#Felipe moved out without giving us like any notice

[mrsamaroevans]

NOT A THIRD CHANCE | MIGUEL GALINDO

Fandom: Mayans M.C.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Female Reader.

Words: 3,844.

Warnings: Spoilers of season 3 of Mayans MC. English is not my first language, so, sorry if there are grammar mistakes or if the redaction is poor.

A/N: I always try to keep this short and I end up writing more than 3k words :c Sorry! *GIF NOT MINE*

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

You knew him so well that you knew when he was lying and when he was telling the truth.

You already suspected it for weeks. All those trips to Mexico... he had never made as many as in the past months, and, it came to a point where he didn't hide the reasons for his trips from you, he no longer hid anything that had to do with the cartel, why would he have started doing it again?

But when those pictures arrived… you hadn't realized until then that you were praying for your suspicions not to be true. But there were no longer any doubts. You already had the facts and although it broke your heart, you took your things, you took your son, and you left the house without giving any prior sign.

Miguel hadn't even realized it and that was probably what hurt you the most. That first night you were away from home, he was away too. He was in México. The next afternoon when he arrived and didn't find you, that's when he started calling you but all he got was your voicemail. And then he saw the pictures you left on the bed and understood everything.

He had no idea where you could have gone. You stopped talking to your family a year ago, your best friend hadn't heard from you in days. Two days after thinking and looking at your statements for some signs, he knew where you went.

It was the only place you could have gone for support. You always told him that.

“Why did you disappear like that?” Was the first thing he asked when you opened the door “I was worried”

“In the arms of Palomo, sure” you nodded and crossed your arms in your chest as you leaned against the front door frame “What happened? She got tired of sharing?”

“Amor…”

“Don’t call me that” You interrupted him. Your voice came out more aggressive than you thought it would, but hearing him call you that way when he could have been calling another woman the same, caught you off guard and made you angry in just a second. “You have no right to call me that”

Miguel looked hurt and regretful, but you couldn't let that distract you. You couldn't fall that fast again.

“It’s not what you think,” he said and from the way he sounded, you knew he also thought it was a weak excuse.

“So it’s photoshopped? Really? That’s your defense?” You asked with a bitter laugh.

“Let me explain—”

“No… listen, Miguel, I’m too tired,” you said sighing. Your head was spinning around because, although you knew you had to face him sometime, you were not ready to do it so quickly “I’m so tired of your excuses. I’ve been hearing them for months, I’m done”

“Don’t say that… (Y/n), please let me fix it” he insisted, but you shook your head to cut him off.

“I talked to my lawyer,” You said and now the one who was taken by surprise was him “The papers will be home tomorrow, so please sign them”

“What?” Miguel shook his head, your request seemed to make him angry “No… I’m not gonna sign anything without trying to fix what I did first”

You were about to say something when a few steps coming from the kitchen made you look back.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Felipe said when he saw you two at the door. You have never been so grateful for an interruption before.

“It’s okay, Felipe, Miguel is leaving now,” you said turning back to the man in front of you. He knew exactly what you were doing, but he didn't want to leave, not yet. He still had a lot to say, but you didn't feel like listening anymore.

“I want to see my son” he demanded but you didn’t accept it.

“He’s taking a nap” you answered with a sharp tone “If you want to see him another time, I’m not gonna forbid you, but I’m not gonna let you interrupt his nap now”

The next times you spoke to him were through text messages. He was busy with the cartel and you had been very clear that you didn't want him to go to the Reyes' house other than to see Cristobal and whenever he had time it was already too late at night.

You were hardly ever alone. Ez went home with Emily whenever they could, Angel also went sometimes, and having gone to them had not only worked for you but for Felipe as well. Your son had more people who paid attention to him and played with him and he was very happy about it. His happiness was contagious, so nobody at home could be sad or worry whenever he was awake.

The days were easy to get through, but the nights? That was a completely different story.

Because, no matter how tired you were, you spent hours tossing and turning in bed thinking about everything. You couldn't help but remember the good times with Miguel and all those promises that he had made that now no longer existed. You were angry, hurt, and sad, you wanted to burn and break everything, but not even with all those feelings you could put aside the fact that, although your heart was broken, it still belonged to Miguel and you didn't know if one day that would change.

“Daddy!!!”

From the grass, you saw your husband getting close to where you were and saw how he received with a smile and open arms to your son who ran happily towards him. The laughter of your son when his father held him in his arms filled your heart and somehow, made it harder to keep with the decision you had made when you saw those pictures.

“Mi niño... How are you?” Miguel asked him with a big smile on his face “You good?”

“Yes” Cristobal nodded and your still husband turned to you. You were still sitting on the grass and when Miguel saw you trying to stand up, he came over and offered his hand to help you. “Don Felipe is amazing,” Cristobal said and Miguel took his attention back to him “And tío Ez and tío Angel too”

And even though Miguel was not that happy to hear those names, he nodded “I bet they are”

You heard a bike and your son got immediately excited. You had just more than two weeks staying at Felipe's house, but he already identified when Angel or Ez arrived home. He even identified the sound of Felipe's truck.

Cristobal moved in Miguel's arms for him to put him down, and he, without understanding, did so.

“Tío Angel is home,” Cristobal said jumping around and turning towards you. You knew what that look meant. He was asking your permission to go with Angel like every afternoon when he, his brother, or his father came home.

“Go,” you told him and smiled at his reaction. Cristobal ran towards the street and Miguel turned to you.

Cristobal never did that with him. Yes, the house was big enough so he would never hear the cars coming in, but, he didn’t even show that much excitement whenever he crossed the door of any room where he was.

“You think it's safe for him to go out alone?” Miguel asked you so you turned back to him and nodded.

“Angel's waiting for him,” You said nodding again. The Reyes already knew they had to wait outside until Cristobal got to them. They loved coming home to a swirl of excitement. “I thought you were going to México”

Angel walked into the backyard before Miguel could say anything. He had some bags in one of his hands and Cristobal’s little hand in the other one. Both men just nodded when their gazes met.

“Dinner's ready,” Angel said showing you the bags. You had asked him to stop by for some food before going home “Ez and Emily are helping pops, it won’t take them long...”

“You want to join us?” You asked Miguel and he immediately shook his. You already knew what his answer would be, if you had known he would accept, you wouldn’t have asked.

“No. I just came to see my son and talk to you” Miguel answered and you could notice his emphasis when he talked about Cristobal. Miguel knew how to hide his feelings, but you knew he was hating to see his son taking your ex's hand.

“Why don't you put the table?” You turned to Angel and he nodded, taking Cristobal inside the house when he understood you needed to talk to Miguel alone. “Did you sign the papers?” You asked once your son was far enough away so he couldn’t hear.

“I already told you I'm not going to sign anything,” he said irritated. His gaze was still in the door where Cristobal and Angel disappeared.

“Miguel, don't make this harder,” you asked, sighing tiredly. It was probably the fifth or sixth time you asked him to sign the divorce papers “If you're worried about not seeing Cristobal, I already told you not to worry”

“Amor... We need to talk this” he said  “We can't let everything we've built go just like that”

“Just like that?” You repeated while frowning “Why didn't you think about that before sleeping with her?” You rhetorically asked, “You’re asking me to not forget everything we’ve been through, but if you did, why couldn’t I?” Your eyes filled with tears. Even though you’ve been away for two weeks, it frustrated you to not be able to feel anything like he did whenever he went to México with Palomo “I honestly don’t know what did you need… sometimes I feel like I failed you in something”

“You didn’t,” he said immediately, taking a step towards you. You didn't step back because despite wanting to hate him for what he did, you couldn't help but want to feel him close.

“Then?” He asked, but he didn't answer. There were no more excuses that he could use “You know what’s funny? You used to be mad whenever Angel was around, you didn’t stand to hear his name. You were so worried about me cheating with him and the only one cheating was you”

“My mother died, I… I was out of my mind; I was hurt and—”

“I was too and I didn’t run into somebody else’s arms” your voice trembled so you had to clear your throat before continuing “All those times you said you didn’t want to be like your father… Well, you are”

“(Y/n)…” Miguel tried to get closer to you and when you took a step back, his eyes filled with tears now.

“You can come to see Cristobal as many times as you want, but don’t come to talk to me until you sign those papers,” you said putting more distance between the two of you and getting closer to the door “Cristobal! Come say bye to your dad!”

Miguel pressed his eyes with the palm of his hands and tried to look his best by the time Cristobal went out to say goodbye to him.

That night, Cristobal decided that he wanted Felipe to be the one to tuck him in and read him a bedstory, and he wasn't willing to take "no" for an answer. But Felipe didn't care. Happily, after the kid's bath, he went up to the room that had been Ez's to do what the boy had asked, leaving you and his youngest son alone in the living room.

“Since when you drink wine?” He asked you when you poured yourself another drink. You were in the living room, sitting on the couch in front of the television. Emily had left a few hours earlier “Angel said you were the reason why Bishop started to order more beer” he joked.

“Bulshit” You laughed and Ez did too “It’s not that bad, wanna try it?” You asked, offering him your glass, but Ez shook his head, giving a suspicious look at the liquid in your glass.

“Angel said that Galindo stopped by” Ez took his beer and gave it a sip, then leaned against the back of the couch and turned to look at you.

You chuckled “He came with more excuses” you shook your head without turning to him.

You were silent for a couple of minutes, minutes in which you almost finished the red liquid in your glass. You were so focused on not feeling or thinking anything that when Ez spoke again, you just barely got what he said.

“Remember what you told me when we saw each other again after I got out?” He asked with his gaze fixed on you. You smiled when that memory came to you. Meeting your best friend after 8 years of not seeing him was one of the best things that ever happened to you.

“I told you many things,” you said, knowing too well what he was referring to.

“You said that I made a mistake as everybody does,” He said it even so. You looked down when you heard those words. You said that after he told you how embarrassed he would have been if he had allowed you to see him while he was in prison. You had tried to make him feel better. You never believed that those words could be used against you, let alone make you feel worse than you already felt. “Nobody’s perfect”

You laughed lightly. You moved so he would be in front of you.

“You’re Hannah Montana now?” You asked making him laugh. He gave another sip of his beer and then sighed.

“You love him and he loves you…” He said. You knew how hard it was for him to admit it. He never liked the idea of you marrying Miguel “He made a mistake, just like me and so many people”

“So you think I should go back and pretend that nothing happened?” You raised one of your eyebrows as a small smile appeared on your face. It was probably the alcohol in your system, or probably just you wanting to pretend that the whole thing was not that important to you anymore.

“Pretend that nothing happened? No” Ez shook his head immediately.

“What do you think I should do then?”

“What I think is not important” your friend shrugged “It’s only your decision to make”

And yes. It was. But it was one of the hardest decisions you have ever had to make in your life.

The next days Miguel called you, completely ignoring the fact that you had asked him not to speak to you unless what he was going to tell you was that he had already signed the papers. He talked to Cristobal by video call when he couldn't go to see him, but for the last two days, he hadn't even sent a text. You only knew he got busy and had to do with job matters.

Until one day when you were with your son and Felipe at the butcher shop, Nestor called you. He sounded concerned when he told you that Miguel was a mess and that he felt that you would be the only one who could calm him down, so you agreed to go home when Felipe told you that he would watch your son.

On your way there, you were worried about what you might find when you arrived. Although Miguel always showed his true feelings to you, he rarely loses control, and you were worried about him because he was the father of your child and because even if you didn't want to, you still loved him.

“Nestor…” you said when you parked your car. Your husband's best friend was already waiting for you there “Where is he?”

“Office… he doesn’t look good” he informed you while you walked into the house “The office will need a makeover”

You sighed when you were already in front of his office door. You couldn't hear anything from there, he had probably calmed down a bit by now, but after what had happened with his mother, you quickly opened the door only to find him sitting on the couch with his gaze lost at some point in the room.

The office was a mess. There were books all over the floor, the pages of some were peeled off their covers. The desk lamp was broken and there was a mark on the nearby wall, that made you think he had thrown it at it. The few things on the desk —because many were scattered throughout the room— were messy and even one of the windows was broken.

“Hey…” you said when he didn't turn to you. He wasn't wearing his jacket and his dress shirt was disheveled.

“What are you doing here?” Miguel asked when he heard your voice. It was not exactly an invitation for you to get close, but you did it anyway, being careful to not step on anything in the way “Álvarez called you?”

“No… I needed more clothes for Cristobal” You lied. Thinking about it though, it wasn't entirely a lie. The one who called you was Nestor, not Álvarez “You good?” You asked when you sat next to him after moving some papers. When you were closer to him you noticed that there were tear trails on his cheeks.

“No” He answered, not turning to see you still “I’m not good” he repeated “My wife left with my son, my mother’s dead and I just found out that I knew a version of my mother that wasn’t her,” he said, closing his eyes and throwing his head back “And it was all my fault”

“What happened with your mother wasn’t your fault,” You told him because you knew he's been struggling with those thoughts since what happened.

“I could have done more” he muttered.

“Your mother made a decision and she would have found the way to do it whenever she wanted” Although those words probably wouldn't make him feel better, it was something he had to understand and accept sooner or later. “It’s not your fault”

Miguel nodded even though he didn't completely believe what you said.

“I found a picture of her in one of her books,” he said and turned to you for the first time to ask you: “Felipe knew her; you knew?”

You sighed and nodded “Yes”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, his eyes filled with tears.

“‘Cause she asked me no to”

Miguel sighed and sopped for a second before continuing. Your heart was already broken by the mistake he made, but it was breaking a bit more for seeing him in that state.

“I went to talk to him… he told me he was in love with her. He told me that my mom loved to dance, can you imagine? The woman I had to convince to dance with me in our wedding… loved to dance” he smiled and you did the same, the difference was that his tears began to fall before than yours “I didn’t know that” he shook his head looking down as his smile faded “Felipe said that she had to leave parts of her behind ‘cause they didn’t fit with being José Galindo’s wife” his face seemed to radiate hatred. You knew that Miguel and his father didn't have a close relationship, but you knew that he was fond of him and you had never seen him with that expression while talking about him. “I signed the papers,” he said and those words made your eyes start to fill with tears.

“Why did you change your mind?” You asked trying to make your voice come out as calm as possible.

“You have lost so many things since the day I met you” he winced “Your family, your friends, the club… your social circle went smaller” his voice trembled. He seemed more affected than you by that fact. You had never cared about losing friends or family because Miguel never really made you stopped seeing them. They had decided to walk away on their own “I don’t want you to become my mother…”

You got closer to him and grabbed his hand “You know that wasn’t the reason behind my decision, Miguel, you know it too well”

“Yes, I fucked it up” he nodded “But that’s what I mean… you gave me everything and more than you could. You sacrificed so many things, you’ve been there for me in the worst moments. You gave me my son… and I failed you”

Now, you two were already crying. You let him intertwine his fingers with yours.

“I love you and it hurt me to know that you maybe didn’t love me the same—” you confessed and you felt his hand lightly squeeze yours.

“It wasn’t the case…” he interrupted you right away “I love you the same as ever. It wasn’t your fault, it was all me” he sobbed “If I could go back in time and change it… I would”

You fell silent. That conversation you had with Ez about the mistakes that everyone makes went through your mind. That conversation had made you reconsider your decision, and you hadn't stopped thinking about it since that night.

Who were you kidding? You loved that man and as much as you wanted to follow your pride, deep down you didn't want to get away from him.

You let go of his hand and took the folder that you put away before. When you opened it, you realized that they were the divorce papers already signed by him. Your signature was already there too but it wasn't official yet. You would have to take them back to the lawyer so he could do the rest.

“Do you want to do this?” You asked turning to him. Miguel immediately shook his head.

“Te amo. I’m only doing it for you”

You looked down at the papers on your lap. You knew Miguel too well, you know when he was lying and when he was telling the truth. You were sure he was being honest. So you took the papers and tore them up, making Miguel look up at you.

You looked at him and saw the relief and thankfulness on his face.

“Don’t fuck it up again” you said, cupping his face in your hands as he shook his head.

“I won’t… I promise” Miguel took your hands, kissed them, and then hugged you tightly “Thank you” he muttered in your neck “Oh, God, I missed you so much” he cried as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I mean it, Miguel,” you said, leaning back so you could see him in the eyes “Don’t fuck it up again”

“I know” he nodded “I swear I won’t”

You smiled and let him come closer so he could kiss you, sealing that promise you were sure he would keep.

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x oc #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo fanfiction #Mayans MC #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy fandom #fanfiction #mrsamaroevans

[justahopelessssromantic]

Gone

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving 😊 I hope you all have a great and safe day no matter how you are celebrating ♥️

As always thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy

Request: @beardburnsupersoldiers Okay so first I have to say I love love love the way you write Angel! I am so happy I found your blog as fan fiction for him doesn’t seem as easy to find! Also, if you are currently taking requests I was wondering if you could do one with Daddy Angel where reader is being stalked/kidnapped and how he balances getting her back with helping his children through her absence?

Thank you so much for the request! And for your kind words ❤ I'm so happy you found my blog as well! I hope you enjoy and are doing well

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1,694

*gif not mine*

Angel sat at your dining room table staring at your empty chair across from him. You should be there. You should be looking back at him with that breathtaking smile of yours as you listened to each of your children tell the two of you about their day over your meal. You'd be engaged with them picking up every detail and at the same time be fully connected to Angel making him feel just as seen even without any words. 

You were always good with that, being able to make everyone feel seen and most importantly loved. 

You should be here enjoying another dinner with him, with your family like every other night. But no you weren't here and Angel was by himself at your empty table. 

How could he have not known? How could you have not said anything? How could he have let this happen? These were the thoughts that kept plaguing his mind.

Today began like every other day. The two of you woke up, late as usual, rushed to get the kids fed and ready for school, finally got everyone out and in the car only to have to go back in for something they forgot before you two finally parted for the day with the promise of seeing each other again later that night. Angel took off for work and you headed the other way with the kids to drop them off at school and go to work yourself. 

It was just an average day in your life or so you both thought. 

Angel stared down at the photos on the table in front of him, photos of you. Creepy, disturbing photos of your everyday life, going to work, picking up the mail, walking the dog. The photos made Angel’s stomach churn. Your coworker Amanda gave them to Angel just a few hours ago hoping they would help in any way. She told Angel you began receiving them weeks ago. You brushed them off, tossing them. You didn’t want Angel to worry. 

You should have told him. He should have been worried.

Now you were gone, someone had grabbed you on your way to your vehicle after work.  

Angel ran his hand over his face. He was exhausted and his head was pounding. He wanted to cry, to scream, to lash out at anyone around him but he couldn’t. 

Felipe walked in behind his eldest son. His heart broke as he saw how defeated he was. He gave Angel a firm squeeze on his shoulder before sitting down next to him. Angel may not want to hear what he had to say but he had to say it. “I know how much pain you’re in mijo.” He spoke, getting Angel to remove his hand and look at him. “I know you want her back, you want vengeance but none of that matters right now. You have to stay level headed, strong, for them.” Felipe motioned over to your three kids in the next room watching Finding Nemo. “They need you to be strong.” 

Angel watched his kids for a moment. Diego, your oldest, sat in the middle of the couch while your youngest Camilla, Angel’s princesa sucked on her thumb leaning on her brother for support as she was mesmerized by the pictures playing before them. Rosa, your middle child sat on the other side of Camilla more interested in her game boy than the movie as you showed her tio EZ how to play.

They were oblivious to the horror their father was facing. 

“They need her.” Angel kept his gaze on them a moment longer. You were the rock in your family. Angel couldn’t do this without you. He needed you. “I need her.” 

Felipe wanted to have hope that you would be found safely but he knew the dangers this life brought, he knew the dangers of the situation. “You may be all they have now Angel.” 

“What the fuck are you trying to say?” Angel turned to his father. 

"I'm just trying to keep you from making the same mistakes I did Angel." Felipe explained. After their mother passed he was never the same and certainly not there for his sons like he should have been. His boys were older, adults then which helped but was no excuse. 

"Don't talk like she ain't coming back." Angel warned. “She is coming back home to us. She has too.” He didn’t even want to think about what his father was suggesting. There was no way he was losing you. 

EZ cleared his throat as he now stood in the entryway with Camilla in his arms and Rosa holding his hand, Diego right behind him. “I’m going to order a pizza. Everyone is getting a little hungry.”

“Is mom not coming back?” Rosa asked. Her eyes bore into Angel’s searching for answers he didn’t have. All they knew was that you were staying with your sister tonight to help her pack for her move. 

“Come here.” Angel held his hands out instructing her to come sit in his lap. EZ passed Camilla to Felipe exchanging her for the pictures so the kids wouldn’t see. “Of course mom is coming back.” He looked at each of them seeing a little piece of you. Camilla had your nose, Diego your eyes, and Rosa was the spitting image you. “She’s just helping auntie out, she’ll be back before you know it.” 

He made that promise to them even knowing it might not be true. It was what they needed to hear and right now he had to do what he’d wished someone would for him. To hold them comforting them with the promise that everything would be alright. 

—————————————————

Angel finally got your kids bathed and in bed. It was definitely much harder without your help but he did it and he was proud of himself. He thought you would be too. None of them wanted to sleep in their own beds without you home so the three of them were snuggled up in your grand king bed. 

Felipe was still here just in case Angel got a call. Having him in just the other room brought some comfort to him. EZ had taken the photos with him excusing himself after the pizza arrived to help in the search for you. If anyone would notice anything crucial to your safe home coming he knew it would be his brother. 

Angel sat in your reading chair with your favorite blanket across his lap as he watched your kids. He had his gun on the dresser next to him just in case and his phone in hand waiting for any updates. He hated not being out there looking for you but he also knew you would want him to stay with the kids and he trusted his brothers would leave no rock unturned in their search for you. They loved you just as much as him, there were no other people in the world he’d entrust your life and safety with. 

He wasn’t sure when it was but at some point he must have dozed off. He was awoken by the buzzing of his phone now on the hardwood floor of your bedroom. He shot up checking his surroundings and on the kids first to make sure they were still in bed before grabbing his cell. He fumbled with the device a moment cursing until he finally got it answered. 

“Did you find her?” He asked. His stomach was in knots as he prepared for the worst. He was trying to remain positive but that could only do so much.

He hated not feeling in control.

“We got her. She’s safe, Angel.” EZ said on the other end. “She wants to talk to you.”

Angel stood up quickly but quietly , exiting the bedroom before closing the door gently behind him. He was overwhelmed with emotion as the news rushed through him. He slid down the door settling down on the ground before his legs had the chance to give up on him.

“Hey baby.” Hearing your voice was what truly caused him to break.

“Hey, mi amor.” Angel managed through a sob, the tears flowed fully and unapologetically now. He had never been so happy to hear your voice in his life. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You reassured him. “We’re on our way home now. How are our kids?” 

“Good but they’ve missed you. I miss you.” His voice was defeated. “Don’t ever pull this shit again. You come to me, okay? We can’t do this without you.”

Now it was your turn to break. The only thing you could think about the whole time you were gone was Angel and your family, of how the only thing you wanted was just to see them once more, to just have a little more time with them. “Okay, I promise Angel.” 

Angel rested his head back against the door. He couldn’t trust his own voice to say much but he needed to say this. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

———————————————

That next morning the table was set with your plates full of pancakes you and Angel had made for breakfast. You spent all your time being back home in Angel’s lap watching the kids sleep together. Neither one of you could sleep so once dawn approached you decided to make breakfast together, something the two of you hadn’t done in a while. 

Angel sat across from you at the table never taking his eyes off you. He watched you as you listened to the kids tell you about their night with Felipe and Daddy. You smiled engaging with each of them, laughing at their little jokes. For just a second you looked up back at Angel and your smile only grew. You gave him a look telling him you were proud of him, that he did an excellent job and that you loved him so much. 

You saw him even when he would feel unseen. 

All was right in his world once more and in that moment he vowed to himself that he would never let anything happen to you again. 

Tagging: @jad3djay @fairygardenss @carlaangel86 @starrynite7114 @gemini0410 @knowles-morgan @everyhowlmarksthedead @ktiz90 @brothersofmayhem @vsfavs @scuzmunkie @chibsytelford @sadeyesgf @blessedboo @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @toni9 @mayans-sauce @briana-mishell24 @langiinspirations

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc

[bellisperennis0]

His Hoodie

Word Count: 1,751

Warnings: Mention of taking medication (pills)

A/N: A little caring and protective Angel. Exes to friends based off prompt above. Thank you for reading and enjoy! ❤️  GIF credit @pantherclawz​

“Alright mija. is there anything else I can do for you?” Felipe asks as he finishes putting away your groceries.

“No, Pop, I should be okay?” you answer back from your place on the couch.

“I really hate to leave you like this.” he says, making his way to the living room, helping you get as comfy as you could considering.

“No te preocupes (Dont worry). I’ll be okay, I promise.” you give him a smile, the medicine you had taken when you left the hospital finally taking effect as you felt sleepy.

“Okay, mija. If you need anything, me llamas (you call me), okay?” he tells you as he leans down to place a soft kiss to your forehead, you simply nodded.

Pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch, he gently draped it over you, placing another kiss to your head before making his way around the house, ensuring all doors were locked before he left.

----------

A few hours later you awoke to someone making all kinds of noises in your kitchen. You assumed it was just EZ, who stayed with you here and there, so it wasn’t unusual for you to come home to find him raiding your fridge, or sprawled out on your couch.

“Jesus, EZ!! What the hell are you doing in there?” you rasp, voice still laced with sleep.

“Querida! You’re awake!?” your brows furrow in confusion at Angel’s voice, he’s the last person you would have expected.

“Angel?” you ask in surprise as you watch him turn the corner and into the living room. You can see the worry and concern on his face, giving him a sad smile as he slowly made his way towards you.

Helping you sit up a little, he takes a seat on the edge of the couch, his hand gently stroking over the bumps and cuts on your face. Closing your eyes, you lean into his touch.

“Fuck, querida. Why didn’t you tell any of us what happened to you?” he asks you, his thumbs still stroking your cheek.

“You guys all had a lot going on with finding Adelita and getting her back. Last thing you guys needed was to worry about me to.” you tell him, shrugging

“I was so pissed when I stopped by Pop’s and he told me you were in a car accident, and you didn’t say anything. I barged in here ready to yell, but then I saw how you were and I felt bad that I wasn’t there for you.” he tells you.

“Stop! I know you have all this other shit to worry about. It’s okay, Angel, really.” you give him a reassuring smile.

“Glad at least one of us was there for you.” he gives you a smile.

“Can you do me a favor?” you ask him.

“Anything for you, querida.” he tells you standing up from his spot on the couch.

“Can you help me to the bathroom?” you shyly ask him.

Without hesitation Angel is scooping you into his arms, bridal style.

“Angel!” you squeal out of surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Dont worry, querida, I got you!” giving you a wink.

Once at the bathroom, he gently places you down on your good leg as you lean into him for support. Once you gain your balance, you give a nod to let him know he could step outside. With a brief struggle, and a lot of annoyance from Angel asking every two seconds if you were okay, you did what you needed. When Angel saw you make your way out of the bathroom, he was quick to pick you up again.

Placing your hand on his chest to stop him, slightly laughing, “Angel stop! You don’t have to carry me. Just help me.” you tell him, wrapping your arm around his lower back, leaning into his side.

While you made yourself as comfortable as you could get on the couch again, Angel disappeared to the kitchen, coming back shortly, taking a seat next to you, handing you a glass of water and your medication. Taking your pills, you watched as Angel scrolled through Hulu, finding one of your favorite movies. He looked over to you, giving you a smile and a wink.

“Now you just get comfy and enjoy your movie.” He said as you watched him get up and make his way down your hall.

“Angel, what are you doing?” you yell towards the direction he disappeared.

You didn’t hear Angel respond, but you could hear him rustling in one of the other rooms. Shortly later he came walking into the living room with your hamper in hand.

“Angel. NO!! You really don’t –“ you tried to object, but Angel was quick to cut you off.

“Just let me help, querida. Please!?” you can tell this was something he really wanted to do for you.

Sitting back, you nodded, “But you aren’t folding my clothes.” You tell him as he made his way towards your laundry room.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before!” you can hear him say from the other room.

----------

You watched as Angel moved around your house doing all the domestic things. Seeing how content he was in helping you, you didn’t have it in you to tell him that Felipe had down the same thing this morning after bringing you home. And in all honesty, you have missed this side of Angel.

Half way through your second movie you could hear Angel in the kitchen. You tried your best to just let him be, but you have never known nor have you ever heard of Angel ever cooking. The two years you had dated, the only thing Angel could manage to make was a bowl of cereal, and even that was debatable.

