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drabbles-mc · 2 years

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Christmas Party

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

For Day 5 of Bethany & Jo’s Christmas Calendar: fake dating at the Christmas party

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of creepy male coworkers, EZ being just the absoulte best

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This fic has been haunting me for the last week or so and I think I’m finally mostly happy with it? I’m not sure, but I also don’t know what else to add or edit at this point, so I’m setting it free out into the universe for you guys haha. Hope you enjoy!

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

“You gotta promise me that you won’t be mad,” you told him over the phone, trying your hardest to contain the laugh that was building in your throat.

“That’s…not reassuring,” EZ chuckled on the other end of the line.

“I might need you to give up your Saturday night for me…” your voice trailed off, not wanting to tell him everything that had been happening.

He sighed, not because he actually had a problem with blowing off plans for you, but because telling the club that they could shove it was easier said than done, especially with his patch-in vote coming up so quickly. Still, there was so little that he wouldn’t do for you, and the least he could do was hear you out.

“What do you have planned?” he finally asked after a stretch of silence.

“My work Christmas party.”

“Okay…” his confusion was palpable.

“Look, I know the parties you guys throw are much more fun than what this is gonna be, but I really need you to go with me.”

“I mean, I’ll see what I can do?” he sounded genuinely uncertain, “You know I’ll always help if I can, but the club—”

“I need you to be my date,” you cut him off, blurting out the information.

“Your…your date?” he couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. It wouldn’t be the first time you were each other’s plus one to things, but for some reason he could feel that this situation was different.

“Yea,” you sighed, running your hand down your face as you tried to muster up the courage to tell him, “So, um, you remember that guy at my office who was hitting on me?”

“Bryan,” you could envision the way he rolled his eyes as he said it, “Yea. I remember the story.”

“Well. He…he wouldn’t leave me alone. Kept pressing me trying to get my number or a date or whatever. So I panicked and said that I have a boyfriend. And you…you were the first person I thought of.”

He hated that you were put in that position, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t surprised at the fact that you had said that he was your boyfriend. The two of you had always been close, and between him and his brother you had ample protection at bars to ward off unwanted suitors. But pretending to be your boyfriend was an entirely different play.

“So now Bryan thinks that you and your boyfriend are gonna be showing up to the Christmas party together?”

You hesitated before answering, “Y-yea,” silence stretched on the line between you and you felt yourself faltering, “I’m sorry, EZ. I know I should’ve told you, or just not have thrown you under the bus to begin with, but I just—”

“Stop apologizing,” he laughed quietly, “I’ll, I’ll see what I can do. I’m sure if I explain the situation to the guys, they aren’t gonna tell me no. Or at the very least, Angel will cover for me.”

Your voice brightened noticeably, “Seriously?”

“Seriously. They love you, you know.”

You chuckled, “But you love me most, right?”

It was a shame you couldn’t see the grin on his face as he replied, “Of course.”

For the rest of the week, whenever you had a spare moment, your mind wandered to what the party was going to be like. EZ had so easily agreed to be your fake boyfriend for the night, but did he really know what that entailed? He was a bit of a flirt by nature, even if he wasn’t always as obvious about it as his brother, but could he really fake being in love with you for the night? You felt like it was a big ask, at least if you wanted to pull it off successfully. Just to be safe, you checked in with him a couple times to give him a chance to back out, but he always came back with a reassuring, and slightly comical answer.

You knew that you should’ve mentioned to him that it wasn’t just Bryan at work who assumed that the two of you were dating. Word spreads fast, especially in an office where there isn’t much more to talk about. So more than a couple of your coworkers had asked about him. A few of the women had asked to see pictures of the two of you together which, thanks to years of friendship, you actually had. To say they were enamored with the idea of you being in love with a big bad biker boy would be an understatement, but at least they bought into it.

So many thoughts were flying through your head as you put the finishing touches on your outfit and makeup. Red had always been your go-to color for more formal events, and the fact that you were going to a Christmas party just made it all the more fitting. The dress was one of your favorites—it fit you like a glove and went perfect with your gold jewelry. Slipping into a pair of small black heels, you gave yourself a last look in the mirror and decided that you were as ready as you were ever going to be.

EZ offered to drive the two of you, since he was supposed to be your date and all, and you didn’t have it in you to say no. You were nervously pacing the length of your living room when you saw headlights stream through the front windows of your house. You didn’t want to admit to yourself why there were so many butterflies in your stomach, but you knew full-well why they were there.

There was a light knock on your front door and you laughed, like EZ hadn’t let himself in a million times before. Walking over, you grabbed your purse on the way and pulled the door open. EZ was leaning against the doorframe, nonchalant as ever.

“Here to get my girlfriend for a party?” he smiled, laughing.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t try to hide the grin on your face, “You came to the right spot.”

Both of you took a moment to take the other in. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw EZ so dressed up. He had on black slacks and a white button-down with a red tie that matched your dress almost perfectly, which was impressive since he didn’t know exactly what you were planning on wearing. You fought the urge to bite down on your bottom lip, reminding yourself that he was your fake boyfriend for the night, not a real one.

“You look great,” his eyes were a little wider than usual as he looked you over.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Reyes,” you flashed him a smile.

He held out his hand for you to take, “You ready?”

You laughed, setting your hand in his, “I feel like I should be asking you that.”

As the two of you walked to the car, EZ gave your hand a light squeeze as he shook his head, “I spend every day with Angel and Gilly—nothing your coworkers say is gonna shock me or hurt my feelings.”

You chuckled, stepping back as he opened the passenger door for you, “I guess that’s true.”

On the drive over, you told EZ all about the people he was going to be seeing. He listened to you rant about your coworkers pretty frequently, so he already had a basic idea of who he was going to be dealing with. Honestly, if you’d asked him, he was excited to finally be able to put some faces to the names he’d been hearing for so long now. He fought the urge to keep looking over at you as you rambled—he could’ve listened to you forever.

EZ rolled into the parking lot and looked over at the building for a moment before returning his attention to you, “This is the place?”

You shrugged, “Yea, I guess they have some swanky rooftop reception area, and my boss had to blow through the last of our budget for the year,” you laughed.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Swanky, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and gave his shoulder a light shove, “Shut up.”

“What are the chances of this place letting the club throw a party here?” he chuckled as he parked the car.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Please, if you call, make sure I’m there to eavesdrop on the conversation.”

The two of you made your way towards the front doors of the hotel, EZ effortlessly linking his arm with yours as your heels clicked against the tile floors of the extremely nice lobby. If he was nervous, he was incredibly good at hiding it. You just hoped that you could hide it as well as he seemed to. Your heart was pounding inside your chest and your face felt hot—you hoped that it was something only you could notice.

The doors to the rooftop swung open, and you looked over at EZ just in time to see his eyes widen in wonder. It was more upscale than the places the two of you usually went, even when you were going to other parties or weddings together. There were already a good number of people from your job there milling about, making small talk and sipping on what you assumed was their first drink of the night. EZ’s arm tightened against yours for a moment as you both stepped forward, letting the door shut behind you. He gazed around at the whole setup, the lighting, the firepits, the lounge areas and tables.

“What do you do for work again?” he asked quietly with a laugh, “Because I might have to start.”

You chuckled, leaning against his side, “Better brush up on your notes if you’re gonna pull off being my boyfriend.”

He looked over at you, a smirk spreading across his face when he saw you dramatically batting your eyelashes at him, “Don’t worry, I got this. I’ve basically been training my whole life for this.”

“Training? Your whole life?” you laughed as you made your way towards the bar, “To be my fake boyfriend?”

“Yea,” he snaked his arm around your waist, leaning in close to your ear, “you’re gonna be blown away by how good I am at it.”

You laughed, and you hoped that you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt. You tried to check yourself, remind yourself that he was just being Ezekiel, trying to get you riled up and make you laugh. It wasn’t serious. He wasn’t serious.

The two of you were standing there waiting for your drinks when one of your coworkers walked up, a curious smirk on her face as she looked at the two of you standing there. She was clearly trying to get a read on the situation, see if things were really as good as you’d told her they were in the past when she’d asked. You reached and gave EZ’s arm a light, almost imperceptible squeeze letting him know it was showtime.

He turned, his drink in one hand and yours in the other. The smile on his face was as charming as you’d ever seen it. He didn’t say anything, allowing for one of you to make the first introduction.

Your coworker was all too happy to speak up first, “Well, well, well, so nice to finally meet you! Was starting to think that your girlfriend here was never going to bring you around,” she nodded towards you as she held out her hand, “Julia.”

EZ handed you your glass so that he could shake your coworker’s hand, “Nice to meet you, although something tells me that I don’t really need to tell you my name.”

She shrugged, smiling, “I guess not,” she turned to you, “I’m glad that you made it though, really,” she stepped in and gave you a brief hug, “I’m sure I’ll touch base with you again before the night is out.”

You smiled, and you hoped that it looked more genuine than it felt, “I’m sure you will.”

She looked back at EZ, “Enjoy the party!”

He chuckled, nodding, “Thanks, you too,” he watched her as she flitted off to another group of people before turning his attention back to you, “So is she actually that bad at reading people, or does she really not know that you think she’s annoying?”

It got you to laugh as you shook your head, “I really don’t have a damn clue,” you took a large sip of your drink, “I’d like to believe that maybe she’s really just that clueless.”

The smile didn’t disappear from his face as the two of you wandered a little closer to the groups of people who were there, “Alright, so that’s Julia,” he scanned the crowd over the rim of his glass as he drank, “Have you told me about any of these other people?”

You nodded, “Yes,” you tugged him towards a table so that you could set your purse down, also giving you a little distance so you could gesture towards specific people without seeming overly obvious about it. He nodded, taking in everything that you were saying. Upon seeing everyone, a lot of your stories made a lot more sense, and certainly became much more entertaining once he could put faces to the names.

As the evening wore on, you were surprised at how easy it all was, how natural it felt. You had no idea that EZ was such a good actor, seamlessly adding onto whatever stories you were telling as he nodded and laughed along with you. There were moments where you felt light, fleeting touches and you’d spare a glance over at EZ, but he would still be talking with your friends, acting like it was all the most second-nature thing in the world to be close to you like that. The heat from his palm would radiate through the fabric of your dress against your back, or the outside of your arm if he looped his arm around you. Each touch was something that you leaned into with no hesitation, figuring that if you were only going to get one night of it, you might as well milk it for all that it was worth.

You could tell that all of your coworkers were enamored with him—he still had an air of mystery about him in their eyes as your biker boyfriend who cleaned up so nice to come to this party with you. You wondered if he found it all to be a bit much, but there was an amused glint in his eyes, a tiny smirk on his face, that let you know that he was eating it all up. Sure, it was a performance by the two of you but what was the point if you didn’t have a little fun performing?

“So did you guys come here on the bike?” one of your friends asked with a laugh.

You laughed as you shook your head, “Not in this dress,” you took a sip of your drink, “Next party I’ll put together an outfit with pants so we can, though.”

You were all laughing together when EZ’s hand, that had previously been resting idly on your hip, gripped onto you slightly. His body tensed up just enough for you to notice, and you turned to him, immediately wondering what put him on-edge like that.

It only took one scan of your surroundings to see what had caused the shift in demeanor. It was actually surprising to you that you’d gotten so far into the evening without crossing paths with Bryan, the person responsible for your “relationship” with EZ. Despite the fact that EZ didn’t know what the man looked like, he didn’t have to. He could tell by the way Bryan carried himself, by the way the man was looking at you as he walked closer. EZ had no use for anyone looking at you like you were their next meal, and it struck the worst nerve with him.

“Y/N,” Bryan called out, not even looking at EZ who was as glued to your side as he’d been all night, “was worried that I missed you.”

You sighed, clenching your jaw despite your best effort not to, “No such luck.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he laughed, despite the fact that no one else seemed even the slightest bit amused by him, “if I’d missed you, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to meet the famous boyfriend,” he finally turned and looked at EZ, “What was your name again?”

“Apparently I’m not that famous, then,” EZ had a tight smile on his face, and you could feel him forcing himself to hold his hand out for Bryan to shake, “Ezekiel.”

Bryan raised his eyebrows, nodding as he shook EZ’s hand, “Ezekiel. Quite the name. I’m—”

“Bryan,” EZ cut him off as he pulled his hand back, “I know.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen Bryan squirm under the weight of someone’s gaze. You were trying to bite back your smile but you didn’t know how successful you were, and truthfully, you didn’t care. There was something satisfying about not just seeing Bryan be put in his place, but for EZ to be the one to do it, and on your behalf nonetheless. His face might’ve been neutral, but the protective grip that he still had on your hip let you know that just because you were satisfied with the interaction, didn’t mean that he was.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Bryan locked eyes with EZ, but it was clear in his body language that he wasn’t happy about it. You were expecting him to follow up with a bad joke, or a slightly inappropriate comment the way that he usually did, but there was nothing.

EZ nodded, “Yea, I’m sure it is.”

“Alright, well, uh,” Bryan awkwardly tucked his hands into his pockets, “I’ll catch…catch up with you guys later.”

That was the only time you saw EZ give a genuine smile throughout the entire interaction, “See ya.”

Once he started walking away, you could feel EZ’s body start to lose some of its tension. His hold on your hip remained, though, and you wonder if he even noticed it. The two of you sat with your friends for the rest of the night, the evening from that point on passing without incident. EZ was sat next to you, leaned back in his seat with his arm draped around your shoulders. Every so often while he was listening to the group of you all talk, his thumb would lightly trace back and forth along the outside of your arm.

As the party was finally starting to wind down, a few of your coworkers invited you both to go out with them since they were going to head to a bar, but you weren’t going to put EZ through that. He’d already given up enough of his night for you.

The two of you said your final goodbyes and walked in the opposite direction in the parking lot, heading back to the car rather than towards downtown with everyone else. EZ’s hand was still interlocked with yours as you got closer to the car, both of you laughing about the entirety of the night.

“Thank you for this,” you let out a sigh of relief, “It wasn’t that bad, right?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “It wasn’t bad at all. Your work friends are fun.”

“Very different from your work friends,” you smiled.

He looked over at you, smiling, “Yea, thank god.”

You leaned back against the car as he got the keys out of his pocket. You found yourself running your teeth along your bottom lip as you looked at him. “I gotta admit,” you said with a slight shake of your head, “I think I’m gonna miss being your fake girlfriend.”

He laughed as he opened the driver’s door and looked over at you, “Oh yea?”

You could feel the heat creeping up into your face, and you knew that without the liquid courage in you, this conversation would definitely not be happening, “Yea. I mean, you were right, you are pretty good at it,” your breath caught in your throat as he leaned against the car next to you, “Your real girlfriend is gonna be real lucky.”

He drummed his fingers on the hood, “Yea, guess we’ll see, right?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, “Right,” you tried to get your thoughts in order, “So can I keep you on the hook as my fake boyfriend for the foreseeable future? Or do I have to start planning a big, dramatic, fake breakup?”

EZ laughed as he loosened his tie a little, “No, not the fake breakup. Not after I just met all your friends. I thought things were going so well!”

Neither of you could contain your laughter. Sliding closer to him, you leaned against his arm, “Alright, alright. I think we could make things work.”

His laughter quieted and his smile softened as he looked at you, “Well that’s good.”

The two of you stood there like that for a moment, with you leaning against him. To say that you were gazing at each other felt so dramatic, but you wouldn’t have been able to describe it any other way if someone had asked. Neither of you said anything for a minute, just soaking up the moment.

You both started speaking at the same time, each stopping and laughing at the same time as well. EZ shook his head, gesturing for you to continue, “Go ahead.”

As much as you wanted to say what you were really thinking, you just didn’t think that you had it in you to be that honest. Because what if it all went wrong? You took a deep breath, “This was really fun.”

He nodded, “It was.”

He watched your expression for a moment, and he could see it in your eyes that there was something more that you wanted to say, wanted to do. He would’ve been lying if he said that he didn’t have the same exact feeling all night, that things just felt too easy and too right.

“Hey, EZ?” you finally said.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, “Yea?”

Taking a leap of faith, you leaned in and kissed him, barely brushing your lips against his but still getting your point across. Your entire body trembled as you pulled away, trying to see if you just ruined everything. But, before you could get too far, he turned and pulled you to him by your hips, pressing his lips to yours as he leaned into you, guiding you and pushing your back against the car in the process.

You couldn’t deny that you were surprised, but not surprised enough to not give into it. Your hands came to rest on his shoulders for a moment before sliding up and resting on either side of his neck. You felt the way that his fingertips gripped tighter onto your hips as your lips continued to move against his, and you all but melted completely into him.

When he pulled away to catch his breath, you couldn’t stop the surprised laugh that slipped past your lips. You looked at him, your thumb tracing along the side of his throat as you smiled, “Way to really commit to the act.”

He smiled, shaking his head, “That wasn’t an act,” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “None…none of it was. Not really.”

You could feel your face heating up and you fought the urge to break the eye contact that you had with him. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss against your lips, and you felt yourself going weak in the knees. The entire interaction had you kicking yourself for not telling EZ that he was your office boyfriend a long time ago.

“So,” he cleared his throat, a smile creeping across his face, “I can…take you home?”

You laughed, nodding, “Yea, I guess we can’t stand here in the parking lot all night,” you toyed with the end of his tie, “You can stay if you want?”

His face lit up, “Yea?”

You nodded, “Yea, I mean, if you want.”

“Are you asking me as your fake boyfriend or a real one?”

You laughed, giving him a playful shove, “Take me home, Reyes.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x you #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes fanfic #my writing #christmascreationcalendar2021 #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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rae-gar-targaryen · 3 years

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loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

A/N: So, this is NOT the Angel fic I previewed the other day. That one (and the EZ fic) is STILL COMING, I PROMISE! This just jumped into my head and wouldn’t leave. And I wrote it with a speed I am heretofore unfamiliar with (heretofore? Did I use that right?) I invented a tattoo and an ex-girlfriend for Angel, and I fudged the timeline a bit. So, apologies in advance for that.

As always, if you want a tag in anything I write for Angel, EZ, the Mayans fandom (or anything else), please feel free to send me a message or an ask, or add yourself to the taglist (link in profile).

