting back to her parents. But when we were seventeen, they found out Megan was gay. It wasn’t pretty, Megan wouldn’t even tell me the extent of the blow out they had, all she would tell me was that they blamed me. They said that my queerness ‘tainted’ her, it was my fault that their daughter wasn’t as ‘perfect’ as she should have been.”

Sniffling again, your voice shakes a little, “The last time I saw her was the night of their fight, she came to my house, sobbing. She didn’t know what she was going to do, if her parents would kick her out, disown her, or worse. I remember how I hugged her the tightest I’d ever hugged anyone. I remember how she cried into my shoulder, and how I tried and tried to calm her down, to comfort her. But then..” Taza kisses your forehead again, and you lean your head into his to envelop yourself into his warmth.

“I didn’t hear from her again. I found out a week later that she had moved to another state, but no one would tell me where. Her parents changed her number, put her in a strict private school and then shipped her off to a Catholic University, they uprooted her entire life because they saw me as the person that ruined their family, their child.” You sigh, you feel almost freer, like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders ever so slightly. “So, I haven’t talked to her since. I don’t know where she is, if she’s okay, if she’s happy. She was my best friend, she was the first person to truly accept me and love me for who I was, and I can’t shake the feeling that I did ruin her life. If only I wasn’t gay, if only they hadn’t found out, if only we listened when her parents told her not to talk to me.”

Face smushed into Taza’s, you let out a shaky breath and squeeze his hand to let him know that you’re finished, that you’ve released all the emotions that you’re willing to let go of today. Your man rests his chin atop your head, tears of his own falling down his cheeks because he knows, he knows how it feels to lose someone you love just because you’re a little different.

It’s silent for several minutes, both of your bodies entangled with the scrapbook pushed to the side, one of Taza’s hand clutches yours while his other rubs your back in soothing circles. You’ve calmed down drastically, your entire soul is bared to this man, your entire, true self, and you’re happy for it. Your man lets out a deep sigh before he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and then he’s speaking with a calm, reassuring tone. “The first man I’ve ever truly loved was taken from me too. Somewhat similar to yours, but he ended up dead, killed because of who and how he loved.”

You tilt your head back so you’re looking at Taza, and muster up a smile, one of understanding, one of encouragement. A kiss is placed to his forehead this time and it pulls a quiet laugh from his chest. “Pain is different for everybody, but I understand how hard this can be, how hard it is to lose someone over things outside of your control. But I’m here with you, until the end of time, mi sol. You’re who you are for a reason, and I love every bit of who you are.”

Both yours and Taza’s cheeks are wet. You’ve stopped crying, leaving your eyes a light shade of red and your faces a little warm. Everything is quiet in the house except for your breathing, a sense of calm and love surrounds you both. Everything feels right in the world, for once you’re able to give all of yourself to someone, it’s freeing. “I love you too, Taza. Every bit of you.”

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