From all the noise and cursing coming from your kitchen, you knew it was a complete disaster. It sounded like everything was under control until your smoke detector began screaming throughout the house. You can hear Angel cursing none stop.

“Angel?!” you called out for him. Angel slowly appearing around the corner.

“I’ll call for some pizza.” He says with clear defeat. You couldn’t help but laugh.

While you finished your movie and waited for your pizza, once again you can hear Angel cursing from the back room. From the way he sounded and the way he looked approaching you, you knew right away something else had gone wrong.

“What happened?” you asked, eyeing him.

“Somehow half your clothes came out pink.” He said as he sat the hamper full of your clothes down on the coffee table. Plopping down beside you, he threw his head back against the back of the couch, hands covering his face.

“Fuck, querida! All I want to do is help you out, and I can’t even do that right.”

“Angel, I’m completely thankful for your help.” Your heart aching at how defeated he looked. You knew all he wanted to do was help you as much as he could, and you were forever thankful for that.

“Help? I almost burned down the house and just ruined your clothes.” He tells you in frustration.

“I appreciate you trying to help, but really, I’m just happy to have you around.” You tell him, giving him a sad smile.

He sighed as he reached over, taking your hand into his, “I’m sorry, querida. I know I haven’t been around much. Everything with the Club and with the rebels –“

Shaking your head, you stopped him, “It’s okay, Angel. I know you have all this shit you are dealing with. You don’t have to apologize.”

He gave you a smile and leaned over to place a kiss to your cheek.

----------

After enjoying your pizza and a few more movies together, all you wanted to do was get into your own bed and sleep for at least two days straight.

Once Angel was sure you were comfortable and had taken your pills, “I’ll be out in the living room if you need me.” He tells you as he turns to head out the door.

“Angel,” you call out for him. He quickly turned back around, “Stay?” you ask as you pat the other side of the bed.

“You sure?” he asks you

“Please!” you simply say.

He nods and gives you a smile, making his way to the other side of the bed. Crawling in next to you, he sighs in contentment and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You look exhausted.” You whisper, looking over at him.

“You don’t look so hot yourself, querida.” He teases back, poking your side.

“Thank you again for being here today, and for staying.” You say, gently pushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks you, propping himself onto his elbow to look at you.

“Shoot, Reyes!” you tell him, looking over at him.

“Why are you wearing my sweater?” he asks you as he gently tugs at the sleeve of the sweater you were wearing.

“Because it smells like you. And it comforts me.” You admit.

He just nods and gives you a smile.

“Did you get her back?” you asked him, knowing he wouldn’t give you any details, but it was an honest question.

“I did, but then she made me let her go. Only way she could save Los Olvidados and the MC.” He tells you as his face falls, you can see how heartbroken he was.

“God, I’m so sorry, Angel.” You said reaching over and taking his hand into yours.

He softly laughs, “I am convinced that all this is my karma for all the shit I had put you through.”

“It’ll all work out Angel, they’ll come back to you.” You tell him as he just scoffs.

“Get some rest, querida. I know you must be tired.” he tells you as he notices you dozing off.

Turning off the lights and getting cozy, you reach out for Angel’s hand, entwining your hands together. Not liking the distance between you two, Angel gently moved closer towards you, wrapping an arm around your middle, making sure not to hurt you, as you settle in next to him. A content grin on his lips, his eyes drifted close as he listened to your breathing deepen and slow, feeling the rise and fall of your chest. He synchronized his breathing with yours and allowed the sound of your hearts beating together to lull him to sleep.

--xx

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 17

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

17.

They spent the rest of the day cleaning the house, until it was probably cleaner than it ever had been. To Angel’s – and admittedly her own – great regret, it was sundown by the time they finished; not leaving time for any naked fun. Not that Angel hadn’t tried – and almost succeeded – in having his way with Nina on the kitchen floor. Only the fact that she felt an empty pack of smokes poke her in the back, made her insist he get off her, and get back to work.

They took Felipe’s truck to the scrap-yard. Nina didn’t mention Angel’s bike, knowing that the fact that it was busted, was a sore subject. Gilly opened the gate for them, and shot Nina a bright smile through the window. He nodded meaningfully at Angel, who gave him a half smile in return. Angel seemed very out of his element when they got out of the truck in front of the clubhouse; and almost naked without his cut. Nina took his hand, and squeezed it encouragingly, leading him towards the porch.

EZ and Coco were waiting for them outside the door, and Coco gave his former patch-brother a half hug, before looking at Nina. “You gotta talk to Chuck, niña… He didn’t do so good with you leaving like that”, he said. Nina sighed deeply, before turning to look at Chucky; who was coming out of the garage. She got off the porch, and walked over to him. “Chucky, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to leave without saying goodbye. And taking money from the cashbox; I know that messed with your books…”. Chucky scowled at her. “I’m not angry about that. Being angry is a waste of time”, he said. “But I amdisappointed in you”. It was like a slap to the face. Chucky had never said anything like it before. “I’m… I understand”, she said. “Do you? I was very worried about you. You could have gotten yourself hurt, or someone could have taken you; and I just didn’t know!”, he said. “You know better than that”. “I do… Can you forgive me?”. Chucky sighed. “Of course I forgive you”, he said. “But don’t ever do that again!”. He raised one of his two real fingers, and wagged it at her. Nina smiled slightly. “I promise…”, she said. She leaned forwards, and kissed his cheek. Chucky patted her shoulder, and slipped away to finish some task or other.

Nina went back onto the porch, where Gilly had joined the others waiting for her. “He was worried about you”, Coco said. “Wouldn’t even eat the pistachios Gilly cracked for him”. “That took a long ass time, too”, Gilly muttered. “Can we just go inside, so I can make one apology to cover everything I did, at one time?”, Nina sighed. “Come on”, EZ said, and opened the door for them to step inside.

The whole charter was gathered in the clubhouse. EZ went behind the bar – joining Camille, who had apparently become Nina’s substitute while she was away – and Gilly and Coco went over to join Riz and Creeper by the pool table. They weren’t playing, but stood there; deep in conversation. Angel stayed by the door, seeming unsure what to do with his hands. In the end, he settled on putting them in his pockets. Bishop, Taza and Hank came out of templo, and moved towards Nina and Angel with determined but calm steps. They stopped in front of them. Nina swallowed thickly, and looked around at all the faces trained in her direction. “Before we start, I just wanna say that I’m sorry…”, she said. “I went back on my deal with all of you, and I know you were worried about me”. “We’ll get to that”, Bishop said. “You need to step aside”. “Bishop…”, Nina tried. She felt Angel straighten his stance behind her; and she felt the urge to turn around and throw herself at him; so that he could use her as a human shield. “It’s not your place to meddle in this”, Hank said. Nina frowned at him, and was about to speak, when Taza held up his hands. “Nina, this is how it is. You know that”. Angel slipped an arm around her waist, and pulled her close. He kissed her temple. “It’s ok, cuervo. Go”, he said. He looked at EZ, who came over, and led her away, with a firm hand on her shoulder. Nina’s knees and hands where shaking, and she felt her heart beating almost painfully. She knew how MC’s worked; and what Angel had done, could mean either a beating, or something much worse. You didn’t turn your back on the club; and you certainly didn’t disrespect the patch. She should never have asked him to come.

Angel shrugged defeatedly. “I just came to get my ink blacked out, Bish’”, he said earnestly. “Shut the fuck up”, Hank said. He clearly had no intention of helping him out with that. Nina swallowed thickly, and clenched her fists. Bishop looked seriously at Angel. “You know how it is, Angel”. “I know”, Angel said, and seemingly readied himself for the worst. He shot Nina a look and a small smile. I love you, he seemed to be saying. “Taza…”, Bishop said, and the VP handed him a bundle of something. He held it in his hands for a few moments, before throwing it at Angel; who caught it mid-air. He unfolded it to reveal his cut. Bishop raised his brows at him. “Don’t ever step into this clubhouse without that patch on your back again", he said. “That’s a fine”. Angel looked confused for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah… I mean, no. Whatever you say, prez’”. Angel put on his cut, before taking Bishop’s outstretched hand. The president pulled him in for a half hug, and patted his back. Nina audibly let out a relieved sigh, and Bishop turned to look at her. “Beers”, he said, and went to sit down. Taza and Hank both hugged Angel in turn; and after them, the rest of the bikers greeted their prodigal brother. Nina delighted in the sight, and Angel shot a happy smile her way. Creeper snuck over to give her a warm hug. “Welcome home, Nina”, he said. “Thanks, Creep”, she grinned.

Smiling and feeling much better than she had a few minutes ago, she went behind the bar to get everyone’s favorite beer, but noticed that someone had messed with her system. “Where’s the Bohemia?”, she asked Camille. “Bottom shelf”, Camille muttered. “But that’s Bishop’s favorite”, Nina chuckled. “It should be on the top”. Camille smiled uncomfortably. “Sorry…”, she said. Nina gave her a bright smile. “No, don’t worry about it”, she said. “Thanks for holding down the fort while I was away”. “So you’re back for good?”, Camille asked. “It looks like it”, Nina grinned. She began lining up the beers on the bar counter, and EZ went to hand them out to the Mayans. “How have you been? Did you heal up ok?”. “I’m ok”, Camille shrugged. “And Creeper and you…?”, Nina smirked. She was in a better mood than she had been in quite a while. “We’re… I don’t know”, Camille said. She looked towards the pool table, where Riz and Angel had set up a game. “Do you think Riz would be interested in giving it another shot with me?”. Nina shook her head confusedly. “I… don’t know”, she said. “I guess I thought you were with Creep now”. “Yeah, but Riz is secretary”, Camille shrugged. Nina frowned a little at her words, before shrugging them off. “His loss, Camille”, she said. “You’ll find someone”. Camille’s eyes scanned the room. “Yeah…”, she said. EZ was about to grab a bottle of Sol, but Camille nabbed it before he could. “I got this”, she smiled, and slipped out from behind the bar; sauntering over to Hank, and setting down the beer in front of him. She gave him a flirtatious smile, and hovered by the table for a few moments, before muttering something about lipstick, and moving towards the bathroom. Hank seemed confused and slightly amused at her behavior.

Nina looked at the performance with wide eyes, before chuckling to herself; and turning to grab drinks for Coco and Gilly, who’d come over to the bar. “I told you”, Coco said. “Screwing her way into the family”. “And up the ladder”, Gilly muttered, and took a swig of his beer. “You, me and Creeper were a bump in the road. Secretario… Sergeant… Didn’t she try it on with Taza last night?” “Yeah. He shut it down”, Coco said. Nina chewed her lips to keep from laughing. She was quite sure Camille was missing a very specific body part that Taza found attractive in his partners; but it wasn’t her place to say. “I’m not part of this conversation”, she said, and grabbed a beer for herself, before going over to watch the pool-game. She gave Camille a friendly smile, as she came back from the bathroom, and took a leisurely stroll around the room.

Angel seemed to have gotten his biker-mojo back. The color had returned to his personality with his cut; and he slipped one arm around Nina when she joined him by the table. “Hey, mami”, he grinned, and attacked her mouth in a devouring kiss. Nina laughed against his lips. “There are people around!”, she said. “We could show them what a good wheelbarrow looks like”, Angel grinned, and grabbed her bottom with a firm hand. Nina looked at Riz with wide eyes. “You told him what I said…?”, she exclaimed. Riz shrugged. “Thought maybe he’d have some pointers”, he grinned. Bishop came over to the table and looked at the three of them with an amused expression. “If we’re all done laughing at Nina’s sex-life, we have a couple of things we need to discuss”, he said. Nina tore herself from Angel, and gave Riz a playful pat over the back of his head. “Not the hair!”, he groaned.

They all went to sit down around one of the larger tables. Apparently, a gavel wasn’t needed for the conversation, as they weren’t going in to templo; but everyone still sat around the table as they would have in there. There weren’t chairs enough for Nina to sit down, but as she was needed for what was to be discussed, she took a seat on Angel’s lap. EZ went for refills, and Camille sauntered over to the table to join them. She looked for a free chair, and finding none, she apparently decided to follow Nina’s example, by smiling brightly at Hank; and trying to sit down on his lap. “Whoa, honey. This is a club meeting”, he chuckled, and caught her by the hips, to keep her standing. His voice was warm, clearly trying to not make Camille feel bad about her faux pass. The red-head looked at Nina. “But I thought…”. “Time to go home, Camille”, Creeper said. He didn’t seem very happy about the fact that the girl he’d nursed back to health, and liked enough to take on trips to the ocean, was throwing her goods at his brothers. Camille frowned embarrassedly. “Ok… See you tomorrow, everyone”, she said, and headed for the door. EZ stood in the doorway, and watched her walk away, before closing the door, and nodding to Bishop.

“Alright. It looks like we got everyone here…”, the president said, and looked around at the people around the table. “This has been a weird fucking week; but we got our den-mother back behind the bar, so we should be good from here on out”. He didn’t mention that Angel had been gone as well, and Angel seemed relieved. Things were back to normal; at least somewhat. “You all know about Palo’s ultimatum”. “Nina’s head on a platter, or war”, Creeper said. “Neither option is viable in my opinion”. The men around the table all nodded, and Angel squeezed Nina’s hip gently. “You’re right. So, to avoid either outcome, we do something else. We let Palo think he’s getting Nina, when really, we’re giving him our snitch”. “I don’t like it”, Nina said. Bishop looked at her, clearly not as used to women speaking in a club meeting, as Filip was. “Well, what do you suggest, then?”, he said.

“You should just let me do what I planned all along”, Angel said. “Which is…?”, Taza said. “Angel…”, EZ said from behind the bar. He shook his head. Nina swallowed thickly. “I didn’t come back here to just go along with you plan, Bishop”, she said. The president narrowed his eyes at her. “Because it’s dangerous”, Angel said. “No”, Nina said. “Because, like I said, I don’t want anyone else dying on my account”. “Then why did you come back?”, Taza asked. Nina sighed. “Because… someone decided to throw his cut on the ground, and go rogue”. She shot Angel a hard look out of the corner of her eye. “Go rogue… What are you talking about?”, Bishop said. There was a long moment of silence, before Angel looked around at his brothers with a nervous expression. “I was gonna cross the border, and find Palo. Take care of him myself”.

A murmur of curses and words like dumbass and suicidal shit-for-brains rose around the table. Coco smacked Angel over the back of the head. “You think we’d let you do that?”, Bishop growled. “Are you really that fucking stupid, that you think we’d let you walk straight into your own execution?”. “That’s why I wasn’t gonna let you know”, Angel said. “Well, someone must have known; how else did Nina find out?”, Gilly said. “He told me”, EZ said. Bishop seemed about to say some choice words to his prospect, before EZ stepped out from behind the bar, and cut him off. “I was gonna let you know, if it came down to it. I just thought Nina would be more likely to be able to talk him out of it, than any of us”. “That’s why you wanted to come to Charming with us, in stead of holding down the fort here”, Hank said. EZ nodded. Bishop slammed his fist into the table. “This is why blood can’t sponsor blood. If Angel was still your sponsor, you would have let him go through with it; because he’d make you stay silent”. “No, that was never an option”, EZ said.

Bishop sighed. “You just added three months to your year, prospect”, he said. Angel cleared his throat. “Technically, I wasn’t patched when I told EZ. So, he didn’t owe you the information”, he said. Nina was caught off guard at Angel’s sudden show of shrewdness. “Angel’s right, Bishop”, Taza said; always the mediator. Bishop clenched his jaw, and let out a deep breath. “One month. And my bike needs polishing”, he said. “First thing in the morning”, EZ said, and went back behind the bar. He and Angel shared a knowing and very brotherly look; which made Nina want to take a picture at the scene from the sheer sweetness of it.

Coco decided to get back to business. “Prez’, no offence, but even if we did decide to go through with your plan, we still don’t know who the snitch is”. “No, but we’d buy us some time to snuff her out”, Bishop said. “But if Nina isn’t going to back us in this, we’re fucked either way”. “You sure he won’t take money?”, Riz asked. “Palo doesn’t care about money”, Taza said. “All that matters to him is his pride and reputation. The fact that he can’t get revenge for his cousins killing, makes him look weak”. “So, let’s play on that”, Angel said. “Find something that will ruin his reputation, and threaten to use it against him, if he doesn’t back down”.

Bishop seemed to ponder Angel’s words for a moment. “It might work… But it would need to be bad”, he said. “Taza, you know him the best”. “Yeah, but I haven’t kept anything from you”, the VP said. “You know everything I know”. “What do you know, though?”, Coco said. He smirked to himself, when he seemed to realize that he’d just made a rhyme. “Other than the fact that he’s an absolute psycho”, Gilly added. “He’s been president of VM since 93”, Taza said. “No one’s had the guts to challenge him”. “They’re based out of TJ; and they deal in H and guns, like us”, Bishop said. Nina frowned for a second. She had always known about the Mayans’ heroin business, but didn’t like to be reminded of it. Back when she’d found out that SAMCRO was muling for them, she’d refused to speak with Jax for a month. Angel stroked her back, clearly feeling her tense up. “We can’t use that”, Creeper said. “Don’t we have something on his family? He’s going crazy over his cousin, maybe he’s got a niece with an std, or a brother with gambling debts…”. “Nah, carnal. He killed his brother, remember?”, Coco said.

Darkness ghosted Taza’s face for a second. “Yeah, he did…”, Bishop said. “Slit his throat back in the nineties, right VP?”. “Yeah…”, Taza said. “Were you there for that?”, Angel asked. “It wasn’t a good day”. Taza took a swig of his beer, and seemed deep in thought. “But Palo never hid that”, Hank said. “If anything, he just used it to add to his rep as a crazy motherfucker, you shouldn’t mess with”. All the Mayans sat in silence for a moment, but Nina’s eyes were trained at Taza, who looked pained. “Do we know why he did it? Does anyone?”, Gilly asked. “Palo is the only member of the Vatos from back then who’s still wearing the cut”, Bishop said. “Yeah, ‘cuz the rest of them are dead”, Hank said. “Taza’s not”, Riz said. All eyes were on the vice-president. “Taza?”, Bishop said. “Why did Palo kill Davíd?”.

Nina would have fallen off Angel’s lap, if his arm wasn’t around her. “You good, querida?”, he said, looking at her worriedly. “Yeah… I just need to go… powder my nose”, she muttered in reply, and got up to stand, heading towards the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”, Bishop asked. “She’s gotta piss”, Coco said. Nina decided against throwing any more shoes at the Mayan, and simply went into the small bathroom, and closed the door as best she could. Someone really needed to fix that door.

---

Nina sat down on the lid of the toilet, and tried to calm her breathing. She knew what being gay meant in most clubs – even SOA had been hetero-exclusive up until a few years ago, when Tig got together with Venus – so, she’d never for a second thought about talking to anyone about Taza’s relationship with a man. But now it turned out his lover had been Palo’s brother – the one he’d killed, no less – and Nina was quite sure she knew why he had in fact committed that murder. Having a gay brother, in the very catholic country of Mexico – while being the president of an MC – would be a devastating blow for Palo, if it became public. This truth could save Nina’s life; and at the same time, it could be the death of Taza, if the Mayans felt like Palo. Even if they didn’t share Palo’s convictions, Nina had no right to out the man in front of his brothers.

So, there she was. She could let a person die in her place, by following Bishop’s plan; or hurt Taza, if she chose to tell the Mayans what she knew; so that they could use it to blackmail Palo into standing down. Neither option was feasible, and both options made her want to throw up violently.

There was a knock at the door. “Nina? Are you ok?”, Angel asked. She quickly flushed, and ran the tap to make it seem like she was washing her hands. “Yeah. Uh huh… Just a sec”, she called out. She looked at herself in the mirror to check that she didn’t look too flustered; and then opened the door, smiling brightly at Angel. “You were in there a long time”, he said worriedly. “Do you wanna know what it smelled like?”, she asked, and pushed him out of her way, to go grab a cigarette from his packet on the table. Nina sat down on Angel’s chair, and when he came back to the table, she grinned at him, and patted her thighs; as if inviting him to sit down. Angel chuckled, and pulled another chair from a nearby table, to sit down next to her instead.

Apparently, the conversation about something to use as blackmail against Palo had continued while she was away. “So, we don’t know why Palo killed his brother; we don’t have any other dirt on him, that he’s not using to his own advantage already…”, Angel said. “… and we don’t know who our snitch is”. “And Palo wants an answer by tomorrow night”, Bishop added. Nina let her eyes meet Taza’s for a split second, and he simply smiled at her. He took a deep breath, and was about to speak, when Nina caught him to it. “We’ll go with Bishop’s plan”, she said, with her heart in her throat. Taza looked confusedly at her. “Nah, that’s too dangerous”, Angel said. “I’ll be fine. I trust you to keep me safe”, Nina said.

Bishop looked at her with hard eyes. “Are you sure about this, Nina?”, he asked. “I don’t like it; but, yes”, Nina replied. “Ok”, Bishop said. “Now we just have to find our snitch… Taza, call up Palo first thing tomorrow. Tell him we’ll give him Nina, and that we’ll work out the details of the handoff as soon as possible. That’ll buy us a few days. Someone’s gonna fuck up at some point; and one suspect has already been eliminated”. “And killed”, Angel growled; though there was a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

Everyone got to their feet, and Angel took Nina’s hand to kiss her knuckles. “I’m not gonna let you get hurt”, he promised, and she gave him a slight smile. Bishop called him over to share a few words, and Nina began gathering the empty beer bottles to recycle them. Going in to the back room to get a clean dishtowel – and to gather her thoughts – someone tapped her shoulder. She turned around and stood face to face with Taza. “Nina, I’m…”, he began. “I’m not telling anyone what you told me. That’s not my place”, Nina cut him off. Taza smiled warmly at her. “But telling the club was my decision to make”, he said. “I don’t want you to get hurt…”, Nina whispered. “I’m not just talking physically… You shouldn’t have to dig up that old wound, just for my sake”. The VP put his hand on her cheek, and shook his head defeatedly. “Kid, I’m…”.

“What is it with everyone putting their hands on my woman today?”, Angel laughed from the doorway. Taza took a step back, and held out his hands in defence. “Don’t ask me to join you in the cage. My arthritis is acting up”, he chuckled. Angel stepped over to Nina, and wrapped an arm around her. “Let’s go home, ma’”, he said. He nodded at Taza. “See you tomorrow”.

Angel led Nina out of the clubhouse, and towards the truck; when EZ came up behind them. “Hey. The garage”, he said. Angel groaned. “Man, I wanna go home… spend some time with my girl”, he said. “Just come on”, EZ said. They followed him over to the garage, and EZ pulled a tarp off something large; revealing Angel’s repaired bike. Angel ran a hand over his face, and looked at his brother. “Fuck, Ezekiel… You did this?”. “And Coco and Gilly”, EZ said. “We knew you’d be back”. Angel pulled his brother in for a tight hug. “I love you, hermano”, he muttered. “Love you too”, EZ smiled. Angel got two spare helmets from a rack, and handed one to Nina, before getting onto his bike. Nina climbed on behind him, and put her arms around his waist. Angel started up the engine, and Nina saw him grin in the mirror, at the sound of the roar.

As they drove off the lot, Nina let herself forget Palo, Davíd, and the fact that she’d probably just doomed someone to death. She was just there, seated behind her Angel; and letting herself become one with the road.

---

The house still smelled like detergent when Angel and Nina stepped inside. Angel closed the door behind them, and locked it securely; before taking off his cut. He held it up in front of him, and smiled softly. Nina was leaning against the worktable, and chewed her lip to keep from laughing. “Do you two want some privacy?”, she asked. Angel hung the cut over the back of a chair. “Shut up”, he said, stifling a grin.

They stood for a long time, just smiling at each other, before Angel finally spoke. “Take your clothes off”. Nina’s smile widened. “Excuse me? What’s the magic word”, she said. Angel walked towards her, as if on the prowl. “Take your fucking clothes off… please”. Nina stepped towards him, meeting him in the middle of the room. “Do it for me”, she said.

Angel let out a short laugh, before he grabbed her hands, and raised them in the air. Slowly, he pulled Nina’s top over her head, and then – after stroking his knuckles down between her breasts and over her belly – he undid the button on her shorts; and pulled them down her legs. His hands stroked the skin of her calves and thighs on his way up; and once he was standing again, he cupped her face, and placed a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you…”, he whispered. “I know”, Nina smiled. Angel pulled back, and frowned. “That’s not what you’re supposed to say”. “Thank you?”, Nina teased. Angel let out a groan, and slipped his arms around her; cupping her bottom. “Nina…”, he said. “I love you, Angel”. A grin spread across Angel’s face, and he kissed her again. Nina let herself melt against his chest; but before she knew what happened, he had picked her up, and thrown her over his shoulder. “Let’s go”, he said, and slapped her butt; before carrying her into the bedroom.

Nina giggled like a schoolgirl, as she was thrown onto the bed. Angel went to put his gun on the nightstand; then looked down at her for a few seconds, before shedding his t-shirt, and shrugging of his jeans with almost superhuman speed. She spread her legs to invite him in, and Angel laid down between her thighs; pressing his hardness against her warmth. “Oh, my…”, Nina gasped. The sensation was almost too intense to handle, after being apart for so long, and she locked her right leg around his hips, to keep him close. As they kissed – both obviously relishing in the taste of the other – Angel grinded against Nina; and the friction was enough to make Nina feel that familiar heat that always came before an orgasm, spread through her body. She dug her nails into Angel’s back, and whimpered against his lips. “Already?”, Angel chuckled. “I missed you…”, Nina breathed. “Missed this… oh god!”. Angel had thrusted hard against her, and caught her lips in another deep kiss.

Nina arched her back, and Angel opened her bra; quickly pulling it off her. One of his hands found her nipple, and he rolled the little bud between two fingers. Attacking her neck with kisses and nibbling at the sensitive skin here, he continued moving against her. Angels penis was rubbing against her labia, and the head was bumping against her clit perfectly. In spite of the barrier of their underwear, before long, Nina cried out, her climax washing over her like overwhelming waves. “Fuck, querida. Making you come is my favorite thing in the world”, Angel breathed. “I gotta be inside you”. He moved off her to shrug of his boxers, and Nina pulled at her panties; letting Angel take over the task of getting them off, once they were down by her knees.

As soon as he was back between her legs, Angel used his hand to guide his cock to her entrance, and pushed in to her. “Yes…”, Nina gasped. Angel grabbed her thigh, and made her lock her leg around his hips again. Nina threw her arms around his waist, and dug her fingers into his butt-cheeks, to try to push him deeper into her with every thrust. She clenched her muscles around Angel’s cock; willing him to never leave her warmth. Angel dug his fingers into Nina’s hair, and his free arm hooked under her knee; giving him the perfect angle to make her whimpers turn in to loud mewls. “Give me one more, mami”, Angel demanded; and at his words, Nina fell over the edge again. Angel used her orgasm to reach his own high point; and with a loud groan, he came inside her.

It wasn’t the longest session they’d ever had, and they were both much too tired for a round two; but as they lay there, looking into each other’s eyes, that didn’t matter. They were together again, and they’d have many more nights to get lost in each other. Angel pressed his lips against Nina’s, and turned them around, so that she was draped over his chest. She fell asleep with him still inside her.

---

tags: @cole-winchester @doloreschanal

#angel reyes #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes smut #clayton cardenas #coco cruz #mayans mc fic #ez reyes

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ THE FORTUNE COOKIES ❜

with Angel Reyes.

Request: none. That's something I wrote for Angel, coming back from a run and finding reader at his house, about giving him a surprise.

Warnings: a lot of fluffiness, I think.

Word count: 1.3k

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

Gif credits: @angels-reyes

Masterlist.

Standed up in the middle of the living room, you have one quick look around you. Everything is on point and you can't feel more proud. You just hope that he likes the surprise. Actually, it's not a surprise, because you told him that you would be waiting for him. But what you did waiting for him it's a surprise.

Angel and you have been, officially, together since two months ago and it's the first time he has had to do a trip, out of Santo Padre. You don't know where he has to go, because he talks to you about the club and his business carefully, introducing you into his world step by step, without hurry. But at least you know at what time he's going to be back.

His flat isn't a mess anymore. Everything is in order. The windows are opening, letting the soft Cali breeze travel around the house. The table is settled up with different cardboard boxes from Angel's favorite chinese restaurant. Fried rice, fried noodles with beef and prawns, chicken with bamboo and almonds and a lot of fortune cookies. Of course, the beers are getting colder in the fridge. It cost you a lot to do everything, having to work in the meantime at the hospital. And again, yes, you're proud, but your hands start to shake when you recognize the buzz from his motorbike coming closer.