Pairing: Angel Reyes x fem!tattoo artist!reader (as always, the appearance is ambiguous, but the reader is described as having female pronouns/parts. Also, the reader here speaks a bit of Spanish. I’m half Mexican, so I do imagine a latinx reader, but I hope I’ve written this so you can imagine yourself with no restriction.)

Word Count: 15.3K (HAHAHA WHAT THE FUCK all for a TWO AND A HALF MINUTE SONG, ARE YOU KIDDING ME????) of ANGST! (SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO ANGSTY) lyrical nonsense and the remnants of sticky, cotton-candy sadness … fluff that makes you feel empty.

Warnings: ANGST, non-explicit references to infidelity, sexual references and sexual content, oral (male receiving), fingering and other nastiness -- so 18+ ONLY, please! Canon-typical douchebaggery, references to a past relationship, song references and poetry. (It is me, so yeah, poetry.)

Summary: You and Angel may as well be strangers now. But why? After all, you loved him once. And he loved you, right? Based on the song “Loved you Once” by Clara Mae. Listen here.

We don't need to be best friends, we don't need to hang again. But tell me why we have to be strangers because I loved you once?

What were you doing here? You haven’t been back to the clubhouse in months. Not since -- well, you know. You hadn’t talked to him since then, either. But that wasn’t your own doing.

No, Angel had erected a veritable wall of silence, and you respected him enough not to breach it.

That was what relationships were all about, anyway, right? Mutual respect of the other’s needs? So when Angel had told you in no uncertain terms that your relationship was over, you were … upset. Understandably. You wanted to sit with him, talk about where this sudden insistence that you depart his life had come from, but he was resolute. With the absolute air of authority that comes with either a great deal of thought, or borne of virtually sudden external influence, with nothing in between. He clearly didn’t want to sit and talk about it.

And so you didn’t.

Ever mindful of his wellbeing, and when he was and was not receptive to communication.

"It ain't working," he had said. You had settled for merely imagining the faraway look in his large, oilslick eyes, since he was much more interested in staring at his boots and the grooves in his floor, his forearms laid over spread thighs, unmoving and resolute from his spot at the end of the bed. Refusing to meet your eyes.

From your seat next to him, you made to brush the arm closest to you with your fingers. When you touched, he gave no indication that you were even there. That he even felt you. Which you knew was bullshit. He always felt you.

"Angel, what --" you hated the way your voice cracked as you tried to ask him what the hell was going on. You hated how you had sounded so small and quavering to your own ears. That wasn't who you were. You were clear, outspoken. It was always one of the things Angel said he loved about you. Loved.

You didn't know this, of course, but Angel hated it, too. How you’d sounded in that moment. Hated that his words had taken the fire out of yours, your voice unfamiliar in its timidity.

"It ain't working," he repeated. "I can see it. Not my fault you can't."

That was it.

No "I'm sorry, querida."

No "I hope we can stay friends."

Not that you would expect an apology, or anything as cliché as a "let's be friends," from a steadfast man like Angel. Predictable in his volatility.

You should have pushed back. Demanded an answer. You hated that you didn’t, the shock and sudden sadness morphing you into a silent, crystalline girl you didn’t recognize. Your eyes welled with tears, turning your head away from where Angel sat -- at least you wouldn’t let him see you cry. Even if you knew he knew the tears had spilled over your lashes and down your cheeks were of his own doing.

You had arrived back at his place a day after your tense "conversation" to discover that your items you had come to reclaim were tossed into a box and left outside of the door.

You had knocked once, in the hope that if Angel was home, he’d at least come to the door to shout through it, or, heaven forbid, would open it so you could look him in the eyes just once more while he shattered you. Your knock was met with silence, though you could have sworn you felt Angel on the other side of the door.

In the months since then, you had cried (obviously), you had questioned (it was sudden, it wasn't just you; your friends were surprised, too), but most importantly, you had persevered.

You had taken a bunch of new clients and inked some pieces you were incredibly proud of. You had gone out with your friends a few times, always with a wary eye on the door of the local dive, ya know… you never knew who would walk in.

Santo Padre is a small town, after all. And the cracks in your soul were nowhere close to healed. No molten gold to spill in and repair the fissures of your heart, rendering metamorphosis of something broken to something flawed, but beautiful. You sat, alone, still just… flawed. You had never felt less beautiful. Even after all this time.

And your friend Aneesa, ever the supporter, would stop at nothing if it meant hyping you up enough to leave your cave of blankets, sheet masks, and comfort movies. Your only rule? All nights out with Aneesa were strictly girls’ nights. She was gracious and understanding of this rule, of course. She and Gilly had been together a touch longer than you and Angel.

And if Angel had ever asked Gilly to ask Aneesa about you? Well… you never heard about it.

Not that Angel would do any of that. Shit like that was so middle-school.

So, here you were. Back at the clubhouse after months of self-imposed exile for the sake of self-preservation.

Coco had texted you -- the first you’d directly heard from anyone within Angel’s circle, inviting you to a patch party for some nameless, faceless newbie. The invitation had a string attached to it, of course -- the tattoo artist’s chair in the corner of the clubhouse needed a resident for any partygoers jonesing for new ink. Certainly, the new patch would need something decidedly “Mayan” to show off his new status.

You had hesitantly agreed -- Aneesa would be in attendance of course, and offered herself as a human-sized buffer to separate you from people you were otherwise hoping to avoid.

Now, perched near the tattoo chair, you busied yourself with setting out your portfolio of completed pieces, sketches and most-requested designs. You wiped down the chair a few more times than strictly necessary, but you wanted to be ready for anyone who might plop themselves down for a new piece of art.

The main room of the clubhouse was sweltering -- a familiar blend of desert heat, cigarette smoke, citronella, and the smell of citrusy, foamy beer. The dim lighting and thundering bass giving everything a slightly blurry edge in your party-periphery. You glanced across the room at where Aneesa and Gilly sat together on a corner couch, thighs pressed together. Aneesa tossed her head back in a full-bodied laugh at something Gilly had whispered into her ear, swatting his arm -- Gilly’s reciprocal smile demonstrating his pleasure at having garnered such a reaction from his girl.

A wave of cheers and noise accompanied the thwack of the clubhouse door swinging open -- more Mayans pouring in, jostling one another's shoulders, slapping each other on the arms, and good-naturedly cajoling.

There was Coco, mid-pull of the cigarette between his lips, quicksilver eyes flashing around the room, taking stock of who was where. EZ followed, million-watt smile on full display as he gently guided a pretty girl with long, inky hair through the bottleneck at the entryway.

If EZ was ambling his way in, then, surely, not far behind ...

With an arm around a tall, broad guy you hadn’t seen before, was Angel. Midway through a joke with the guy you assumed was the new patch, you took the opportunity to study the man you had once considered the moonlit orbit of your entire world.

You hated to admit it to yourself, but he looked good… His arms still replete with thick, corded muscle. His hair was a tad longer on top than you remembered, slicked back and belied with cleanly-cropped sides. His smile as warm and blinding as the cruel light at the end of your better dreams, only for you to awake each day alone.

As you continued your silent study, you were surprised to see -- still adorning his left arm … the tattoo you had given him on the day you had first met. You had thought he would have blacked it out by now … a cover-up on top of a cover-up.

But there it was --- the soft, leafy greens creeping down his forearm on sharp vines, abutted with bursting blooms -- small, ornate gladiolus buds and a sprig of purpling rosemary. Such a flowery piece on the arm of someone like Angel might have been laughable. But if anyone dared, he would simply stare, stone-faced, with burning eyes and a set jaw, ready to ask just what they thought was so fucking funny.

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance.

‘Cause I loved you, once…

---

You had moved to Santo Padre from Oakland. Hardly an axis-tilting move, but significant enough to you.

Your friend Oliver had offered you a seat at his tattoo shop. And you? You were positively itching to get out of the city. A few too many bad nights with a few people you could no longer in good conscience consider friends.

So, here you sat, resident of one of two chairs in this corner parlour off the so-called “main” drag in sweltering, dusty Santo Padre.

Your books were pretty clear … Not that you attributed much logic to the ebb and flow in any conceivable pattern of the tide that was tattoo shop patrons, but January seemed an agonizingly slow month. You filled the idle time with keeping the shop neat, disinfecting and re-disinfecting every surface, and organizing Oliver’s books.

And if you weren’t dreaming up new sketches and designs for the more adventurous prospective client, you were jotting idle lines of lyrical poetry in the margins of your sketchbook.

If the month dragged on like this, you were sure you could publish an entire book of moody, mid-winter prose that would make Charles Bukowski want to drown himself in stiff Cabernet.

The dinging of the bell above the parlour door yanked you from your doodling stupor. You looked up to see who had come in, your gaze met with a towering, golden-skinned man donned in a leather vest, his boots squeaking on the shop’s linoleum floor as he made his way to the front desk. He leaned over it and rapped his silver-ringed hand against the top with the ease and comfort of someone who had been in many times before. If the ink trailing his arms was any indication, he may as well be a regular, though you hadn’t seen him in before. There was no way you could forget that jawline, and those shoulders.

“Yo,” he called in greeting, eyes flashing to where you stood, walking to meet him at the counter. You swore you saw his gaze dart over your form, giving you the old up-down. An easy smile graced his full lips as he made himself comfortable leaning against the counter.

“Oliver here?”

You shook your head, the action serving to answer his question and --hopefully-- clear your head of the foggy spell this man was casting over you with his presence alone.

“Nah, sorry. He’s guest-chairing at his buddy’s shop in L.A. Did you have an appointment?”

“I look like the kind of guy with a datebook?” He chuckled at his own joke. “No appointment, corazón.”

“Walk-in? Always a risky strategy,” you lilted.

“What can I say? I’m a risk-taker,” he replied with the practiced ease of breezy flirtation.

You smiled softly, grabbing Oliver’s calendar from the desk, flipping to the following week. “He’ll be back in next week, if you want to wait?”

“That’s no good for me, babe, I’ll be out of town.”

“Ah.” You huffed a bit through your nose “Bike rally?” You asked, gesturing at his worn leather kutte, cringing internally a little at the teasing edge your voice had taken on. Were you always this bad of a flirt?

The man looked at you shrewdly for a beat -- seemingly trying to discern just how much fun you were making of him before taking mercy on you and peeling back the slight layer of awkwardness the conversation had taken. He scrubbed the back of his neck before confirming,

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he rumbled a chuckle. “Why? You wanna go?” He raised a full brow at you in a mild challenge.

Your eyes widened at his seemingly-serious invitation. You took in the quirk of his lips, causing the slightest crinkle at the corner of his warm eyes -- the look of a man borne of good humor and who smiled often. It was endearing, and if you were honest, made you melt a little. Even if you now realized he was teasing you.

“Sorry, guapo,” you cracked a smile of your own, gesturing at the empty shop. “As you can see, I’m a very busy girl. Highest of demand.”

“Claro,” he replied. “So, I better get in while the getting’s good, huh? Your chair open now?”

“Uhm,” you chewed your lower lip, now slightly nervous at the prospect of spending more time with this man. “¿Quieres esperar para Olí? I won’t be offended. You haven’t even seen any of my pieces.”

A beat of silence passed between you both, the man seemingly weighing his options.

"I mean," You broke the silence and leaned forward, lightly tapping a fingernail against his bicep. “What if my art style doesn’t suit the king of the bikers?”

"Something tells me you'll suit me just fine." His smirk was full-bore now. He didn't miss a beat, did he?

You were silent, probably for a few moments too long. Was he actually flirting with you? You blinked. He probably flirts with everyone ... get over yourself, you internally chided.

"Angel," the man said, recovering the moment and holding out a large, ringed hand for you to shake. You gave him your name, shaking his hand firmly.

You nodded your head over your shoulder, toward your chair.

"Well, come on back, Angel, you can tell me about what we're doing today."

Angel followed you back to your station, and you could swear you felt his dark eyes on your form as you walked, the thought that this man was looking at you with any kind of discerning attention made your cheeks warm a little. He folded his long body into the chair you gestured toward, and you took the rolling seat next to him. He proffered his left arm to you, tracing down a spot on his forearm.

"Just wanna cover this up," he paused, letting you observe the offending ink. "It's about time."

"'Clara Forever,' huh?" You took in the faded, loopy lettering down his forearm. "Who's Clara?" Your tone was gently teasing by nature, but he seemed to clam up a bit at the question, regarding your sharp tongue with sharper eyes.

"Well, it wasn't forever," he finally bit out, shoulders now a little more tense than before.

"Aw, cariño," you sighed in good-natured taunting. "Didn't anyone ever tell you the number one rule of tattoo? 'Forever' is a certain jinx. And a name is almost never a good idea… unless it's your dog's."

You made a sweeping hand gesture over the rest of his person, your eyes noticeably cataloguing the ink adorning most of the real estate on his arms and what little you could see of the top of his chest.

"How did anyone let you get this far without telling you the rules?"

He relaxed at the humor in your soft voice, comfortable now that he had confirmation that you were teasing him rather than seriously ridiculing. His posture relaxed once more, he waggled his eyebrows at you, also teasing,

"Le sorprendería saber que nunca fui uno para seguir las reglas?” He asked. Would it surprise you to learn that I was never one for rules?

"¿Tú?" Your eyes widened in mock surprise. “Para nada.” Not at all.

"Hey," he swatted your arm gently. "Cuidaté, niña. Insulting your customers? I can see why your chair is empty." He chuckled at his own little jab as you busied yourself gathering your supplies.

You turned and reached for him, holding his arm in one hand and running your now-gloved thumb over "Clara Forever."

"So?" You queried, "What are we doing with this? How do you want to cover it?"

Angel shrugged, the leather adorning his shoulders creaking ever-so-slightly with the movement.

"Figured I would just black it out. I've been putting it off long enough. To hell with her anyway, yaknow?"

"Hmm…" you considered his proposal. "I could do that, if that's what you really want. Easy enough. But…" you trailed.

He shifted in the chair, arching an eyebrow at you.

"But?" He pressed.

Now it was your turn to shrug. You released his arm from your grip and gestured to the booklet containing photos of your most prized work.

"Why waste the opportunity to give yourself something you really want?" You handed him the book. "Besides… from the looks of things, you have limited real estate left on this arm. May as well fill it with something… more you?” You made to hand him the scrapbook. “You can see what else I've done. See if anything sparks an idea."

Angel regarded you for a moment. Leaning forward in the chair and slightly more into your space, eyes never leaving yours. He took the edge of the book, deliberately brushing his fingers over yours as he did so, making you hold your breath a little. If Angel noticed, he had the decency not to say anything.

“Why not?”

You exhaled softly as he leaned away again, flipping his way through your book.

As he scrutinized the photographic renderings of your pieces, you took the chance to really take him in. His strong jaw and full lips were objectively pleasant, abutted by deliberately-shaped facial hair. He had a prominent brow, something that would surely give away his feelings, even if he decided not to verbalize them. There was no hiding a frown or a smile on that face. You fiddled with your fingers as he flipped through the pages.

“This is some seriously top-notch shit, querida,” he voiced his approval, followed by a warm smile. He flipped his way through your minimalist renderings, floral pieces, lines of script, and one particularly involved piece with a burgundy phoenix and lifelike flames...

“Yeah?” You couldn’t hide the pleasure in your voice that he might think of you in a positive light. “Which one do you like?”

He flipped the book to you, gesturing at a geometric planetary canvas piece you had etched down a prior client’s thigh.

“Did you think of that one?”

“The client had their ideas, I just execute, I guess… That was a fun one.” You shrugged, glancing at your shoes scuffing at the linoleum, suddenly feeling very shy under his scrutiny.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he leaned forward once more, his fingers gently brushing along your chin to bring your eyeline to his. “Don’t downplay your talent. You’re a badass. Own that shit.” He gave you a soft wink, releasing your chin from his grip.

Um, wow.

Was it always this hot in the back of the shop? Or were you just spontaneously combusting? Did that seriously just happen?

All you could do was nod.

“Aight,” he crossed his legs at the ankles, making himself comfortable in the chair. “I’ve decided.”

“Yeah?” You breathed, “What’ll it be?”

As if he was doing nothing more complicated than ordering fries, Angel pointed at your book. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t believe he was just going to trust you to cover up his ex’s name etched into his arm. “¡Oye! Did you hear nothing I said earlier about walk-ins being risky? Nothing about the rules?”

Angel scoffed. “About as well as you heard that I don’t give a shit about rules, babe,” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You like rules, huh?”

Oh. The rumbling tone his voice had taken on with his last question did not go unnoticed by you. If there was any heat to spare in this shithole desert-town, it was now one hundred percent flooding through your body.

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d had that effect on you… (although, let’s be real, he probably, definitely, already knew).

“Fine, Angelito,” the mocking tone had returned to your voice. “But unlike Clara, this one’s gonna be forever. If I find out you cover up my art, I’m gonna blacklist you at every shop in Southern California.” You raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “Can you live with that?”

Angel nodded.

“Do your worst, Vince.”

You wrinkled your nose at the moniker. “Vince?”

“Yeah,” he seemed so assured in his own cleverness. “Like Van Gogh?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Van Gogh!?” You feigned offense, hand-over-heart, lashes batting. “Not even Frida? Come oooon, Angelito.”

He chuckled. Shifting in the chair and offering his arm to you so you could get him ready.

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” you sigh, shifting your focus and taking stock of the space on Angel’s arm and what you had learned of him so far.

Someone who was seemingly confident and breezy, whose rough exterior belied something softer that was just out of reach. Someone who clearly cherished things and people he adored, if the tribute you were now covering was anything to go by. And, by the same token, more than a little impulsive. He wore his heart on his sleeve, apparently literally.

You gathered your inks and began to work, your playlist and the buzzing of the tattoo gun filling the silence.

It’s not like you had any reason to know it, but Angel considered you as you were working, admiring your focus and the intensity with which you afforded your art. Was he a little nervous about the fact that you were free-handing a design for him off the top of your head? Maybe... But what was life without a little risk? And he certainly wouldn’t mind a little risk with you. You were, it was obvious to him, very pretty. It was more than a little off-putting how easily you traded quips with him, seemingly unaffected by his presence and everything that came with it. If it wasn’t for the little hitches in your breath when he gently flirted with you, he wouldn’t have anything to go off of in terms of your interest. Something that was both respectable and maddening to him.