Some short minutes after and with your heart about to fly off from your chest, the door gets opened by Angel. He looks tired. Just tired. The black bags under his eyes tell you that he didn't sleep many hours. His knuckles are slightly red because of the leather gloves and his skin is a little bit toasted. But before you can say anything, he looks around until flooding his gaze on you.

“What's tha'?” He asks confused, closing the door behind him.

He doesn't move a single inch, leaving his bag fall onto the floor. Your smile disappears, with your nerves becoming stronger and briefly painful. Turning over your feet, you start to think that maybe it was too much. So he's not going to laugh when you tell him how you managed everything.

“I… thought that… you wouldn't like to… find a mess here, so… I was bored of studying and… I cleaned it for you”. You say trying to hide the tremble that is hitting your vocal chords.

The mexican walks close to the auxiliary table, next to the sofas, squatting to open every box on it and check what is inside them. Raising his face to you with parted lips, Angel shakes his head more confused than one minute ago.

“How do you…?”

“Well, tha—that's a funny history…” You chuckle, feeling somewhat edgy, pointing at the table with a tremble finger. But he doesn't say a single word, waiting for an explanation, standing up to face you. “I wanted to… ah… cook for you, but I wasn't sure how to use those… burners. I grew up in a house with vitroceramic. So… I remembered that you have mentioned that your brother works with you, and… I don't have his number, so… I went to the scrapping”.

“You… what?” He asks twisting his neck, crossing an arm over his chest, covering his mouth with the free hand.

“I thought that… he could tell me wh—what was your favorite restaurant, so... I could order something. But there was a creepy gu—”.

“Chucky”.

“Yeah, yeah… Chucky. He told me that he… wasn't allowed to give me EZ's number, because… you know… he doesn't know who I am. But he told me about your father”.

“Did you go to my pops carnicería…?”

He's freaking out in silence, and you're starting to think that it's actually a funny history. For cops. Before arresting you.

“Felipe is… ah… I like him. He's wise, and kind, and… he was happy to meet me...? He actually said he was happy to meet me bec—because I was doing… all this for you”.

Angel is blinking more than normally, because he can't believe any of your words, passing you away in silence straight to the kitchen to grab a beer. Resting his waist against the counter, opening the bottle and having a long, long sip, the man cleans his mouth with the back of his hand. He wants to say something. He really wants to do it. But he just keeps silent, because he knows you haven't finished.

“I… called Ezekiel. He was co—confused at first. I told him I was just… a friend… as I told your father, and, ah… that I wanted to prepare you a surprise”.

“You did all that shit to find out... which was my favorite restaurant?”

Nodding with your lips slightly shaking, when he comes back to your position, you try to find an excuse hearing how bad it sounds.

“Angel… I know I didn't have to… go to the scrapping, or talk to your father, nor your brother… I know that… Shit, I feel like one of those crazy bitches from Netflix series…”

Bowing your head down for a second, you hear him taking a deep breath by his nose. About to cry. Finding his eyes filled with tears and his chest rising and falling quickly, you frown confused, raising both hands to his cheeks.

“Ang—Angel, I'm sorry…” You mutter when he begins to shake his head, pressing his knuckles against his eyes. “I just wan—”.

“I love you”. He mumbles in tears, making disappear all your nerves.

Your boyfriend breaks into a loud cry, resting his forehead over your shoulder, hugging you strongly against him. You're not sure how to react about these words, or about hearing him like that. In the end, it's just a dinner. You don't want to imagine how it's going to be when you learn to use the burners, to cook for him. Gently caressing his scalp and his messy hair, you lead him to the closer sofa, trying to calm him surrounding his back with both arms. You were so nervous that you didn't notice how much you have missed him, and that you're really happy to have him back at home.

“Shit, sorre'…” He whispers suddenly, sitting up somewhat better, letting you clean his tears with your fingers. “I'm… I'm fucking tired and I know I told you tha'… you could wait fo' me here. But I wasn' expecting you, or expecting… all these things you did. Nobody had done something like that for me, (Y/N)”.

“Clean your house or act like a crazy chick?”

“Both”. You chuckles making him laugh, without being able to loosen the grip on your body.

“So… Aren't you angry beca—”.

“I couldn'... Fuck... Look at all the things you did. My house was a fucking mess... and you spent a lot of time going from one side to another just to… have dinner”. He continues laughing, urging you to sit on his lap and hug you tightly.

“Yeah, and it's gonna get cold if you don't hurry taking a shower and changing your clothes”.

“Do I smell that bad…?”

“Yeah… more or less”. You reply teasing him, narrowing your eyes and wrinkling your nose. “But… I love you like that, mi angelito”.

“You know what?”

“Hm…?”

“We're gonna take a shower together. Then, we're gonna eat all this food, and after that… I'm gonna take you to the club, to meet my brothers”.

“But…” Pursing your lips, you adjust your arms around his neck. “Are you sure…? I mean, you don't have to, if you don't feel ready…”

“I am, mi dulce. I want everyone to meet you”.

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[beldroxramscal]

Sway ~ Part 3

Javier Pena x female!OC

Word count: 3.493

Summary:  After their training Javier meets Natalia In a very unexpected place and things het a little heated.

Warnings: language, badly written stripteas (2x), mentions of guns, slightly drunk Javi

A/N: I wanna thank @pedrocentric​ for being the absolute best and a great cheerleder :D

English is not my first language and I have no one to beta for me. That is just a very long way to say: sorry, my English sucks.

Part 1//Part 2//

They met at least once a week for a month, and they didn’t talk much during the sessions. Mostly because of the headsets, but she also seemed less talkative. He didn’t know if it was because of the night in her kitchen, or it was something else completely, but he was glad she was putting some distance between them.

He himself almost didn’t call her back. There was just something about her that felt like trouble, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out what the trouble would turn out to be. Then again, he was a grown ass man with some common sense. He knew he was on thin ice, but he would just have to tiptoe his way along the shallow ends.

It was much easier than he expected. She was not trying to find out anything about him. One time she asked him about growing up in Texas, and he thought that’s where he’d have to hit the brakes, but after he told her some general information about his childhood in the US, she didn’t ask any follow up questions. 

Despite the lack of talking, they got comfortable around each other. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere between him showing her a proper grip on a gun and adjusting her stance when she couldn’t hit what she wanted, he stopped second-guessing himself every time he had to touch her. 

After the third time, she even started bringing him coffee. He mentioned how much he liked the coffee she made him that one time and the next time he saw her, she silently handed him a big bright blue cup. She obviously didn’t want it to be a big deal, so he said his thank yous and didn’t mention it again, but he learned not to have his late night work coffees every time they were scheduled to meet. 

Point being, the last session couldn’t come soon enough.

“You know, Pena,” she said and turned down the car radio, so he could hear her. “I had fun with you.”

It was an innocent enough statement, but it sounded like she was genuinely surprised to have a good time with him around. And there he was, thinking that despite the teasing and overall unfortunate circumstances of their meeting, she enjoyed his company. 

What he didn’t expect, was the sudden void of calmness in his life. Which was ironic, because she was anything but. The thing was, neither of them outright said their goodbyes, but he knew, after she called him about her successful test, that was the end between them. And it’s what he wanted. After all, there was no beginning to anything, but, for some reason, he thought it would be harder to get her out of his life, that even if she was not interested in it, she’d wanna be a part of it. 

It didn’t matter. She was out, and he felt steadier on his legs because of it.

                                             ----- 3 months later -----

Javier looked around the room, wondering why the fuck he agreed to come and why would they even invite him in the first place. It wasn’t a secret that most of his coworkers thought he was a grade-A asshole, so why invite him to a stag party? He had a suspicion it had something to do with Murphy. 

“Stop sulking.” Steve dangled a bottle of beer in front of his face and Javier caught it, bringing it to his lips. “It’s not so bad.”

“I guess.” 

The alcohol was practically free since everyone chipped in and no one really paid him much attention. Still, it was kinda boring. He expected to go out into a bar or something, not spend the whole night stuck in someone’s apartment with a bunch of men. Some of them already drunk enough to even stand in one spot without tripping over their own feet.

“Lightweights,” Steve smirked, clinking his bottle against Javier’s.

As time went by, Javier noticed more and more people came to talk with him and Steve. The conversation went from polite chit-chat to, of course, sex and everyone seemed to be interested in Javier’s escapades. He didn’t realize how much gossip there was about him and the women he slept with, but he successfully dodged all the questions without telling anyone to go fuck themselves. As drunk as he was, that was quite an accomplishment. Seeing as he was not about to give up his secrets, they thankfully moved on to brag about their own prowess. 

“They are here!” The groom’s best man yelled as he came into the room. Both Steve and Javier looked at each other, brows raised in question, as the men around them stood up and stared at the door excitedly.

Before he could ask what was happening, two huge men came into the room with a group of scarcely clothed women waiting just outside the door. Javier could see Steve close his eyes in defeat as he realized what was going on. “Connie is gonna kill me.”

“You are gonna be fine,” Javier absentmindedly comforted him, trying to see past the men. He didn’t really have the mind to pay him his full attention. Not with the swarm of emotions, he felt every time one of the men moved, and he thought he could see her. He barely listened as the bodyguards explained all the rules they had to follow.

That would be too much of a coincidence, right? Natalia showing up the one time he decided to hang out with someone from his office… there was no chance. There couldn’t be. 

-----

She hated doing house calls. The men always felt more entitled when they were comfortable, which meant more trouble. Not just for her, but mostly for Felipe and Antonio, who had to deal with the customers. Thankfully, with the money she made for the club she didn’t have to go out unless absolutely necessary. Like when someone asked for her by name and had the right amount of cash, or when one of the girls broke her leg…

Natalia walked into the dimly lit room with the other girls. A sweet smile plastered on her face as some men circled her and started talking over each other. She didn’t understand any one of them, but they all seemed determined to get her to dance for them.

“I’m flattered, gentlemen, but my priority is the man of the hour,” she pouted and batted her eyelashes at them. They all groaned, but the man who greeted them at the door shushed the whole room and told them to sit down. 

Natalia noticed a chair in the middle of a circle where everyone else was sitting. Turning her back to the room, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Even after so many years, she was still nervous performing in such an intimate setting.

She heard some more rustling and when everyone quieted down, one of the girls put on the songs.

Hearing the first notes of Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing, she turned around. Her eyes immediately falling on the groom, who seemed both excited and nervous and couldn’t stop moving on his chair.

She let her hand slide up her thighs, and over the white see-through mini dress, to her hips. Revealing just enough of the white thong underneath, to make the whole room groan as she released the material to cover herself again. She continued on her path along her sides and to her breasts. She squeezed them together, her back arching and turning into a roll of her hips.

Natalia walked slowly to the center of the room rocking her hips to the rhythm, her eyes not leaving the groom’s. She traced his jaw with her fingers as she walked behind him, pressing her breasts into his back and letting her hands fall down his chest to his thighs and back up into his hair and making him look over his shoulder at her. She threw her leg over his shoulder, letting his head rest on her lower stomach as she swirled her hips. 

Natalia walked back into his line of vision and bent down to put both hands onto his thighs, covering his own, and making sure she arched her back to let the bottom of her ass peek out from under the dress. Lowering herself even more, she breathed over his clothed crotch and then rolled her body until she was face to face with him. She smiled sweetly at him, taking his hand and guiding it to the strings between her breasts that kept the dress tight around her shoulders. She winked at him as he tugged at them and stood up.

With a perfected swirl of her hips and roll of shoulders, the dress fell off her body and pooled around her feet. She kicked it to the side without giving it a look and turned around. Leaving her only in her thong and bra, she bent at the waist, circling her hips in his face before sitting down on his lap. Her hands on his ankles, dragging them up his legs as she straightened and pressed her back to his chest, grinding against him. With one hand around his neck, she took the other one and guided it from her neck down between her breasts and to her panties where she let it fall to his side again.

Arching her back off of him, she pressed her ass into his crotch and could feel him harden under her. It happened more often than not, and she was used to it but was glad the song was coming to the end nonetheless. 

Natalia turned to face him with both knees on either side of him, rolling her hips against his chest before sitting across his lap and pushing his head in between her breast for just a second. As the song ended she laid down on his legs with one leg on the ground and the other one in the air, a straight line with her body, and her head dangling over his legs.

She heard whistling and clapping as she opened her eyes.

Javier was tilting his head as he looked down at her, a sharp smile on his lips and her dress in his hand. It took her a few seconds to realize she was still laying on the poor man with all her weight and quickly stood up. Trying not to appear as shocked as she felt when she kissed the groom’s cheek. She took a little awkward bow, while different song started to play and the rest of the girls started paying attention to the men there.

Natalia turned to Javier, who was now standing right by her side and handing her her dress. “Thank you,” she croaked as she took the dress from him.

“Didn’t expect you here, but I’m not gonna pretend it’s not good to see you.” He looked appreciatively down her body, licking his lips. 

She knew he had to be drunk. She couldn’t imagine he’d look at her like that otherwise. “I--I need to-- need to change,” she stuttered, still unable to properly grasp what was happening.

“But you will come back right?” he asked, gazing into her eyes so intensely she wouldn’t be able to say no even if someone held a gun to her head. She nodded in response and walked out of the room and to the hallway. The bright lights there making her close her eyes as she tried to remember where the room with their things was.

First, she opened a door to a bathroom, but the second door was a bedroom with her bag. Grabbing it, she walked back to the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

Seeing Pena so drunk and leering at her like she was a 5 course meal was somehow hilarious to her. She knew that the month they spent together, he was trying so hard to keep her at an arm’s length. Never looking at her too long, never speaking more than necessary, but she didn’t mind. She simply adapted to his behavior and implemented simple don’t ask rule. It never occurred to her that maybe he was attracted to her, until then.

She took off the white underwear and put on a pink number she packed. Natalia reapplied some make up and put on a little more perfume before throwing everything in the bag. She walked back to the bedroom, leaving the back by the bed, and returned to the party.

Right in the door, the best man caught her and started thanking her before putting some cash into her hand. “Thank you so much again,” he patted her hand and went back to his friends. Natalia looked down at the money and was more than surprised by the generous amount he gave her.

She turned to Felipe and gave it to him for safekeeping so she wouldn’t have to go all the way back to the bedroom. 

“Took you long enough.” His voice shouldn’t feel as familiar as it did, especially after she hadn’t heard it for months.

“Beauty takes time,” she smiled as she turned to him and noticed he had two glasses of whiskey and handing her one. “I’m working, Pena.”

“Come on, just one, with me.” He tilted his head again, and it was like looking into the eyes of a golden retriever. He had this drunken smile that never seemed to completely disappear.

“Just one,” she agreed and took the glass from him.

“Also, I saw you in your pajamas. You need absolutely no time to look beautiful.”

He’d never say something like that in the right state of mind, so she didn’t put any real weight behind his words. Still, it made her smile at how corny he sounded.

“You don’t have to flirt to get a dance, Javier,” a guy shouted from behind him, making her laugh.

Pena rolled his eyes flipping the guy behind him and turning back to her. “I should go help the girls.” She knocked down the rest of the whiskey and put the glass on a table. 

His fingertips touched hers, caressing them with his own. She looked down, her skin tingling like she was touching a live wire and not his hand. They felt rough, calloused, but it only heightened the sensation. 

 “Give me a dance,” he whispered. Her head snapped to look at him, knots forming in her stomach and she swallowed dryly. 

“Javier, I shou--” He squeezed her fingers in his hand, making her jump. It seemed more like a reflex or a twitch because he released her just as quickly, but it still left a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Just one.” He talked through gritted teeth and the sound made her fight off the shudder she felt coming up her spine.

She could see the hunger in his eyes, the veins on his neck, and his other hand flexing by his side. And selfishly, she wanted to see if she could make him look even more desperate, aching for more. She couldn’t wait to call him the next day and tease him about it.

“Just one,” she repeated after him. Taking his hand she led him to one of the more comfortable looking armchairs and teasingly pushed at his chest to get him to sit down. 

She felt as if her whole body was on fire just by the way he was looking at her. His eyes were searing holes into her, his fingers digging into the soft leather of the armrests and his hips shifting impatiently, and she realized that maybe she was out of her depth.

She couldn’t back out now, even if she knew that would be the better choice for both of them, but then... It felt like she’d lose, like she cared more than he did and that was not something she was willing to accept. No matter the consequences.

Natalia took one deep breath before moving her hips to the Bon Jovi’s song that started playing. Letting the rhythm take over her upper body, she stuck out her breast with her hands in her hair. 

She watched as his eyes followed them down the side of her neck and her breasts. 

With a whip of her hair, she turned her back to him, bending at the waist and relaxing her knees so she could easily rock her hips as her hands moved up her legs and to the back of her thighs to slap her ass.

She wished she could see his face because from between her legs she could see one of his legs twitch and almost kick up as if he banged it against something. It encouraged her enough to sit on his knees and wiggle until he parted them so she could sit between them. Resting her shoulders against his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly, she sneaked her hand to the back of his neck and into his hair. She tugged at it at the same time she looked up at him, and she swore she could feel the groan that escaped him vibrate through her. She would never do that with a normal customer, but she felt the boundaries here were a little blurred.

His eyes were open wide like he was scared to miss even a second of her writhing body between his legs. She tugged again and could feel him suck in a deep breath, but, finally, he looked into her eyes. They were blown, pitch black, desperate. It made her feel so good.

She slowly slithered down his body, on her knees and turning to face him, not caring that she’d probably have a bruise. Looking up at him from between her legs she rested her hands on his knees and sliding them up his thighs, with her thumbs pressing to the inside of them and stopping only inches from his crotch, where an impressive bulge was beginning to form.

He looked from her hands and at her, watching her lick her lips. She could see his hips buck at her simple gesture, which in turn, made her cunt clench around nothing.

Not wasting any time, she hiked her knee up on the armchair and literally climbed on top of him, making him chuckle. Natalia lowered herself enough to feel the heat between their bodies, but not enough to touch. She could feel the muscles in her thighs and knew that she’d curse herself tomorrow. But looking down at him, God, it was so worth it.

He looked down between them as she moved her hips just inches above his hard cock. She was so tempted to sit down and feel it, get some relief for herself, but she saw how tense he was, how hard it was for him just to sit there and take it, and it was way too exciting to give in.

Javier seemed more impatient than her, and she felt his hand move from the armrest to her shoulder, his fingers tracing invisible patterns down her back.

“No touching,” she whispered into his ear teasingly. 

He turned his head to look at her, their noses touching, breathing each other in before he spoke. “Come home with me.”

Natalia stopped moving, her breath caught in her throat, and searching his eyes for any indication he was joking, but he seemed dead serious. His eyes were almost pitch black pools of hunger, sucking her into their depths. It was almost hypnotizing.

She made herself smile like it was all a big joke, but it somehow made the whole situation more serious than she anticipated.

“You are drunk.” She started moving again, looking away from him.

“No, I’m not.” He buried his hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head and forcing her to lean her forehead against his. “I wanna feel you.” He squeezed her butt cheek in his other hand, making her arch her back and ball the front of his shirt in her hands. “All of you.”

“Javier...,” she sighed, closing her eyes just to escape his intense gaze. She tried to find the right words to say no only to find out she didn’t want to say no. 

“I wan-- I need to fuck you,” he continued, making her whimper at the words. 

“Javi,” she put one hand on his cheek to make him focus on her, “you are drunk.”

“I’m not as drunk as you think I am, Natalia,” he spoke firmly, but calmly. “I’m just drunk enough to let you know what I want.”

Her resolve slowly crumbled under his words. The cold spot in her panties and the pulsing pressure that was steadily building between her legs decided for her.

“Just a fuck, right?” she raised an eyebrow.

He smiled wickedly at her.

What could go wrong.

#Javier Pena x female!OC #Javier Pena x reader #javier pena #pedro pascal #narcos #Pedro Pascal x reader #mine

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Another prompt fill for the Marigold Bridge server’s prompt challenge. This prompt was Sharp.

So here’s a short little story about Héctor and his new family.

---~~~---

The one Héctor was most familiar with here, to start, was Pepita.

The reason for that wasn't exactly one he was proud of. The times he'd tried to approach Imelda, she often wasn't far behind, and she was very, very… big… and pointy. Before, he'd never really gotten the chance to get a good look at her, since whenever his focus was turned to her, it was usually his cue to leave. And all he could see were those sharp, sharp fangs, claws, and talons.

But now that he could get a better look at her without her driving him off, he found she was… rather pretty, as far as cats go, and her fur was a lot softer than he would have guessed. Often she would purr near him, but with how loud she was, it was almost close to a growl, so he wasn't sure if he could trust that—not yet.

Now though, her claws and fangs and talons were never turned towards him—not that she had ever truly hurt him with them in the past, though she had seemingly threatened to. Instead, they were turned upon the many people who tried to approach the Riveras after Dia de Muertos—invasive fans of Héctor's music, reporters looking for the latest scoop, and even angry de la Cruz fans. Whenever they came near the hacienda, Pepita would make certain they would be heading away from there very, very soon.

Not to say that they never got close. Pepita could only do so much to keep people away from the Riveras in public spaces, so Héctor rarely went out into town alone. Typically he went with Imelda, but one or two of the others would then come with him.

(Perhaps not wanting him alone with her.)

Imelda was always quick to drive away people with her boot if they got too invasive, but Victoria had a quicker—and sharper—tongue. The few times he'd been out with his wife (?) and—he later found out—his granddaughter, Victoria would snap out insults and threats faster than Imelda could get her shoe off. She was able to spot trouble before it got too close, and a few words kept it at bay.

Héctor appreciated her words. Until she turned them on him.

Of all of the Riveras, Victoria was the least trusting of him. Whenever he tried to approach her for a simple conversation, just wanting to get to know his granddaughter, to hear her stories about his own daughter, she would always find something to say that pierced right between his ribs and straight through the guilt that plagued his heart. He could not even begin to get her to lower her defenses, for her defense was a strong offense—far, far too strong for him. At least for now, anyway.

He'd never been a pushover—no man that would catch Imelda's eye could be—but he felt like one right now, as he bent over backward to try to appease his new family and make sure they would let him keep his place in it. Often he backed down from Victoria's attacks, but even more so from Imelda's. He'd heard her voice (and often more than that) raised at him far too many times in the past to not flinch whenever it happened now, even if it wasn't raised at him.

His behavior didn't go unnoticed.

It took him some time to spot Julio watching him from afar. He was a timid man, and not often confrontational, but that did not mean he didn't involve himself in the family's business. After he first noticed his son-in-law during a failed talk with Victoria, he began to spot him more often hanging back, watching whenever Héctor interacted with other family members.

At one point when Imelda raised her voice (though her anger had not actually been directed at him), Héctor ducked back, his left hand immediately going to his right wrist. He glanced aside, and out of the corner of his eye spotted Julio watching from the other side of the room. The man's sharp eyes darted from Imelda, to Héctor, to the hand upon his wrist, to his arm, and to the duct tape and leather holding said arm together. He looked from the duct tape to Imelda a few times, and his brows raised.

When Julio realized Héctor had seen him, he scurried off, and Héctor, horrified, followed. It hadn't been her fault, Héctor was quick to explain. It was when they'd first seen each other in the Land of the Dead, and both of their emotions were high, on completely opposite sides of the spectrum, resulting in… a misunderstanding. But he did not blame Imelda for it.

Julio only looked at him, his gaze piercing, but unreadable. I see, was all he could say, and he left.

Fortunately there were other Riveras he could at least have a conversation with. Óscar and Felipe, like the others, were wary of him, but unlike the others, had known him in the past. They had been younger when he'd seen them in the Land of the Living, conducting absurd experiments, and that… hadn't really changed. If anything, their experiments had grown even more wild, since they no longer risked dying from them.

They often approached him, looking for help with their experiments (or, more often, someone to be a guinea pig for them). Héctor would usually comply, not necessarily out of a great desire to be involved in science and engineering, but more of a desire to keep his family appeased. He at least had a little experience in the things they involved themselves with, having done a bit of mad science himself in an attempt to cross the bridge. He told them about his own schemes occasionally—not what he'd used them for, of course, since they didn't need to know that part. But he did try to involve himself in some way, hoping his experience would be useful.

To his surprise, they often picked apart his schemes—not unkindly, but rather pointing out the different ways they could have been done, or methods that would have been more effective. It surely would have been good to know stuff like that back then, he thought, but then if he'd had their help at the time, he wouldn't have needed to bother with his absurd attempts in the first place. Attempts for something that… he had rather hoped they wouldn't pick up on.

Unfortunately for him, their sharp wit picked up on what he'd been trying to do fairly quickly. It resulted in some raised brows, and worse than that, questions—questions about his failed schemes, what-all he'd done, how well they went, what the results had been. All it did, however, was bring back the stress of remembering all those failures, all those humiliating things he'd tried to do to cross the bridge. One day he'd be able to look back and laugh, but now the wounds still felt too fresh. Quickly he would turn the topic away from his past and back to the twins' own experiments, and they would move on, which he was grateful for. While the others occasionally asked their questions, the twins asked them the most. They were too smart at times, and he did not like being probed.

He did like Rosita though.

Unlike the others, she did not ask questions, or judge him from afar, or sling harsh words at him. Of all the Riveras, she seemed the most at ease with him, and even enjoyed his company when he wasn't actively trying to help.

Some days she would invite him to sit at the table, or in the sitting room, and she would make him tea or hot chocolate, or have him come into the kitchen to talk (about literally anything other than the things stressing him) as she worked. It was a welcome reprieve from the usual stresses of his new life. In fact, she usually came to him on his rougher days, when he needed it the most. Though he wasn't sure how she knew; he tried to keep his own pain private.

He paid attention to when she would invite him to rest, but could not determine what she was noticing. One day, as they sat in the dining room early one morning with coffee, he asked her.

She was embarrassed, but finally admitted that she could hear him pacing in his room. She also noticed when his bones creaked the worst, when he had a tightness to his voice. It was small things the others never bothered to hear, but she kept a sharp ear out for him. She knew what to look for.

He hadn't been the only one who had once felt like an outsider in the family, after all.

The tightness returned to his voice for a moment then, but not due to stress.

He was still learning about them—about Pepita and Victoria and Julio and the twins and Rosita. He was still leaning where they fit in the family, and… ultimately where he fit in the midst of this. At times—at most of the times—it felt very, very overwhelming, with the sharp claws and words and eyes and wit and ears. At times it felt like all of these points were turned on him… and quite often, they were.

Héctor was not sure when or even if he would ever fit in with this new family… but he was sharp-willed, and he would not be giving up any time soon.

#hector rivera #coco #pixar coco #coco spoilers #pepita #rivera family #my writing #fanfic

[samwilsonsbabymama]

What’s Best

Part 1/3

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black Reader

Summary: Angel Reyes has always been a part of your life. He’s helped you through the hardest parts of your life, and you’ve stuck by him through the toughest parts of his. Angel has always done what he thought was best for you, even if doing so meant that he hurt you in the process. Angel only wants you to be happy, what he can’t see is that you’re happiest with him.

Warning: angst, (pre-season one)

Word Count: 1,847

A/N: This is my first Mayans MC fic and I’m so excited to share it with you! I’m really proud of this fic so I hope you all like it. It’s completely done so there won't be a long wait between updates. I would like to give a huge thanks to @akimi-youngblood​ for beta reading this fic, I really appreciate you for everything that you did  💖

Being a black girl in Santo Padre had always been a challenge for you. Your family had moved there when you were two, and it was the only place you remembered ever calling home. Your family was one of very few African American families in the entire town so that usually meant that you were one of the only black girls in your class. 

It didn’t bother you much, being the only black girl, because it’s what you were used to, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly envious of your cousins that grew up in predominantly black areas. When it came to hair care, you had to get creative. You either made do with what was sold around you, or you would ask family members to send you certain products for you to try. 

Not only were you one of the few black people in the town, but you were also plus size. You had been your entire life, and it seemed to be something that ran in your family. While in school, you hated standing next to the other girls in your class. They were always so much smaller than you, and even though they never teased you about it, it was something that nagged at the back of your mind. 

The older you got, the more you loved Santo Padre. Your best friend, Angel Reyes, was born there and you couldn’t imagine your life without him or his family. You didn’t see yourself leaving because of them. But you couldn't say the same thing about your parents. 

You had always known that your father would leave. Santo Padre wasn’t where he wanted to be and where he wanted to be was with your mom.

Your mom skipped town when you were fifteen, abandoning you and your dad. It took your dad three hours to follow her the first time leaving you with enough money and food to last a few days. You weren’t worried at first; you actually enjoyed having the house to yourself. 

The only person that knew that your parents were gone was Angel and that was only because he was your best friend. You made Angel promise to keep it quiet because you believed that your parents would come back soon, so he did. You’d done a good job at hiding it, but when the money started to run out, that’s when you began to worry.