He reached his other arm over to the side-table, grabbing your sketchbook and idly flipping through the etchings.

Not only was the book filled with little designs, splashes of watercolor mixing with pen and charcoal, but he noticed the cramped words in the margins, perusing at his leisure and ignoring the itching buzz of the needle on the skin of his other arm.

“So, not only a Vince, but a Frost,” he broke the silence.

You paused your work, wiping your brow with the back of your hand and looking at him with a question in your eyes.

He tapped his finger along the lines of prose in your book. “A poet,” he said.

“Ah,” you said. “Uhm, more like a bad poet,” you chuckled, embarrassed. You made to begin again, when Angel gently gripped the wrist of your free hand.

“The fuck did I just say?” He lightly tugged, forcing you to look into his maddeningly honey-dark eyes. “Don’t brush off your shit. Would Frida do that?”

You regarded his eyes for a moment longer, darting your gaze to his pouty lips, resolutely set in their mission of imparting some of his confidence onto you.

“Point taken, Angel,” you pulled your hand from his grip, which he released, trailing his fingertips over your hand as he did so. “I’m the greatest poet who ever lived, you’ve convinced me. Fuck William Shakespeare.”

“Yeah,” Angel boisterously agreed, pleased to be bolstering you but surprising you with the little barking shout, “Fuck that dude!”

You chuckled, shaking your head and silently returning to your work, the silence filled once more with the pleasant buzzing as you drew away.

When you were finished, you released Angel’s arm, allowing him to inspect the clean lines of the greenery that you had drawn out of his former-love tribute. What were once loopy, cursive letters were now vines creeping steadily along his forearm, soft, yellow and red gladiolus buds emerging from where Clara’s name had once sat, neatly finished with the clean lines of the purpling sprig of rosemary along the edge of the piece.

Angel was speechless, leaving you to marinate in your nerves.

“It’s …” he started, “... flowery,” he supplied, lamely.

“No shit it’s flowers,” you shot back, feeling a little defensive now, but wanting to make a quick recovery. “And they’re for you, Angel.”

He seemed puzzled.

“Gotta say, Vince, this is the first time a chick’s gotten me flowers,” he chuckled, “Guess they won’t die?”

“They won’t,” you assured. “They really are for you, you know? Look at you, the rest of your ink. What it covered. You’re clearly a man formed by your experiences. It only seemed right, si? Gladiolus? They’re for remembrance. Rosemary? Symbolizes thoughtfulness and memory.”

You continued as you began wipe the piece clean before wrapping it in new saran-wrap, “Your memories and choices make you who you are, sure. But you never know… something good could bloom from them, through the cracks."

His silence at the end of your little soliloquy was deafening. He hated it, you were sure of it. Fuck. Why did you have to get so fucking clever with him? You should’ve just done some black ink in something tribal, something masculine. What the fuck was wrong with you??

You dared to sneak a glance at his face, only to find that he was already staring at you, lips softly upturned in the hinting bloom of a smile, tarpit eyes twinkling with a good-natured mirth he would come to reserve just for you.

“Fuck Shakespeare. That was damn beautiful, Frida.”

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly.

You stripped off your gloves, and made to turn your way to the counter, gathering the aftercare sheet and balm for Angel to take with him.

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

“Oh! Can I take a picture?” You held up your phone, shaking it lightly. “For the ‘gram?”

“Sure thing,” Angel dutifully held his arm under the lamp you had used to work, letting the fresh ink and colors pop against the golden dunn of his skin.

You took a few photos, deciding to scroll through your camera roll later on and post your favorite. You made quick work of wrapping his arm in a sheet of clean plastic wrap before relinquishing your hold on his arm, turning to walk back to the counter.

“Uhm,” you trailed … the telltale squeak of Angel’s boots on the linoleum indicating he was following you back to the front of the shop. You assembled everything into a bag for Angel to take with him, grabbing one of your cards from the front card-holder, and quickly jotting your number on the back next to your where the instagram handle for your art page was neatly printed, hoping he didn’t notice your sneaky little move.

Angel resumed his comfortable lean against the counter, turning and tilting his forearm, scrutinizing your work.

“It’s gonna be a clean one-fifty, Angel.”

He looked slightly surprised at the figure, a light frown dusting his features.

“You sure about that? For the size, and the color, and time and everything? It’s been, like, hours.”

You shrugged.

“We’ll call it the friends-and-family rate.”

He gave you a long look, very clearly looking you up and down now, a prolonged edition of the greeting he had graced you with when he had entered your shop mere hours before.

“And is that what we are now, querida? Friends?”

How was it even possible for his voice to reach such a low register when he said these things to you?

While your insides flip-flopped at the flirtation, you hoped your face was the impassive mask you were trying to school it into. You subtly brushed your slightly-sweating palms against the frayed hem of your shorts before bringing an elbow up to the counter, resting your chin in your palm, lightly batting your lashes at him before responding...

“Sure,” you replied. There! Easy, breezy, cool-as-you-please. How does it feel, Angel?

“One day with you and friends already?” He rapped his ringed hand gently against the counter. “Can’t wait to see where we’re at tomorrow.”

He swiped the bag off of the counter, tossing a few crisp bills onto the countertop and a wink over his shoulder before exiting the shop.

You counted the bills on the counter, watching as Angel left the building.

Holy shit.

Three hundred bucks. He had tipped you 100 percent of what you charged him.

Cheeky.

Maybe Santo Padre wasn’t so bad, after all…

---

Now, staring at him from across the room made you feel like you were drowning in the sickly-sweet cotton candy of sugared dreams, now lost to time. The saccharine balm melted to acrid wax, leaving you with only the tinge of bitterness.

You were jostled out of your reverie by the sudden appearance of EZ’s blocky frame, ambling toward you with the same girl from before on his arm.

He greeted you with a slow wave and a soft smile.

“Hey, girl,” he greeted, clearly unsure of how much friendlier and closer he should approach you.

You took mercy on Angel’s sweet, (big) little brother, opening your arms slightly for a hug. EZ took to the gesture like an over-excited golden retriever, scooping you up and spinning you once, before putting you back where he found you, slightly dizzier than you were before.

He offered your name to the girl by his side, who looked pleasantly amused at the spectacle before her, her amusement melting to recognition at the name EZ had imparted to her.

Ah. So she knew who you were.

You tried not to let that realization sour your encounter, easing a practiced smile onto your features and offering your hand to the girl to shake.

“Oh!” EZ chuckled. “This is Gaby -- er, Gabriela.”

“Encantada,” you eased, gently shaking her hand before having a realization of your own. “Gaby, as in Leti’s friend?”

She nodded, a warm smile illuminating her already sunshiney features. You could see why EZ obviously liked her. She had the practiced social grace of a debutante, but the friendly aura of someone you had known for your entire life.

“I hope you’re keeping Ezekiel out of trouble,” you teased gently.

“Only as well as I can,” she replied. EZ rubbed the back of his neck as you two gossiped about him like he wasn’t standing right there.

“Listen, hermanita,” EZ began, swirling the dregs of his beer around the bottle clutched in his hand as the conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, “About Angel --”

That was a hard no.

“Coco!” You called as you spotted the lithe man prowling through the crowd after obtaining a drink from the bar, effectively shutting EZ up.

Coco sidled over, slinging an arm over your shoulder and nodding in greeting to EZ and Gaby.

“Wassup, chiquita? Over here with all the cool kids?”

“You know damn well I was never cool enough for the cool kids,” you knocked your shoulder into Coco’s good-naturedly.

“Dunno about that, pequeña,” Coco took a drag of his cigarette, sighing as he exhaled. “I’ve got some pretty cool body armour thanks to you.”

“All in a day's work,” you mock-saluted. You were doing great. Keep it light, keep it friendly. You may be able to make it out of this unscathed, after all.

Gaby and EZ were speaking softly to one another just to your side, as you and Coco continued your conversation.

“So, who’s the new guy?” You asked, nodding over to where Angel and the still-unnamed newbie were tossing back shots. You tried to ignore that each one had girls placed on each of their laps. Well, mostly you were trying to ignore one girl placed on one lap; tried to ignore as ringed fingers trailed up and down her thigh hypnotically as he howled in laughter at something the new guy had said.

The longer you stared at the way he was touching her, the more You thought you could feel it on your own skin. And you knew all too well how that touch felt. Memories, make you, right?

You blinked harshly, turning your face back to Coco’s, only to find his hawkish eyes trained on you as he continued to smoke. Now you were certain he had seen everything you had, and more. And you cursed yourself for slipping. Because nothing slipped past Coco.

He took mercy on you nevertheless.

“Andres. He’s aight. You may not remember him from before, when he was just a prospect.”

“Guess not,” you agreed, shrugging amiably, suddenly very interested in toying with the hem of your flowy little summertime skirt.

“Mierda,” you heard Coco hiss, glancing up to see none other than the new guy -- Andres -- walk over, his arm around the waist of the girl from his lap, accompanied by none other than Angel Reyes, furnished with his own lap-turned-arm candy. She was giggling in his ear, popping her gum and bumping her hips against Angel’s as she walked by his side.

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side.

Great.

The easy smile you’d had when conversing with Coco now felt positively screwed into place, settling unnaturally, a stranger's face made up of your own features.

Andres smirked at you in greeting, eyes trailing over you -- the most unwelcome iteration of that gesture in this context to-date.

“I hear you’re the girl to see about some ink.”

You bit back the snarky response that rose to your tongue. You see anyone else here, tonto?

“Sure am,” you replied, cool as you pleeeeaseeee. Maybe a little too cool. The ice in your voice was obvious to everyone except the strangers before you.

You really were doing great, weren’t you?

“Great,” the new meat brushed the girl off from his side, plopping unceremoniously into your chair. “You did that right?” He pointed behind you to where Angel was standing, gesturing at his arm and your miniscule mural of memorial greenery.

“Cierto.” You nodded, sparing Angel’s arm the barest of glances.

“Aight, well, none of that girly shit, alright, sweetheart? Angel may have had the good grace not to say anything, but flowers ain’t really my style, yeah?”

What the fuck.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Coco visibly tense next to you, obviously displeased at the uncalled-for critique of your work. Of a piece he himself had often admired. He would never admit it, but he thought the story behind it was even better. It’s like you had walked out of some shitty romcom Leti watched with her tittering friends and into Angel’s dreams, sinking yourself beneath Angel's skin like a dream he would recount to all of his friends. Coco knew the most about you by nature of Angel's second-hand stories when you were together. Although Coco thought, once he had met you, Angel's stories didn't do you justice. How wonderful and talented you were. How warm and welcoming.

Angel watched the exchange silently, clearly none too keen to defend the piece you had designed for him. That had come to mean so much to you.

That stung.

You winced, almost imperceptibly. But you were certain Coco saw it, not much escaping his sniper’s eyes. EZ, with his owlish perception and photographic memory, certainly would have seen it, too. If Angel saw it, it’s not like he was going to say anything now.

Where the fuck was Aneesa? Wasn’t she supposed to be heading this kind of shit off? You glanced over at the couches in the corner where your friend had previously been sitting with GIlly, and was now nowhere to be seen. Fuckin’ typical.

“Aight, no más flores." No more flowers. “What were you thinking, then?”

That was you, ever the professional.

Andres showed you his phone, a rendering of an old-style beastly cat, like a panther from an old folktale, pulled up in his image search.

“Something for a warrior,” he puffed his chest slightly. “I was thinking here,” he shrugged out of one side of his new kutte, tugging the button-up to expose one side of his chest.

“You got it.”

You set to work, cleaning the area to be inked and getting your tools ready. The rest of the group drifted as the project progressed, clearly not feeling the need to stand there for the entire duration of a tattoo.

You were acutely aware that Angel hadn’t stepped as far away as the others, circumventing the periphery of yours and Andres’ space, not close, but not far. And he still had yet to even look in your direction. Or acknowledge your existence.

You tried your best to ignore the icy shard of Angel’s indifference that was currently wedging its way between your ribs and lodging itself firmly once more into your heart. At this point, you guessed it would never heal.

“Sooooo,” Andres lolled his head to the side of his chair to face you, slinging back the beer from the bottle dangling in his free hand. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You were around a little bit when I was prospecting.”

You opted not to respond, aware that Angel was likely listening, and you would need to choose any words carefully. Andres had no such reservation, clearly uncaring about who might be listening. He pressed on, each word more infuriating than the last.

“You were Angel’s little sidepiece for a while, right?”

You tried to keep your despairing sigh to a quiet little nothing.

“Sure.” You offered lamely. “Sorry, man, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really work better when I’m not talking.”

“S’alright, jaina. I can talk enough for the both of us.”

You hmm’d nonchalantly at that, lip imperceptibly curling over your teeth in distaste at the moniker. You chose instead to focus on the piece. You wouldn’t give a shitty tattoo, even if this guy was a douchebag. And the pleasant buzz of the tattoo gun. Maybe you were etching the lines a little sharper than strictly necessary. If he noticed, Andres gave no indication, continuing on with his diatribe:

“So, what happened? I mean, Angel knocked that other chick up? Ouch, right?”

You were now seeing red, the edges of your vision blurring slightly with angry, pinpricking tears. Thank fuck you were just about done with this.

“But that’s the life right? I mean, we’re not exactly known for being steady with just one chick. You know how it goes ...” He eyed you up and down again, lingering a little too long on your legs before finishing his thought with a smirk “... Clearly.”

You hated his use of “we,” like he was in any way, shape, or form worthy to be in the class of man EZ, Coco, Bishop, or, hell, even Angel, was. None of them would talk to you like this. No matter what Angel had done.

You shut off the gun, pushing back from the space with Andres, spinning in your chair, and grabbing the clean wipes for Andres’ fresh ink. As you dabbed the area and made to bandage it, the oblivious biker grabbed your wrist. None of the teasing fun or gentleness in the same gesture that Angel had imparted when you had first met. No, Andres’ grip hurt. It was all bruising possession and entitlement.

“I think we would have fun, you and I.” He leaned forward and far too into your space, the stale stink of warm beer heavy on his breath.

You wrenched your grip from his, standing quickly and offering him a tight smile, cheeks flaming with your anger and embarrassment. How dare he speak so trivially of your relationship with Angel. How dare he think you were so easily won with his kutte and shitty attitude.

“Uhm,” you tugged your fingers agitatedly through the ends of your hair, chewing your lip. “You’re all set, Andres. Aftercare sheet is on the table next to you. It’s on the house. Happy patch party!” Your voice sounded so shrill and fake in your own head, but you just didn’t have it in you to care at the moment.

With that, you quickly whirled on your heel, in a distressed flurry past the Angel-shaped blur who had been watching the entire encounter, and out of the clubhouse door into the cooler late-night air.

Getting heavy to breathe in this room together. It’s so awkward, we can’t seem to do it better. Can’t we just fake a smile and put our shit to the side?

---

Angel had waited a whopping 18 hours to text you after your clandestine tattooed meet-cute.

You were in the middle of exchanging consultation e-mails with a prospective client when your phone had buzzed.

“Vince?” The text read.

You bit back a smirk before responding,

“Vince? No Vince here. This is Frida’s phone.”

You watched as the little bubbles appeared in the corner, disappeared for a second, and then reappeared. You were grateful for the little manifestation of Angel’s hesitance. It made him seem more human. And it made you appreciative that he was clearly trying to choose his words with you, when words had seemed to come so easily to him when you had met.

“My bad. Oh, beautiful, talented Frida.”

You couldn’t hold back the smile on your features now. Grateful it was still you and only you in the shop so that no one could see your “obviously-texting-a-cute-guy” face.

“It’s nice to hear from you, Angel. Good thing you didn’t throw away the card.”

“That card was clearly a gift, querida. Much like the pretty flowers on my arm.” He snapped you a picture of his tattoo, the healing process underway.

“Looks great!” You sent, cringing at your lack of ability to effectively flirt via text. It was something that your friends had teased you relentlessly about back in the Town -- your notorious lack of game. No! New home, new you! Be cute. Be cute.

“So, if I’ve given you all the gifts, what do I get?” You sent with a “thinking” emoji.

Angel at least had the decency to wait a minute or two before replying, either thinking about his response or keeping you in suspense… you weren’t sure. But you were grateful for the little opportunity to catch your breath. How did he make you so speechless when he wasn’t even in the room with you? Some things just weren’t fair.

“Niña, I paid you for this ink. What more could you possibly want from me?”

Tricky Angel. Zorro. Like a little fox, he had effectively maneuvered the conversation back to you -- the ball was in your court. Would you tell him what you wanted?

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding.

“You texted me, boy. Are you sure it isn’t you who wants something?”

If only your friends could see you now. That was damn smooth.

“Boy?”

You snorted to yourself. Trust a guy like Angel to get hung up on something small like that. The bubbles reappeared.

“I was thinking about this pretty girl I met the other day. Hell of an artist. But a shit poet. Thought I would see if she was free sometime?”

Angel was merciful. You could kiss him. Had he seriously just taken all the weight out of this conversation? Your heart felt a million pounds lighter in your chest, knowing he was asking you. The wave of relief that he wanted to see you again crashed through you, replaced in the tide with the backdraft of a feeling of mischievousness. You wouldn’t let him off so easily.

So you waited before responding. Let him sweat a little, right?

Only… you weren’t sure Angel was sweating as much as you were, fingers itching with the desire to text him back and accept immediately.

When what had felt like an eternity (but in reality had only been about seven minutes) had passed, you picked up your phone, opening the conversation with Angel.

“She’s free next Thursday … After your bike week, el rey de los bandoleros.”

You put your phone back down on the counter, grinning like an idiot, feeling like you had just swallowed a bunch of bubbles. You entertained the notion that if your combat boots weren’t keeping your feet weighted to the floor, you would have floated away.

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.”