Angel would often invite you over for dinner claiming that his mom had been asking about you, but you would decline. You were terrified of what would happen if anyone found out about your parents.

You had skipped a few days of school, and you were ignoring Angel every time he would come over to check on you. He’d even sent Ez one evening, but you never answered the door. You wished they would leave you alone just like your parents had.

You were sitting on your couch one weekday morning. You had decided to stay home from school, yet again, when a knock sounded on your door. Confused, you placed a bookmark in your book and sat it down before heading to the door. Your heart sank when you looked through the peephole to find Mrs. Reyes standing on the other side.

You opened the door and smiled, “Hola señora Reyes.” 

“Mija,” she smiled and pulled you into a hug. “How are you?”

You wrung your hands when you sat back on the couch, a nervous tick that gave you away every time. “I’m alright,” you whispered, refusing to make eye contact with her.

She hummed and looked around the room taking note that all the blinds were open, letting in the sunlight. It was hot and keeping the blinds open in the middle of the day only made it hotter. It was silent between the two of you for a few moments before she spoke again.

“Why didn’t you go to school today, mija? Angel said that you haven’t gone all week.” 

You could feel her eyes on you, and at that point, you knew Angel had told her what happened. You sniffled, and before the first tear had fallen, Mrs. Reyes had enveloped you in a hug. She held you as you cried and told her all about your parents. You told her how your parents had been gone for a little over a month and that the lights were out and that you didn’t know what to do because you were out of money. She held you until you finished and wiped your tears away.

“Ve a empacar una bolsa, y/n, you cannot stay in this house alone,” her tone left no room for argument so you nodded and left to pack your bag.

Ten minutes later, you headed back to the front room with your bag of clothes and your backpack ready to go and headed out the door with Mrs. Reyes.

“I left your parents a note for when they come back telling them where you are, y/n,” she explained on the way to her house. “And don’t be mad at Angel, mija. When it comes to you, he does whatever he thinks is best, and him telling me was the best thing to do.”

You nodded once more and continued to look out the window. You couldn’t be angry at Angel because you knew she was right. Angel had proven that time and time again.

You’d stayed with the Reyes’ for a month before your father decided to come back to town. When Mr. Reyes opened the door that night and let your father in, your heart sank at the look in his eyes. You knew that your mother hadn't come back with him. 

You were silent the entire time you packed your bag and Angel sat on the bed and watched you. Neither of you wanted you to leave, but with your father back, there was no reason for you to stay.

As soon as you were finished, you looked at Angel and sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said before giving him a hug and walking towards your father. You hugged each of the Reyes’ before you left and thanked them for being there for you.

Your father was silent for most of the ride back home, until you asked him about your mother.

“What did you find?” you asked.

“I tracked her all the way to Tempe in Arizona, she’d always talked about living in Arizona,” he paused to take a deep drag from his cigarette. “I stayed there for a few days asking around to see if anyone had seen her and then I found her. And we fought, made up, and fought again. I really did try to get her to come back, y/n, but she split. Again.” 

You nodded and twiddled your thumbs and frowned when you noticed that the sun was setting. 

“Look, I know I shouldn’t have left you, but you needed to stay here while I looked for her, y/n,” he explained. “The road isn’t a place for a kid, believe me.”

You remained silent as you pulled up to the house and you both hopped out of the car. You lingered behind your dad as he entered and flipped on the light switch.

“I guess I forgot to pay that, hmm.”

You scoffed before you brushed past him and went straight to your room. And plopped face down onto your bed. You wanted to cry, you really did, but you didn’t have any more tears left.

Weeks passed, and things were finally getting back to normal. Well as normal as they could get without your mom there. You went back to school and caught up on the work you missed and continued to spend time at the Reyes’ house. Mrs. Reyes would often send you home with enough leftovers for your dad. 

It was the last day of school, and Angel had invited you over to go swimming with him and Ez and you rushed home to grab a change of clothes when you found the note.

Y/N,

I hate to do this to you again, but I got word on where your mother might be. It isn’t much, but I have to try and find her. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’ve paid all the bills up for a few months and left you some cash. If you run out, I’m sure you can go stay with Marisol and Felipe again.

See you soon x

You crumpled the note and threw it on the floor. You made your way into your bedroom and sat on the edge of your bed.

How could he leave you again? What was wrong with you that neither of your parents wanted you? You asked yourself over and over again. You couldn’t believe this was happening. 

You didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep until you heard someone knocking on your door. You didn’t move in hopes that they would leave you alone, and you were glad when the knocking finally stopped. That relief was short-lived when tapping could be heard on your bedroom window and you knew that only one person would tap on your window. You sighed before you moved to open your window and moved back to your bed as Angel climbed through your window.

“Why didn’t you come swimming with us?” he asked. You could tell that he was upset, but once he got a good look at your face, he knew. “He left again.”

You didn’t respond, and Angel stormed over to your closet and grabbed your bag before tossing it on the bed beside you.

“Angel,” you began, but he cut you off.

“No, y/n! Not this time,” he kneeled in front of you. “I’m not letting you stay here alone again. You’re staying with us. My family loves you.”

You chewed your lip and nodded and Angel walked to the front room as you packed. When the two of you made it to his house, Mrs. Reyes took one look at you and welcomed you with open arms.

This vicious cycle continued for the next three years. Your dad would run off chasing some half lead as to where your mother was, leaving you to fend for yourself. The moment you knew he was gone, you would find yourself on the Reyes’ doorstep with your bag. Your father would be gone for months on end without a call and then show up and act like everything was okay. 

Until two weeks after your eighteenth birthday.

“He isn’t coming back, is he?” you asked Angel. The two of you sat on your front porch for hours after your dad drove off.

Angel took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. You both had been there when your dad had decided to take off again, promising that he would return, but you noticed that he had packed all of his clothes this time. You knew that he wasn’t coming back. 

And so did Angel.

[Part Two]

#angel reyes x black!reader #Angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes x plus size!reader #angel reyes x plus size reader #mayans mc fanfiction #maree writes

[imagineredwood]

Part 1 Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5    Part 6  Part 7    Part 8   Part 9       Part 10    Part 11  Part 12 Part 13   Part 14  Part 15  Part 16   Part 17  Part 18 Part 19  Part 20  Part 21   Part 22  Part 23 Part 24   Part 25  Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Camila (OC)

Warnings: Implied mild alcoholism, talk of death and grieving

Word count: 3.8k

***I’m working on finding a face claim for Karlene for you guys. Any recommendations/ who you envision her as, feel free to send them my way 

“Perdoname, por favor.” – Forgive me, please.

“Ya lo hice.” – I already did.

Camila sighed and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, her cheeks tinted pink in the California heat. She plucked the last strawberry from the patch, bright ruby red and full of juice. She held it up and squinted in the bright sun before dropping it onto the pile that she had built in the basket. Standing from her little yellow gardening stool, she stretched, a groan falling from her lips as she felt the tension easing away out of her back from being hunched all morning. Reaching down, she grabbed the handle of the basket and lifted it, walking over to the little bench to relax for a little. She sat there in the peace of her backyard, birds chirping and splashing over in the birdbath she had bought. She smiled as she watched and listened to them, her phone starting to ring. She stood tiredly and walked over to the patio, grabbing her phone and seeing Karlene’s name. She lifted the phone up to her ear, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Are you busy today?”

Cam looked down at herself, gardening clothes littered with dirt, her body sweaty. Karlene sounded hopeful though and Camila didn’t have the heart to turn her down, no matter how tired she may be. Sometimes people just needed a friend.

“No, I’m not. What’s up?”

“Well, there’s this place I used to go to with my sister all the time back in Colorado and they do live music and stuff on Saturdays. Anyway, I just saw that they opened one here a little bit out of Santo Padre and I was just wondering if you wanted to go with me? Let me pay you back for doing my hair?”

Camila chuckled, already having told the girl a thousand times that she didn’t have to pay her back. She had dyed her hair for her as a favor. Camila could easily tell that it was about more than just paying her back. Karlene wanted someone to spend time with.

“What time?”

Camila could hear the smile when Karlene spoke again and it brought a smile to Camila’s face as well.

“I’d say six? Get some food and drinks, just hang out.”

Camila checked the time it was now, having more than a few hours to finish up here and then get cleaned up to drop off some strawberries for the boys, as well as Felipe.

“Six it is. Just text me the address.”

The girls finished up their call and Camila smiled to herself. Karlene often mentioned her sister and Camila felt bad, figuring that she’d had to leave her behind when she had left Colorado. An only child, Cam couldn’t exactly relate, but she could understand. If Karlene needed someone, Camila would be that someone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“Hola, Señorita Camila!”

Camila laughed and gave Chucky a wave, walking over and giving him a hug.

“Hello, Chucky.”

“May I be of assistance?”

He held his hands out toward the bag that Camila was carrying, and she nodded appreciatively, allowing the man to take the bag of strawberries from her and place it down onto the counter.

“Thanks, Chucky.”

She walked around to the other side with him and began helping him pull the boxes of strawberries that she had packaged out of the bag. With all of the packages now on the counter, she looked back at Chucky with a smile.

“Just give these to the boys when they come back. It’s a box for each except Coco. I gave him two boxes so he can give one to his sister and then this one is yours.”

She placed her hand on the box closest to her and slide it along the surface of the counter toward him. Chucky looked down at the box for a couple seconds longer than Camila thought necessary and she tilted her head as he looked up at her. She could see the emotion on his face, but he still wore a smile

“Thank you very much for thinking of me.”

Camila frowned for a moment.

“We always think of you, Chucky.”

The man simply nodded and didn’t say anything else, grabbing his box and sticking it in the fridge. Saying her goodbyes to him, she left the clubhouse and made her way back to her car, making the drive to the carniceria. She felt nervous as she drove and the feeling only intensified as she pulled up in front and parked, walking up and pulling open the door. Felipe looked up as soon as he heard the door, an automatic muscle memory half-smile coming to his face, but as he saw Cam, the smile dropped and so did his eyes. He walked around the counter and toward her, eyes down then entire time. Both stood quiet until Camila spoke, her voice small and guilt-ridden as he placed his strawberries down on the table.

“I’m sorry for making a mess here that day. That was wrong of me and I should’ve had more respect for your shop.”

Felipe’s eyes snapped up to her then and he quickly shook his head.

“The only ones that made any mess were my son and I. You have nothing to apologize for mija.”

Camila nodded, trying to reign in her emotions but they got the better of her and she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around the patriarch. He didn’t miss a beat and returned the embrace, his eyes closing and a sigh escaping him.

“Perdoname, por favor.”

Shaking her head, Camila squeezed him tighter.

“Ya lo hice.”

They hugged for a little while more before they both pulled away.

“I shouldn’t have let him bring her here. I wanted him to fix it, but it still wasn’t right.”

Shrugging, Camila smiled.

“It’s done with. It got cleared up and it’s over. No sense in still worrying about it.”

Felipe nodded and then picked up the box of strawberries.

“They look beautiful Camila.”

She grinned and thanked him.

“You can always come by the garden whenever you want.”

“Thank you. I might go by- “

His words were cut off by someone knocking on the door. Cam’s brows furrowed, wondering who knocks when they see that the store is clearly open. Turning, her confusion dissipated, and she rolled her eyes, seeing KJ standing outside, sunglasses on and motioning for Felipe to go out to him. Turning back, Camila exaggeratedly sighed then chuckled as she earned a laugh from the older man.

“I’m gonna head out but come by whenever. Just call to make sure I’m there.”

Felipe nodded, not feeling worried since he knew that EZ had explained everything now. He walked with her out of the shop and watched as she headed to her car, KJ watching as well. Camila couldn’t help but notice that the man looked disheveled, not nearly the same cocky and put together man that she had seen times prior. He looked exhausted, shoulders heavy and Camila couldn’t help but get a sinking feeling. What if something had gone wrong with the deal? What if there had been a mistake or discrepancy and they revoked EZ’s deal entirely? Camila forced herself to talk a deep breath as she drove down the road to head home and get ready for dinner with Karlene.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“They’re good right?”

Camila nodded as she took another bite of the boneless wings. Karlene hadn’t been lying when she had said they made the best wings she had tasted. They were amazing and Camila made a mental note to bring EZ and the boys here one of these days.

“You weren’t exaggerating.”

Karlene smiled brightly and picked up a french fry. Camila took a sip of her drink, some fruity blend of juice and tequila. She still had about half of her first, while Karlene already had finished 3 plus a few shots. It was safe to say that she was already nearing drunk, so Camila paced herself, wanting to be sober and in control, in case Karlene didn’t know her limit.

“You come here often? Or at least to the one in Colorado?”

Karlene’s smile fell some but she picked it right back up quickly. Not quick enough for it to escape Came though. They had hung out for nearly the entire day when she had come by so Camila could retouch her hair, plus a handful of times at the clubhouse and Cam had always had the gift of being able to read people anyway.

“Yeah. Me and my sister always used to go. Almost every weekend actually. We would go and hang out, party. Get into trouble.”

She laughed softly at the last part, but Camila could feel there wasn’t much funny about it.

“We could come here with friends, or sometimes we just came by ourselves. Just like little, I don’t know, sister dates I guess. So, I said now that I’m here instead, I could take you out with me like I used to go with her.”

Karlene fell quiet then and her fake smile slipped away momentarily. She normally would lie or cover up everything to try and make certain situations seen better than they were but with Camila, she saw how accepting she was of everyone. How the boys spoke about her when she wasn’t there, praising her and her heart and Karlene had gotten to see it from the first moment they had met. The alcohol had also lowered her inhibitions as well as her pride and she spilled.

“My sister died a few weeks before I moved here so,”

She didn’t really know how to continue after that and she looked down at her lap, eyes welling with tears. A pronounced frown materialized on Camila’s face as she looked at the girl. She was barely any younger than Camila at 24 years old, but she looked much younger as she sat there, shoulders hunched and curled in on herself, looking more like a child than a grown woman. Camila was out of her side of the booth then, walking around and sliding in beside the redhead. She placed her arm around Karlene’s shoulders and watched as the girl broke down at the caring touch.

“I just really miss her. She’s always been there, and I don’t really know how to get on without her. She was the older one, always had the answers. She died and everything just fell apart.”  

Camila instantly pulled her into her, arms holding her tightly as she rested her head on her chest. It wasn’t exactly how she had pictured she would be spending her evening, but it was clear that the girl needed help and Camila wasn’t the type to stand by without helping. So she sat there holding her, one hand stroking over Karlene’s straight cherry-red hair. She held her for as long as she needed, sending a glare at a woman who was peering at them. Soon enough, her sniffles and tears had ceased, and she pulled away, laughing as Camila reached over to wipe away a tear.

“I swear I didn’t bring you out here just to cry on you over chicken wings.”

Camila laughed herself and hugged the girl once more. She could tell there was much more to the story of her sister and more to the story of why she was here in general. Camila remembered that Angel had said she was here trying to escape an ex-boyfriend and it was clear that while she was safe, she felt she had no one.  Taking in a deep breath and then blowing it out, Cam could see the tension evaporating from Karlene’s body. She felt free now because she had been honest. She had been carrying that grief with her and had no one to share it with, until now. Karlene sniffled once and grabbed a clean napkin from the table to wipe her eyes, pointing to the opposite side of the booth.

“You can go back and eat now. I’m sorry. I’m good now.”

Camila nodded and walked back around to sit in her side of the booth. Karlene’s eyes were red and puffy, as was the tip of her nose but she wore a genuine smile now and Camila returned it, knowing that it was only up from there for Karlene and she would be there for her whenever she needed it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

Camila and EZ were laying together, comfortable under her yellow blanket as they relaxed on the couch. Some crime documentary was playing but Camila wasn’t really paying attention. Her mind had been going over the days events and she got stuck on KJ. Something about how he looked and how he acted just seemed off and it had been bothering her. The more she thought about it, the more she started to feel guilt bubbling up within her. EZ had used Angel to get this deal rolling, and the fact that he was still keeping it from him was bothering her. She loved Angel, he was like a brother to her and she would never want to keep something from him that he deserved to know, but this wasn’t her battle. This was EZ’s choice and his decision, but she had gotten dragged into it and the guilt was eating away at her. Unable to stomach the worry she sat up, EZ’s eyes on her as she did.

“You ok?”

Nodding her head, she looked back at him.

“Saw KJ today.”

EZ groaned but she kept talking, not giving him a chance to but in.

“He looked rough. Rough. Like he’s running on no sleep. He looked anxious and defeated and I just got a bad feeling about it.”

EZ let her keep talking, simply running his hand up and down her back as he listened. Turning her head to look back at him, she shook her head.

“You should tell Angel about the deal.”

EZ didn’t hesitate to shake his head no, sitting up with her.

“I can’t. I won’t get him involved and dragged into that.”

Cam scoffed and shook her own head before looking at him once again.

“You already did. The moment you signed that paper you dragged him in. I think it would be best that he heard it from you. At least in some way you can redeem yourself a little because you came clean. You told the truth. That will stand for something. But if the truth comes out from someone else? Imagine how he’ll feel EZ. If you tell him, you can say your side and try to get him to understand. If someone else tells him, someone like KJ? They will make you look as horrible as they need to so they can get what they need.”

EZ stayed looking at her, the crease between his brows deepening.

“He’ll hate me.”

“And he’ll hate you even more if he finds out you  were never going to tell him.”

Shaking her head, she looked away from him.

“I hate keeping secrets, EZ. I hate them. The truth always comes out and when it does it will be best if it comes from your mouth. I don't like knowing something and keeping it from him. I know it's not my business, but you brought me into it and I feel guilty even if it wasn't my choice. Imagine how Angel will feel knowing that you told me the truth before you told him when it’s his credibility that's on the line. If the club finds out, it’s his ass. That’s not right. He's your brother.”

EZ winced at the stress she placed on the word brother. She wasn't saying it directly, but he knew what she meant. This is a betrayal that should’ve never happened. At least not the way that he went about it. Turning to face him, she took his hands in hers.

“You were scared. You were facing almost 40 years for an accident and you didn’t want your life to be wasted because of it, so you did what you felt you needed to do. You chose to protect yourself, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But you did it someone else’s expense, your brother no less. Your brother, your dad, your club, they’re like my family and I want what’s best for everyone. I don’t want this to ruin you guys and if it blows up without you being the one to set it off, it’s going to be ugly Ezekiel.”

Her grip on his hands was tight and she was pleading with him. She was practically begging him, and for his family’s sake. A family that he had brought her into and hoped to soon marry her into. She wanted what was best for them and he knew she was right in what she was saying, but it wasn’t that easy.

“I hear you, Cam. I do.”

She nodded. He wasn’t saying he would. He was just saying that he understood, and that wasn’t going to be enough. He was a grown man though and she couldn’t force him to do something he didn’t want to do, and she would never rat him out. She would keep it to herself, compartmentalize the guilt and hope that the Reyes family could make it out to the other side when things did finally come to a head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“Hi, where is the young adult fiction section?”

Camila looked up from the scheduling book and smiled at the teen girl standing in front of her at the desk, round black glasses and a long ponytail.

“Oh right over there. Go down to the end of this aisle and make a left, they’ll be along the wall.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Camila gave the girl a warm smile which she mirrored. Looking back down at her book, she looked over the schedule, trying to find a replacement for the call off she got for tomorrow. Her eyes were down on the papers, skimming around and looking through all the staff. She heard the entrance bell ring and looked up again, ready to help whatever customer came up to her.

“Hi, welcome to Sal’s. Can I help you find anything?”

The man continued to walk up to the front desk, a charming smile on his bearded face and Camila remembered seeing him at Marcus’ vowel renewal. Her smile stayed in place, not able to pinpoint him. He looked affluent, much more so than most of middle-class residents and high schoolers who frequented the bookstore. The material, quality, and tailoring of his suit spoke for itself. At the desk, he reached forward, opening his hand for hers. She slid her hand into his and he grasped it gently, giving her a formal handshake as she thought to herself and tried to remember if he had told her his name that night. Almost as if he was inside her head, he clarified for her.

“We never got properly introduced at the event that night. I’m Miguel. Emily’s husband.”

Camila kept her face neutral, still maintaining her smile, but inside her calm demeanor had vanished and she was on alert. He had been nothing but gentlemanly to her than night and so far, he still was now. He had treated her nicely, respectfully even by letting her pass first, but now that EZ had been honest with her about things, she knew that a very dangerous man was standing in front of her, and she didn’t know why he was here. She could be safe because she was the woman with one of his MC associates, or she could be in danger because she was the woman of one of his MC associates,  that had been secretly meeting with his wife. With all of the resources and connections that he had, she was sure that he had learned her name by now but she said it to him anyway, just to keep the conversation normal and hopefully not give away that she knew more than she should.

“Right. I’m Camila.”

He smiled once again and gave a small nod.

“Yes, I know. I’m sure you’re busy so I don’t want to take up much of your time. I only came by to apologize for my wife.”

Camila prayed that her face didn’t show her surprise. On the one hand, she figured that playing dumb may be the safer option to distance herself, but her gut told her that despite them having no real connection, Miguel wasn’t a man that liked being lied to. So she stayed quiet and simply gave him a nod, letting him continue.

“She snuck out to speak with the Reyes men which she was not supposed to do and took one of my men with her. He told me about the confrontation.”

Camila gave no reaction. The fact that he said he was here to apologize implied he was upset most with Emily. She just hoped that was all he was here for. Placing his hand on his chest, he continued.

“That was inappropriate of her to do and I apologize on her behalf. I hope that you can forgive the transgression.”

Camila nodded and wondered to herself if any of this was even true. She may have stayed as far away as she could, but she had seen men like this when Chris was getting into the game. Men who said things that were total lies simply to manipulate you into thinking what they wanted. He could be telling the truth and be genuinely upset and embarrassed about what Emily had done, seeing as it had disrespected her own husband and Camila both. Or this could’ve all been just a ploy. A way of putting fear into Camila that he knew who she was, where she worked and who she was involved with. Evening the score by having EZ see that as easily as he could organize meetings with Emily, Miguel could meet with his woman just the same. She may have been wrong, but Cam felt it was a little of both. Him wanting to make sure it was known he wasn’t happy with the meetings between Emily and her ex, and that his reach in EZ’s life extended far beyond the clubhouse walls. Wanting the situation to be over, Camila nodded. She didn’t want to shoot herself in the foot by saying too much so she spoke vaguely.

“It’s alright. I know things had been chaotic.”

Miguel gave a nod of his own and placed his hand on the desk, looking down at his watch to check the time. He spared a glance out the bookstore window and looked at the man leaning against the car he must’ve come in, purple button up and his dark hair in braids. Tapping the desk, Miguel pulled his hands away and stood up straight, offering Camila another warm smile.

“Well, I appreciate you being so understanding, señorita. Take care.”

“You too, Miguel.”

His smile widened, showing perfectly aligned teeth and he walked away from the desk toward the door, exiting the bookstore and getting into the vehicle.

Taglist:  @caramara3   @lostgirl219 @mrsjaxtellerfan   @actuallyazriel   @vannabanana1995   @unnecessarypineapplesstuff  @thegreat-annamaria @negansdirtygirl22 @svintsandghosts @piccasoe @tobesurroundedbysplendidthings @jadert15  @lovejn29 @may114   @meltingicequeen

#el destino #ez reyes #Felipe Reyes #Mayans MC #angel reyes #EZ x Camila #miguel galindo #mayans imagine #imagines

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

Under the Surface - Leo x Isabella (N*FW, 🍋)

Synopsis: Follow on to ‘Unfortunate Accident’ Isabella is on the war path and Leo is in the firing line

This fic is for Day 11 of the CFWC Kinktober Challenge

Day 11: Creampie | Hate-Fucking | Leather

The words used in bold are included in this fanfic. Please only read if you are comfortable with the subject matter and also you are 18+. PSA completed.

TW: In this fic there is some violent behaviour between characters. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read

Tagging: @drakewalkerfantasy @itslaniquelove @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie @lorirwritesfanfic @lorircreates @hopefulmoonobject @rafasgirl23415 @texaskitten30 @rainbowsinthestorm @desireepow-1986 @speedyoperarascalparty @liam-rhys @choicesficwriterscreations

The drive back to the Cordonian Palace was an icy affair and the tension could be cut with a knife. Their relationship had hit a rough patch recently with the Royal couple getting on each other’s nerves and accusations of Leo being quite attentive to the young, blonde attending he met in Boston: Isabella was not in the mood to play happy families. Slamming the car door behind her, the Laurentian Queen sucked in her cheeks as she followed her husband towards the drawing room that Natalia was in. “Natalia!” Isabella pushed passed Leo, making a beeline towards her daughter urgently checking her for any other bumps or bruises, “Mi querida...” Isabella sighed heavily as she tried to smile, hugging the small Princess and covering her with small pecks but Natalia wanted to go back to playing, “Mama...” she protested, “No more kisses!!” wiping her face with her arm as Jackson giggled. Isabella ignored the three men behind her as she checked the time on her Rolex, “Natalia...” she spoke firmly, “It’s already past your bedtime... mama can ready you a bedtime story...” Natalia’s hazel eyes looked across to Jackson before pouting sadly and Jackson reached out pulling on Isabella’s chiffon sleeve, “Can I hear a story too?” Isabella smiled, gently stroking his cherub cheek, “Of course mi amor...come...” Isabella stood tall in her Louboutin heels as she took the children’s hands glaring at the three men with complete distain as she led the children to bed.

“If looks could kill...” Drake mumbled downing his whiskey, “What happened when you picked her up?” Leo glared at him over his whiskey glass, his grip tightening around the crystal tumbler, “I’ll not even burden you with that... it was pretty rough...” Leo scowled as he stood up, walking towards the intricately decorated decanter, “... but whatever you hear tonight, it doesn’t leave these four walls Liam...” Leo barked as he poured more of the caramel coloured liquid into the glass before swirling it around. “I need a cigarette...” Leo sighed, “Drake?” Drake reached into his jeans pocket, removing a tobacco tin that contained some pre-rolled cigarettes. Liam raised his brow rather unimpressed but was only met with a chuckle from Drake, “Emergencies?” before he threw the tin across to Leo. The newly Crowned King of Laurentia took one out, tapping the filter end against the engraved metal. “Strike two...” Liam began to shake his head in desperation as Leo patted his blazer jacket whilst placing his cigarette into his mouth to find his zippo. With a mischievous grin, Leo winked at his brother and Drake, “Go hard or go home brothers... may as well make the screaming match worth it...” heading out onto the balcony into the cool Cordonian night air, with a flick of his wrist, Leo lit his cigarette and took a long drag allowing it to calm him as he exhaled slowly.

Isabella returned, her cheeks sucked in rolling her eyes to the left where Liam and Drake knew best to not speak. Without skipping a beat, Isabella barked, “Can you two get out?” folding her arms angrily as he brow raised. Liam’s brow began to furrow, “How dare...” Drake reached out holding his best friends shoulder to stop him in his tracks but Isabella was incensed pointing towards the door, “Unless you also want me to rip you both a new fucking asshole too, don’t have me repeat myself...” Leo flicked his cigarette into the ashtray beside him as he rolled his eyes mumbling, “Here we fucking go...” Isabella began to tap her foot as Liam and Drake hastily made their exit, “Are you going to hide out there all night?” The Laurentian Queen hissed towards her husband, “Its always like you to put your head in the fucking sand!” Leo took a deep breath, trying his hardest not to succumb to Isabella’s taunting. The former Crown Prince of Cordonia turned, walking quietly as his sea green eyes tried to stare down his petite wife, “Still not off of that fucking pedestal huh?” Leo growled towards the Laurentian beauty who began to slowly smirk much to Leo’s annoyance. “Pedestal?” Isabella began to laugh, “I’m not the one that those kids look up to and I’m also not the one who sidelines them... so excuse me if I am pissed off that the first time in months you’ve spent quality time with one of your daughters and this happens!”

“Get over yourself Isabella... it was an accident that could have happened anywhere!” Leo spat, “If you weren’t so preoccupied with everything, maybe, just maybe, you might have found time in your fucking schedule to come too and actually enjoy yourself!” sighing heavily he continued, “Ever since the Coronation, you have became a bigger pain in the ass than before...” Leo extended his hand out, almost pleasing with her, “it’s like every single piece of you is trying to find fault with everything!” Isabella rolled her eyes to the point that it began to hurt, “Don’t give me that shit Leo... if you actually came home every once in a while, I wouldn’t have to be!” “How many fucking times?!” Leo sighed heavily, “I told you I need to be here for Liam... I’m all he’s got!” Isabella slowly stepped towards Leo leaving barely an inch or two between them, her cheeks were sucked in, eyes narrowing with distain. Leo had hit a nerve and Isabella was not standing for it. Clenching her jaw, Isabella raised her hand and smacked her husband across the face, “How dare you!” Isabella screamed, “My father is barely three months in his grave and that’s what you say to me?” Isabella turned on her Louboutin heel walking away until she began to see red that removed any partial filter she had left.l as Leo shouted at her, “Don’t bring Felipe into this to try to make me feel fucking guilty... we were having problems way before he passed away!”

Immediately, the petite brunette turned back to face Leo to go in for the kill as he rubbed the sting from his cheek, “You know what?!” Isabella began to evilly laugh into Leo’s face, “You know what? Fuck you... and... fuck Liam too!” Leo clenched his jaw tightly as he commanded, “Isabella... that’s enough!” but defiantly, the petite brunette continued with her taunting. She was more than hurt, she was angry. As Isabella’s doe like dark chocolate brown eyes narrowed, glaring up at her husband, Isabella spat, “I really fucking hate you right now!” Leo leaned down towards her, his nostrils flaring as he held himself back seething, “The feeling’s mutual!” Isabella took a deep breath, pursing her lips, “Good!” She retorted as her eyes darkened locking onto Leo’s, their internal power struggle just kept bubbling to the surface as the tension in the room rose stemming from months of frustration. Leo growled as he removed his blazer jacket, throwing it onto the high winged back chair. His tensed muscles strained under his already tight crisp white shirt as his breathing became faster and heavier, “Bella... don’t fucking push me!”

There was a moment of silence between them as they glared into one another’s eyes until Isabella put her arms around Leo’s neck and jumped up into his arms. Their lips urgently crashed into one another, leaving the couple breathless, “This doesn’t change anything...” Leo grunted as his hands firmly caressed the petite brunette’s ass before he roughly pinned her to the adjacent wall. Isabella through her head back as her King peppered her neck hungrily with kisses, running her fingers through his sandy blonde hair until she grasped it in her hand pulling Leo’s head back to look at her before kissing him again passionately. Their tongues intertwined with one another as Leo pressed his body weight against the Laurentian beauty, holding her in place as he ripped open her chiffon blouse exposing her bare breasts. “Hey!” Isabella began to protest, “I liked this blouse!” but Leo began to kiss her again whispering, “Shut up...” against her lips before kissing her again. Isabella reached out and hurriedly unbuttoned Leo’s shirt, keeping his tie around his neck. Leo moved his hand as Isabella slapped it away barking at her husband, “Leave it!”

Stumbling his way across to the couch, Leo walked into the table holding the Crystal with Isabella’s heel knocking over the decanter and a handful of glasses, both of them so preoccupied to notice the noise as they smashed against the floor. Leo threw the petite brunette onto the couch and pulled off her shoes, firing them over his shoulder before running his hands up her thighs, feeling the buttery texture of the leather. Taking both her pants and thong off in one single rough pull, a growl left the Laurentian Kings throat as Isabella reached up, swiftly unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his trousers. Isabella beckoned Leo to sit before manoeuvring herself to sit on his lap to straddle him. Leo clenched his jaw as he groaned, feeling her wet core running against his already hard throbbing member. Isabella sat up, grabbing Leo’s thick shaft in her soft hand and lowered herself down until he was fully sheathed.

Isabella bit down on her lip as she whimpered, the feeling of fullness made her eyes roll back before she began to slowly bounce up and down on her husband’s length but Leo couldn’t help himself; he began to buck his hips in rhythm with the Laurentian beauty, roughly fucking her as his fingers gripped tightly onto her hips. Isabella wrapped Leo’s tie tightly around her hand as she pulled on it hard, bringing him forward towards her. Her dark chocolate brown eyes burned with a desire he’d never seen before, trying so hard not to moan out in ecstasy. Isabella gasped as Leo smacked her ass hard with a furrowed brow “That’s pay back for slapping me!” Isabella clenched down on her teeth as she seethed, “I still fucking hate you right now....” tightening the tie around Leo’s thick muscular neck even more as her core’s walls began to tighten around his member. Leo began to pick up the pace, mercilessly thrusting into the petite brunette as she dug her long, crimson red manicured nails into his muscular shoulders, scratching into his tanned skin.

Leo grunted as he felt the sharpness of her nails dragging against him, groaning loudly as both he and Isabella began to come. Isabella began to scrunch up her nose, immediately getting up from Leo’s lap, picking up her clothes and getting changed. “What... no cuddles?” Leo sarcastically quipped as he ran his fingers through his hair, watching as Isabella had to tie her blouse in a knot to close it over. The room fell quiet once more as Isabella tucked a piece of her long, chestnut brown hair behind her ear before looking over her shoulder towards the newly crowned King, “No...” she spoke bluntly, “... Natalia and I will be leaving tomorrow with or without you...” Leo began to shake his head as Isabella walked towards the door, “And don’t even fucking think of coming to bed... you can sleep here because I really don’t want to look at you any longer...” The Laurentian Queen slammed the drawing room door behind her, leaving Leo in an awkward position, but the question was, did he want to work on his marriage or not?

#choices #leo x isabella #n*fw text #🍋 #cwfc Kinktober #the royal romance #playchoices #prince leo #choices fanfiction #choices the royal romance #playchoices fanfiction #queen isabella #royal romance au

[pengychan]

[Coco] Pieces

Title: Pieces Summary: Elena buried many members of her family over the years. It never got any easier. By comparison, dying herself was a piece of cake. Rating: K

Here’s my contribution to the @cococharityzine! It is available to buy now, so check it out. All money raised will go to RAICES (Refugee And Immigrant Center for Education and Legal Services).

***

When her abuela died, Elena didn’t cry until it was all over. 

There was too much to do - the funeral to organize and by God, however frugally Abuela had preferred to live, they would give her one fit for a queen. She and Victoria had done most of it: their mother was too lost in her grief for the woman who’d raised her on her own, their father was glued to her side, and their tíos were sort of wandering lost like a compass without a North. Tía Rosita had tried, she truly had, but she’d burst into tears more often than not. 

Franco had helped, silent as he often was, though his main contribution had been holding her back before she maimed the idiota who had dared ask what sort of music they would want for Abuela’s funeral. Such an insult warranted the reaction, Elena would maintain for years to come. And, after all, she could handle grief better than she handled anger. Victoria had disappeared around the same time to come back looking almost perfectly calm, if not for the redness in her eyes. Many people thought her cold, like they thought their grandmother to be made of ice, but they didn’t really know her, did they?

They didn’t know her at all. 

***

When Tío Oscar and Tío Felipe died, together as they were born, Elena laughed before she cried. 

They all did - laughed until they cried and cried until they laughed again, marveling at how they had lasted precisely three months without their sister. They had tried to convince them not to try building a car on their own, but of course only their sister had ever put enough fear of God in them to stop their crazy projects in their tracks. 

To be entirely fair, their car had worked perfectly, if not for the detail they both had forgotten to give it brakes. 

Elena liked to think that somewhere, somehow, her abuela was giving them a piece of her mind.

*** 

When Tía Rosita died of something the médico referred to as meningitis, Elena cried together with her papá, who looked like his heart had been torn out of his chest. 

He’d lost a sister and so had her mother, who’d always wanted one and found her in Rosita - with her delicious food and bright smiles and incoherent noises when excited, the smothering embraces and too-powerful pats in the back that made you nearly topple over. 

People grieved for her outside the family as well. They all were respected and rather liked, but she had been loved: the day of the wake their house had been full of people who’d known her, as well as every single owner of a market stall where she’d stopped by to chat every week while buying groceries. With so many strangers at home, Elena had forced herself to stop weeping, and she hadn’t started again. 

Rosita was just the kind of person you remember with a smile. 

***

When her papá died, Elena put off crying as long as she could. 

There was a lot to shoulder now, because Victoria had helped last time and now she couldn’t, her own health in decline for reasons doctors didn’t seem able to figure out. Walking for long left her winded, and all she could do was looking after little Berto. Their grieving mother had disappeared in the workshop, and hardly came out, so Elena struggled to stay afloat, to organize everything. 

Without Franco stepping up - quiet and reliable Franco, so much like her father, she only truly noticed it now - she might have drowned. It wasn’t something she’d admit, but it was known and understood. Finally resting on the bed with him, little Berto between them, Elena thought back to her mother emerging from the workshop with shoes she had made for her husband, polished with all the love in the world, for him to be buried in.

She cried herself to sleep, and her husband stroked her hair without saying anything. 

*** 

When Victoria died, Elena was too stunned to cry. 

It was not sudden or unexpected: she had been sick, they had known it was coming. But the sense of unreality was still there, making her feel like she was moving underwater. She’d been prepared to bury her grandmother, her uncles, her aunt, her father; each loss, painful as it was, was bound to happen sooner or later. But a sister, barely a few years older than herself - no. 

She hadn’t been prepared for it; she hadn’t been prepared for the gut-wrenching cry of grief that would leave her mother before she fell silent, too, gaze empty and fixed ahead. If Elena hadn’t been prepared to bury her sister, their mother hadn’t been prepared to bury her daughter. No parent ever really is.

Elena let Franco step in with organizing the funeral and stayed with her mother. She helped her dress Victoria in her best Sunday attire, put on her best shoes, and they sat together in silence. With an arm around her mother’s shoulders, her son clinging to her leg and a new life already growing in her, Elena grieved for her sister and prayed she would never know the sort of grief her mother was going through now. 

*** 

When her mother died, she still had a smile on her lips.

It was the smile of someone who’s ready to go; someone whose past was no longer shrouded in fog, who could look back to her life and at the faces of her family, and move on with the knowledge she had no regrets.

There was music at her funeral, the first such occurrence in a century for their family. Elena had yet to grow fully used to it, but it no longer felt like an insult: it was simply their parting gift. She was sure her grandmother would understand.  

So she closed her eyes, listened, and the vise-like grip around her heart began to loosen.

*** 

I miss her too.

Miguel doesn’t speak but ah, the arm around her and the way he leans in tells  Elena exactly that. And Elena doesn’t feel like crying now, not really, however fresh the loss is: her mamá is smiling at her from the photo and oh, she’s gone so many years without seeing her smile. She cried the first time her mother failed to recognize her - thought she’d lost her - until the little man by her side brought her back, somehow. They got more time together, and she feels it was enough. 

“We’ll go help mamá,” Miguel says, and walks out, jostling little Coquito in his arms and causing her to giggle. Elena smiles, and turns back to the ofrenda. Her gaze pauses for a moment on the man she’s never known, and hated regardless most of her life, but she finds she has nothing to say to him. He was the first loss, before she was even born, but she only knows him through songs and her mother’s few memories, and it doesn’t seem enough. 

Maybe one day, after she is dead as well, she’ll know more of him. For now, she only turns to the people she has known, and loved, and buried. 

“You’d be proud of him,” she says. “You’d be proud of them all. They’re a lot like you, you know?” she adds, and she realizes how true it was only as it leaves her lips. 

She sees Imelda in Miguel’s stubborn streak, and Rosita in Gloria’s smile, and Victoria in Rosa’s composure and remarks. She sees her uncles whenever Benny and Manny build a monstrosity out of leather scraps, and she sees her father in the infinite patience Abel has with them, in his meekness. She can even hear her mother’s girl-like laughter, the one she had in times long gone, whenever little Socorro laughs. She always believed firmly that the dead do visit, once a year, their loved ones. She still does - but she knows now that they have never truly left. 

With preparations for Día de los Muertos ongoing, Elena still finds a few minutes to go upstairs and have a quiet cry. 

*** 

When Franco dies, he goes quietly as he’s lived; so quietly, in fact, that Elena doesn’t realize he’s gone until she shakes him to wake him up.

“Just a siesta,” he said, “before I finish up those soles.”

No soles are finished up that day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

She organizes no funerals this time. She can’t. Her last clear memory is shaking her husband to awaken him; all that follows feels like a dream, images and sounds drowned in static. 

Soon enough she reasons, she will open her eyes to find herself shaking Franco’s arm, and he will open his own. Lo siento, he’ll say sheepishly, I overslept.

She’ll roll her eyes, but tell him to take it easy that afternoon - that she’ll ask Enrique to finish the job for him. There is no such thing as retirement in their household, not as long as one’s able to work, but age has crept up on them and it’s best to be careful on hot days like this one. It can take so little for one’s heart to give out, and-- and--

Coquito’s fiesta de quince años. She turns fifteen next month. He’s going to miss it.

The thought tears through the fog in the mind, through denial and through her heart. It drags her back to a reality where she’s sitting in their living room  with her family around her - all of them except for her husband, who lays in a casket in the next room. It’s almost enough to break her. 

But there are arms around her, several pairs, holding tight enough to keep the pieces together. They will never fit together quite the same way again - they never do, each time there is something that’s just missing - but for now, it is enough.

***

When Elena dies, she… freaks out.

All things considered, she’ll reason later, no one could blame her. Firmly believing in an afterlife is one thing. Going to bed in the evening to wake up someplace she has never seen to be greeted by skeletons is another entirely.

“Stay back!”

“Señora Rivera, por favor, let us explain--”

One of the skeletons dares peer at her from behind the desk, only to get its skull knocked clean off by a flying stapler. He yelps, and the other speaks quickly in a small radio. “Ignacio, I think we need reinforcement here!”

“Feisty new arrivals, huh? How many?”

“One.”

“... You can’t handle one--”

“Send reinforcements and shut your face!”

Oh no, Elena thinks, if they think calling up a few more bags of bones can take her down, they are very much mistaken. She bares her teeth in a snarl, reaching to grab the closest object to hurl it at the skeleton staring at her from… from…

Elena stills. The world stills. The paperweight falls from her hand, a skeletal hand, as she keeps staring at the object they’re holding up in front of her like a shield. Except that it’s no shield. It’s a mirror.

“Oh.”

“Please, listen to us. We mean you no harm. You’re in the Land of the Dead.”

Ah. So she… died. She blinks, and slowly lowers her arm. The skeleton in the mirror does the same.

“So, er. We have informed--”

“I’m dead.”

“Sí.”

“I-- you-- why didn’t you just say so?”

“What-- we tried, if you just would listen--”

“I have to go back.”

“Excuse me?”

Later she will see it was an entirely impossible demand, more than slightly unreasonable. Right there and then, she doesn’t even think of it. I must go home, is all she can think. 

“Just a week or-- you don’t understand, my youngest granddaughter is going to university. We were all going to celebrate together, Miguel was going to be back from his tour, so you’ll send me back or else--”

“The dead cannot go back, señora - except for Día de los Muertos, that is. I’m sorry. But, we have contacted your family on this side. They will be here soon, and we’ll sure that will make the situation much easier to handle.”

Elena’s words - I need to go back to my family - die in her non-existent throat, realization finally dawning in. She is dead, but so are they. They are here. Her family is here, too. 

“Where--” she begins, but never gets to ask. 

“Elena?”

Heart leaping in her throat - and never mind she no longer has either - Elena spins to see… more skeletons. 

The group comes to a halt a few steps past the doorway, eyes - why do they have eyes? - shifting to look across the devastated room, at the skeletons still hiding behind the desk. Elena stares, but has no time to try imagining familiar features over those bones: almost right away one of them steps forward, closer to her.  And that mustache, the eyebrows-- she’d recognize those anywhere. 

“Ah,” he says, giving a gap-toothed smile. “Here’s mi esposa.”

“... Franco?”

“Yes,” the smile wides, and he takes a step forward. “Ay, I’ve missed--”

“A siesta, you said!”

He recoils. “Well--”

“And then you went and died on me!”

“Lo sient--”

“Not even a goodbye!”

“I just fell asleep and--”

“You were there and then you weren’t and--” Elena’s voice cracks, which is bad because her voice never cracks; but then Franco is holding her and that is good, even though it’s bone on bone and unlike anything she’s felt before. Something is still familiar at a deeper level, and she clutches him back. 

“Estúpido.”

“Lo siento.”

“I missed you.”

“Missed you t--”

“Awww, look at that!”

“Like when they were kids!”

Elena blinks, and pulls back just enough to look over Franco’s shoulder to a pair of tall, identical skeletons with very, very familiar voices. And very, very familiar grins. 

“All that’s missing is a shoe on her head!”

“Or any shoes, really.”

“Died in your sleep, huh?”

“It would also explain the nightgo--”

“Do you mind? I think they’re trying to have a moment here.”

Victoria. 

It is her, it has to be her. Elena stares, stunned, and this time she can actually see her features over the skeleton; her voice hasn’t changed, nor her posture, nor that tilt of her head before she speaks. Her hair is all black - it brings home, truly, just how young she was when she died. 

“Hola, hermanita,” she says, and Elena finds herself muttering the first thing that comes to her mind.

“... I look like I could be your mother now.”

“Ah, I believe I still hold that role.” Someone steps forward, and there’s no mistaking who she is, nor the man by her side. She holds out skeletal hands, and calls out. “It’s so good to see you, mija.”

The next several minutes are a blur. There will be time to think of the living family she left behind, to miss them, but right now all she can think of are the people she just got back. There are hugs and laughter and pats on the back, plus some full-on sobbing from the imposing skeleton Elena recognizes, after a few moments, as her Tía Rosita. 

It’s a whirlwind of questions and emotions and oh do they have so much to catch up with - and it takes a while for Elena to realize that something is missing. Someone, more accurately. 

“Where’s Abuela?”

The question causes everyone to fall silent. They look at each other. The collectively roll their eyes and turn to the door. Now that it’s quiet, Elena can finally hear her voice just around the corner… and a voice she doesn’t recognize at all.

“Por Dios, Héctor, come on and meet your granddaughter!”

“Waaaait wait wait wait wait. Wait. Wait.”

“What?”

“What if she doesn’t like me?”

“She will, everything was cleared up.”

“Wait! You forgot one thing!”

“What!”

“... What if she still hates my guts? Because if she comes at me with a shoe--”

“You don’t have any guts, and I’ll protect you.” Mamá Imelda’s voice sounds more amused than annoyed, now. “Come on, walk-- no, let go of that door… ay, it’s like trying to bathe Pepita!”

“I-- can’t.”

“Héctor.”

“Call it stage fright. How about I go home and wait-- no, no, wait--”

There is a smacking sound, and suddenly a skeleton tumbles through the door and into the room, landing at Elena’s feet with a yelp. She blinks. He looks up and grins sheepishly, showing off a golden front tooth. 

“Huh. Hi?”

“... The músico,” Elena hears herself saying. His smile wavers. 

“Yeeeeah, well, I am aware there’s been some bad PR from my part, but-- you see, here’s a funny story-- when Miguel was here--”

“What Miguel was-- what?”

“One thing at a time, Héctor,” the familiar voice of her abuela rings out, causing Elena to look up. There she is, composed and dignified as she remembers, minus of course the skin. And flesh. And nose and other bits. But the smile, that rare fond smile reserved to her family - that has stayed the same. 

“... Hola, Elena,” her grandmother says. “It’s good to have you back.”

#pixar coco #coco #elena rivera #imelda rivera #hector rivera #charity zine

[paoladamasco]

AU MEME 🔆OUR FLATS ARE OPPOSITE EACH OTHER AND YOUR KITCHEN WINDOW FACES MY KITCHEN SO WE ALWAYS SEE EACH OTHER MAKING COFFEE AT 3AM featuring @ofrosso; @benvoliosantodomingo; @romroses; @odessasvernon; @ofcastora

There’s a very specific reason Felipe wants her to move, and Paola is pretty sure it’s the hot neighbor right across from her.

“I like it here, Felipe,” Paola says as she sets breakfast down on the table. “It’s affordable, it’s a good neighborhood and I just figured out how to stuff all my books in here without looking like an abandoned library.”

“You could move in with me,” Felipe offers, stabbing a blueberry with his fork and popping it into his mouth with relish.

Paola laughs as she imagines it: both of them living in either of their cramped flats, with all their things overflowing so there’s no space to even sit on the floor. “It’s a little soon for that, don’t you think? Besides, neither of us can afford a place big enough. And I’m still not convinced I need to move out at all.”

Felipe shoots her a look that says he doesn’t believe her. “Your neighbors are questionable, for one.”

“There’s only been two deaths in the area.”

“Yes, but you hear three gunshots every night.”

Paola shrugs, sipping on her tea in between handfuls of grapes. “I don’t mind it.”

There is it: he can’t help but glance at her kitchen window. Looking for them, Paola knows. She heaves a great and tired sigh to recapture Felipe’s attention, raising her brows pointedly. “You know I’ve never even met them, right?”

“You could have mentioned you live across someone who looks like that when they’re shirtless,” he grumbles.

His frown, all boyish and charming, still wins her over, no matter the reason. Paola’s smile is genuine as she tells him, “They don’t even notice me. Now eat your breakfast, I want to go visit the new bookstore down the street.”

Before they leave, Paola sneaks a peek at the kitchen window. Just like she thought — they’re there. And they’re looking straight at her.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

Marcelo watches the girl who lives across from them, and wonders if she knows she missed a spot while brushing her hair. There’s a hint of bedhead right in the back, still frizzy and bunched together.

They noticed her when she moved in, primarily because she moved in alone. With boxes in her arms, she trekked up the stairs tirelessly for hours with only a bandana holding her hair back. It did nothing to help the sweat; they know the feeling, the burn when it gets into your eyes. They remember grinning when they saw it happen to Paola, as she squeezed her eyes shut and began wiping furiously at her eyes.

They didn’t leave their apartment to offer their help, of course. It wasn’t their problem; it was just an interesting show, and they liked that she never seemed to tire. Every few hours, she stopped to eat a banana over the sink and take a long sip from a beer bottle. They liked that, too.

It’s pure curiosity that keeps them watching this tiny, waifish girl who single-handedly moves endless boxes — many of them books, the heaviest and the worst kind — into a tiny apartment. It’s been several months since she’s moved in, and they’ve learned quite a few things since.

She likes to make tea during the day, but she makes coffee at night. She seems to have books everywhere and even reads while cooking; it’s always a different volume in her hands. Sometimes, the two make eye contact and she always looks surprised to see them; she also always smiles.

She has a boyfriend. They didn’t know that until today. Apparently, the boyfriend never spends the night.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

It’s 3 AM, and Felipe is long gone; but Paola is wide awake, devouring the book of philosophy she bought from the new bookstore. Or at least, she’s trying to be wide awake. Eyelids growing heavier and heavier, the solution is obvious. She needs at least two cups of coffee to get through this next chapter — and then maybe three more for the next.

She rises from the couch and heads to the kitchen. Instinctively, Paola looks out the window for the person she’s become used to seeing at this hour. Yep, as usual, they’re pouring a drink too.

Just after she’s noticed them, they lift their head. Their eyes meet.

They raise their brows at her as if they’re asking a question. Paola lifts a hand and smiles as if she’s giving an answer. And she can’t help herself — she ends up taking a quick peek at their shirtless torso, a sight she’s seen nearly every night and still can’t seem to get enough of.

Okay, she’s starting to see Felipe’s point.

Paola turns away quickly, focusing on her coffee and willing herself not to look back at them. She’s been dating Felipe for two months, and it’s been fun. Nearly effortless, with conversation as enjoyable as their silence is comfortable. It’s rare for Paola to find people she connects with so naturally. Since he first introduced himself, she’s blossomed beneath his attention.

She takes a sip from her cup and decides to get curtains for the kitchen window in the afternoon. It solves everything: Felipe will feel more comfortable, the dip in her stomach will stop and she won’t waste as much coffee looking for excuses to see them in the middle of the night.

Before she returns to her reading spot, Paola looks for one last sight of them. But they’re gone.

Why is she so disappointed?

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

As it turns out, curtains can be quite expensive. It also doesn’t come with the set-up she needs to get it ready, so Paola is quick to abandon her search. She doesn’t look too deep into how easily she abandons her project. It’s inconvenient, and out of her already-skim budget.

Over the next month, Felipe grows more distant — sometimes, when she goes to spend the night, his eyes are glazed over and never seems to be quite there. She has a feeling he’s using something, but he always vehemently denies it. Paola keeps an eye out for anything that gives him away every time she visits. Felipe is a recovering addict; she can try to save him, but she is only a helping hand. Ultimately, Felipe is the only one who can pull himself out of the abyss.

She still sees them intermittently during the day, and always every night. They’ve developed a routine: they hold up whatever liquor they’re drinking, and Paola shows them the book she’s reading. Sometimes, they’ll smile at the cover as if they recognize it. Whenever it happens, she’s overwhelmed with the temptation to go to their door and ask if they do.

But Paola is smarter than that, so she never does. Although, admittedly, she has gone to her door as if she’s about to make the first step outside.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

They saw the boyfriend in person, once. Out for a drink with their friends, it’s a regular night for Marcelo. Bellamy is beside them and talking to the bartender, making friends as he always does wherever he goes.

Roman is flirting with everyone at the bar while keeping a close eye on Odessa, who’s dancing and pretending she doesn’t dance for his benefit. They roll their eyes and throw a shot to the back of their throat. Idiots.

Castora is fighting off every single person who dares make a pass at her. Next to her is Armand, who goes by his middle name — Ajax — and has been best friends with Castora since they were children. He’s also in love with her and it’s obvious to everyone but Castora. Marcelo flags the bartender down for another shot. It’s something of a game tonight: one shot for every idiot duo they see tonight.

They’re scanning the room for the rest of their friends when they spot him: the boyfriend. They straighten slightly as they search for the girlfriend. She’s reading a book that their dads used to love. Part of them wants to ask her for her favorite parts, as if it will give them a new piece of their dads to remember and lock into their memory.

She’s not with him. Damn. Whatever, it’s just a stupid book and they have plenty of their dads to remember anyways. The bartender finally arrives with their shot, and they take it without a beat.

The boyfriend is coming closer, and he’s loud. Marcelo can’t help but start listening in.

“It’s this new drug called faerie’s blood, and I’ve never had anything like it. You guys have to try it, I can ask my dealer to hook us up…”

They wonder if Paola dabbles in drugs, too. It’s not that they have a problem with that — but somehow, she doesn’t strike them as the type. But what do they know? They’re just neighbors who have this weird, hidden ritual that they look forward to every night, for some forsaken reason.

Marcelo orders another shot. They’re not sure which idiotic duo it’s for this time; they just know they need one, now.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

Felipe is using again. She can’t say what drug is in the small plastic bag in his wallet, but Paola is positive it’s a drug. The two fight for hours. Felipe insists he’s being careful, and he’s sick of being watched like a hawk. Paola calls him weak, a liar who knows he’s ruining his life and choosing to do it, anyways.

The two are broken up by the end of the night, and Paola returns to her flat with her things. Hot, angry tears roll down her cheeks as she throws out whatever she finds that belongs to him: a few T-shirts he left behind, his toothbrush…

She’s pouring out the perfume he bought for her down the kitchen sink when they show up. They’re wearing a shirt, for once. Paola likes them in a shirt, even a simple gray T-shirt with their built chest filling it out nicely.

They hold up a bottle of scotch. Paola doesn’t have anything to hold up: no books, no coffee, nothing. She just stares at them blankly, until their expression becomes visibly bewildered and they shake the bottle in their hands as if to remind her of their ritual.

An idea dawns on her.

She holds up a finger for them to wait. Before they can respond in any way, Paola grabs the last book that made them smile — she’s kept it on her coffee table all this time — and runs out to find them.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

Their door looks exactly like hers, but it feels entirely different. Paola takes a moment to stare at it, contemplating all that it means: seeing them up-close without glass between them, hearing their voice, learning their name… All of it is so simple, so necessary; yet they’ve found a way to communicate without it.

Is this stupid? Is this too rash, not even 24 hours having passed since she and Felipe broke up?

It doesn’t feel stupid; it feels right, it feels brave, it feels like an adventure. It doesn’t feel rash, either, with months and months of silent interactions and their nightly show-and-tells.

Paola doesn’t care; she’s going to do it.

She knocks on the door. When it opens, she’s struck by how tall they are. Paola blinks up at them and studies the small details she’s never been able to see across the distance. They have more facial hair than she realized. Their eyes are startling, not quite brown and not quite green.

They’re so tall. Paola isn’t sure why she’s so fixated on that, until — without her thinking it, without her questioning it — her hand is reaching up to cup the back of their neck and bring them down to where the small people like her live. Their lips crash together, uncomfortably at first; it takes only a short beat to find a rhythm, and when they do, they lean into it as if they’ve done it their whole lives. They seem to realize what’s happening a second after Paola does, hands gripping her waist and pulling her flush against their body.