Time passes slowly the more you want it to go quickly. And whenever you have a deadline you’re dreading, it gallops ahead. Time really is that bitch, and she does not give a fuck about your feelings.

The following Thursday felt like it took a year to arrive. But it found you closing up the shop, your stomach fluttering with butterflies and pop rocks, adorned in your favorite pair of jeans and boots, a clean, flattering tank top that showed off your own ink. You hoped it was fine for whatever Angel had in mind.

Honestly, he hadn’t said anything about your date. A few flirtatious texts here and there? Obviously. You sent him photos of the pieces you had done for new clients. He sent you ridiculous selfies and a couple of group pics of him and his friends at the biker event. One guy who kept popping up in the photos, Angel had told you, was his “little” brother. But there was nothing “little” about that dude.

You loved seeing all of Angel’s goofy, smiling faces. Treasuring the photos in your small moments of quiet downtime.

The rumbling of a bike engine greeted your ears, like the seductive purr of a large cat. You glanced up, a full Cheshire grin alighting your features at the sight of Angel’s gorgeous, deep forest green bike, and the man of the hour looking very at home on the seat.

He rolled to a stop in front of you, unclipping his helmet and dismounting with his winning trademark smirk, ambling over to greet you.

“Frida,” he scooped you into a hug, his tall frame causing you to lift, your toes now barely brushing the ground as he brought you to his height. He pressed a soft kiss to your check, setting you down gently and letting you get your bearings, chuckling pleasantly at the obvious, dizzying effect his greeting had had on you.

“Angelito,” you returned. “Back in one piece?”

“Hail to the king, baby,” he countered.

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, scuffing the toe of your boot into the gravel of the lot. “So, where are you taking me, o benevolent one?”

“Just gonna hafta find out.” He handed his helmet to you, helping you clip and tighten it beneath your chin. “Ever ridden before?”

“Uhm, well, sure” you replied too assuredly, quickly realizing your slip. “I mean, no. Not like that. I mean, yes, like that. But not on one of these.” Fuck. Could you be more embarrassing?

Angel released a full-bellied laugh at your response, his head tossing back a little.

“You’ll have to tell me more about alla that later, cielo.” You put your head in your palm willing the embarrassment to go away. Angel quickly pried your hands away, cupping your cheeks with his own warm hands, long fingers brushing your cheekbones reverently. “In the meantime, just hang on, okay?”

You nodded, still cursing your idiot-brain that had partnered with the dirtiest corners of your mind to take over your mouth. Shut the fuck up, dumb-dumb.

You clung to Angel as he drove, your hands roaming his firm torso probably a little too-familiarly. You enjoyed the way the wind whipped around you, tugging at yours and Angel’s clothes as you made your way up the canyon overlooking the desert that was Santo Padre.

Angel parked his bike on the ridge overlooking the town, the sun beginning its descent in the desert sky in swirling hues of pastels and cotton candy pink-purple-blue overtaking the orange hue.

You had never been up here before, and you told Angel as much. He looked pleased at that, pleased that he was the one to show you the best view of the Santo Padre sunset.

Angel busied himself unpacking the bags on the side of his bike while you enjoyed the scenery. Pulling out a couple of wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water, he handed yours to you, coming to stand next to you on the ridge.

"Thanks," you acknowledged, looking at the offerings. "What, no beer?"

Angel chuckled a little at that.

"I ain't tryna liquor you up, niña. Besides, you want warm beer that's been rattling around on my bike all afternoon?"

You crinkled your nose a little at that. "No," you decided. "Never mind. Besides, I'm more of a whiskey girl."

Angel glanced at you, sipping on his own water idly.

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who thinks it's impressive when a girl drinks whiskey because it's such a 'man thing.' "

Angel held up one hand, defensively.

"Nunca. Just took you for more of a… dunno? Maybe a rum kinda girl?"

"Don't think so. For now, though? Water and sandwiches do me just fine. Whiskey can come later." You took a bite of the now-unwrapped sandwich. "This is good," you confirmed around a slightly-full mouth. "Did you make this?"

"Of course. Pop owns the butcher shop down the street from your parlour. Sliced the meat myself, an' all," he said, a little proudly now that he knew you approved of his sandwich-making skills.

"Bueno," you giggled. "Thank you for this, Angel. Really. This is one of the nicest nights I've had since moving here." You shuffled a little closer to where he was standing, looking in his eyes as you thanked him.

"Bah," he waved away your compliments, "it ain't alla that. This can't be the most exciting thing you've done since getting here."

"Maybe it is," you pressed. "I dunno. Maybe I'm too boring for the king of the bikers?"

"I doubt that very seriously, querida," he turned his body so he was facing you now, sandwich long gone, fiddling with the water bottle in his hands. "You play your cards right, I'll introduce you to the rest of the club. Then things'll get really exciting."

You blinked. One date and he already was thinking about introducing you to his friends? Your inner shy romantic (okay, not so "inner," right? You're pretty clear about who you are) was doing little somersaults in your chest.

You must've been silent a beat too long because Angel was quick to supplement, "Only if you want."

"I'd like that," you confirmed, nodding and smiling gently.

"So, are you gonna tell me what brings an East Bay girl here?"

You raised a brow. You didn't remember telling him where you moved from. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck nervously, realizing you'd caught his slip.

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

You finished your sandwich, thinking about how much you wanted to tell him.

"Just time for a change of scenery. Olí is an old friend, and he offered me a job. I think he wants to travel more." You shrugged, "It just felt like it was time. Plus, I dunno… I like it here. Much quieter."

Angel nodded at that, not having the heart to tell you that his club was not at all quiet and was the source of the disruption in the otherwise-quaint town.

You kept talking, telling him about the friends you'd left behind, your old shop, weekends spent in the park surrounding Lake Merritt, and going to Raiders games. Angel took in your features as you spoke, the golden light of the sunset making you glow like something out of a dream he'd had once. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about things you loved, the books and art that inspired your poetry. How you'd gone to art school. You were something.

"-- Sorry, I'm rambling," you breathed in a rush, flush with the amount of talking you'd been doing in a record amount of time. "What? Do I have something in my teeth?"

Angel realized he'd been staring as long as you'd been talking.

"No, querida. Nothing in your teeth." He gave you a dazzlingly white smile.

"Oh thank God," you returned his smile with a small one of your own, shying a little under his gaze, and wondering how long he had been looking at you like that as you'd talked.

He leaned over you now, his height giving him the definite advantage as he'd -- not unwelcomely-- invaded your space. He brought one hand up to cup your chin, his dark eyes revealing flecks of sparkling gold in the pastel wash of the sunset as his gaze once again met yours.

You saw his quick glance down at your lips, you unconsciously giving a small nod before his warm lips met yours.

Oh.

You had obviously been kissed before, been the recipient of past romantic attention. All of that paled in comparison, melting away as Angel's full lips maneuvered over yours, both of his large, calloused hands gently brushing your cheeks as he cupped your face, sliding one hand down to rest on the side of your neck.

You sighed lightly, one of your own hands twined into his shirt, the other resting on the side of his firm torso.

Angel took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, your own brushing against his as the kiss deepened.

You were in no hurry for the kiss to end, enjoying the way everything about Angel was so warm, something that was surprisingly welcome, despite the ever-present desert heat of Santo Padre. You could get used to this.

You had only known Angel a short time, realistically. Your one meeting spawning a series of flirtatious texts and snaps, and now this date that, while low-key, felt almost too perfect to be real. He made you feel safe, desired.

You could already feel him slipping beneath your skin to rest in a special place in your heart. And while you as a person were generally reticent to share that part of yourself with anyone, you had a feeling Angel could take up permanent residence there. If he wanted.

You dropped from your tip-toes, effectively breaking the kiss.

Angel blinked, looking down at you and noting the pleasant glow on your skin, lips now slightly swollen from his kiss. He could get used to this.

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur, trading quips and stories as the sun went down. Angel told you about his club, his brothers. About his pop and Ezekiel, and how at one time, he enjoyed being the bigger brother, teasing, pranking and lording over EZ until EZ had hit his growth spurt and could (and would) definitely hit back.

As he drove you home, you snuggled a little bit against him, pressing yourself into his back and enjoying the way you swore you could feel his heart pounding through the kutte and over the rumble of the bike and the road.

He'd dropped you off with a parting kiss and the promise of another date.

Another date turned into several. Time you weren't at the shop was now spent with Angel, showing him what you were working on, inviting him over for dinners and to watch mindless television while he told you what he could about his day.

The both of you were slowly peeling back the layers around your respectively guarded hearts, revealing more of yourselves only to be met with pure acceptance by the other. Even blindados had to take off their armour at some point.

You cherished your time with Angel, and he quickly found himself stumbling, head over his own biker-booted heels for you.

After a few months had passed, he had brought you to meet the club. You had manifested nothing but general acceptance of his lifestyle and were eager to meet the people Angel had so obviously cared for. Who had helped shape him into the brash but conscientious person he was with you.

And one sunny afternoon had found you bringing lunch you had made for the entire club over to the scrapyard, Angel agreeing with your plan. You never were one to show up empty-handed.

As you walked across the yard, past the gate, and into the clubhouse, your eyes adjusting to the dim interior from the blinding sun outdoors, Angel bounded over to greet you. Taking the bag full of homemade goodies from your arms, he pressed quick kisses to your cheeks, and one to your forehead.

He turned, met with the pleasantly-surprised stares of his brothers. He announced your name to the room before turning to you, pointing at each man and supplying a name. You nodded, smiling and offering a warm wave to each.

The man you knew to be EZ from all of Angel's initial texts and photos quickly strode over to you, shaking your hand in his impressively firm grip before bending down to press a quick kiss to your cheek with a,

"Bienvenido, hermanita. Angel's told me a lot about you. Won't shut up, really," giving you a sly wink as Angel swatted EZ's arm in annoyance at his brother's revelation.

Boys.

The smaller man with the sharp eyes and full curls you knew to be Coco made his way over to where you were now seated as Angel went to get you both drinks, the other men digging into your offerings as you made yourself comfortable.

He sat next to you, tossing you a, "You mind?" Lighting his cigarette after you’d shaken your head.

He studied you through his own plumes of smoke before leaning across the table and speaking to you, lowly and with an almost conspiratorial rasp to his voice,

"You did that cover-up for Angel?" He asked on a smooth exhale.

"Mhmm," you nodded. "He gave me free reign. I was nervous he'd hate it."

Coco seemed to chew over your words for a dragging moment. You shifted in your seat. He was definitely sizing you up.

"Bold move, pequeña, giving the secretario of a biker club a sleeve of flowers."

"I suppose it was," you sighed, more than a little uncertain now. "But it felt meaningful, right, I guess. I just sort of… started drawing. I… think it worked out, though?" You trailed off.

Coco nodded. "It's a fuckin' good piece, mami. Angel told me what you'd said about memories making you who you are." He snorted lightly through his nose. "It's funny. We've never even met before, and you're already sounding like me."

A small smile played across his lips, returning it with one of your own.

"I'm glad you approve," you nodded. "Angel's opinion obviously matters, and don't tell him I told you this, but it means alot coming from one of his family."

And that's what they were. His family. You could see it. The obvious camaraderie and care underlying each of their actions with the other. You admired the system of support, cushioned by good humor, despite being flung regularly into harsh reality. It was clear -- they were there for one another.

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

"Maybe you got space for me in your books one-a these days?"

Your small smile was a full-blown, sunny grin now.

"Of course. Anytime you want to drop by, you're more than welcome."

"Gracias, chica." Coco leaned across the table and patted your shoulder before getting up and taking his leave.

And so it went. The boys would filter through your shop. Olí teasing you about his offense that all of his most lucrative, inked clients were now going to you.

You enjoyed the time working on pieces for them afforded you -- offering you a glimpse into their inner workings, what they felt was important enough to take up permanent residence along their skin. Making idle chit-chat with you while you worked. And always, always sharing embarrassing little anecdotes about Angel.

The months passed with you and Angel, finding comfort in your unpredictable, but welcome, respective routines.

One night in particular found Angel wrapped up in your embrace, the physical embodiment of your gradual and growing trust in one another.

He had arrived home more than a little rattled, his eyes wildly darting to the corners of the room before settling in you, exhaling a shaky breath before striding the length of the room and crushing you to him, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips.

You understood he probably couldn't tell you what had happened, but you asked anyway, needing him to know you would hear him.

"Angelito, everything okay?"

He shook his head softly in the negative, but didn't elaborate.

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Okay. We don't have to talk about it," you wound your arms up and around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. "But it's going to be okay. I've got you. I won't let go."

He gripped your wrists, pulling your hands from his neck and sliding your arms down, bringing them to rest around his waist. Once he had positioned you where he wanted, he brought his hands to cup your cheeks, eyes heavy and dark with the weight of his stormy thoughts.

He nodded at what you had said before bringing his lips back to yours.

You brought one hand up to meet his, where it rested along your cheek. You twined your fingers through, joining your hands while breaking the kiss. You lead him through the apartment, bringing him to the bedroom. You had music softly playing from your speaker in the corner, candles lit to bathe the room in ambient glow and a warm, honey smell, all in anticipation of Angel's eventual arrival home.

You silently gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed, where you took your seat next to him.

You tugged the leather kutte from his shoulders, folding it reverently and placing it on the chair near the bed. He exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging once the leather manifestation of his obligation to a darker world had been removed. The weight of the world a little less on the mantle of his shoulders.

You turned your attention to his feet next, unlacing and tugging off his boots. Then, his belt.

Once he was just in his jeans and his t-shirt, you resumed your seat at his side, bringing him back into your embrace and carding your hands through his hair, as his head rested on your shoulder.

Angel spoke, voice cracking as he broke the seal of silence in the room.

"It was… it was awful, Frida." He sighed. "I do everything they ask. It's my job … Fuck. Sometimes I wonder how much more my heart can take. But then, I get to come home to you."

His breath was shuddering now.

And while you didn't always know what to say -- it was a rare sight to see Angel so rattled. But you were a caregiver by nature, ready to give him the pieces of yourself that would make him feel whole.

You guided him down so that he could recline, you came to rest at his side, winding your arms around his torso, your face turned into his neck, cuddling him as he came down from the mania of his emotional high.

The moments passed, Angel's breathing leveling again as you stroked his hair in time to the soft music.

He turned his head to look at you, admiring the flutter of your lashes as you blinked at him, your gaze warm and adoring, full of twinkling fairy light and starshine.

"Te amo, querida," Angel breathed. This was not the first time he had said it to you during your months together. But each time felt as momentous as the first, each declaration of love felt like the slip of something sweet, and you were determined to store it in your heart and mind forever.

"I love you too, Angel. More than anything," you murmured. "I love your smile, your sense of humor, your strength." You pressed kisses to his face and neck with each admission. "Mostly, I love your strength. And that you trust me enough to tell me when you don't always feel it."

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

"I love your mind. How creative you are. How you see everything so beautiful, just like you," he hmm’d. "Mostly I love your trust. And that you choose to give it to me."

You kissed him again, leaning over him with your entire body, pressing your palms gently into his shoulders.

As your kiss deepened, you each began to tug at the other. His hands carded through your hair, tugging gently, but firmly. You lifted his shirt from his torso, the kiss breaking so you could peel it away.

You divested one another of each layer, baring yourselves to the other, body and soul. Again, this wasn't the first time you had done this. But this felt momentous nonetheless.

Angel skimmed his hands over your form, running his hands softly down and over your breasts, loving your soft sigh at his touch.

You leaned over him once more, reluctantly removing his hands from you, and placing them gently down at his sides.

"Your heart is mine, mine to protect," You hummed softly, invading his senses and placing kisses down Angel's neck and to his chest, trailing your lips lovingly over Angel's heart, and pressing one last deliberate kiss there. "And I take my job very seriously."

As you kissed him, you lightly trailed your fingers down his torso, coming to rest at his hip.

Your declaration was met with silence; you glanced up at Angel through your lashes only to find him already looking down through heavy-lidded eyes at you, his now swirling with some unnamed, weighted emotion.

You trailed your hand across his hip, not breaking eye contact as you took his hardening length into your hand. He inhaled sharply at the sensation of your grip, but refused to look away as you began to pump him slowly, still pressing kisses to his hips, torso and thighs.

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

"Please, what?" You murmured back, your voice taking a throaty register you reserved strictly for private moments with your beloved.

"Please… use your pretty mouth?"

You nodded.

"Relájate, baby, I've got you," you assured. Sweeping your hair back, the action washing Angel with the sweeping comfort of your scent as you made your way lower down his body.

Angel slumped back against the bedspread, glittering galaxy eyes still trained on you as you lavished him with attention.

You took the opportunity to flatten your tongue, licking a broad stripe up the length of him, one hand braced against his firm thigh, the other holding him gently at the base of his cock as you worked.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of him, delighted at his throaty moans, feeling the effect they had on you, making you feel like you were burning from the inside, feeling the slickness from your own center as your thighs rubbed together.

Taking Angel wholly into your mouth now, you bobbed over him, relishing in the heavy feel of him in your mouth and the throaty groans you received from Angel in response.

Before you could spend too long lavishing him with attention, Angel tugged on your hair at the base of your neck. Following his grip, you lifted your head and released him from, watching (a little greedily) as his thick length bobbed against him when you relinquished him from the confines of your mouth.

He guided you up his body, hand still knotted in your hair, pushing his mouth onto yours, uncaring of the saliva on your lips and chin, and the taste of himself on your tongue.

You straddled his hips, surging the rest of the way up his body and effectively deepening the kiss. The hand that was once in your hair now made its way to loosely grip at your throat, the other skimming his way down your breasts, across your ribs and toward your center.

As his fingers traced through your folds, you involuntarily rolled your hips into his hand, alight at his touch, and desperately seeking more.

Angel touching you was like the shock of a live wire. Every time felt just as electric as the last, goosebumps erupting across your flesh as his fingers traced across your skin.

He chuckled through your fused mouths, drawing back at your reaction and the wetness he found between your legs.

"Eager, amor?" Every word fell that fell from his lips sounded like a dangerous purr.

You nodded, drunk on the way Angel's hand gently squeezed your throat, while the other was teasingly making its way to-and-fro across your wet folds, occasionally making his way up to lightly circle and press his thumb over your clit, making your eyelids flutter. Your hips continued to rock against his hand, silently begging for more, his teasing touch making you more than a little crazy.

"Yeah?" Angel asked, his voice thick and syrupy, the timbre like dark clouds. "That shit turn you on? Sucking my cock?"

His words combined with his touch made another rush of heat flood through you. You were certain you would pass out, that your knees would buckle. And you were doing so well, holding your place up and over his hips while he played with you.

The hand on your throat gripped a little tighter, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Nuh-uh, baby," he shook you lightly, all mirth gone from his eyes, no more pleasant, smiling crinkles at the corners. His full lips pressed firmly together. "I asked you a question. You answer that shit"

He pressed two fingers teasingly against your entrance, refusing to insert them, despite the little roll of your hips.

"Y-yeaahh," you sighed, head tossed back, "I-I fucking love it -- love you, Angel."

He rewarded you by sliding a long finger into you, allowing you to ride his hand. The hand still around your throat guiding you forward, over him, allowing him to press hot, open-mouthed kisses, first to your lips, dirty and raw, like an exposed nerve in his unabashed want for you.

He relinquished his hold on your neck, allowing him to trail his lips and his tongue there, kissing you softly behind your ear, down and around your neck to your collarbones, all while his fingers continued their earnest treatment inside of you, his thumb now pressing to your clit, your warming crescendo building.

Using his height and the fact that you were straddling him, Angel encouraged you to lean forward, allowing him to capture one of your breasts in his grip, his mouth following. His warm tongue swirled around your nipple before he sucked the bud into his mouth, grazing his teeth ever so gently over your sensitive flesh.

Angel's attention was rewarded with your gasping sighs and breathy moans. How anyone could make you feel this good was beyond you. Angel had an uncanny ability to elicit responses and feelings like no other person before him.

You felt the thrumming hum and warm, sticky wave of your orgasm building as Angel worked his fingers inside of you, stroking that particular spot from within that he knew would be your undoing.

"O-oh," you whined, keening noises caught in your throat. "Please, baby, I n-need you. Need you inside."

The room was sweltering. Or was it just you? Angel withdrew his fingers smoothly, not sparing you the chance to be disappointed at the loss of feeling as he smoothly flipped the two of you, guiding you down to the mattress and hovering over your trembling form.

"Yeah?" Angel asked. "You ready for that, querida?"

You gazed up at him through your lashes, longingly. He would give everything, anything, that he had in the world if you only looked at him like that forever, gaze full of warmth, heat, and unfiltered, starry adoration.

"Mmm," you nodded, "Please? Angel?"

He was only a man, after all. Who was he to refuse when you asked so prettily for him?

He gently turned you over so that your back was to him, running his hands down the slope of your back and guiding you to your knees, propping your hips up.

Positioning himself behind you, Angel resumed his grip on your throat, using it to guide your head around so that he could kiss you again while he guided himself inside of you. You moaned into the kiss at the sensation, never tired of feeling every ridge of his thick cock sliding into you like he belonged there.

Angel groaned, breaking the kiss and shaking his head, chuckling darkly, his eyes flashing as he swore,

"Never fuckin' get tired of that shit," he began to move his hips, using his other hand that was gripping your hip to guide you along his lengthy, meeting his thrusts. "Never tired of your pussy … You're so … good."

Angel's words coupled with his thrusts were driving you crazy, causing you to eagerly meet him with the momentum of your own hips, the heat in the room spliced with the distinctive noise of his skin meeting yours.

Angel, leaning over your back, crowded your every sense, the taste of him, of his kisses still lingering on your tongue. Your ears met with the harmony of your two bodies and the filthy words and sounds coming from Angel's mouth. The sight of him was as intoxicating as ever, as you looked over your shoulder at him, the shadows of the room playing across his tawny skin, glimmering in the low light with the sheen of sweat you knew was also present on yours.

“Say my name,” Angel pants into the slick skin on your back, kissing a line down your spine, his body covering yours possessively.

You were too caught up in everything Angel, failing to respond quickly enough for his liking as you gasped at every thrust.

A crack of heat flashed across your ass, Angel swatting you there once. You should be annoyed, but you couldn't lie -- you fucking loved it when he was like this. Only for you.

"A-angel," you sighed, the crescendo of your orgasm climbing, threatening to burst any second, you tightening around Angel.

"Bueno," he purred. "You close? Yeah, you fucking are," Angel snarled, taking in the way you threw your hips back desperately to meet him, squirming one hand beneath you to touch yourself. "You can have it, baby, I'll make it good. You just gotta ask pretty for me."

You deepened the arch in your back, flexing your hips back toward Angel, and gripping the bedspread before you in your fingers, face pressed flush with the sheets, your other hand still pressed to your clit.

Angel tilted your head, leaning over further and gripping your jaw, squeezing to pucker your cheeks. He kissed you, sucking your lower lip between his. He kissed you gently, a deceptive contrast to the hand gripping your face, his hips snapping into yours at a now-brutish pace. He pecked another light kiss to your lips, followed by another, gently biting your lip and dragging it lightly as he drew his face from yours.

He released your lips as you whispered another plea into his mouth.

"Come on then, baby."

Your orgasm washed over you, pinpricks of striking matches splintering across your skin, followed by a euphoric wave of white-heat, blissfully soothing every nerve it had just lit.

Angel followed, emptying himself into you with a few final thrusts, groaning at the way you tightened just so around him.

He withdrew gently, collapsing next to you as you both caught your breath.

Your lashes fanned your cheeks as you blinked hazily at the form of your love through the soft glow of the room.

"I do love you, Angel," you told him, leaning across the sheets to rub your nose back and forth against his, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, grazing your soft fingers against the lines of his forehead, easing them away into an expression of soft serenity. "Always."

---

Now, you walked out of the clubhouse, around to the side of the porch, a quiet corner away from the noise. Willing yourself to calm down as small, hot tears trickled their way, uninvited, down your cheeks.

Your thoughts were moving a million miles a second, the battle of luck you were waging with the universe saw you quickly losing.

The year you spent with Angel replaying itself in your mind. Every word, every touch, that goddamn tattoo. Remembrance, my ass. How you would hold him when he came home too high-strung and strung-out emotionally for words. How you would save the best leftovers for him when you knew he had been away and would be craving the Chinese food from the place down the block when he got back. How he felt inside of you on the coldest nights and in the most tender mornings. How he would whisper enchanting endearments into the shell of your ear as he rolled his hips into yours, your mind and body completely his. How you would wear his shirts and overly-large socks around his apartment, leaving doodles and scribbled poems on sticky notes for him to find in his moments alone. How he kissed you warmly, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like syrupy possession that you never wanted to end.

How it did end. How he had thrown out your world, crumpled it into a crushed paper ball and tossing it away with the carelessness of a child. Ending things with seemingly no spare thought for your feelings. How EZ had let slip when he saw you in town that Angel was expecting a kid, the timing of everything suddenly making a little more sense. How it made you feel, now that you knew you were wholly his, but he was never entirely yours. How you had kept to yourself in the months that followed, the cracks in your heart widening until you felt like you would drown in them.

The pulse of your feelings for him, always strong; they warm you. But it was still you they all left behind.

Your thoughts were still swirling when, off to the side, you heard the porch door open and close again, and you prayed that whomever was coming outside was going to have a smoke out front, or that they were on their way out. That they wouldn’t find you.

But of course, these things never worked out how you wanted them. You cursed any god you could think of for just how un-fucking-lucky you were sometimes.

Because, really, who other than Angel was making his way around the porch to you? Taking in your hunched form as you leaned over the railing, looking anywhere but at him.

Of fucking course.

You kept your eyes down, focused in your clasped hands as you leaned over the railing, refusing to look at him.

And now? Now he was looking at you, and it's the one time you wished he wouldn't.

One thing you wouldn't do, now that he was here, was break the silence first. He didn't want to hear what you'd had to say, so why would you grace him with your thoughts now? Petty? Sure. But you weren't the one in there with your hands on some ass while a so-called friend harassed your ex.

A few uncomfortable beats dragged on before Angel broke the silence, shattering it like glass with a verbal hammer.

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

"What the fuck did he say, Frida?" His voice angry now, demanding. The same tone he used to break your heart.

"It ain't working. Not my fuckin’ fault you can't see it."

You rolled your eyes, another shard of icy glass painfully wedging into your heart at his use of the name. Still refusing to look in his direction when you replied, softly but sharply,

"You know exactly what he said. What I'm trying to figure out is why, exactly, you care."

"I care, Frida," was all he offered.

You snorted in response. Undignified, sure. But couldn't he see this was killing you? Where was his mercy?

"I do," he insisted, the thud of his boots across the wood of the porch indicating that he was crossing to you, coming to stand a ways behind you.

"I'm not going to do this with you. He said some shit. It's over. We move on. What more could you have to say about that?"

Keep it simple, keep yourself safe. You gave him nothing to say back. And then…

"And if I told you I wanted you? I wanted you back?"

You whipped your head around to -- finally -- meet Angel's eyes, which you did for a fleeting moment before zeroing in once more on your shoes, staring resolutely at the ground. You were not going to let him see you cry again, godfuckingdamnit.

The fleeting glimpse of his face, of his eyes meeting yours once more after all this time, was enough. He looked more tired up close than he had before. Still unfair in his striking beauty, his midnight eyes still enough to pull you in, drown you in their oceanic depths. You hated it. Hated that he still had that power over you. But try as you might, you couldn't hate him.

Your silence was killing Angel with the precision of a thousand miniscule cuts. Each deeper than the last. Until he couldn’t take it any longer. He reached through the space between, for where your hand rested on the railing. You saw the gesture coming, and whipped your hand away at the last moment, cradling it to your chest like he had burned you. You faced him fully now.

You chuckled softly, wryly, and devoid of any humor before you muttered, "You don't want me, baby. Please don't lie."

“And how do you know that’s a lie?” Angel mumbled thickly, working his tongue around the words, through his own emotion.

You scuffed your toe into the hewn wood of the deck, shrugging before you responded, simply,

“If I was what you wanted, you wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere. And you certainly wouldn't have found someone else. You wouldn’t have said what you said, ended it like you did, with everything on just your terms.” You sighed deeply, with the rattle of tears lodged into your chest before you spoke again, “You made up your mind and never even let me say a word. If you wanted anything to do with me, you could have at least given me a word.”

Angel blinked, hard. The familiar pressure of real tears building behind his eyes. You were right of course. And fuck, weren't you always? You'd always told him like it was, harsh truths that only you could cushion in your gentle, empathetic way.

"Please, querida, just let me explain what happened--"

You held up your hand, shaking your head firmly, effectively silencing Angel.

"No!" Much softer now, "No. I- I'm sorry, Angel, I don't mean to be rude. But, no." Your voice small, but clear, as you'd finally gotten your opportunity to say something back to him. "I, uh, I don't want to hear any explanation, and you really don't have to?"

You lilted the last part like it was a question, but continued on.

"You, um, you've had a lot of time to tell me something, anything, about what the fuck happened. And you didn't. You left me with nothing. Just confusion and hurt, and I've made peace with that. It's taken a while, but … I just… I don't need that from you. I gave you space, always respected your decisions and opinions, and now you won't do the same. You're still trying to take from me. Offering me an explanation now?" You scoffed. "That isn't for me, and don't fuckin’ act like it is -- it's for you. And I understand that, that's fine. I'm not angry at you for that, but I'm also not going to humor it."

You exhaled shakily, you couldn't believe you'd said all of that, that you had made it through.

Angel was speechless. It made your heart feel even sicker -- all of this silence from him for so long, and he'd offered to explain himself and you'd (gracefully) told him to fuck off. Why had you done that??

It was about time you'd stood up for yourself, that's why.

An explanation would be nice, sure. But where Angel's words, whispered affirmations and heady declarations of love, had once made your soul swell and sing… now, you knew, anything he'd had to say to you would only serve to do the opposite.

And your heart, perpetually bruised by nature of you being a hopeless romantic, just couldn't take it.

You hopped off the porch, spinning around to face Angel, finding his eyes on you still. Hadn't you wished for him to look at you? To really see you once more?

"I'm out," you tossed a thumb over your shoulder toward where you'd parked your car. "Sorry, I don't mean to abandon the old post, but uh, I'm sure you guys have someone to fill in. I'll text Aneesa to grab my stuff, don't worry about it."

Like he would, you thought.

You were mostly rambling to yourself, and not really to Angel, as you backed away, fleeing to your car.

Angel watched you go, the resonant ache in his chest that had been ever-present since tossing your stuff out, amplified when Luisa had left him, and now sure to be permanent, buried in cement beneath the weight of his every decision, and every word.

You looked good, he thought. Your hair was longer than when he'd seen you last. Your little skirt flouncing as you strode away. Your skin still glowed, full lips still twisted into that wry smile of yours that he had seen from across the room. All of that was true, but your eyes were also tired, and your smile never quite reached them.

The thought that he was responsible for dimming that sparkle made him feel sicker than he already had. The way you had brushed off Andres, despite his obnoxious insistence, and the things the cocky new patch had said to you -- may as well add those to the ever-growing pile of things stained and tainted by Angel's guilt.

And he was left alone with that guilt as you left the lot. He turned back to the party. His cool facade slipping back into place. Not ready to face the wrath of EZ and Coco, surely waiting inside to proverbially beat his ass.

What would you say if I come over? And we stand face to face now that we're older?

---

Angel shuffled into his apartment, the late hour catching up to his weary form as he ambled over to his bedside, flicking on the lamp.

Rubbing a large hand down his face, he sat on his bed in a huff of exhaustion. Your first encounter in months since he'd all-but tossed you from this very room was pricking him with a kind of nauseating nervous energy. But all he wanted to feel in that moment was you, whether he deserved it or not.

He'd still had it, didn't he? Where was it?

He pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fishing through its contents for what he hoped was still in there.

His fingers curled over his prize -- a slip of paper adorned with your handwriting. Scrawled lines of poetry on a neon pink Post-It note, curled with age and disuse, something you had left for him while he slept in one morning.

“I was thinking of you,” you had said when he had asked you about it later, shrugging as if it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the world.

Your love for him was clean in its simplicity and forwardness, whenever he could wade his way through the mire of your shy demeanor. You had stuck the Post-It to his nightstand while he was sleeping and you made your way to work. Your words were cramped and crunched into the small paper square, but ready to greet him with the shining light of a sunny new day.

“I see your ardor through a pearlescent lense, and all is pleasantly pink and blurry with you-- Resplendent in your love's solar hope. You are so warm beneath the brush of my fingertips, and I burn. So in love with you, as I am and as I do."

Now, his eyes scanned the words for the millionth time since you had written them. He had committed it to memory by now, wishing he could hold you instead of this crumpled piece of paper, mocking him with its annoyingly bright pink hue.

But how could he? Angel was the kind of man who simmered in his emotion -- burning slowly, lowly, only to reach a pitch. He kept to himself until he couldn’t any longer -- and then it was all bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve.

He had done what he had thought was right. Cutting you out with all of the brutality and finesse of a battleaxe, to focus on Luisa and his unborn son. He thought she was what he wanted. But now, he didn’t even have them. He had nothing to show for his decisions but the lonely, sick feeling ever-present in his chest.

The you at the beginning of your relationship would have kissed each bruise in his soul, one by one, until they were better. Would have gifted him with the warmth of your time and attention until he was made whole again with the molten heat of your gracious heart. But the you now?

Angel could never, would never, cover the tattoo on his arm, though he had thought about it. Blacking it out once and for all, so the piece of you he wore on his sleeve would finally match the pitch, and emptiness inside. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was, as he’d said all that time ago, your gift to him. And he’d made you a promise that he wouldn’t.

All he wanted was to look you in the eyes so he could remember that he loved you once.

And not that he had any reason to know it, but across town, you had made it home. Your phone shoved to the bottom of your bag, lighting up with texts from Aneesa, EZ, and Coco. But the only person on your mind was Angel.

How much of what he had said was true? You weren't sure. But you were sure that you knew where you stood, still painfully alone and in love as ever, the cracks in your heart only fillable by the very person you had brushed off earlier.

And, while Angel readied himself for bed, snapping the lights off and attempting to cut through the oppressive darkness by staring at the ceiling with his own penetrative gaze, the empty side of the bed had never felt more cavernous, but more weighted. Mocking.

If Angel was being honest with himself -- something he was never too keen on being in his more sobering moments -- he didn't love you once. He still loved you.

Thinking after all this time, I just wanna meet your eyes so I can remember why... Why I loved you once.

Tagging:

@themarcusmoreno @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @steeeeeeeviebb @qveenbvtch @mxsamwilson @ifimayhaveaword @huliabitch @pettyprocrastination @phoenixhalliwell @flightlessangelwings @cinewhore @velvetmel0n @moonlight-prose @rebeccasficrecs @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @aerolanya @djvrins @jenrebloggingfics @ciriswife @justanotherblonde23 @superhoeva @witching-hour @luckyharley1903

#angel reyes fic #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x fem!reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes angst #angel reyes smut #angel reyes #clayton cardenas #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans #mayans mc fic #my writing #rachel writes #holy shittttt this boy is long #it just got away from me #sorry #loved you once

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enamoured-x · 3 years

Text

Sweet Release | Part 2

Angel Reyes x Reader

Summary: Things don’t go as planned when you attend Ez’s party.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Angst

Word count: 4.8k

Excerpt: “Your salvation and your destruction kneeled before you, ready to prove to you how deadly the mix of the two was. Your angel on his knees ready to sin.”

*gif is mine!

a/n: thank you for all the love on this mini series! With that being said there will be a part 3 and it will be the final part! Enjoy! (part 1 can be found here)

Part 2

One long fucking month. Since the day you left Angel at the clubhouse with his come leaking out of you, you had been a wreck. Honestly, you were proud of yourself for holding it together so well when you broke the news to him. Maybe because you knew eventually you’d break. You were a mess. Hating Angel for what he put you through, hating that he led you to walk out on him in the first place. He tried calling every day for the first two weeks and then it simmered down to a call every few days. None of which you answered. For some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to block his number just yet. You still cared for him, still wanted to be able for him to reach out if something was wrong as long as it didn’t pertain to your failed relationship. You didn’t want to talk about how stupid that logic was because you knew keeping his number was because a part of you still wanted it to work.