She’s the first to pull away, breathing harder than usual. They don’t even seem to be affected — as if they expected this all along and it’s her who’s late to the party. There’s a smirk on their lips, the lips that she just kissed. Paola wants to kiss it again until they have to swallow their smirk, until all that’s left is the same smile she saw when she held up the right book title.

“Do you think kissing someone the night of your breakup is a bad thing to do?” Paola asks.

Surprise flashes across their face, but they look almost satisfied as they respond, “The better question is, do you care?”

She likes their voice. Better yet, she likes their answer. She smiles at them stupidly, having nothing else to say. It’s Marcelo who breaks the silence, stepping aside to make room as he says, “Want to come in?”

“I thought strangers weren’t to be trusted,” Paola points out, hoping the sincerity of her voice is understood as a joke.

It’s a relief when they laugh. They get it, she thinks, they get it. “I’m Marcelo.”

“I’m Paola.”

“Great, now we’re not strangers. Get the fuck in here already.”

#au meme #i think of you / but i no longer speak of it (marcelo) #drug tw

[justahopelessssromantic]

Barbecue

Imagine Request. Reader is new to the town and makes friends with Felipe who invites her to a barbecue being held t the club. She is weary but he insists saying that his two sons will also be there. The day of the barbecue arrives and they both head there together. She notices a lot of good looking bikers. The men all admire her as Filipe introduces her to everyone. They all try and seduce the pretty new girl much to Felipe's delight.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request nonnie! I'm sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy 🥰 I really love your idea!

Word Count: 1322

*gif not mine*

Felipe handed over your package waving off your money for your steaks. "Please, this ones on me." Felipe smiled kindly at you. 

"You know if you keep giving away things for free you are going to go out of business." You pointed out putting your wallet away anyways. You knew there was no use in arguing with the older man. You'd find some way to pay him back. "If you won't let me pay for my meat then you at least have to let me cook for you one of these days." 

Your friendship with Felipe may seem odd to any onlookers but he was the first person you met and befriended after moving to Santo Padre for your new job just a few weeks ago. Unpacking and fixing up your new place had become more of a chore than you were expecting so you hadn't gotten around to meeting really any other residents of the charming small town. You were rather shy and not great at making friends so staying in and keeping to yourself mostly wasn't much of a problem. 

Felipe knew you didn't have any other friends besides him and your best friend back home. You were such a lovely girl he only wanted to help you out in any way that he could. "Alright I'll let you cook for me one of these days." You both knew he hadn't had a really good home cooked meal since his wife passed. 

"Great!" You beamed up at him excited to show off your skill in the kitchen. "How about Friday night?" 

Felipe nodded. "Sounds good. Oh and one more thing." He caught you just before you were about to leave. "There’s a barbecue on Saturday at the Mayans clubhouse. I would love it if you would come." 

You chewed on your bottom lip thinking of how you could turn him down. You weighed all the excuses in your mind. "I don't really know Felipe, I've got lots to do at home. I just don't know that I could." You tried to let him done gently but he was stubborn and saw right through you. 

"Come on you can take one day off," he insisted, "Just come with me for a little while. Do an old man a favor." He chuckled. Felipe took your hand in his, hoping to ease your nervousness. "My two sons will be there. I would love for you to meet them. Just come for a little while. If you hate it and want to leave I will take you home." 

"Fine, but I'm holding you to that." You teased. "I'll see you Friday, 8 o'clock." If he was going to insist on you going to this barbecue then you were going to hold him to your dinner plans. 

The day of the barbecue came and needless to say you were nervous. Your dinner with Felipe the night before helped a little as he told you about the club, the mayans, and mostly his two sons. 

You stepped out of Felipe's truck shutting the door behind you. You straightened your outfit out, smoothing out any wrinkles from the drive over. Felipe extended his arm out to you with a smile. If his sons were anything like him you knew you’d like them. He was quite the gentleman. 

The first person you met as you entered the part was a kind, although a little odd, man named Chucky. He was very friendly and offered to bring you back a beer which you thanked him for. 

The guys were hanging outside just fucking around when you walked in. Their attention immediately turned to you, the unfamiliar girl on Felipe’s arm. 

“Hey Angel, who’s that with your Pops?” Gilly asked, not taking his eyes off you. 

They all watched your interaction with Chucky. You smiled at Chucky saying something before he left. Shortly after Felipe turned to you and said something quietly in your ear which made you laugh. 

All the men were drawn to you as they watched on. You had their full attention without even knowing. 

Angel shook his head, “I have no fucking idea but I can promise you by the end of the night I will.” 

“Maybe she’s Felipe’s new woman.” Coco chuckled. “Careful Angel you don’t want to have the hots for your new step mommy.” 

"Fuck you." Angel tossed something at Coco chuckling. 

The guys erupted into laughter catching your attention. You felt a little nervous looking at all the handsome guys in front of you. Their laughter immediately died down as you approached their table with Felipe. 

Each guy was prepping for possibly the most important interaction they could have with you, the first impression. 

Bishop came down from the deck along with Hank and Taza to greet you first. “Felipe you must introduce us to your beautiful plus one.” Bishop gave you a charming smile. 

“This is (Y/N).” Felipe introduced you. “She just moved to town not long ago. I can already say that Santo Padre is a much better place with her in it.” 

You blushed at the compliment, your cheeks heating up. The smile that played on your lips stayed as the introductions continued. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you (Y/N).” The way Bishop said your name made you feel like he had known you forever. 

“Where did Felipe come across a beauty such as you?” Hank asked from behind Bishop. 

“I actually met Felipe at his shop. He has an excellent business.” You glance back at Felipe who had stepped back a bit with Chucky. 

“The best in town for fresh meat.” Taza agreed with you. 

"Besides in my pants of course." Creeper chuckled patting Taza on the shoulders. "If that's something you're interested in." 

"Don't be disgusting, Creep." Riz butted in. "Ignore him. I promise we're not all disgusting assholes like this jackass." He motioned over to Creeper. "I'm Riz. The only proper gentleman here." 

Coco nearly choked on his beer when he heard that. "Yeah a real fucking gentleman." Coco set his beer down. He looked you over giving you a smirk. "Nice to meet you." He gave you a nod before excusing himself going with the quiet and mysterious approach instead. Sometimes less was more.

EZ passed Coco as he came out of the clubhouse. He saw the guy all around you. You must be the new girl his father told him about, he thought. “Ezekiel Reyes. Felipe's son. Most people call me EZ.” EZ smiled. He shook your hand introducing himself. “Pops told me lots about you.”

Angel scoffed. Before EZ could say much more he got up from the table and butted in pushing his brother to the side. “Angel, the better way more experienced brother.” Angel said with a wink. 

You didn't have the chance to respond before EZ gave his brother a little shove back which quickly turned into the two having it out.

You giggled watching them. This was quite the introduction.

Felipe watched the guys and chuckled. He had a feeling this would be their reaction to meeting you. He sat back and enjoyed the show along with Chucky.

Gilly came up beside you watching on as Angel now had EZ in a playful headlock. “They’re all a bunch of idiots.” He commented chuckling as the men started coming in saying who they thought would give in first. “But they are rather loveable idiots. I'm Gilly by the way. How about we go inside the clubhouse for a drink and get away from the craziness for a while." He figured he could sneak you away to himself while everyone was engaged in the fight. "It's much quieter." He gave you a smile. "I'll tell you anything you want to know about the guys." He offered. He may not tell you all truths. He'd definitely paint himself better than the rest. 

It was every man for himself after all.

Tagging: @jad3djay @fairygardenss @carlaangel86 @starrynite7114 @gemini0410 @naytraydr @knowles-morgan @woahitslucyylu @everyhowlmarksthedead @ktiz90 @brothersofmayhem @brothersofmayhem @ifoundmyhappythought @vsfavs @scuzmunkie @chibsytelford @sadeyesgf @blessedboo @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @toni9 @mayans-sauce @briana-mishell24

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #felipe reyes #angel reyes #ez reyes #coco cruz #bishop losa #riz ariza #creeper vargas #taza romero #hank tranq loza #gilly lopez

[whattimeisitintokyo]

Somos Familia Ch 39: It Hits the Fan

Chapter 39: It Hits the Fan

Today was the day!

Miguel's birthday!

Héctor chuckled to himself as he finished shaving and wiping off the leftover shaving cream off his face, leaving behind the little tuft of hair that was his goatee. He had often considered shaving it off completely, being too old to have such juvenile facial hair, but at this point in his life it was practically trademarked. All his official photos and even illustrations of him all had it. He was practically stuck with it.

He chuckled again, letting his mind drift over these trivial things that made him smile. Any thoughts that didn't include what this day also was. Yes, he would put items on the ofrenda for his beloved daughter, tell her how much he missed her and loved her. Even give a respectful nod to Ernesto's foto. But other than that his thoughts were only on Miguel's birthday party. All the family would be there, everyone would feast on Miguel's favorite meals, presents, games, laughter and love. If he just concentrated on that then the pain wouldn't be so bad.

He didn't sleep well last night. He never did on the days leading up to Dia de Muertos. He vaguely remembered waking up crying once last night, but he was soon lulled back to sleep by his wife's calming presence and he was fine afterwards. She didn't even say anything when he awoke the next morning, and he was thankful for that. He could pass off the dark circles under his eyes on his age, and no one besides Imelda would notice.

He stepped into his walk-in closet and pushed aside Imelda's beautiful dresses to get to his clothes. He was feeling particularly festive today and pulled out his royal purple suit jacket off the hanger. Thinking about which tie would go well with hit, he looked up and saw something gleaming in between the hanging clothes.

The golden tooth of a grinning skull.

Immediately his mood dropped as he blankly stared at the headstock of his once prized guitar. He didn't feel any pride or joy in looking at it, hadn't even played it for over nine years, but he couldn't bring himself to hate it either. Many times he had considered giving it away or, in his more depressive states, simply throw it into the dumpster where he felt it belonged.

But he never could. Because his beloved wife had given it to him on his birthday, oh so many years ago.

'Y-you… bought this for me?! I don't know what to say…'

'You don't need to say anything Héctor. Feliz Cumpleaños. Now stop saving your money for it and go buy yourself some food, tonto.'

And then she had kissed him for the first time ever. On the cheek, yes, but it had made his whole head burst into flames and his ears buzz. It was the true beginning of their relationship, and this guitar was the key. It was a precious moment in his life: a fond memory. So no, he couldn't get rid of it so easily. But it wasn't going to stay in the closet anymore either. He'd have a talk with Chente later about sending it off to Rivera de La Cruz Records to be put on display to the public if they wanted it. It would still be his, but he wouldn't have to look at it anymore.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Picking up a red necktie he pushed a bunch of clothes over the guitar, concealing it again, and walked away.

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

"Facundo! Don't smear icing on your sister's dress! Anselmo! Osvaldo! Stop fighting, you're in front of company, show some respect! Ay, Dahlia hold the baby for me, would you? You're the oldest, you need to help Papá."

Miguel walked into the courtyard with Victoria to absolute mayhem, with Victoria pulling him out of the way just in time before a sticky pastry struck the wall where his head was. Nodding his thanks to his niece he looked out to see Elena and Charlie playing with five other small, very rambunctious children dressed in their best church clothes. Soiled in mud, breakfast foods and sans shoes of course, but there was an effort to get Martín and Rosita's children dressed nicely for the special occasion. Martín was standing over them, trying not to be knocked down by the running, screaming children as he also tried not to drop the baby girl in his arms. Matty was also seated at the table set outside, holding Clara and looking very smug that his own children were behaving themselves properly, and Julio was looking out at the chaos with a thousand-yard stare.

Sitting down after finally passing the baby to his eldest, Martín slumped into a chair with a groan and leaned towards Matty in exhaustion. "Remember the Nazis? How easy it was with them? They were so neat and organized. Precise."

"They blew your leg off, amigo."

"At this point in my life, I wish they blew something else off."

"Papá, Papá!" One of Martín's sons came up to him, pulling on his sleeve and smiling with gapped teeth. "Charlie wants to play horses! Can we, por favor?"

"Ay, all right." Reaching down underneath the table, Martín fumbled around a little with belts and straps before pulling off and giving the child his prosthetic leg. "Don't get it dirty and do not, I repeat, do not… stick forks in it again."

Suddenly Julio sat up with a smile and shouted. "Hey everyone! The birthday boy is here!"

All the little children stopped immediately to look at Miguel standing in the doorway, before screaming again and running into him for hugs. This time Victoria didn't help, and Miguel let out a squawk when he was bombarded with seven sticky children. "Feliz cumpleaños, Miguel!" several little voices yelled out.

"Agh!... Gr-gracias… AHH! You guys are squeezing me to hard!"

"Ah, there you are mijo." Imelda swooped in and managed to pry the little ones off her son, brushing down his hair and giving him a kiss. "Fashionably late to your own party, I see. You look very nice today."

"Gracias, Mamá." Miguel said, pulling down his sleeves to cover up the wristbands that Victoria had made for him. 'I've gotta look nice for my performance tonight.' He said to himself. It wasn't a charro suit that he would have liked to wear, like a professional mariachi, but the bolo tie and shiny new boots were a nice touch.

"Well I hope your hungry." Imelda said. "We've been cooking up a storm all morning in that cramped little kitchen. And Wanda has made a delicious surprise for you."

"Cinnamon rolls!" Wanda said happily, placing a tray of pastries absolutely dripping with icing and candied nuts on the table. "My grandmother's recipe. I really hope you'll like them, but if you're anything like your brother then I know you're going to love them Miguel."

"No, I don't love them." Matty said, already double fisting the freshly glazed rolls with hungry eyes. "I'm damn near addicted to them. I crave them all day every day. But they're considered a Sunday food, and I'm forced to go without all week! It's torture, hermanito, pure torture."

"Which reminds me, since I'm making them on a Friday that means you've had them two times this week. So, we can skip them on Sunday and have them the next week."

"What?!"

"It's actually a little funny." Wanda said as Matty started to hoard as many rolls as he could in front of him. "Rosita's had three so far, but she's been pouring lime juice all over them. Lime juice! Can you believe it? How can you eat something so sour with something so sweet is beyond me!"

The others laughed a little and started to doll out the rest of the pastries to everyone else, with only Matty noticing the way Martín's face had turned pale white and he sunk lowly in his chair. "Lime juice?… Oh, no no no no nooo…"

Matty shook his head with pity, but mostly with exasperation, and ate his cinnamon roll. "Cochino…"

Breakfast was delicious, of course, and the party continued throughout the day. There were party games, cake and ice cream and even more sugary delights that threw all the little children into an even more manic frenzy until they had finally passed out underneath the shade of the tree. The ofrenda had been set up, decorated with flowers and offerings for Imelda's parents, Leti, the late Facundo and even Matty's friend Barto, while the adults shared stories of their dearly departed despite Héctor's best efforts to divert their attention to another party game or business idea he had. Even Chente and his best friend Javier had come to whish him a happy birthday to join the festivities. They always seemed really cool to Miguel, and he also felt like they understood his frustration with the lack of music.

Miguel absently kept checking the clock every so often, time seeming to move achingly slow as it creeped towards seven. He had hidden his guitar underneath the ofrenda table, somewhere he knew his father wouldn't be near that much, so it would be ready to be picked up when he left.

But for now his concentration was on opening the last birthday present, then he could go get his real gift. "Wow, sneakers! Gracias Tío Oscar y Tío Felipe!"

"Not just any sneakers." Felipe said proudly.

"But the new Rivera Freeflyers!"

"The new line of children's shoes-"

"-that goes on the market next year."

"Designed by us of course."

"But you're the first kid to wear them!"

"Feliz cumpleaños!"

Smiling, Miguel set the shoes back in the box. "That's really cool. Thanks again. Is that the last present? Aw man, that's sad. But I guess good things can't last forever. Well, if we're done I have some stuff I-"

"Atata. Not so fast, Miguel." Héctor walked up to him, smiling widely. "Because I also have a present for you."

Sitting back down, glancing at the clock again, Miguel's smile drooped a little in uncertainty. "Okay…"

Clearing his throat theatrically, Héctor stood next to his son in the center of the room spoke loud for all to hear. "Twelve years ago today, Miguel Rivera… beloved nephew, tío, brother and son… was brought into this world. A harrowing, frightful day for the whole family, especially for his dear mother, mi diosa, but one that ultimately ended in triumph. For that tiny baby was able to grow into a healthy little boy, and who has now grown into the fine young man standing before us all today."

"And since you are on the brink of adulthood, it's high time that we start thinking about your future, Miguel. Specifically what you're going to do for a living when you grow up. Now as much as we, and pretty much the whole world, loves your Mamá's shoes I get the feeling that's not where your passions truly lie. But after having a talk with Chente yesterday, we came to the conclusion that maybe your future lies with… Rivera de la Cruz Records."

Miguel noticed the way his father flinched at saying Ernesto's name, like he always did, but that didn't matter at the moment. There was a sudden bubbling of excitement and anticipation welling up inside of him, and he happily looked over at Chente for a confirmation. The former assistant, now CEO of the biggest movie and music production company in Mexico, gave him a silent smile and thumbs up. Turning back to his father with a big smile, Héctor continued.

"So your mother and I talked about it last night, and we both decided the best opportunity for you would be-"

Miguel could see it now: His name in lights, the crowd chanting his name, strumming a guitar just like, no better, than Tío Nesto's. Singing songs that he had written himself, the crowd singing along with him because they were so good, so memorable. Immortalized for all time by doing the one thing he truly loved to do: Playing the guit-

"-to start training you in business, just like your brother! And to start with that, we're going to enroll you in business management classes!"

…..

…..

"… What?"

There was not a sound coming from anyone else in the room. Wanda, Julio and Coco looked at each other in complete disbelief and mild disgust, Matty slowly bringing his hand over his eyes in complete exasperation. The other adults in the room cringed and suddenly became very interested in their plates of leftover food and cake, except for Vicente and Javier. Poor Chente stared at Héctor like he had just condemned the man to his death, eyes wide and mouth agape in horror, while Javier was bent nearly in half in his chair. Shoulders shaking and biting down on his clenched fist, Javier was doing everything he could to not just bust out laughing at the entire fiasco in front of him. Oblivious to everyone's obvious displeasure of his grand announcement, Héctor continued.

"There's a school nearby. In San Benito. They specialize in training children for college. Mateo, you went there, remember?"

Nodding and smiling painfully, Matty said, "Yes, Papá. I remember going… I remember willingly going-"

"Well, you did so well there that we thought Miguel would too! Now, they've got a new program where they include room and boarding, and you can do your regular schooling there."

"Which" Imelda interjected, "I have already vetoed. They still have just the same smaller classes every other weekend that you went to, Mateo. I don't want our little boy to be away from home for so long."

"Right," Héctor said. "I agree with her. You'll still go to school here, so don't worry about that. You won't miss your friends or your family. But I feel like this is a great opportunity for you."

Miguel felt like congratulating himself for how well he was hiding his displeasure from his parents. No, displeasure was too light a word for how he was feeling. He felt like his face was about to break and shatter for how long he was holding the rictus of his earlier smile, and his heart and stomach freefalling down to his boots. He felt like he was slowly dying, and yet his parents were looking at him like they were doing this for his own good. And they were proud of it too!

Maybe it was his own fault: being so secretive about who he truly was and what his interests were. His parents didn't know who he was at all and thought he would be glad that they were practically dooming him to a fate worse than death.

Swallowing painfully, almost as if he felt like he was about to cry, Miguel croaked out. "W-well… That's… a lot to take in."

"It's just an idea, mijo." Héctor said gently, as if finally sensing that his son might not be totally ready for such a radical change in his life. "And you've got plenty of time to decide. We can talk about more in the morning alone."

"It's just that that- uh…" Miguel fumbled a little with his wristbands hidden under his sleeves. "I'm not like Matty was when he was my age. I mean… I'm more like a normal kid, you know. Not a nerd like him."

"…Hey…"

"I mean I not as smart as him. I won't be any good in a school like that."

"Don't worry about that, Miguel." Imelda said softly, placing her head gently on his head and smoothing his hair. "You'll have your family here to guide you. We'll help you every step of the way. You won't be alone."

"And to help you even more, here's another present!" Héctor said. From behind his back he pulled out a small briefcase, made from leather dyed in a brilliant shade of red, and the letters M.R. embedded on the front in solid gold. Placing in the boy's hands, Héctor smiled widely and clapped his hands with pride. "Look at that. Another businessman in the family! You look so professional already! Ha ha!"

Glancing down miserably at the briefcase, as if he were handed a live grenade instead, Miguel nodded and once more looked up at his parents with that same faked, gritting smile. "Gracias Papá… Gracias Mamá…"

"Aw, feliz cumpleaños, my boy!" Héctor said as he hugged his son happily. "And don't just thank me. Thank Chente, since this was also his idea!"

"Ohhh…." Vicente moaned, trying to ignore the way Javiar was applauding loudly next him with that stupid smug grin of his. "Please don't thank me…."

"Better watch out!" Héctor jokingly said. "One day Miguelito here will take your job out from under you!"

"…I'll do that…"

As the adults carried on with their conversation, Miguel kept looking at the briefcase in hands. It really was a beautifully designed briefcase, something that Matty probably carried around all the time and would probably love having himself, but all it did was make Miguel want to cry. This wasn't what he wanted at all. This wasn't him. And the fact that his own parents didn't see that in him, couldn't see that, broke his heart.

He would have started crying then and there until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning he saw Victoria standing next to him, giving him a look of sympathy and understanding. But also of defiance. Glancing down at the briefcase in disgust, she said, "Put that thing away and go get your guitar. Wanda and Papá will distract Abuelito and everyone else. It's showtime, Tio."

With a start Miguel looked over at the clock and gasped. All his inner turmoil had made him nearly forget about the contest! And it was in twenty minutes! With Victoria giving him an encouraging smile and a slight shove Miguel took off to the ofrenda room. Ducking underneath the tablecloth he flung the accursed briefcase underneath it and grabbed his prized guitar, feeling so much better now that it was in his hands. Glancing to his late sister's foto, and then to his Tío Nesto's, Miguel gave them a watery smile.

"Wish me luck." He whispered, and then headed out the doorway.

No one noticed he, Victoria, Matty and Coco leave the party at all.

Except for one little girl with a big mouth.

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

Picking up a small, fried grasshopper from the bowl on the side table, he twisted it to and fro for his grandson to see. It was such a lovely surprise: Here he thought there wasn't many chapulines left for the season, and then all of a sudden Julio gifted him with a heaping bowl of the crunchy little things! Then Wanda had come up to him, saying that his grandchildren wanted to spend some time with their grandfather and to tell them stories. He was more than happy too, even if it was odd that he and the children were practically shoved into the kitchen and the door was slammed shut. But for now, with Clara babbling happily in his arm and with Charlie's rapt attention, he continued his story.

"So at the end of the day, there I was: Scratched up by dried alfalfa, bitten all over by every mosquito there ever was, and with a bag of caught grasshoppers slung over my shoulder. I took it to old Señor Perales and he would fry them up for the customers, and for my pay he would give me a handful of them on a stale tortilla. Sometimes that would be the only thing that I would get to eat for the whole day. But I didn't mind much, it was worth it for me. They're good, no?"

"They're salty." Charlie said as he crunched one with a grimace.

"Sí. Salty, crunchy and my favorite snack. And that was the first job I ever had at four years old. Your age, mijo! Grasshopper catcher extraordinaire."

"My friend Timmy likes to pick out earthworms from his Mommy's garden and eats them too, even with dirt on them! Is that the same thing, Grandpa?"

"No, your friend's just odd."

"Oh."

The sound of the door being opened caused the three of them to look, only to see Elena poking her head in. Héctor was immediately worried: His granddaughter looked very troubled, staring at the floor and lip trembling, trying to decide if she should come in or not. Shifting the baby in his arms to free his hand he held it out. "Elena? Is there something wrong?"

Nodding a little, she slowly edged her way in and closed the door. "My tummy hurts…"

"Aww, too much cake and ice cream, huh?" Héctor asked kindly, squeezing her hand when she took it. "I guess it also didn't help that your cousins gave you too much excitement as well. Well, if you want I can walk you home-"

"It's not that, Abuelito." Elena said softly. "My tummy hurts because I feel guilty."

"Guilty? Did you and your sister have a fight? Because if you said or did something to make her upset I'm sure she'll forgive you. That's what a family who loves each other does, mija. We always forgive each other with time."

Eyes widening, Elena looked up at her grandfather with a slight glimmer of hope. "Really? Family forgives each other for anything?. They don't… get really mad and hate them for it?"

"Of course not."

Elena smiled a little at that, looking like she felt a little better. Then her smile faded, and she shook her head. "No, no… Papá says that I should always do what my parents say…"

Blinking in confusion, Héctor nodded in agreement. "Uh, yes… Yes, children should do what their parents say. Your Papá's right."

"Buuuut…"

"…But?"

"But you're Mamá's papá…" Elena said slowly, nervously picking at her fingers and biting her lip hard in agitation. "So, she has to do whatever you say… right?"

Now he was growing concerned. Pulling his granddaughter close to him, Héctor made Elena look at him squarely in the eye. "Elena, if something is wrong with your Mamá you need to tell me, claro? Now, what's going on?"

"….Well…"

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

"Congratulations, Señor Magallanes."

"Oh you too, Mrs. Rivera."

Chuckling and clinking their mugs of coffee, Julio and Wanda sat on the old boarded up well and each took a sip of the hot brew. They watched as the Reyes children ran around the courtyard in a wild frenzy, having woken up from their sugar comas and putting an end to their parents' moment of peace and quiet, and smiled smugly to themselves. Both because they were thankful that their own children were not as wild and rambunctious, and also for a job well done.

"Nice work on getting the fried grasshoppers so late and getting so many. I'm told they're a seasonal…delicacy." Wanda grimaced at the word.

"Gracias. And that was a nice move of giving him your kids. 'Charlie wants to hear all about you when you were his age!'" Julio chuckled at that. "It really was a nice distraction."

Wanda hummed and gave a sultry smile, gazing off into the distance. "Well, Matthew has always said that I am… a master of distraction. In more ways than one"

"…Uh, right…" Taking an uncomfortable gulp from his coffee mug and coughing awkwardly, Julio changed the subject. "So when should they be back?"

"Well Miguel is the first act." Wanda said. "So it'll start at seven, he'll sing his little song, then Matthew and Coco will bring him right back. So I guess they should be back in about half an hour? Plenty of time before anyone notices they're gone. And if they ask we'll just say he went to a friend's house."

"Thirty minutes?" Julio asked, a little downhearted at the thought. "So, he won't get to stay to see if he wins?"

Wanda nodded in sympathy. "Yes, it is a shame. But honestly do you really think he would win? I mean, I know he's very good, but he'd be going up against musicians who have been playing for much longer than he's even been alive. It seems a little unlikely, right?"

"Sí, you're right… It still would be amazing if he did, though."

"Honestly I think the poor boy just wants to be heard. Can you blame him? Especially after that… gift his parents gave him. Ugh…"

"Sí. Let him have some fun for one night." Julio nodded, bring the cup back up to take a sip. "Thirty minutes. Plenty of time. Go out, perform, come back. No one will suspect a thing."

"All will be well." Wanda agreed.

The sudden slamming of a door hitting the wall startled everyone in the courtyard. All the children skidded to a halt, the adults stopped talking immediately, and all eyes turned towards a very livid Héctor Rivera.

"MIGUEL IS GOING TO PLAY THE GUITAR IN THE PLAZA?!"

Clara started to cry in fright in her grandfather's arms, but Héctor paid her no heed as he marched up Julio and Wanda. "Elena just told me that Miguel's playing in the contest! Julio, is that true?!"

Julio stared at his father-in-law, chalk white and looking like he was about to drop dead on the spot. His mouth worked itself up and down, but all that came out was choked squeaks and croaks. "Uh-uh…uh uh…ah…uh."

With a growl, Héctor turned his glare to his daughter-in-law. "Wanda, did you know anything about this?!"

Wanda, also much whiter than usual, managed to give a nervous half smile and shrugged with a weak chuckle. "Uh… No hablo es-pan-ol?..."

"Forget it!" Héctor shouted, placing the now screaming baby in her mother's arms and turning out to the exit. "You all want to go behind my back?! Fine! I'll put a stop to this myself!"

As Héctor left the courtyard in a mad dash, Julio wilted with a moan. "No no no no! This has all gone to hell. We had one job to do and we failed even that! Matty and Coco are going to kill us!"

Wanda shook her head, trying to calm down her poor baby. "No, they won't!"

"You're right. Only Coco is going to kill only me!" Julio cried. "Elena, why did you tell Abuelito?! You promised you wouldn't!"