You played with the idea of maybe. But you couldn’t tell him that because you weren’t sure. You put yourself through all of his shit already and if he was going to do it all over again if you gave him a second chance you’d kill him. It would kill you. With that being said, you were going to let this play out. You knew you were supposed to get over him, knew you made a choice that day to end it with him. But a girl could dream that he’d make some grand gesture to win you back like in the movies, but this wasn’t a movie and Angel definitely wasn’t the romantic male protagonist.

“Angel’s a mess.” You glared at Ez for bringing him up. You ignored his comment and sipped your coffee. You and Ez still kept in close contact over the month, sharing funny videos and checking in, just the usual stuff. Today he invited you to hang out and catch up since you hadn’t seen him since that day and you had agreed, happy to go somewhere that wasn’t work or your home. Happy to see your friend again.

“How’s pops?” You asked, trying to get the topic off Angel. You weren’t here to talk about Angel, he made his bed and now he could lay in it. If you were open to the idea of giving him a second chance, and that was a big if, he would need to do a lot more than having Ez tell you how miserable he’s been. You had been a wreck long before you broke up with him, he deserved to know what it felt like.

Ez sighed and didn’t bring up Angel again, “he’s fine, he sends his best.” You nodded, making it a point to stop by soon and say hi, just because you and Angel broke up didn’t mean you couldn’t be friendly with his family still. They were practically your family.

Ez twiddled with his coffee cup and you sighed.

“Go ahead.” You told him, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. The outside seating offered you a breath of fresh air you desperately needed when talking about the one and only Angel Reyes.

He stopped his movements and looked up at you, “what?”

“You obviously either have an opinion on the breakup or you told Angel you were meeting me and he asked you to tell me something for him. Hell, maybe you only asked to hangout with me to deliver a message. Whatever it is, spill it, Reyes.” You knew Ez enough to know when something was on his mind or when he was holding back. This was one of those times. You weren’t exactly mad at him for it but after your grief died out, you were just confused about Angel. You knew you made the right choice at the time but it didn’t mean you still didn’t miss him. It didn’t mean you were over him.

Ez held his hands up, “I swear I just wanted to see you. No secret motive. If Angel wants to work things out with you, he can do it himself, I'm not his messenger.” You sighed. You knew he was telling the truth.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” He was still holding back. He may not be there for some ulterior motive but there was something.

“You know I’m getting patched in…” He trailed off and you nodded your head. You were excited for him when he told you the news a few weeks ago. Ez had put all his time and effort in the club and he was finally going to become an official member. He deserved it.

“The club is throwing me a party.” He stated and you shook your head.

“No.” He scoffed at your answer and sat up.

“Come on, you have to come. You don’t have to talk to Angel, just stay with me the whole time.” He begged. You groaned at the idea.

“Ez, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s the best idea.” Showing up to the clubhouse just a month after you broke up with Angel and fucked him in the middle of it was probably not the greatest idea.

“Please. You’re my only friend outside of the club, I want you there.” Ez’s brown eyes pleaded with you. You were his only friend and as that friend you owed it to him to show your support, even if it meant having to see your ex again.

You bit your lip and Ez smiled, knowing he had you.

“Fine, but I’ll be glued to your side the whole time you’ll regret asking me to come.” You pointed at him and he laughed.

“This should be fun.”

You should’ve taken that as a warning.

You hated the fact that you were putting effort into what you were wearing to the party. Trying on basically all the clothes in your closet. You figured if you were going to see Angel you had better make it good. Eventually you settled on a simple red summer dress, flowy enough to be innocent but short enough to showcase your legs. You opted for some white sneakers with it, deciding that you were definitely not going to dress up to this thing, Angel or no Angel. Either way, this night wasn’t about him or you, it was Ez’s night and you were going to be there to support him.

Your nerves got the best of you when you pulled into the packed scrapyard, Chucky directed you where to park and you took a deep breath before stepping out. The party was already in full swing, people scattered outside and around the fire, already drinking and having a good time.

“Hey, you made it.” Ez said as he walked up to you as you made your way toward the clubhouse. You had yet to spot Angel and you were thankful for it.

“I told you I would come.” You pulled him into a hug and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and then led you inside.

“Thought you might back out last minute.” He shrugged. You were about to say something when you saw him. The man who had taken up space in your mind this past month. The man you left after reaching one last high with him. He was laughing at something Coco said, his smile not reaching his eyes. You could tell that what Ez told you had been true, that he was miserable. He looked good, just not all there. Both men were standing against the wall, what stirred jealousy in you was one of the club hang arounds to his left touching his arm. You swallowed hard, you forgot that before you and Angel got together, he was a hot commodity amongst Vicky’s girls. Now that he was off the market, you were sure the women were jumping at the chance to share his bed, they probably already had. Lead filled your stomach once again.

You were about to turn to Ez to take the beer bottle from him when Angel finally looked over and stopped in his tracks. Gone was the smile and in its place was shock. You stared back at him, into those dark brown eyes you loved so much. Seeing him stung more than you cared to admit but you held strong.

“You good?” Ez’s words snapped you out of your trance and you turned to him, finally taking the bottle from his hands.

“You didn’t tell him I was coming?” You asked him as he led you over to take a seat at the bar. He looked guilty.

“If I had he probably would’ve been by the gates waiting for you. Figured this was better.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hermosa, haven’t seen you in a while.” You turned around to face Bishop. A genuine smile lit up your face and you got up to hug him. He graciously accepted, giving you a tight squeeze before letting you go. Bishop was always so kind to you, always so supportive of yours and Angel’s relationship.

“Hey, Bish. How are you?”

“I’m doing good. How are you? Which Reyes brother are you really here for?” He teased you and Ez chuckled. Obviously the club knew about yours and Angel’s split but he still welcomed you with open arms despite it. You were thankful for it.

“Very funny, but I’m here for Ez.” He laughed and placed a kiss on your temple before excusing himself.

“Is he still looking over here?” You asked Ez, bringing the bottle up to your lips and taking a sip of the cold liquid. You welcomed the alcohol as it sat in your stomach.

“Yup and Vicky’s girl does not seem too happy about that.” You felt a sliver of satisfaction run through you. But Angel wasn’t yours, you made that clear. So you had absolutely no right to be jealous, you had no claim over him anymore. At least not in that way but with the way you felt his eyes on your body, you knew you still had some sort of pull over him. He had that same pull over you but tonight was not the night for that.

“Let’s get you drunk, Eziekiel. You deserve it.” You changed the subject. You weren’t going to sit here and talk about Angel who was a few feet from you during Ez’s party. No, you were going to celebrate the man of the hour. Your friend, arguably your best friend. Also arguably your only friend.

“Sounds good to me.”

Ez was a bit tipsy but not nowhere near drunk after many rounds of beers and a few shots. You on the other hand kept it to three beers and then opted for some water, not really one to drink all that much. That didn’t mean that you weren’t having fun though. Coco had eventually came over to talk to you during the night and you were glad none of the men held any animosity towards you. It felt nice to see them again and you could honestly say you were glad you came.

“Six o’clock, mamas.” Coco said and nodded behind you, you were turning around completely ready to see Angel. You were surprised he hadn’t tried to get your attention sooner seeing as how he still tried to contact you weekly. But it wasn’t Angel. The man who now stood in front of you was a stranger, albeit a very handsome stranger who was part of another charter by the patch on his vest. He was tall enough to tower over you, his dark eyes pulling you in. He ran his hand through his raven black hair and smiled at you, even with his facial hair you could still see prominent dimples.

“Hello, sweetheart. I’m Jay. And you are?” He stuck his tattooed hand out for you to take and you took it into your own. Jay was a tall glass of water, honestly a wet dream. Just not yours. But he could be. At least for tonight. A rebound wasn’t a terrible idea but you guessed there had to have been some rule about finding a rebound at the party of your ex boyfriend's brother’s party while he stood just a few feet away. You still introduced yourself nonetheless. You were a bit too distracted to notice Coco and Ez had left you to your own devices.

“So, what brings you to this party?”

“I’m a friend of Ez’s.” You told him. You swore you could still feel Angel’s eyes burning through you, you had felt it since you locked eyes with him. Whether he was giving you your space or he really didn’t want anything to do with you tonight, you didn’t know. But judging by the same girl who was still trying to get his attention, you figured he wanted nothing to do with you tonight if it meant him getting laid.

“Hmm,” he looked you up and down and you shifted under his gaze. You were kidding yourself if you actually thought you’d go through with a rebound. Especially with a Mayan. And you were kidding yourself if you thought a rebound was going to help. As if it was going to magically make your feelings for Angel disappear. As if sleeping with a stranger was going to give you that release you needed again, no, only Angel could do that. You hated it.

“So, this party is dying down, I was thinking maybe you wanna get out of here?” That was extremely forward, all he knew about you was your name. But who were you kidding, guys like him didn’t care, hell, you’d be lucky if he even remembered your name. You were just about to turn him down when he trailed his hand up your thigh skimming just under your dress. Your eyes widened at the gesture and you shoved him off you and backed up.

“Woah, what the fuck.” You hissed quietly, not wanting to make a scene. He laughed.

“Oh, come on. You're not here for Ez, you’re here to get laid.” What the fuck. You were about to tell him off before a hand wrapped around your waist and a warm body pulled you into his side. You didn’t even have to look to know who it was but you looked up anyways. Angel. Your damn angel.

“You touching my girl, homie?” He asked him, ice in his tone. You were surprised the guy wasn’t on the floor already, Angel’s girlfriend or not, he didn’t like people touching you if you weren’t willing. Maybe he knew punching a guys lights out right now was no way to win you back and it was definitely not needed at Ez’s patched-in party.

“Nah, man. Sorry, I didn’t know she was yours.” You scoffed.

“I’m not anyones.” You weren’t going to cause a scene but you hated men like this, men who thought women were just objects. You felt bad for the girl he would somehow convince to go home with him.

“Get fucking lost or we’re gonna have a problem.” Angel told him, fingers tightening on your waist. Your skin ignited at his touch, at him being so close, at his cologne infiltrating your senses once again. It all felt like home. You hated it. The guy held his hands up as he walked away mumbling curses under his breath. Before you could say anything to Angel, he was whispering in your ear.

“We need to talk. Now.” He didn’t give you room to argue as he led you down the hall and into his dorm room, closing the door. You didn’t like this. You didn’t trust yourself to be alone in a room with Angel right now. Give it another month or two then maybe, but right now? When your breakup was still a month fresh? No. It was dangerous. Angel turned to face you and you crossed your arms looking anywhere but at him, not wanting to look into his eyes. Not wanting to lose yourself in him.

“What do you want to talk about?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

“Us. You coming here dressed like that.” He motioned to your dress.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Angel. What’s done is done.” You explained, biting your lip. Seeing him one foot away, eyes locked on you, it was a bit too much. One month was not nearly long enough to get over Angel Reyes. Hell, you didn’t think any amount of time would be sufficient. He was a damn drug, one you couldn’t stay off of.

“So you came here to torture me? Rub it in my face? I fucking miss you and you come to my clubhouse and act like everything’s cool? Act like I didn’t mean shit to you?” He was angry, that was easy to see. But you could tell his tone carried a deep hurt, one he was desperately trying to contain. Your heart ached. You wanted him to hurt, at first. But now seeing him, seeing the desperation and anguish in his eyes? This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t like hurting the people you loved, even if they hurt you.

“Angel, that wasn’t my intention. Ez asked me to come and I wanted to support him. I’m not trying to hurt you.” You explained, stepping closer to him. That was also dangerous, you should be on the other side of the room, not a few inches away from him.

“Too fucking late.” He ran his ring cladded fingers through his hair.

“What do you want me to say, Angel? You hurt me, you didn’t make time for me. Our relationship was over long before that day.” It was the truth. You subconsciously knew your relationship was over with Angel before you had officially broken it off. You were just too scared to admit it to yourself, too desperate to hang onto the hope that he’d actually show up for you. But he never did and you knew it was time.

“I know, I fucked up. I know that. But what you did that day… that was cold.” You chewed on your bottom lip. Part of you did feel bad for giving him a false sense of hope that day, using him for your release and then dropping him. But you needed to end the relationship on a high note, end it with a sweet goodbye and not a bitter storm of curses, in the end it was all just bittersweet.

“I just… I needed you, Angel. I had missed you so much and I needed something…” You couldn’t find your words but you knew he knew what you meant, even if that day hurt like a bitch for him. He stepped forward, making a move to grab your arm but you backed up and shook your head.

“Mami, please…” He begged, this time you went still as he grabbed your arm with one hand and cupped your cheek with the other. Your body buzzed to life at his touch, like Angel flipped a switch and you were back on again, like you were just being dragged through life this past month on auto pilot, like he had finally given you the reins back to your body.

“Angel…” You were weak, your wavering voice gave you away. He leaned forward, his lips grazing yours slightly, his warm breath mingling with your own. You felt giddy as he surrounded you, as he invaded everything you were once again. And when he pressed his lips to yours, you melted into it. He licked along your lips and you opened your mouth, tongues sliding against each other. You moaned into it and grabbed onto his vest, trying to steady yourself at this heady feeling he gave you every time his lips were on any part of you. His hand slid to your waist and you had half a mind to snap out of your daze. You pulled away and he craned his neck, trying to chase your lips. You pushed on his chest lightly, wanting him to stop.

“No, Angel, we can’t…” You couldn’t get hurt again. You couldn’t just fall back into him just for him to keep you at home waiting up for him and waiting on his call, and when neither came you’d be right back where you started.

“Querida, I love you… I need you.” He whispered against your cheek. Hearing him say those words only made your heart ache worse and only made you want him more. It was damn confusing. You wanted him but you couldn’t put yourself through that shit again.

You knew what he meant. I need you. He didn’t just need a release, he needed you. Just like that day you broke up with him, you needed him to give you that high but you quite plainly just needed him.

“Fine. Let’s fuck and then go our separate ways.” You said, pulling him in for another kiss, needing the distraction. Not wanting to think about how fucking stupid that offer was, how fucking stupid you were. Sex wasn’t going to do anything but fill your base desire, it wasn’t going to give you back that piece of your heart that was ripped away from you when you left. He didn’t let the kiss go on more than a few seconds, pulling away, confusion and despair written all over his face.

“What?”

“Fuck me, Angel. We need it.” You stated plainly. He shook his head and backed up from you.

“No. I need you.” His words pricked another pain in your heart.

“Then take me.” You offered. You were sure you had lost your damn mind. But you wanted Angel, maybe it wasn’t exactly the way you wanted him but you’d take it.

“Fuck no. That’s not what I want.” You sighed, he wasn’t making this easy. Because it wasn’t what you wanted either. Yeah, you were desperate to feel him inside you again but it’s not truly what you wanted.

“That’s all I can offer.” Your words came out softer than you planned, sadder. He scoffed, running his hand down his face.

“You want a release, mami? I’ll give you one, but you’re not getting my dick. I can’t… I can’t be inside you without wanting to stay there. Can’t give you that if I know you’re just going to leave again.” You weren’t sure what he was offering. But it didn’t matter because he was more upset than he had been just a few moments ago.

“Angel…” You shook your head not knowing what to say. Fuck, if he fucked you right now you wouldn’t want him to go anywhere either. But that wasn’t your reality. The reality was that he fucked up and sex didn’t fix it the first time and it certainly wasn’t going to fix it this time.

“I’ll make you come on my tongue, and then you can walk out that door but you’ll walk out knowing only I can take you to heaven.” You swallowed hard at his words as he crowded your space again. Your breath hitched as he pulled you into his chest, making you look into his eyes.

“I’m not going to stop. Not gonna stop calling, texting, not gonna stop until you give me another chance to prove to you how much I fucking love you. But right now, I’ll give you what you want. Even if it kills me.” And with that he slid to his knees. Your whole world stopped at the confession, at him kneeling before you, ready to worship you in a way only he could. The sight of him on his knees, the rush you felt as he trailed his hands up your bare thighs, it was like no other high you had ever felt. Your salvation and your destruction kneeled before you, ready to prove to you how deadly the mix of the two was. Your angel on his knees ready to sin.

His lips trailed up your thighs and you threw your head back, steadying yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders. His warm breath getting closer to the place you needed him most had your core clenching around nothing, had you squirming, waiting for him.

“Fuck…” You breathed out as he lifted your dress to get his mouth right on the skin above your panties. You bit down hard on your bottom lip as you felt yourself getting wetter at his teasing. His lips skimmed your stomach before he forcefully yanked your panties down, a contrast to his gentle and slow movements. You gasped at the action but before you could react further, he buried his face in your pussy, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder in the process. You yelped at the sudden intensity, at his wet tongue sliding through your folds and flicking against your clit.

“Oh god.” You cried, grabbing onto his hair and grinding yourself into his face. He let you, following your movements, never relenting, never taking his mouth off you. Heaven. He wasn’t wrong, only your angel could take you there.

“Missed your taste. Missed you.” He mumbled against your slick. He said the last part so quietly you almost didn’t hear him, but you did. You heard him and it stung but the pleasure he was also giving you was overpowering your thoughts on his confession.

“Feels so good, Angel.” Your words spurred him on as he trailed his tongue to your hole, fucking you. You whined at the intrusion and rolled your hips and pulled his head in deeper. You were drowning again, or flying, or possibly dying. It felt too good, felt too sweet to be anything but something so fucking dangerous yet so damn exhilarating.

You were so lost in your pleasure you almost didn’t notice the door open, Angel obviously didn’t, head still buried in your pussy. The head that peeked around the door was the same woman who had been trying to fuck Angel all night. Her eyes widened at the sight and you should’ve felt embarrassed, but all you felt was that satisfaction again. Angel was here with you, on his goddamn knees for you. Pleasuring you and wanting nothing in return. At your mercy. Your head clouded with need at the thought, not because he was here with you and not some other woman but because he’d only ever do this for you.

You moaned a little louder and the girl snapped out of her shock and displeasure as she awkwardly closed the door.

Now that she was gone, you were once again focused on your man. Not your man. Angel said this would kill him, he didn’t know it was going to kill you too even if you got your release.

“Gonna come…” You cried as he flicked your clit with his tongue. You were yanking at his hair, which only made him moan and made for a sweet vibration on that bundle of nerves. You rolled your hips against his face faster, nearing the edge. The sounds his tongue and your slick were making were enough to put a porno to shame and it only brought you closer.

“Come, let me take you there.” Heaven. You could see it behind your eyelids, could fucking feel it as your orgasm finally shot through the surface, taking you sky high. You let out a litany of curses mixed with his name, eyes watering at the intensity of your high. Earlier you didn’t know if you were flying or drowning, what you realized now was that you were flying and drowning. A mix of gasping for air while simultaneously flying right through it.

Finally you caught a breath as your climax started to fade, Angel still licking his way through it with gentle strokes. You whined as you finally came down, finally came back to this world. He lapped you up slowly and then placed a small kiss to your clit before pulling away and looking up at you. Your breath shook as you looked into his eyes, as he kept your gaze and laced his fingers through yours. You let him. Not having the energy to fight him. He knew what this was, he said it himself before he dropped to his knees. It made you feel slightly less guilty about only taking and not giving.

He finally got to his feet. You saw the tent in his pants but he adjusted himself and cursed under his breath. He didn’t seem to care about that though as he looked at you. You didn’t like the look. A look that held a lot of promise. His beard was slightly damp from your come and your core throbbed at the sight. He licked his lips as if he knew what you were thinking about and took your face in his hands.

“Forgive me.” He whispered, desperate again. You knew what it was. He said he’d get you off, nothing to it, but of course there was a small part of him that thought you’d change your mind after another orgasm.

“No.” Your words stung him, you could tell. But his face hardened and you thought he’d pull away. But instead, he stroked your bottom lip with his thumb.

“You will.” And with that promise he was walking out the door, leaving you more confused than ever.

Taglist: @starrynite7114 @xladymacbethx @fear-less-write-more @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @glimmerglittergirl @vicmackeybullshxt @miss-nori85 @blessedboo @kalimont83 @ctrlbitch @angelreyesgirl @langiinspirations @lilac-tea-time @melancholymelanin @-im-fantastic- @withmyteeth @isisafrofairy @elektriknachosss @krysiewithak @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @mental-bycatch @smurfflynn @blackmissfrizzle @arination99 @bucky-iss-bae (if you want to be removed from the taglist for this fic pls let me know!)

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

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 3 years

Text

two at a time.

PART 1.

EZ REYES x female!reader x BISHOP LOSA.

MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ words: about 2k.

❝ warnings: nsfw, threesome, dirty as fuck, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, double penetration, language, swearing, praise kink, slight degradation, mention of bodily fluids and i dont know what else.

❝ a / n: i'm not sorry for this. i started this shot a couple of months ago and forget about it. thanks to my lovely wife @mayans-sauce for throwing more gasoline to my fire. it has no plot and maybe it's poor in details, but i didn't want to make it longer than it is already. as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

“I don' know what you heard, but you're wrong. And I'm not gonna do it”.

Outside, you look pretty calm, but inside you're freaking out. EZ is sitting over the table of the trailer, while Bishop is some steps away from you, resting his back against the fridge.

“Listen, this is not like… you are cheating me, baby. You dreamed about it, and I wanna please you. That's all”. Your boyfriend says, with both hands placed on the lapels of his kutte.

“Com'ere, querida”.

Bishop offers you a hand. You look at it with curiosity, before traveling your gaze again to the younger man putting down off the table. Gulping and licking your incisors, you take his hand, and before you can be aware of what they're thinking in you find yourself between both. El Presidente kisses you slowly, enjoying it, taking his time; while EZ bites your neck with his fingers clung to your hips. You can feel how hard they are, not noticing it before because you were too busy fighting against your desires.

Bishop moves his hands to your breasts, squeezing them while keeping his lustful eyes on yours, watching you silently moan. This feels much better than in your dreams —much better than you could imagine. While the older one takes care of your nipples, EZ rolls down your panties through your thighs, before removing the other piece of clothing to leave you exposed for their own pleasure.

“Sweetheart… you're a fucking goddess”. Bishop praises you using that charming smile he has to make your legs tremble. “Tell us what you need. Use that beautiful mouth of yours”.

“I wa— wan—”.

“Tell us what you need”. Your boyfriend grunts keen, gripping one of his huge hands on your throat from behind, pressing you among their bodies.

“I need you to… fuck me”. You whine starting to lose your mind when EZ urges you to open your legs for them. “At… At once”.

Their husky laughs burn your cheeks in shame.

“You heard that, prospect? This little filthy whore wants our dicks at the same time”.

“You think you can take us both?” There's no doubt in his voice, kissing the sweet spot under your ear while taking your right hand and bringing it to the rock under Bishop's rough dark jeans. “You want his dick in your sweet tight pussy, baby girl? Ask him”.

God, if they continue talking to you like that you're going to cum without needing to be pounded. You can't help but stroke his hard bulge watching immediately the struggles you are causing him to breathe.

“Can I… first blow your cock, Presidente?” You inquire with a honeyed low tone of voice, starting to lose your shame.

“We don't have time for games now, querida. So, show me what you have for me”. He denies, demanding what he has been craving since he put a step inside the trailer.

You swallow touring down his abdomen to the belt, undoing it with trembling fingers because of your nervousness, hearing EZ behind you maneuver and dealing with his own clothes. You can't believe he has been given a threesome, to let another man fucks you only to make your fantasies come true.

“You go first, brother”. Bishop utters, referring to the need of your wetness as natural lube.

El Presidente snakes an arm between your legs to raise it and find a comfortable posture and more space for your boyfriend to slam his dick inside your cunt. You scream out, having to put your hands on the older's shoulders to find balance. EZ growls into your ear as he keeps eye contact with his boss, just like you're trying to do, overwhelmed by the pleasure. He flexes down his knees, not enough to pull his cock out of you, to thrust you with all his strengths again.

“Oh, fuck”. You cry inevitably.

“My prospect makes you feel good, ah?”

“Yes… Yes, Presidente. He fucks me so good”. You nod with your head as you can, complaining this time when you feel empty.

“Now it's my turn”.

His voice is rougher, throatily, giving you goosebumps all around. Bishop uses his free hand to guide his hard length to your folds, stroking his mushroom head to collect your arousal before taking a step forward. Unlike your boyfriend, he wants to feel you adjusting to his dick, pushing it inside your soaked pussy slowly. He can't help but wail with parted lips noticing how tight and warm she is.

“Speak to us, mi reina”. EZ murmurs, as he continues pumping himself and spreading your juices from his glans to his base.

“Baby… Baby, he's so thick”. You gasp closing your eyes and resting your head against your boyfriend's shoulder. “Fuck… please, put your dick inside me too… I need you”.

Before you can react, the two men work together to spread your buttocks so he can fulfill your request made between cried begs. Hearing him spit in his fingers, your boyfriend brings them to your tightest hole, sliding them in slowly —tortuously slow. He has to prepare you even if it's not your first rodeo, and you know it. EZ fingers your ass, feeling a slight pain that Bishop erases from your mind by occupying it with a filthy kiss. The older devours your lips, drinks your moans, dominates your tongue, and tastes your saliva. All in the same dirty gesture that pushes you over limits.

And it doesn't take your boyfriend even a second to pull out his fingers and start to bury his cock in your ass. Your eyes become crystal when you feel filled than ever in your life. They both let you some seconds to fit your walls, clenching around their lengths reaching your guts.

“Fuck”. You sob against Bishop's lips, suffocated by EZ's hand again around your throat. “Ple— Please… Please… move”.

That's the kick-off for the Mayans. And you don't need to be the smartest person in the world to know they're not going to have any mercy. They are going to ruin you.

El Presidente and his prospect pound your holes at sync. Hurry, hard, desperate. They're like two lions in heat marking their territory and competing to earn your moans crying their names. You can't even form a proper sentence, being a mess of whinings and whimpers. It doesn't hurt as you thought, quite the opposite, even if the posture isn't your favorite. You'd give your life right now to ride them at the same time, thanking them for fucking you till making you pass out.

“Such a good girl…” Bishop praises you licking your lips with the tip of his tongue, as his pace becomes rashly.

“Taking our dicks… Taking us so fucking good, mi amor”. EZ has his head tossed back and his hands nailed on your hips, digging his whole length in your ass, while his boss continues pounding forcefully your cunt.

Your mind is blank, your eyes are rolled to the back of your head, forgetting for a moment where you are and what's happening. They both feel so good inside you that you can't even breathe. Your boyfriend paws your abdomen straight to your breasts to squeeze them and pull your nipples, offering them to Bishop to bite them. And he does it, not doubting. His teeth take one at a time, enough to leave some marks there as you tilt your face to the younger looking for his lips. He kisses them hungry for you, tucking his tongue inside your mouth to invade it completely.

The thrusts don't decline on pace, still being quick and strong, hitting your g-spot any time Bishop forces you down when he goes inside your cunt.

“Fuck, preciosa… who could say you're so naughty with that… innocent look, ah?” The older growls against your exposed neck for him and his desire to leave more marks on your skin, so you don't forget that they have fucked you because you're such a needed hoe for them.

“You've no idea, Prez”. EZ babbles, tucking two fingers between your lips to show him how good you are using your tongue, twirling it around them maintaining the older's dark gaze with yours.

And you are ashamed because of the fact that you can't last longer than usual, being too much for you to have them both balls-deep in your little holes. You're going to come in any moment and they know by your lack of air and the way your legs start to tremble like a pudding in the middle of an earthquake.

“Don't you fucking dare to cum without asking for permission”. EZ demands you, tangling a hand on your hair to push your head a little more back and nail his dark furious orbs on yours.

You cry just at the thought of not being capable of talking, while he forces you to face his boss, expecting your words impatiently.

“Please, Presidente… lemme cum… I ne— I need to cum… please”.

You're literally crying, trying to hold back your orgasm as much as you can.

“Not this time”. He just replies. And he has spoken.

You can't believe he's not going to let you cum, complaining with grunts when he pulls his dick out of you, just like your boyfriend does. You can't believe EZ is going to deny you too what you need the most.

“Put on your knees. Right now”.

You obey in silence, cleaning your tears as you go down watching both men placing themselves in front of you. Bishop's dick is thicker than your boyfriend's and somewhat longer. But the veins popping up in EZ's dick are much better when he twitches inside you, or when you suck his soul out of his body. You love that texture in your mouth.

“Stick your tongue”. The younger orders, gripping his length to jerk off himself imitating his boss who hasn't waited to do it.

And you obey, hoping they will make you cum after they do like a reward for being a good girl to them. With it showing, Bishop and EZ speed up the moves of his wrist, pumping both cocks resting on the tip of your tongue. Their vocals become louder filling the trailer and not caring if someone can hear them, sitting on your heels.

Your boyfriend is the first on spilling his warm ropes straight to your mouth, making Bishop say something about a bet in a whisper that you can't really listen to —understanding the meaning seeing EZ take a step back to give his boss more space. El Presidente places both hands on your head, urging you to swallow the cum down your throat to suck his dick. And you do it delighted, being craving it since some minutes ago when he denied it to you.

Anxious, you close your lips around his length tasting your own juices there and you bob your head as if your life depended on it, placing your hands on his lower back and your eyes on EZ's. He doesn't seem bothered or disappointed, he seems more like glad watching you blowing Bishop's cock like the sweetest lollipop you have ever taken. And the older can't hold it anymore forcing your throat and filling your mouth completely, as he presses your nose to his pelvis causing you to choke on his delicious cum —gagging and coughing.

“Fuck my life, (Y/N)!” He yells in a howl, making you look at him with your orbs covered in tears because of the effort, watching how his seed falls through the curves of your abused lips straight to your breathless chest. “Take it… Take it a little more, niña…”

Trying to bring some air to your lungs through your nostrils, he has to loosen his tight, strong grip on your hair when you can't continue. Your coughs rip off your throat, cleaning your mouth with your fingers before sucking them clean under their attentive pleased gazes.

Bishop helps you to stand up on your still shaky legs, leaning on your ear and snaking a hand between them and caress your heated core. “I will come back tonight. Put you on four. Fuck that sweet little pussy while the prospect looks. And I'm gonna make you cum harder than he has ever done. You hear me?”

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveeee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowman @fanofalltheficsx

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa x reader #obispo losa x reader #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes x reader #ez reyes smut #bishop losa smut #mayans mc smut #im not sorry

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mayans-sauce · 3 years

Text

Snatched Away - Blowjob

Gif Credit: @sonsofeorl

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Female Reader

Word Count: 380

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, cursing, oral (male receiving), mention of bodily fluids

GROUP CHAT for updates!

•• Main Masterlist •• EZ Masterlist ••

Let me know what you think❤️

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You didn't care that you snatched EZ away from his bartender duties at the party; you were just so desperate to feel him in your mouth, and besides, everyone was too drunk even to notice that he was gone.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He asked as you pulled him by the hand to a more secluded area of the clubhouse. “I need to be back there.” “I don't care, EZ, I need you now.” Pushing him up against a wall, he looked down at you with a smirk on his face.

His fingers found their way under your shirt, his fingers tracing your skin made goosebumps erupt all over you. Your arms were around his neck, and your lips traveled down the side of his sweet spot, forming a groan for him.

“Do you really want to go back, EZ?” You asked teasingly. “Fuck no, keep going.”

Your hands found his belt buckle, and you quickly undid it. Pulling down his pants when you got down on your knees for him. EZ leaning his head on the wall, his eyes shut close at what was about to happen.

Your eyes were met with a big bulge in his underwear. You giggled softly, your hand reaching up to rub the dent. “Don't tease Y/N.”

Quickly pulling them off, you took him in your hand as you meet with his dark eyes. You licked the tip while still keeping eye contact.

“More,” he pushed your head lightly towards him, wanting you to take all of him. You traced his vein with the tip of your tongue before you took him in your warm mouth and boobed your head fast.

EZ tried his best to keep his mouth shut and not let out a single sound of pleasure. He always got loud with you but now wasn't the time as other people weren't that far away.

“Good girl. Keep going.”

You felt him twitch in your mouth, and you cupped his balls with your hand to bring him towards the end. EZ bit down on his fist as his hot cum ran down your throat, and you swallowed all of him graciously.

“Do you still want to go back there, or should we continue this at home?” “Let’s go home NOW!”

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bumblesimagines · 9 months

Note

i thought you left.

i don't know what to say. this has never happened before.

thanks for patching me up.

- Ez Reyes

i thought you left.

i don't know what to say. this has never happened before.

thanks for patching me up.

pronouns: gender neutral, they/them

"Well, fuck."

Who would've thought that on a perfectly nice Friday evening, you'd answer the doorbell expecting to see a delivery driver only to see your ex-boyfriend standing there bloody and bruised. The very guy you'd last seen when they hauled him away in handcuffs for murder.

Ezekiel fucking Reyes.

You stared at him for a long moment, looking over the blood and slowly forming bruises on his face. A trickle of blood dripped down from his bloody nose, staining his kutte. Your eyes automatically drifted to the patch on the kutte. Prospect. That fucking idiot. No doubt he'd only recently gotten out of prison, and there was, a pretty little prospect for the Mayans.

"I thought you were smart, Reyes. Graduating with honors and all that. When the mighty fall, they really do take quite the tumble, huh?" Your arms crossed across your chest and you felt your jaw clenched. The only thing you saw when you looked into his was Emily and her stupid little smile. The little vixen that had snatched your best friend and boyfriend right from under your nose.

Ez winced and his honey-colored eyes turned downward. "I'm sorry... My bike has a punctured tire and your house was closest." He explained quietly. It surprisingly stung to hear his reasoning.

"I'll give Angel a call-"

"No, no, he'll make a big deal out of this."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't blame him. You look shit." You spoke bluntly and a grin cracked on his face, though it only made him wince and hiss lowly. Rolling your eyes and moving aside, you motioned for him to step inside.

You gathered any and all medical supplies you had stored away and dumped them onto the small dining table, having Ez take a seat and tilt his head up while you worked. Spending so much time around Angel had taught you how to patch somebody up after a rough day and so you put your skills to work.

"You're unusually quiet." Ez said softly. "I expected a big lecture on fighting and driving motorcycles."

"I don't know what to say." You replied, focusing on a small cut on his red cheek. "This has never happened before. My exes don't usually show up at night looking for a doctor."

"I can start the small talk-"

"Don't."

"I thought you left. Angel said you left Santo Padre a year after..." Ez trailed off and you paused your movements, meeting his softened gaze. You weren't sure if he meant a year after dumping you or a year after getting locked up, but either way, his soft tone annoyed you. Your jaw clenched and you leaned back, flicking the damp cotton swab aside.

"Yeah, I went to school. I got engaged and when that went to shit, I came back. Now, I'm an event coordinator for a town that's slowly dying because of the little fucking cartel on our doorstep. But I'm sure you know all about that, prospect." You spat the word out as if it were venom and Ez immediately looked away from you, looking rather small for a man with manslaughter on his record.

"Thanks for patching me up." Ez muttered. "And... I'm sorry for everything."

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

All Mine

Angel Reyes x Reader

Request by Anon: If you are taking them, I have a request! The reader and EZ are best friends and she is close to Angel who secretly loves her. But once EZ joins the MC and the reader hangs around more, Angel gets jealous of EZ because she is hanging out with him, not knowing the reader is in love with Angel. Angel becomes distant from her but she stops by his place to talk to him because she misses him and so much possessive smut, bruises, hickeys 🥵 I love your writing and wanted to request ❤️

Warnings: language, angst, oral sex (female receiving), mentions of bodily fluids (male + female), unprotected sex

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I was just thinking that I need to write something for Angel soon and this request was perfect for that so thank you. Got some backstory and buildup to really get the angsty vibes going before we get to the smut. As someone who is a big fan of hickeys and the like this request really spoke to me lmao. Hope you guys enjoy!! xo

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @starrynite7114 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @amandinesblogofstuff @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae (If you want to be tagged in any of my writing don’t hesitate to let me know, I’ll add you to the list!)