Elena was sobbing by now. This wasn't supposed to happen: Abuelito had said that he wouldn't be angry, that he wouldn't hate Miguel for what he did. But it was all a lie! "You don't keep secrets from family, Papá! I couldn't stand lying to Abuelito!"

"What is going on here?!"

They all turned to see Imelda, Rosita, Martín and the twins coming out of the ofrenda room, confused as to why everyone was either in shock, scared or crying their eyes out. With a sigh Wanda came up to them. "Oh, Mamá Imelda, you might as well know now. Miguel was going to play the guitar at the music competition in the plaza-"

"What?!"

"- and Papá Héctor just found out. He's going after them to stop him. I've never seen him look so mad! I think he's going to do something-"

"Stupid…" Imelda finished, hitching up her skirts to run as fast as she could in her high heeled boots. "Dios mio, Héctor! Héctor come back!"

"Oh Rosita, could you take the baby?" Wanda asked as she handed Clara to Rosita. "I need to go to! Matthew might need my help! Come on Julio, Coco needs you to!"

"Wait! Coco will need my help as well!" Rosita cried out. "Martín, mi amor, hold the baby and hold down the fort. Oscar, Felipe! Let's go!"

"Wait, what?!" Martín cried out, watching helplessly as all the adults ran out of the Rivera complex, leaving him alone with nine children all under eight years old, screaming and crying with fright. Looking at Clara in one arm and his own crying daughter in the other, Martín growled in frustration. "Oh sure! Leave all the kids with the one guy who can't run away! I see how it is! This is discrimination! I am a war veteran, I deserve some respect and a break!"

"Don't worry, Tío Martín…" Elena sadly said, taking Clara away from her uncle and holding the baby close. "I'll help you with the babies…"

"Ay, gracias Elenita." Martín sighed in relief, patting her head gratefully. "You're a good kid."

Burying her face in her little cousin's blanket, Elena tried to hide as the tears came pouring out again with her sobs. She wasn't good. She didn't deserve the praise. She deserved to be punished, not Miguel. Miguel was going to be kicked out of the family. Abuelito hated him now.

It was all her fault.

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

"I knew it." Miguel moaned as he, his siblings and Victoria made their way to the plaza. Clutching his guitar for dear life, as if he was afraid it would be ripped away from him, he hung is head low while Victoria guided him by his shoulders. "I knew Papá would never even consider letting me play music, he just hates it too much. I'm gonna have to play in secret for the rest of my life."

"Yeah." Victoria sighed with a pout. "I guess I'm going to have to as well. I'll never get to dance in the likes of La Scala or the Royal Opera House. I'd even settle for dancing at a rec center at this point."

"Cheer up, both of you." Matty said. "Miguel, you know Papá doesn't hate music. He just… has some hang-ups about it that is hard for him to overcome. A lot of bad things happened to him, and he attributes it to music. You understand, sí?"

"No, I don't." Miguel said. "And that's easy for you to say. Papá sang and danced with all three of you and let you play instruments. I never had that."

"That's not true, Miguel." Coco said. "Papá used to sing to you all the time, especially when he tucked you into bed. And he played his guitar for you, don't you remember that?"

"No. I was a baby, Coco."

Coco tsked and shook her head in mock sorrow. "Well that is a shame. You should remember stuff like that. I, for one, can remember stuff quite vividly all the way from when I was about two years old. It's a gift I possess."

Breaking out of his current funk, Miguel looked up at his older sister and smirked. "Gee Coco, maybe you should be the one in the talent show instead of me."

Matty barked out a laugh and nodded. "Yeah, you could tell everyone what you had for breakfast in May of 1936."

"Or recite an old shopping list you made ten years ago." Victoria added.

Coco huffed and crossed her arms with pout. "All right, all three of you can go kiss a burro."

"Well we can't do that now, because," Matty said as they rounded the corner, "we have arrived at our destination."

As they all walked into the plaza, Miguel smiled when he saw the gazebo decked out in the familiar decorations for Dia de Muertos: garlands of cempazuchitl flowers, papel picado and, most excitingly, posters for the contest. He also saw several other musicians dressed up in charro suits and practicing on their own instruments. They had probably been practicing for much longer than he ever had and were probably better than him too. But Miguel didn't care if he won or lost the contest, he just wanted to perform in front of people. To show them all that he had what it took to be a musician. And luckily for him there were plenty of people who had come to watch.

A very… large amount of people.

Practically the whole town. Even other kids from his school were there.

Suddenly Miguel felt a nauseous curl in his belly, and his breath seemed to stick in his throat. Without realizing it he took a step backwards, softly bumping into his sister, and flinched in surprise when she knelt down to speak to him.

"Miguel?" Coco asked softly. "If you're nervous you don't have to go up there."

"Wh-what?" Miguel asked, wincing when his voice gave an unexpected squeak and trying to cough it away. "Nervous? I'm not nervous!"

"You're really pale Miguel, and you started sweating bullets in less than five seconds." Victoria pointed out. "It's actually quite impressive."

"Callate!" Miguel grumbled.

"It's alright if you've changed your mind, Miguel." Coco said and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "We can just go right back to the museum, and Papá will have never known you were here."

The very mention of his father, how much he hated music, how he would be forced to play music in secret again if he backed away now, how this might actually be his last chance to perform before he was to go to that stupid business school, steeled something inside of Miguel. Straightening up, jaw clenched tight and his guitar held up like a shield, he shook his head vigorously. "No! No way! I'm gonna play in mariachi plaza if it kills me!"

"That's the spirit!" Matty said. "And good thing too because it looks like you're on now!"

"What?!"

"They're beckoning you over! Knock 'em dead and break a leg, gordito!" With a hearty slap on the back Matty propelled his little brother towards the stage. As they all watched the boy meekly walk to the contest coordinators, Matty leaned into Coco. "He can sing, right?"

Coco nodded. "Of course! He has the voice of an angel, you're going to be blown away."

"Either that or he's going to blow his dinner all over the stage floor." Victoria said.

Miguel took his place next to the steps of the gazebo, turning back to wave at the siblings and niece, who all returned it with a thumbs up. With his back turned to them again Matty sighed wistfully. "Papá would really love this. He would be so proud. If… you know…"

"If he was like he used to be?"

"Si…" Matty nodded. "It just doesn't feel the same without him here. Miguel is so much like how our father was: Filled with a love of music, bursting with creativity. Miguel may look up to Tío Nesto, but I see Papá in him more than any of us."

"You're right." Coco sighed. "I wish Papá were here to see this too."

"SOCORRO! MATEO!"

Coco and Matty immediately felt their hearts stop, blood seize up, insides clench and air leave their lungs as they heard their full names bellowed out from behind. Turning around they saw a sight they had never seen before. Héctor Rivera, normally so jovial and mild-mannered with all he encountered, marching towards them red-faced and glaring holes into their very souls. As he got closer and closer to them, Coco whispered, "Itakeitback, Itakeitback!..."

Placing himself in front of his sister and niece like a shield, Matty leaned causally on his cane and smiled shakily. "H-hola, padre! Qué tal? I d-didn't expect to see you come to the plaza today. They're having a music contest right now so you might want to go back and-"

"Would you both care to explain to me," Héctor said as he reached them, very close to seething like a bull. "why I had to hear from Elena that my son is going to play the guitar, on a stage, in front of an audience?!"

With a loud groan Matty turned to glare at Coco. "You told la Lengua Larga about the plan?!"

"I told you it was a bad idea, Mamá."

"So this was your idea!" Héctor growled as he glared at Coco. Distantly they could hear Imelda calling out as she was making her way to the plaza herself, but they all ignored her for the moment. "You're letting your brother perform? After what nearly happened to you? What did happen to your godfather?!"

Coco glared back. "What happened to Tío Nesto was terrible, but it was an accident that could have happened anywhere! It had nothing to do with music! Why can't you see that?"

"It has everything to do with what happened to him!" Héctor shouted. "And I will not have the same thing happen to my-"

"Put your hands together for our first contestant, Miguel 'De la Cruzito' Rivera!"

As a loud smattering of applause and cheers erupted, the family turned to see Miguel taking the small stage of the gazebo. Smiling nervously and waving at the crowd, he didn't seem to notice the brewing turmoil taking place amongst the audience. Héctor gritted his teeth and was about to make his way towards his son to put an end to this nonsense, when one of the nearby bands decided to strike up some intro music for the young guitarist. After all, the son of the world's greatest songwriter, the patron of Santa Cecilia, deserved a grand entrance for his musical debut.

And they couldn't have picked a worse song.

As the trumpets blasted the upbeat version of Remember Me and the audience clapped along to the beat, Matty and Coco moaned in dread and instantly went into damage control. Coco and Victoria shouted in vain over the crowd to get the musicians to stop, but their voices were lost among the deafening cheers and song. Imelda heard the song playing from the distance, and with a curse tried to run even faster to her husband. Matty grabbed his father by the shoulders and shook him, trying to direct his attention to him. "Papá! Papá, listen to me. Listen to my voice. It's okay. It's just a song. Come with me, we'll get you out of here…"

It had been about a year since he had heard that song last. Not intentionally, of course, but when a song is that popular people are bound to either sing it aloud or try to play it themselves. One such incident occurred when he was out with Elena for a treat of ice cream, when suddenly he had heard it. A quite lovely rendition on a violin by that scarf-wearing kid with the weird facial hair whose named escaped him. But it was enough to do the trick. Several painful minutes of him hunched low to the ground, pressing the heels of his hands into his ears hard, trying to get his breathing under control. His own granddaughter, seven years old at the time, was forced to take action herself: Swatting that kid with her shoe in order to stop him from playing, then sitting with him silently and comfortingly until the panic had finally passed. They had both lost their ice creams on the ground that day, but the two had grown even closer due to the experience.

But those same feelings were rushing back just like that last time: Nothing had changed. Immediately his heart started hammering and it became hard to breathe, his insides squirmed and clenched painfully and those awful visions flashed in his mind again. As the song continued he didn't see his eldest son frantically trying to get his attention, but his youngest daughter wheezing her last breaths in his arms. Of Ernesto walking away from him to the stage, underneath the bell that would eventually turn him into nothing but a smear. And the blood, so much blood. He could smell it, practically taste it.

He was about to try to block out the sounds like he always did and then curl up in a ball, when he happened to glance at the stage again. Ernesto was there, about to perform with the bell perch precariously over his head. But no, that wasn't Ernesto standing there. It was-

"MIGUEL! NO!"

Breaking Matty's grip on his arms he made a run for the gazebo, pushing and shoving others out of the way. He didn't hear their exclaims of alarm and pain as they were roughly shoved aside or to the ground, nor the cries of his family as they begged him to wait, to come back. No, all he heard was that damned song playing loudly in his head, now a ticking timer to the point where, at the end, his boy would be no more.

Miguel didn't notice his father parting through the crowd at breakneck speed, too busy tugging on the emcee's sleeve to tell him to make those musicians stop playing the song 'That's the song I'm going to play.' But it was too late, and as the band played the last triumphant note he turned back to the crowd with an eye roll and hefted his guitar up to begin to play the song everyone had just heard.

Just in time to see his father diving straight for him.

Imelda reached her oldest children just in time to see Héctor tackle Miguel and send them both flying to the back of the gazebo. The incident was so shocking that aside from a large gasp from the crowd, it became so still and quiet. Quiet enough that everyone was able to hear the sickening crunch once the two of them landed in a crumpled heap.

A flash of terror made it's way down Imelda and her children's spines. "No…" she breathed, and then quickly made her way to the gazebo herself, the others following her.

The song was over, put panic was still surging through Héctor as he got up and immediately started checking over his boy. "Miguel! Are you all right?! Sit up, let me see!" He patted his body up and down, trying to see if there were any injuries, thankfully finding none. But the boy seemed shocked, and frantically he cupped the boys face to look in his eyes. "Did you hit your head? Look at me, mijo-"

"Papá…"

Miguel's eyes were widened with shock, but surprisingly the wind was not knocked out of him nor was he scuffed or marked in any way from the surprise tackle. The guitar in his hands, however, was not so lucky. It had taken the brunt of the assault and protected the boy from harm, but it had not survived. Three of the strings had snapped right off and were coiled in bent angles, the body was completely caved in from the center hole and up, and the neck had broken cleanly in half, now only connect by the remaining strings. His beloved guitar was now destroyed. His father had destroyed it.

"What-? Why?... What have you done?" Miguel whispered as he gripped the broken neck and tried in vain to get it to stick back into the position. "It's ruined…"

Héctor looked down at the broken guitar in his son's hands, taking in the cheap gold paint that had been sloppily painted all over it. The crude designs done in brown, and the headstock. That same mocking skull that looked so much like his own, except for the one personal detail that he had made for his older brother: The thin mustache above perfectly white grinning teeth. His worries and concerns over his son instantly vanished. He was fine. Now what came back was more comfortable, easier for him to handle: Rage.

"Where the hell did you learn to play guitar?!"

Miguel's attention snapped back to his father, and he shrunk back at the ferocious anger meekly. Before he was able to squeak out a pitiful answer, he felt eyes on him. Turning slightly he paled when he saw everyone in the crowd looking at him with morbid curiosity. The whole town had watched as his supposed debut had crumbled to ash, his most prized possession had been reduced to kindling, and his father was now bearing down on him about to start a very public fight.

It was all ruined. It was too much for him, and the poor boy broke.

With a choked-out cry of heartbreak Miguel flung what was left of his guitar away, shot up to his feet and fled from the gazebo. The crowd gave him enough room to make his getaway and he was grateful. He didn't want to be held back, didn't want to be touched by anyone. Especially his family. He heard his Papá angrily yelling at him to come back, his Mamá pleading with him to do so as well. But he couldn't even look at anyone right now.

He just ran and ran, broken sobs escaping as he gasped and panted.

He hated his birthday.

#coco #coco pixar #pixar coco #coco fanfic #Hector Rivera #miguel rivera #mama imelda #mama coco #worst #birthday #EVER

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

NO ; MADS

HAPPY LOWMAN X READER

@arved asked: So... Would you write a story where you are Bishops younger sister and you ve met Happy, and starts having feelings for him... Your brother won't like it...

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @starrynite7114 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gifs credits to: @mayans-mc

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

You leave your car parked at the Romero and Brothers entry, looking for Chucky to tell you where Bishop's bike is. Your brother texted you last night to ask you if you could have a look at it because it started to make a noisy sound somewhere in the front wheel. Some of the guys in the crew know about mechanics, but he only trusts your hands to touch his baby, so you had to drive from Mexico. The kind man with strange hands, whom you love so much, tells you that Bishop is not there but his bike is parked next to the clubhouse. Nodding, you go downstairs off of the office, to walk through the small alley on your way to find what paranoia your brother has this time.

You run the heavy metallic door with Mayans symbols, raising an eyebrow when you see some motorbikes you don't recognize at first, but you don't give it more importance than that it has. Taking out of the pocket of your shorts the copy of the key, you walk towards the green bike with the intention of ride it to the car scrapping, when you hear a hoarse voice calling for your attention.

“To the floor! Hands up!”

Five men are pointing at you with loaded guns, following the indications of an older one without hair and covered in tattoos. He throws the toothpick, that it was in his lips, walking closer. You stop the engine without any sudden movement, and your hands on your nape. You're breathing fast, leaving the motorbike at your back.

“Call Bishop”. He says. And you don't know what disturbs you more, if the lack of gesticulation on his face or the calm tone voice.

“I'm...”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch”.

Rude.

You were going to tremendously enjoy it when your charter comes back and finds you kneeling on the ground. They try to contact your brother, but seems like he's driving, 'cause there's no answer. Even so, it takes you only two minutes to hear the motorbikes coming. Taza is the first one who sees you, braking abruptly and throwing his helmet to the floor.

“The hell you' doin' man?” He shouts, till all the Mayans appears.

“Put your fuckin' guns down!” Bishop runs out of the dark van, to help you.

“She was stealing...” The unknown man tries to say, confused and lost in the situation.

“She's my fuckin' sister!” The Mayans president is pissed off, while Taza holds your hands to put you up.

“You ok, chiquita?” He asks looking you from top to bottom.

“Not sure if I'm more scared than horny, or more horny than scared”. You answer wrinkling the bridge of the nose, your crew laughs shaking their heads.

“You hurt your knees”. Bishop sounds worried, repairing on the small burns on your legs. The concrete and gravel floor was hot, but you didn't notice it 'cause you were busy trying not to die by a gunshot.

“Bish, it's ok. I would have shot without asking”. You placed your palm on his shoulder, before Tranq lifts you up in his strong arms. “It's always an adventure to come see you”.

“I'm sorre', we didn't know”.

“Yea', did you ask her?”

“Let's take care of the Mayans' warrior”. Your savior chuckles, walking upstairs to the clubhouse.

┅┅┅┅┅┅

Chibs screamed, his gaze upon the skies when he heard news of his men’s actions upon his arrival. You two know each other since your brother became president of the charter, always being a gentleman and treating you as one of his own family. But you said one hundred times that everything was fine, rolling your eyes while you were hearing him cursing in scottish. The man who pointed at you first introduced himself as Happy, and you couldn't help laughing at his name.

At least, he was fucking hot and worth it.

┅┅┅┅┅┅

Night has fallen in Santo Padre and the latin music has flooded the clubhouse and its yards. The delicious smell of Felipe's meat is in the air, mixing with the laughs and shouts of the charters having a party between brothers. And there you are, lying inside the ring with your forearms behind your head looking at the stars and a beer next to your body. Turning your head to the main group of men, you check that the Son's is staring at you like ten minutes ago. You chuckle shaking your chin, putting back your gaze to the sky.

MEANWHILE

“So, wha's she doin' here'?” Chibs asks your brother, who is drinking his beer.

“I think something is happening to my bike, and she's the only one allowed to touch it”.

“Half Mayan and mechanic... Is she single?” The vice of the Sons of Anarchy asks without any shame.

“Yes, she is. But I don't want a motorist from any charter to be her man, 'you hear me?” The Mayans president is forceful, leaning forward on his seat.

“I'm too old for the club, I'm leaving it, Chibs. It was a pleasure”. Happy is the one who talks this time, and you can hear him, of course.

You can see how the man is getting up of his seat, taking off the vest to give it to the SoA president while everybody laughs except Bishop. He walks to the makeshift bar, next to the barbecue, to obtain two beers. Now, you have to hide the fact that you weren't looking at him. The older man gets inside the ring, standing up in front of you. Raising your gaze, you lift an eyebrow.

“Can 'invite you to a beer?”

“I already have one”.

Without expecting, he kicks it away from you, but you don't move a single inch rolling your eyes.

“Wasn’t pointing a gun at me enough? I think ya've already covered your aggressiveness quota for the day”.

“And I think that love was born between us when I called ya' bitch”.

“Is that what you tell to every girl?” You ask sitting on your forearms and crossing your legs, one over the other.

“I'm not a man of words”.

“You don't have to insure it, flaco”. You sigh for a second, raising a hand to take the beer he's offering you without a gesture on his face.

“So, you're Bishop young sister, uh?” He says, having a seat in front of you. After almost one minute in completely silence, he talks again taking you by surprise, even if it wasn't uncomfortable. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight. I found him when I was fifteen. My parents abandoned him, before I was born”. He nods because of your words, looking thoughtful. You have a sip of your drink, waiting for him to say anything. But, that doesn't happens. “You have a lot of tattoos. Which one is your favorite?”

It's a cliche to ask about something like that, but you can't take your eyes off of them, because all that you can see around his arms and neck are traces drawing stories on him. You tattoo on your free time, so you're kinda passionate and he has truly pieces of art on his skin. Happy lifts up the grey shirt, showing you many more, before pointing the big and curled cobra on his chest and abdomen. You run your fingers over it, enraptured and your lips almost open so slowly that you can feel the way his abdomen contracts under your touch.

“Man... It's fuckin' amazing. I love the green path, but it is somewhat worn. I think I could fix it”. You say, trying to not sound too rude.

“Fix it?”

“Yea'! Addin' more color”.

“No, I mean. You tattoo?”

“I did most of the Mayans tattoos”. You nod then, with a proud gesture on your face, as he does after you. “I got my stuff in the car, if you want”.

“Sure, I would like to see what are you capable of”. He says calm, getting up off the ring and offering you his free hand, pushing you up on your way for a new adventure.

With a confidence that you don't know where it come from, he surrounds your shoulder with his arm, walking closer to you, but in complete silence. You can see your brother staring at you with his pursed lips against the beer he's holding. You pass them by, and if looks could kill, Happy would already be dead. Taking the key out of your pocket, you unlock your car to open the trunk.

“I got it”. He says going ahead, taking the heavy case full of different stickers on it.

Walking towards the clubhouse to get in, you stop your barefoot in the middle of it, looking for the best place.

Finally, you point the sofa on a corner, with a plug near of it, where you can put your machine.

“Shirt off”. You say, hearing how he chuckles almost in silence, obeying the order.

Now you're able to see many more tattoos around his back and arms. Good god, he can point a gun at you again, whenever he wants. Swallowing and clearing your throat, you prepare to mount the whole show. Your hands are cleaned with alcohol before covering them with the latex gloves, placing the ink cangs on the table by your side. The buzz of the needle floods the club, noticing that Happy doesn't feel anything when you start with the color over his lower abdomen.

You're focused in tattooing and cleaning the leftlover ink that bothers your view, even when you have a good point of light overhead. His skin is more tense than yours, being older and more tattooed, and that surprises you. The Son is getting you nervous, with his gaze on you, but not on the ink, making you raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

“It's the first time a woman tattoos me”. Happy says, after some seconds looking like he's trying to find the correct words.

“'Cause you're a male chauvinist?” The needle stop, staring at him for a moment.

“'Cause I never found a woman who did it”. The smile he gives you makes you tremble slightly.

You continue with your task, stopping some times to check that the ink is uniform in every inch, till it's finished. You take a case cream tube, taking off one of your gloves, pulling it with your teeth, to put some of it on the reddened skin. Happy shakes a little, making you laugh hoping it's not because of the pain he was containing to look ‘more like a man’ and don't get embarrassed.

“Shit! It's cold!” He growls.

“Genius...” You break into loud laughter, while he snorts.

You caress his skin spreading the cream over the retouched tattoo, so slowly that you see how much he's enjoying it with a soft smile on his lips, before covering it, so that the excess ink doesn't stain the shirt when he got dressed again.

“Do you like it?” You ask with curiosity, getting up to admire your art.

“'Course, but it seems like you wanna do anotha’”.

“Seems like”. Cross-armed, you purse your lips.

“A tattoo for a kiss”. Yes, you were expecting it, making you squint at him.

Taking off the other glove and almost laying on the table, you reach your bag next to the case, looking for a cigar to light between your lips. You've seen him smoking before, so you do the same with him. Another way to keep his mouth occupied. Curling your legs on the table and surrounding them with your arms, you tilt your neck gently. He has a lot of happy faces tattooed by the cobra side. At first you think it's some kind of bad joke, until you realize it.

“You were nomad. That explain the shitty face and the holy silence”. You say having a smoke, with your gaze now on his. “A face, a life”.

The Son has an arm behind his head settled on the sofa, and you start to notice that maybe he's not good with words. But you like to read. So you do. Every gesture, for minimal that this could be on his face. His eyes vibrating, trying to keep yours. The way he has to swallow the smoke of the cigar. The skin of his throat going from up to down in a fast move. He's not ill-at-ease, but seems like he would like to hide that part of his life.

They are recent. Your fingers run over them, outlining each stroke. Those tattoos couldn’t have been more than six or eight years. The black ink was first, and looks like he added the yellow one somewhat after that. But when you're about to travel the last one, right before an old demon, he grabs your wrist. His fingers closing tight around it, loosening the grip some seconds after in a ephemeral caress that dries your mouth.

“Whatever I want?” You ask in a whisper referring to the tattoo, watching how he leaves his cigar in the ashtray next to yours.

Happy nods. Taking his right hand to place it on your, the noisy needle is back. In the ring finger, without needing a pre-design, nor anything of the session before that one, you tattoo a semicolon. Maybe bigger than you thought, but at least he's gonna see it all the time. After, you put some cream on and cover it with plastic film, you admire it one last time. So he does.

Time to pay your debt.

He puts a hand around your wrist it to urge you to lie on top of him. His legs between yours and his free hand tangled in your hair. His gaze could say more than thousands words and your eyes lost in it. Your nose brushing in a soft touch, till your lips meet his in a mild kiss with some kind of desperation. And before a last look, he tilt up his head to catch them again. Your chest laying on his, with no distance between both, breathing fast. Your tongues fighting, wetting the other, taking some air by your nose while his arms surround your hips and your hands travel to Happy's neck.

Maybe, the fact that most disturbs you is that he hasn't any intentions of fucking you, at least, not tonight. And you know it by the way he has to turn your body, lying by his side on the sofa. But the kiss doesn't stop, till he decides to attack your neck. You bite your inner lip, pressing a hand on his head to pull him closer, while his teeth drags on your skin before licking and suck it. He's making his own tattoo, even if it's gonna disappear in some days. And you can't help a gasp that escapes from deep in your throat.

Somebody knocks on the door.

“Happy, we should go”. His prospect's voice sounds behind it.

The man snort against your skin, pulling himself away some inches to admire his own piece of art, before bite your lips back.

“Happy?”

“I'm old but not deaf!” He shouts, turning to the door for a second.

“Sounds like Cali is calling”. You chuckles, getting comfy between his arms to enjoy the last seconds together.

“Next time, it will be permanent”. He replies referring to the hickey on your neck.

Leaving you alone in the sofa, he gets up to dress his shirt and take his stuff to keep it in a pocket. Happy leans toward you, placing one hand on the headrest, to kiss you one last time with some dearly that overwhelms you. Then, he leaves the club, with his eyes on the tattooed finger.

It takes you a minute to get up, being somewhat recovered, walking towards the wood railing outside to watch how he's wearing the Sons of Anarchy vest. Your brother comes next to you, adopting the same position but without his gaze on you.

“Did you fuck him?”

“I tattooed him”. You answers with a smooth smile on your lips.

“I don't know which one is worst”. Bishop sighs shaking his head, before turning at you. “He was a nomad”.

“So do I”.

“Es diferente, (Y/N)”. (It's different).

“Yea', él lo hizo por dinero. Yo lo hago por placer”. (Yea', he made it for money. I do for pleasure).

“¿Cómo lo sabes?” (How do you know it?)

“Porque sus tatuajes están rellenos de amarillo”. ('Cause he got the yellow on his smileys).

Bishop bow his head with a heavily snort drowning in his mouth, before licking his inner lip. “I can't lose you”.

“You will not. Maybe he was the reason I was looking for, to settle”.

“A man that pointed you with a loaded gun and called you ‘bitch’”?

“A man you can trust in. Don't you?”

You got it. You've caught him.

Your eyes flies to Happy, turning around to look at you with his shitty face, before getting inside the van that his prospect drives.

#sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman imagine #happy lowman

[hide-in-imagination]

“Roads That Cross… At Open Musics” (Ch4)

You can read the previous chapters here: (1), (2), (3)

(Revised: 30/08/21)

It was the morning of the Open Music. Or “Flash Open”, as Ámbar had called it, because it had really been planned on record time. She'd announced it one afternoon and two days later here they were. That meant they'd only had one day for rehearsals (more like 3 hours because many of them worked), but Simón was confident that their performance with the guys would be a success. They sounded amazing and the moves they had come up with were great— They were gonna rock it.

He was at the bar while Pedro worked in the lockers when he heard someone call his name.

“Simón!”

He turned to find Ámbar approaching the back of the bar rapidly with a pen and clipboard in hand. She looked pretty with her thin-strap black top over her grey t-shirt (if he was honest, she always did), but she also looked agitated.

“I need you to change the graphics of the screens,” she told him, pointing at the televisions around the cafeteria. “From now on, they should only show the Jam & Roller logo. The Red Shark’s one is outdated and has to go, it’s about time.”

Simón smiled. Finally, things in the Roller were getting back to how they used to be.

“I love that idea, I’ll get to it right now,” he said and turned around, but she called out to him before he could take a step.

“Wait! Did you do the soundcheck?”

“No, but I was going to do it n—”  

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Ámbar started speaking again. Or, more accurately, throwing inquiries at a high speed. 

“Did the delivery guys arrive with the costumes yet? Are were loaded up on food? Big audiences mean more food than usual. The lighting of the stage background is on point? I would hate for one of the light bulbs to go out in the middle of a performance.” Her eyes widened. “Oh god, what if half of them end up going out and the stage just reads ‘Open’? Like, ‘Open nothing’, what would I do?”

He had been right, she was agitated. It got him worried, he didn’t like seeing her like that.

“Hey.” He took a step closer to her, leaning over the bar's counter so she looked at him. “Hey, slow down. Everything’s going to be fine,” he told her in a calming voice, but Ámbar shook her head.

“I can’t slow down. Look at this huge to-do list,” she said, pointing at her clipboard. “There’s still a hundred things that need to get done and time’s flying by."

She left the clipboard on the bar, staring at it in distress. Simón reached over and placed his hand over hers in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture.

“Well, I’m here for you. Whatever you need,” he told her honestly.

Her eyes danced between his, and it was only then that he realized the moment was turning into something deeper than it should. He'd been so focused on making her feel better that he forgot he was meant to keep his distance.

“…Boss,” he added to his sentence, pulling his hand away from hers. It was his job to help her after all, so that made it less personal. Right?

Ámbar didn’t seem to pay any mind to those things though. She just gave him a little smile. “Thank you. And sorry for attacking you with all this but I’m stressed. Like, really stressed out because it’s my first event as manager of the Roller and I want everything to be perfect, you know? Like, not a thing out of place, not a single mistake made and— … Why are you looking at me like that?”

A smile had grown on his face without him being able to help it. “Oh, it’s nothing. I was just thinking how much of a perfectionist you always are with everything you do. It’s kinda—” He was gonna say cute, but he managed to stop himself before it slipped out. He really shouldn’t be calling her cute right now. Actually, he shouldn’t be thinking it. Couldn’t he focus for once in his life?

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Go on, boss, tell me what else you need, I’m listening,” he said in business mode. Work. Just work. You’re working.

“Right, um…" Ámbar checked her list again. “…Actually, I think I already told you everythi— Wait, almost forgot. That guy, Michel? He can sing with you guys, no problem.”

Simón nodded, glad to hear it. “Perfect.” After some seconds without new instructions, he asked, “So… would that be all, boss?”

Ámbar rolled her eyes with a smile. “You don’t have to call me boss every single time," she said, amused. But then her smile took a coquettish turn and the look in her eyes grew seductive. “…Unless you have a thing for it?”

Simón raised an eyebrow. Was she insinuating he had a boss kink?

It should've been laughable. He hadn't had many good experiences with previous bosses, la generala being the perfect example of it. But his heart beat faster as he drowned in Ámbar's eyes. She had inched closer, leaning on the counter on her forearms, and he found himself doing the same, as if pulled in by her.

“A thing?” He mused low, as if considering it. “… I don’t know, boss. Should I?”

They kept each other's gaze intensely. Simón could see a fire surge in her ocean blue eyes. He had seen that look before, and his heart accelerated as the images flooded his mind. Her gaze moved down to his lips, and her tongue came out to wet her own. The pure gesture almost made him groan, and that was when alarm bells exploded in his brain. 

WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP FLIRTING WITH HER!

Rapidly, he took a step back and cleared his throat.

“Well, if you don’t need anything else right now, Ámbar…” He said as he moved random food displays on the bar as if he was arranging them, calming his heart and focusing on what was important before he turned to her once more. “Could we perhaps talk a little about the Felipe Mendevilla thing? Please?” Before I lose my mind. “Because I feel like giving Luna a solo performance at the Open isn’t enough to make up for what you did.” 

The guilt of not telling Luna the truth that night had made it hard to sleep. He had just watched as Ámbar made up something to avoid coming clean. Did that count as lying to Luna? He wasn’t sure. All he knew is that the sooner Ámbar talked to her the better.

For a second, he thought Ámbar looked disappointed at the change of topic, but she schooled her expression quickly to one of detachment.

“I didn’t say it was either,” she said pursing her lips.

Simón nodded. At least she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. “Alright. Then, could you please talk to her?” He asked, sounding like a broken record even to his own ears but he couldn’t keep on hiding this from Luna forever, she needed to know.

Ámbar grimaced. “Oh no, I can’t right now, Simón, I told you. I’m this close to collapsing. I have a ton of things to do, look at this list—”

“Hey, what’s up?” Ringed out a voice suddenly. It was Matteo, who was walking towards them with a smile on his face.

Just as he arrived, Ámbar grabbed her stuff from the bar to leave. Before she did, Simón looked at her once more.

“Everything’s going to be alright," he assured with a smile.

Ámbar smiled back at him and turned, leaving the cafeteria to keep on preparing everything for the Open.

Matteo watched her leave and then turned to face him with a teasing smile. “Anything going on over here?” He asked, pretty much wiggling his eyebrows at him. Simón scoffed internally.

Oh, he had no idea.

********************** 

 It had been tough, but Ámbar managed to have everything ready and running smoothly by the time people started to arrive. The place was packed, not only by regulars but also by new faces, which was great because more people equaled more revenue, which equaled she was already doing her job as manager fantastically.

Once everyone was seated and the appointed time arrived, Ámbar stood straight and channeled her characteristic confidence.

Let the show begin.

Ámbar walked up the stage and stood in front of the microphone like she had been born to do so (and she pretty much was). 

“Welcome, everyone, to my first Open,” she greeted the crowd with a proud smile. The audience applauded. She started her opening speech by thanking VIDIA for the opportunity, promising she wouldn’t let them down and that she had many other ideas for the Roller. Now that she was in charge, things were going to change for the better.

“The purpose of this Open is to unite us once and for all. I’m tired of fights.” Especially fights with someone in particular, she thought. “I don’t wanna see any more conflicts, I wanna see close groups and I know you all want that as well, right?”

The crowd clapped and yelled their agreements. The whole point of this Open was to show Simón that she wanted to fix things, that they didn’t need to be enemies just because they were on different teams. It hadn’t exactly worked since he had found out about the Felipe thing, but looking at how happy and excited everyone was, she was sure he’d appreciate this gesture, there was no way he wouldn’t.

She continued her speech, explaining how the performances were divided, two groups and two soloists, before presenting the first one: the boys' team. Asking the crowd for a round of applause, she called all their names before walking down the stage and towards her seat next to Emilia.

The guys appeared on stage with the crowd’s cheer surrounding them. They all looked great in the costumes she had chosen (obviously), but Ámbar couldn’t stop her stare from focusing immediately on Simón. He looked very hot in those clothes. Choosing him a t-shirt one size smaller than usual was the best idea she ever had. The tight black fabric accentuated his chest, shoulders and strong arms just right. Her mouth watered. It was so distracting that she almost didn’t notice how he called Matteo up to join them on stage until she saw him climb up and stand beside Simón.

Once they were all in their positions, the intro of “Nadie como tú” started playing.

Nunca creí en historias del corazón…

Estar enamorado para mí era sólo un juego…

Did he just look at her as he sang that? Yeah, he definitely did.

Ámbar found herself following him with her eyes through all the song even if it was another guy who was front and center.

Tú, me haces sentir

que esto es el cielo y que en la tierra ya no hay como tú

Me tienes así, rogándote please, oh baby

I need nobody but you

God, that choreography was marvelous. Marvelous in the way that had him flexing his arms and showing up his biceps every five seconds. 10/10.

When Benicio came to the front, he pointed at her, calling her attention, and when her eyes landed on him, he winked.

She felt a little bad. Just a little.

When they got to the bridge of the song, Matteo froze, lips parted but no words coming out of them. The change in the air was instantaneous. He forgot the lyrics. 

It was just about five seconds before Simón kept singing the song and encouraged Matteo to continue as well, but everyone noticed. Glances were exchanged. Ámbar couldn’t help but worry a little about him. Sure, they had little to no communication now and their relationship had ended quite badly, but they still had cared for each other once and she didn’t wish him any harm. Not anymore at least, she had moved on. She hoped these after-effects of the fall would only be temporary.

Tú, me tienes así,

rogándote please, oh baby

I need nobody but you.

By the end of the performance, it was like that slip-up had never existed. The energy of everyone on stage was contagious, and when the song ended, the whole audience cheered and applauded, Ámbar included. 

The boys went down the side of the stage, joining their friends on the tables or getting back to work. Ámbar stood and took off her coat.

It was time to shine.

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

Simón was a little breathless from their performance, but it was a great feeling. It was the kind of tired that brought satisfaction because you knew you had given it your all and it had been fun doing so.  

He joined the bar along with Pedro and Eric, ready to go back to taking orders and serving tables, when the girls started filling the stage. He turned towards them, and that was when he really lost his breath.

Ámbar was in front of a row with all the girls behind her, and she had discarded her long coat. It turned out that underneath it she had a skin-tight black costume; pants that hugged her long legs to perfection and a top that left her shoulders bare. All in all, the clothes accentuated every curve on her body. His brain short-circuited for a moment.

Wow.

“And now, I wanna hear you clap your hands even louder for all of us!”

The crowd acclaimed as Ámbar put the microphone away and all the girls took their places on the stage, pompons in hand. The music started playing, the girls started moving. God, that hip movement was illegal.

Sé quién soy, quiero una tregua, mi cabeza no da más…  

The more the choreography advanced, the more Simón had to fight to not let his jaw drop. He was conscious that he was following Ámbar's every move with his eyes but he couldn’t stop himself. She had always shone on stage, he had noticed since the first moment he saw her, and right now wasn’t an exception. Even the pompons surrounded her in the choreography, as if her presence alone wasn’t enough to center all of the attention.

Mano a mano

¿quién es el villano?

Soy la que te enseña más

She threw a glance at him. Simón's heart jumped. She always sang the parts that talked about being bad, which he usually wouldn't have considered that ironic, but at that moment he did, because she looked good. More than good. Maybe he was biased, but he could swear she looked the prettiest of them all. And the sexiest, because while all the others were wearing floaty dresses, her tight black clothes left little to the imagination.

The urge to press her against his body assaulted him and he had to shake his head to stop those thoughts. Focus on the choreography, he told himself. But she kept looking in his direction with a tiny, bewitching smile and it was hard not to return her gaze.   

Buena o mala, siempre señalada

Mano a mano estamos hoy.

The crowd erupted in applause as the performance ended. Simón couldn't help but clap as well, and with a smile on his face nonetheless. It had been amazing. His competitive side wanted to say that his performance with the guys had been better, but he knew his heart was with the girls.

More like with one in particular.

The girls walked down the stage and Ámbar stayed behind to face the audience. Seeming a little nervous, she announced there would be a little break and asked Eric to put on some music before descending the stage as well. Simón saw her walk towards the dressing room. Just two seconds later, he was following her. He didn’t really know why or for what, just that he needed to.

She was turning around just as he passed through the door and she collided with him, taken by surprise.

“Simón.”

She looked even more beautiful up close (if it was even possible). He thought of maybe saying it, congratulate her on her performance, tell her she had been great. He felt like he was vibrating with energy; the excitement of the spotlights, the music, of having her in front of him with those little, perfectly shaped curls. But just a second after he arrived, she asked him—

“Have you seen Benicio?”

—and his heart fell.

It was stupid, really. She was looking for him for the next performance, so of course it was logical that she needed to find him. But the fact that the first words that came out of her mouth were about him was like a slap to Simón's face.

It stung. But it also made him snap out of whatever stupid spell he had been under, so he guessed he had to be grateful. 

Now the only reasonable reason why he could’ve followed her there was clear.

“No, I haven’t seen him," he replied coldly. "Sorry for not being who you’re looking for, but I need to ask you a question.”

Ámbar blinked at his tone. She could’ve sworn that just a minute ago he was smiling as he watched her on stage, what had happened?  

“What question?” She said.

He looked at her with a serious expression.   

“When are you gonna speak with Luna?”

Ámbar did a double-take. Was he serious right now? 

“I can not believe this. I mean, do you really think that in the middle of an Open that I participate in, host, and organize I can talk to Luna? For real?”

The sole idea was ridiculous— She had enough on her plate as it was, what was up with him?

“No, of course not. I mean, you always find the perfect excuse, don’t you?” He accused sarcastically. It was true that she was busy— He could see that, he understood that. But he also knew that if she really meant to talk to Luna, she could’ve done it by now, it was only a few minutes of her time.

She shook her head. “No, no, it’s not an excuse, Simón, I really can’t right now," she insisted, stress painting her voice. "Look at me. Don’t you see how I am?”

He knew that she meant that she was practically in a Grease costume and in the middle of hosting a show, but Simón couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming her figure from head to toe. Her beautiful blue eyes that never failed to muddle his mind. The line of her neck that she shuddered when he kissed. Her smooth skin that he knew was soft to the touch. Her chest, tightly outlined by the black fabric, that almost made his hands itch because they knew how it fit under them and they wanted to relive it. The thin waist he could grab her by and her long, slender legs that he remembered wrapped around him, holding him as if to never let him go.

“Yeah, I see you,” he breathed, voice husky.

The urge to touch her was back. It was always there on some level, buried, but sometimes it was stronger and fought for control. Simón met her gaze and she noticed; he knew she noticed. He looked away quickly, cursing himself internally as he cleared his throat. He couldn’t let her see that, he needed to stay focused.

“I see it, but you could’ve talked to her yesterday, or today before the Open, and you didn’t," he remarked reproachfully. "You had plenty of chances and you didn’t, so I’m starting to think that you won’t.”

Ámbar took a deep breath. His wasn't the best timing, but what he was saying was fair, so she decided to reassure him.

“Alright. Alright, let’s do the following, Simón," she proposed. "I promise you that the moment the Open is over I’m gonna talk to her. Okay?”

He pursed his lips.

“Right. And why should I trust you?" He said, skeptical. "Why shouldn’t I just tell her myself?”

His words hurt her, in tone and meaning. So that was what it all came down to? He still didn’t trust her? That was why he was always pulling away?

She had suspected that, and she could understand that it was complicated but…

“Simón," she started, "ever since I’ve become the manager of the Roller, all I’ve tried to do is reunify everyone. Haven’t you noticed? I’m really trying here,” she said, and couldn’t avoid a little pain to filter into her voice. “Don’t you think that’s enough reason to trust me again?”

Simón looked at her fixedly, searching for any trace of lies or deception but he found none. All he saw was genuine hurt from his words and he felt bad for it. She really had made an effort. She had made all this Open so everyone could have fun together just like in the old days and it had worked.

“You’re right. Sorry," he said after a moment. She did deserve some credit, and he wanted to trust her, more than anything. “But Luna is my best friend and I have to protect her," he argued. "I can’t keep on hiding this from her—”

“I know, I know, just—” Ámbar interrupted him, knowing where he was going with it. “Wait until after the Open, okay?”

He gave her a grave look, then nodded.

“Okay. I’m gonna give you a second chance. But either you tell her, or I will,” he warned, before turning around towards the door.

No.

No, she couldn’t let him leave.

She had seen the way he looked at her, since the moment that he came into the room. That wasn't the look of someone who just wanted to remind her of a promise. His expression could be cold but his eyes didn't show indifference. He was using the Luna thing as a shield to not let himself get close, again, even when it was clear that he wanted to.

Ámbar was done letting him run, and she was tired of waiting.

“What about us?”

The sound of her voice stopped Simón in his tracks. He turned around to face Ámbar again and found her eyes boring into his.

“Do we get a second chance?” 

Simón's heart skipped a beat. She wanted to get back tog—?

No, don’t even think about it.

“Ámbar…” He uttered in a tired voice.

“What?” She asked defensive against his tone.

He licked his lips, looking away from her. “We talked about this.”

“No, you talked," she retorted. "You said that we should forget about what happened, and I don't know if you'd really be capable of it, but I'm not. I don’t want to forget. It was important for me.”

Simón met her gaze. The emotion in her voice matched her expression. Her eyes seemed to beg for him to listen, and as she took a step closer, he found himself captured by them, unable to move.

“I know that you think we’re too different," she said, "or that I’m only playing with you, but I swear to you I'm not, Simón. If you can trust me on anything, trust me on this; I care about you for real. I like you, not anyone else." She shook her head slightly. "I don’t just like you, I… I’ve never felt anything like this in my life.”

Simón could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. He could hear the drumming in his ears, and he was tongue-tied. She was looking right into his eyes, telling him how she felt, how deeply her feelings ran towards him. She was speaking from her heart, he could see it in her gaze. She was opening herself up to him, leaving her heart bare, and wasn’t that what he always wanted? For her to be sincere? For her to truly want him? Wasn’t this what he always wanted to hear?

It was. It really was, but…

“And even if you try to deny it,” she continued, taking one more step towards him, making it so their eyes were centimeters apart, as if he weren't drowning in them already, “even if you want with every fiber of your being to believe otherwise, I know you still have feelings for me too. More than just plain lust; I can see it. So I have a question for you too: Are you gonna face them straight on? … Or are you gonna tell me again that we’ll never happen?”

As the words left her mouth, Ámbar focused on Simón. She had tried to pour everything she felt in this moment, show him how important he was to her, even if it terrified her to take that step. Admitting her feelings left her in a vulnerable position, one she had tried to avoid at all costs all this time, but she had reached a point where she knew it was the only way to move forwards.

She couldn’t keep living in this limbo where one moment things were great and the next they were apart again. She couldn’t keep tasting his lips and feeling his embrace only for him to pull away seconds later. She knew he had his reasons, she knew she hadn’t exactly made it easy, but this back and forth wasn’t good for her, nor for him either.

So she gave him a choice: to give her a chance or not, as simple as that. Because she couldn’t stay like this. Because she knew it was eating at him too. And because she was hoping that, now that she'd taken the step, he wouldn't let her fall alone. 

Simón's eyes flickered with many emotions as he stared into hers. Something that looked like longing, something that looked like fear. Hope and hopelessness, over and over.

It was a long moment before took a deep breath, and then, finally, he spoke.

“I should go, it’s the right thing to do.”

Simón saw Ámbar's eyes shine with pain before she lowered them to the floor, but it was the truth. Walking away was the right thing to do, the rational one. She had a boyfriend, had slept with him while still being with said boyfriend, had conspired against his friends, had hurt him deeply before… Everything pointed him to the opposite direction.

His friends had told him countless times to forget about her. To move on, to not trust her.

“But…”

Her stare returned to his. Those beautiful, beautiful blue eyes that haunted his dreams and every waking moment.

Turn around may have been the right thing to do.

But he loved her.

And he really wanted to kiss her right now.

Closing the one step that separated them, he grabbed her waist and leaned into her lips, sealing them against his own as he held her against him. Ámbar moaned against his mouth and held his face as she kissed him back hard. He could understand her relief; he almost felt like crying from it too. He had been dying to do this, he always was.

As his tongue delved inside her mouth and another tiny noise emerged from her, a voice in the back of his mind attempted to tell him that what they were doing was wrong. But how could it be wrong when it felt so right? How could it be bad if both felt the same?

Her hands threaded his hair and her teeth pulled on his lip and he felt fire on his veins. He pushed her against the wall, needing to feel more of her.

How could it be wrong if their bodies fit so perfectly together? If her hands roamed him and held on to him just as desperately as his did her? How could it be wrong if he loved her?

Maybe because it’s selfish, his brain handed to him.

He had never considered himself to be selfish before. He never threw caution to the wind either, had never been this reckless… but as he felt her curves under his hands and her nails digging on his back, not an ounce of him regretted it.  

Maybe she wasn’t the only one who had to change a little.

He parted from her lips and left a trail of kisses down the bare skin of her shoulder, just like he had been wanting to since he first saw her in the costume. It was almost cathartic. The smell of her perfume was intoxicating. Ámbar gasped when he nipped her collarbone, and then moaned as he tasted her neck. 

“Simón,” she breathed, and grabbed his face to pull him back into her lips. He let her, gladly, drowning one hand in her hair and gripping her hip with the other. There was no space left between them. They kissed deeply, her chest flattened against his own, their breaths merged together in fleeting intakes that lived and died between their mouths. 

They were in a world where only they existed. Until a voice erupted with a cry.

“What the fuck is going on here?!”  

Both sprung apart abruptly, and their hearts stopped when they turned to the sound.

Ámbar stood wide-eyed.

“Benicio.”

It was all she managed to say. Her technically boyfriend was standing in front of them, furious, and with good reason because he had found them at the worst possible moment.

“Ámbar, what the hell are you doing with this loser?!” Benicio roared as he advanced, towering over her dangerously. His eyes screamed betrayal and she was frozen.

“Hey, don’t scream at her!” Simón surged by her side, moving in front of her protectively.  

Benicio turned to him with rage. “You don’t have the right to tell me what to do, you son of a bitch!” He shoved him with force, making Simón stumble backward, his back colliding hard against one of the mirrors. “How dare you touch my girl—”

He took a step towards him with all the intent of breaking his face, so before he could, Ámbar stood in his way. She planted herself firmly in front of Benicio, placing her hands on his shoulders to stop him from moving forwards in his act of rage.  

“Stop it, Benicio! Your problem is with me!” She willed him to look at her. “I was the one who sought him out, not the other way around.”  

“Ámbar,” Simón started, not comfortable with her just taking all the blame, but she silenced him with a look. 

Ámbar focused on Benicio, who had finally turned to her, his eyes boring into her own with spite. When she was sure that he wasn’t going to lunch at Simón again, she took her hands off of him and curled them into fists at her sides. This wasn’t how she wanted it to go. This wasn’t how she wanted anything to go. But gotten to this point, she had no other choice.

Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and spoke with resolution. 

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, but the truth is that I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now. I was never interested in having a serious relationship with you. We had our fun, but that’s it. I don’t wanna be with you anymore. We’re over.”

Simón's eyes widened. Had she really-?

He looked at Benicio, whose face looked like he had been struck. Simón suddenly felt awfully like an intruder, witnessing their breakup like that. Except he wasn't really just an uninvolved third party, was he? He was more like the ‘other man’, who'd come between them and made them break up in the first place. He knew that they weren’t truly romantically involved and so their relationship had close to no meaning, but still he felt the weight of responsibility as he realized that he had, technically, played the role of the illicit lover.

In that moment when he kissed her, he knew she was dating and he didn’t care. He pulled her close, consciously disregarding the fact that she had a boyfriend, because she said she had feelings for him, only him, and he decided that was all that mattered. His heart was screaming at him and for once he just listened.

Even now, feeling guilt over Benicio because he didn't wish this situation on anyone, he couldn’t help but also feel happy because they were done, Ámbar was free.

Did that make him a terrible person? Or was that just how love worked?

Either way, he had done something he couldn’t take back, and the same went for her right at this moment.

Benicio clenched his jaw and glared daggers at Ámbar, every inch of his posture showing how outraged he was by all of this. With tight fists, he moved closer to her face and looked into her eyes menacingly.

“No one plays with me, Ámbar. No one. You’re going to regret this,” he warned, his voice dripping with venom. “…Starting right now. Good luck finding a new soloist for your stupid Open. I’m out.”

As soon as he expelled those words, he turned and stormed out of the dressing room in fast strides. Ámbar’s eyes blew wide with panic.

“What?! No, Benicio, everything’s already set up, you can’t leave now!”

She lurched forward to go after him, but Simón stopped her, grabbing her arm.

“Let him go, he’s not worth it.”

She turned to him, looking desperate. “You don’t understand, this is my first event as manager of the Roller, I need it to be perfect. Everyone’s already waiting outside, what am I gonna do?”

She held her head as she started pacing. God, what had she been thinking? Of course, if she broke up with him he was gonna leave! But what else could she have done? He'd found them red-handed. This was a disaster. What was she supposed—   

“I’ll do it, I’ll sing.”

Ámbar spun around, meeting Simón's earnest gaze.    

���Really?” She breathed with hope. But just as fast, she fell discouraged. “But you didn’t prepare anything,” she noted. She loved that he wanted to help her, but this was very last minute. 

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll make something up," Simón assured her. This was very important to her, he wasn’t going to let it get ruined. He took a step forward and cupped her face, smiling reassuringly. “You just relax. This Flash Open is already a success and it’s all because of you. Be proud, bonita. I am.”

All anxiety and worry quietened as she stared into his eyes. He was right, everything would be okay, she trusted him. Music was his thing; he wouldn't let her down.

And he was proud of her. Those words warmed her heart in a way she couldn't explain. 

Ámbar wished they could stay like that for longer. She wished they could talk about what happened, or kiss some more, or just stare into each other’s eyes for minutes straight.

But the show must go on and they didn’t have the time.

She could feel though that he wasn’t eager to run this time. He hadn’t fled the instant Benicio walked in, nor had he run afterward. He was here, with her, comforting her as his thumbs traced patterns on her cheeks, and that was all she needed for now.

With her conviction restored, she placed her hands on top of his.

“Alright. Let’s do this."

They walked out of the dressing room and Ámbar turned to the stage. She told him that the laptop had the tracks to all the songs they had ever sung in the Roller, so he could choose whichever he wanted as she talked to the audience— She'd buy him some time. He nodded and went for it as she quickly fixed her hair and climbed up the stage.

Simón checked the song list rapidly, debating over which one would be the best right now considering he hadn’t rehearsed.

“Hello, everyone! I hope you’re all having a great time enjoying today’s performances,” he heard Ámbar say in front of the microphone.  

Maybe ‘Yo Quisiera’? No, that one without the guitar wouldn’t have much merit. ‘Tiempo de amor’? But I already sang that one in the last Open, and besides, that song is from the band, I can’t just sing it alone.

… Alone …

An impulse began to rise inside of him. He looked up to see Ámbar, just as she started presenting him.

“For the first solo number, we have the representative for the boys’ team. He’s a very talented person, and someone who I personally appreciate very much...”

As if they were in synch, she brought her gaze to him at that moment and their eyes met.

It was like for that one second everything vanished except for them.  

She gave him a little smile.

And he chose his song. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for: Simón!”

The new faces in the audience clapped vigorously while the regulars of the Roller were slower to react, confused by the turn of events. They exchanged surprised looks but applauded either way, supporting their friend excitedly. Emilia, who had been smiling thinking Ámbar was talking about Benicio, glared at her when she sat back at their table, clearly not happy with the change. Ámbar just ignored her.

Simón climbed up the stage and stood behind the microphone stand, curling his hands around it. His eyes found Ámbar's briefly before he ducked his head, looking down as he waited for the song to start.

As the first chords of the electric guitar filled the place, he swung the mic stand from one side to the other. Diagonal to the right, diagonal to the left. He held it straight once more at the tempo of the music, and only then did he lift his head, facing the audience as the final notes of the intro ringed out.

Ámbar was wide-eyed.

It was “Solos”.

Puedes en mi confiar, puedes dejar que todo fluya…

Ya no hay ingenuidad, no es el momento de que huyas…

Ámbar watched baffled as Simón moved through the stage, singing what she could even call their song. She had almost forgotten that that track was in there. It had been a long time since they sang it together, and she thought they never would again. Now he was singing it on his own in front of all these people. 

Buscas en mi corazón y confundes eso…

Why had he chosen this song? Was it the first one he saw? Was it the easiest to sing?

Ámbar didn't believe he would choose this particular song for a reason as coincidental as that. Then again, she couldn't believe he had chosen it, period. Out of all the things he could’ve done, she wasn’t expecting Simón to do this. She had a mix of emotions and couldn’t pinpoint one.

Juntos solos contra el mundo, una voz por un segundo

En silencio, una mirada, llévame

Juntos sin decirle a nadie, tómame yo soy culpable

Con un beso, una mirada, llévame

He was singing to her.

Her heart skipped a beat when she realized it. It wasn’t just a hint that only she would understand. At first, she thought that, since only Luna, Benicio and them knew it was their song, it would pass as a simple performance for everyone else. But he was looking at her. Not always, he also looked at the crowd, but when he focused on her, the direction of his gaze was so clear and purposeful that everyone could see to whom it was being dedicated. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed many people glancing at her, probably wondering what was going on, but she didn’t turn in their direction— Her eyes were fixed on him.

En silencio una mirada…

Juntos solos contra el mundo…

Wow... wow...

Juntos solos contra el mundo.

The crowd erupted in applause and whistles as the song came to a close. Seconds passed and Ámbar knew she had to stand to present the next number, but he was still looking at her intensely and she couldn’t move.

Simón finally parted from the mic, but instead of descending by the side of the stage, he moved forward, climbing down the front.

Ámbar heard the pounding of her heart in her ears as he stood in front of her, and before she could say anything, he grabbed her by the hand, pulled her to her feet, and kissed her right there in front of everyone.

  ...

..

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Sorry for the delay!!! I hope this makes up for the long wait  🌷

Any thoughts? Did you like it? Did you hate it? You can tell me anything, the idea is to get better each time.

See you next chapter  ✨

@xnivesgray if anyone else wants me to tag them you can tell me!

#simbar fanfic #simbar fic #simbar fanfiction #soy luna fanfiction #simbar #My Writing #god this took a looong time #there were some parts that just didn't sound right #I still feel like it could be better but I rather publish it now and think about how to improve it after #roads that cross