If there was anything that could be said about being friends with the Reyes brothers, it was that it was never boring. You’d all been friends for a long time, having gone through life together from high school on. You and EZ had been in the same grade and became best friends almost instantly, and it was difficult to be friends with EZ without also being roped into a friendship with his brother, too. Not that you minded—the three of you always managed to have a good time together.

And the friendship you had formed with Angel was pivotal when EZ was shipped off to Stockton. Never boring didn’t always mean fun. But the two of you kept each other sane throughout the whole ordeal. You’d always gotten along well, but in those years that EZ was away you and Angel really fell into a flow with each other. You were practically living over at his place. The couch always had blankets and pillows on it for you just in case you stopped in and stayed the night, which happened more and more frequently as time went on, especially on nights after you took the time to go visit EZ. You wondered why Angel didn’t go as often, but you knew better than to pull at those strings. Even though you knew a lot about the Reyes brothers and their family, you were also aware that there were a lot of things that you weren’t privy to, and you respected that.

You’d gotten good at patching Angel up, physically and emotionally. Whether he was coming home busted up from whatever was happening with the club, or you came over to find him a drunken emotional mess because of what life had put him through, you had slowly but surely figured out how to help him through it. Your first-aid skills improved a lot in the years that EZ was away.

And, somewhere along the way, you’d fallen in love with Angel in the mess of it all. There wasn’t an exact moment where you could pinpoint that it happened. But spending all that time together, getting each other through the rough patches and celebrating together in the good times, really carved out a space in your heart that was reserved just for Angel Reyes. You kept that to yourself, though. You knew that if he felt the same way at all, he would’ve said something or made a move of some kind. It stung sometimes, but you knew that having him in your life as a best friend was preferable to not having him at all.

“He’s coming home next week,” he said, trying to ignore the pain of you cleaning out a cut he’d gotten above his eyebrow.

You nodded, trying to keep your excitement levels down, “I know,” you leaned back to get a better look at his whole face, “How are you feeling about that?”

He nodded, “’S better than him staying in fuckin’ prison.”

You chuckled, “That’s true,” you paused, knowing that there was a lot more going through his mind about it, “You talk to the club about everything?”

He cringed as you swabbed the gash with medical alcohol, “Yea.”

“How are you feeling about that?”

He sighed, shaking his head slightly, “You fuckin’ know,” he let you cup his chin to hold his head still as you pressed a bandage onto his cut, “He’s meant for more than this shit. I don’t get why he wants to come back to Santo Padre at all, let alone get tied down with the fuckin’ club.”

You raised your eyebrows slightly, “It seems to work well for you.”

He finally looked you in the eyes, “Don’t say that like EZ and I are capable of the same things, querida. You’re smarter than that.”

You sighed, leaning back and resting your hands in your lap, “Your cut should be fine. If it starts oozing anything you can sue me for malpractice,” you let the EZ topic drop, knowing it was a bit of an exposed nerve and probably would be for some time.

He chuckled, “Thanks. I’ll have my people get in touch with your people,” he stood up, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head before heading to the kitchen to pull something together for dinner.

The days dragged on as you waited for EZ to come home. Once there was a definitive end-date to his stint in Stockton, time seemed to move slower. You’d been spending more time around the clubhouse in general, but you knew that if both Angel and EZ were going to get involved with the club, you were going to need to get comfortable with all of it. You knew that you weren’t going to get to be in the know about everything, but you didn’t want to be a stranger either, or just “that girl who is always hanging out with the Reyes brothers”. The guys really didn’t seem to mind. You all got along well enough, and having the endorsement of being a close friend of Angel’s certainly didn’t hurt. It was a relief, and you couldn’t deny that it felt nice to know that you had a team of backup if something ever got that bad. Angel would go to the end of the earth for you, but having a small army never hurt.

You’d been cautiously optimistic about what life was going to be like when EZ was back home again. You loved him and you missed him, but you knew that he wasn’t going to be the same exact person coming back that he was when he went away. No one comes out after that much time the same. But in all of your visits, you could feel that he was still EZ in all the ways that mattered. He was just going to need time to adjust, to figure things out, to get his feet back underneath him. And that was exactly what you were there for.

He fell into things rather easily with the club. You knew that Angel was still conflicted about it, but there was no going back on it now. EZ was officially a prospect and Angel was officially his sponsor. No amount of deep sighs and eye rolls was going to undo that. The club was accepting of him, but they were still vetting him thoroughly. You couldn’t necessarily blame them, but you knew who EZ was and it made you a little biased.

EZ was open with you about what he was going through, and you were glad that the two of you hadn’t lost that over the years. He needed some consistency, some kind of anchor in the midst of all of the chaos, which was a role that you were more than happy to fill.

Late nights at Angel’s apartment started to give way to late nights at EZ’s trailer. You still saw the both of them a lot, one of the benefits of hanging out at the clubhouse whenever you could. But you knew that EZ needed some extra one-one-one time and you weren’t going to rob him of that because you had gone and let yourself fall in love with his brother.

You figured that Angel would be glad that EZ had someone in his corner. You knew that things were a little tense between them sometimes because of the club and you didn’t have any of that baggage to carry. You assumed that Angel would be happy to know that his little brother was being cared for by someone who really knew him and gave a shit about him. But it didn’t really feel that way.

EZ was on the opposite side of the bar from you, stacking the last few cases of beer that had gotten delivered that day. The two of you were laughing as you told him about some of the stupidity that was going on at your job. The laughter was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You both turned to see Angel standing there, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Pres needs you in Templo for a few minutes, Prospect.”

EZ nodded, wiping his hands off on his jeans, “Alright,” he walked around to the other side of the bar, giving your shoulder a nudge as he walked past you, “Don’t let anyone rob the joint while I’m in there.”

You laughed and shoved him towards the sliding glass door, “Hope they’re not kicking you out.” Despite the fact that EZ was making his way to the room, Angel lingered back for a moment. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to say something to you, “All good?”

He shrugged, nodding, “All good,” the expression on his face said otherwise but you didn’t get to push it as he turned and walked away, shutting the door behind him.

You were still there when the meeting was over, not that it took very long. Everyone dispersed in their own directions. Angel flagged his brother down, saying something quietly into his ear, eyes only darting over to you for a moment before he clapped EZ on the back and walked out of the clubhouse without coming over to say anything to you. EZ walked over, unaware of everything you were noticing and feeling.

He plopped down on the stool next to you, “Movie night?”

You nodded, smiling, “Absolutely.”

About halfway through the movie your mind was somewhere else entirely. Before you were able to censor yourself, you blurted out, “Is Angel mad at me?”

EZ looked over at you, clearly confused. He paused the movie, “Mad at you?”

You nodded, “Yea. He’s barely been talking to me the past couple of weeks and when he does it just feels…different.”

EZ shrugged, “If he is, he hasn’t said anything to me. I doubt it’s that, though. He’s been stressed with all the shit going on with the club lately. He might just accidentally be taking it out on you.”

You gnawed at the inside of your lip, wanting to believe him but not quite sure that you did, “Yea, probably.”

The next few days went by and it was more of the same. You felt like you were trying to drag a conversation out of Angel and he was coming up with excuse after excuse to dodge you. You tried not to let it get to you, but it was difficult. After everything, he was icing you out. And even despite that, your heart still sped up every time you saw him, hoping that he would walk over and things would go back to how they’d been for the last few years.

So you found yourself outside the door to Angel’s house. You knocked on the door for the first time in years—you never used to feel like you had to. But now everything felt off and you didn’t feel quite as welcome as you did before.

A few moments later you heard a scuffling from the other side of the door before it opened. Angel was in his jeans and a tank top, hair a mess, and your heart skipped a couple beats in your chest. You cleared your throat, “Can I come in?”

He nodded but didn’t say anything as he moved to the side so you could walk inside. You toed off your shoes and part of you wanted to plop down on the couch the same way you had so many times before, but you fought the urge. You did notice, though, that there was still the small pile of blankets and pillows taking up one end of the couch. It gave you a small sliver of hope.

“What’s going on?” Angel asked, standing in front of you in the middle of his living room.

“I just came over to talk…to see how you’re doing.”

“Oh?” he scoffed, shaking his head, “No pressing plans with Boy Scout tonight?”

“What’s your fucking problem?” your words were angry but the look in your eyes was anything but—everything just hurt.

“You just use me to pass the time till he got back out?” he looked like he was on the brink of tears, “Just come over here to fill the Reyes void until the Golden Boy was back?”

“Angel, what are you talking about?”

“You! Us!” he snapped. The word us hit you like a punch to the gut. You couldn’t force out any words, so Angel continued, “You spend all this time comin’ over here, making me think that you actually give a shit about me, makin’ me fa—” he stopped himself, shaking his head, “Then you just fucking drop me. It’s like I don’t even exist anymore.”

“Angel,” there was a slight tremor to your voice, “your brother just got out of prison. Figured he might need a little extra support for a while. Why is that putting such a bug up your ass?” you saw him go to say something but you held your hand up to stop him, “And just so we’re painting the full fucking picture here—you’ve been dodging me. Every time I try to talk to you, you suddenly have something else to do, somewhere else to be. This is the first real conversation we’ve had in weeks and it’s only happening because I came banging on your fucking door,” you wiped away tears that you hadn’t even felt before that moment, “Sorry you haven’t gotten my undivided attention, but that’s just life sometimes, Angel. And, fuck,” you shook your head, “even though you’ve been acting like a real dick lately, I’ve still missed you.”

“I’m so fucking sick of coming in second place, Y/N.”

You stepped to him, looking up at him, “You’re not in second place. There are no places. That’s all up here,” you reached up and pressed the pad of your finger to his temple.

He gently placed his hand over yours, completely enveloping it, “I can’t handle you getting sick of me, forgetting about me,” his eyes met yours, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

You felt a lump forming in the back of your throat, “Then why are you shutting me out?”

He shook his head slightly, hand still clasping yours, “Easier leaving than getting left.”

“I was never leaving you, Angel,” your voice was barely a whisper, “And I’m not going to.”

He closed his eyes, leaning down so his forehead against yours. He took a deep, unsteady breath, “I think I’ve been falling in love with you.”

You smiled, bringing your other hand up so you were cupping both sides of his face as you pulled back a little, “You’ve got a really shitty way of showing it.”

He laughed, shaking his head before pressing a kiss against your palm, “Will you let me show it in a better way?”

Your heart was pounding inside your chest as you nodded. He instantly pulled you close and pressed his lips to yours. One hand fell to the small of your back while the other rested on the back of your neck, keeping you as close to him as he could. Your knees felt weak as you melted into him.

He pressed the tips of his fingers harder into the back of your neck and you could feel the neediness seeping from his body into yours. You draped your arms over his shoulders, getting lost in the feeling of the way his lips moved in-sync with yours. A soft moan slipped out as he bit down on your lip.

He pulled his lips away from yours, letting you both catch your breath. He still had you wrapped up in his arms and you smiled, placing a gentle kiss on his jawline, “I think I’ve been falling in love with you too.”

With a quiet laugh he scooped you up off the floor, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. With what seemed like no effort at all, he whisked you down the hall to his bedroom. You laughed as he let you drop a few inches from his arms onto the mattress, a smile on his face as he situated himself between your legs, hovering over your torso with his lips hardly an inch from yours.

“You mean it?” you asked in a whisper as you reached up and pushed his hair back out of his face.

“Mean what?”

“That you’ve been falling in love with me.”

He nodded, his voice as soft as yours, “Every word,” he leaned down and kissed your temple before bringing his lips right next to your ear, “I just wanna make you mine.”

Your body trembled at the sound of his words. You let your eyes drift shut as what he said washed over you. “Do it,” your voice was hardly audible, “Make me yours.”

You felt him hum in approval, the vibrations against your neck sending a chill through your body. He attached his lips to yours, cupping one side of your face in his hand. You hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you, and you felt him smile into your kiss. He pressed his lips hard against yours for a moment before he slid them down to your neck. His hands slid down your sides, resting on your hips as he bit down onto your neck. You moaned as he sucked on the sensitive skin there. He brought his lips to the other side of your neck to do the same thing as he pushed your hips down to the bed, effectively unhooking your legs as his hands started to undo the button and zipper of your jeans.

He pulled your jeans down, tossing them off to the side before hopping off the bed just long enough to undo his belt and push his jeans down to the floor. Once the denim pooled at his ankles he stepped out of them and was right back on top of you again, pulling your shirt off over your head as you reached and did the same to him.

He kissed you as his hands roamed all over your body, touching every exposed inch, every single curve. His tongue met yours as he gripped tight onto your hips. You moaned as he began to grind against you. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your head as he pulled out of your kiss, sucking lightly on your bottom lip as he did.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he kissed you lightly on the lips as his fingers looped around the waistband of your underwear, slowly sliding them down your legs.

He left a long trail of kisses and love-bites down your chest, stomach, and thighs. He draped your legs over his shoulders and you let out a shaky breath as he grazed his teeth along the inside of your thigh, biting down ever-so lightly before moving his lips between your legs. A moan fell from your lips the second he pressed his mouth against you, your hands instantly tangling themselves in his hair. You felt the vibrations against you as he chuckled at how quickly you became so needy. Every single thing he did felt perfect. The sound of you moaning his name filled the house as his tongue continued to explore every part of you.

He pulled his lips away from you and you whimpered at the loss of contact. He smiled up at you as he slowly slid his fingers into you, turning your whimper into a moan. Your hands dropped down to his shoulders, nails setting into his skin as you cursed under your breath. He kept his eyes on you as he slowly began to pump his fingers in and out of you, reveling in the fact that he was the one marking you up and putting that look of pure bliss onto your face.

You arched your back slightly when you felt him bite down onto your thigh, “Fuck, Angel, don’t stop.”

His voice was raspy, “You gonna cum for me, querida?”

“Y-yes,” you almost didn’t get the word out as you felt his mouth begin to work along with his fingers. Your legs tightened around his head, thighs clenching as you got closer to your orgasm, “Fuck, Angel,” you cried as you came.

He slid up to you, a satisfied smirk on his face. Your fingers trailed through his beard, feeling your wetness as he leaned in to kiss you. You could taste yourself off of his lips and tongue and you were about to get lost in that sensation alone until you felt him pressing against your entrance. You rested your hands on his hips and pulled him closer to you, both of you moaning as he slowly slid into you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, soaking up how he felt inside you.

“You feel so perfect,” he whispered as he slowly started to move his hips, “You’re so perfect for me.”

You knew there was no way to be closer to him than you were, but you wished that there was. You wrapped your legs around him again and cupped his face so you could kiss him as he thrust into you. He braced his forearms on either side of your head, caging you in as he leaned into you. you slid your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him down against you as you sank your teeth into the skin where his neck met his shoulder.

You heard him curse and you smiled as you placed a kiss on top of the bitemark, “You’re mine now, too, Angel.”

He pulled away from you so he could look you in the eyes, “Say that again.”

You gently traced the pad of your thumb along his bottom lip, “You’re mine, Angel Reyes.”

His lips crashed into yours as he picked up his speed. He couldn’t get enough of you, hands grabbing at whatever they could to try and keep you closer to him. You felt his rhythm start to falter—he gripped tightly onto your hips as he thrust hard into you a few more times before quickly pulling out of you before he came.

He collapsed onto your chest with a sigh. You let out a tired laugh as you lazily trailed your fingers through his hair, both of you attempting to catch your breath and get your hearts down to a reasonable speed. You could feel the reverberations of his chest against yours and in that moment you were sure that there no better feeling in the world. His fingers lightly traced over your skin and all you could think about was the fact that his touch felt like home. You let your eyes drift shut for a few moments as he peppered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses.

He shifted so he was laying on his side next to you, staring at you with a starry look in his eyes. You smiled over at him, rolling onto your side as well, “What’re you thinking?”

He smiled, kissing you gently on the lips, “That I love you.”

You felt your face get hot as you touched your forehead to his, “Yea? Good. ‘Cause I love you too.”

He laughed as he rolled and pulled you with him so that you were laying on top of him, your chest pressed against his, “No going back on that now, you know.”

You let your fingers dance down the side of his face, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes smut #angel reyes angst #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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hihellogoodbyebruh · 4 years

Text

No Letting Go

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Reader, Coco Cruz x Black!Reader (platonic)

Summary: Coco has been your best friend and rock since childhood. You’re having a problem learning to share him with the club, specifically a certain club member who happens to be your ex who you may or may not still be in love with.

Warning(s): 18+ only, smut (the sex!), foul language

Word count: 3,493

Author’s Note: This is for my fellow girls who’s love language is talking shit LOL. Also I’ve made this fic pre-season 1. EZ is in jail. This was two parts before I just decided to make it one fic. So it might be a little disjointed BUT just go with it okay? I’ve missed y’all and I hope you like this. Hopefully I’m not too rusty. Questions, comments, and concerns are always welcome. My inbox is open. Enjoy!

Your childhood wasn’t the most stable, drive by shootings and cracked out parents didn’t exactly leave room for normalcy, but there was always one constant for you and that was Coco. His mother was also an absolute train wreck. You guys kind of grew up taking care of each other. You remember Leticia being born while he was in jail and trying to talk some sense into Celia about giving the baby a better life. You remember when he got out of jail and joined the Marines. Just as you got him back, he was gone again. It was extremely hard not having him around, but it forced you to really take care of yourself. No more Coco to lean on. You only had yourself.

So after high school, you went to cosmetology school and got yourself a beauty license. You’d taken care of your hair for years and it’s important to you to teach others how to take care of theirs. Natural hair, wigs, weaves, braids, or whatever. You helped your clients with it all and showed them how to keep up with their hair. You got a job at a local shop and you were taking care of yourself. Things were good but you missed your best friend.

Then he was back. Coco was discharged from the military and you thought you’d have him all to yourself, but then he was telling you about joining the Mayans and you barely heard from him for months. Well, you weren’t just about to accept that shit.

You banged on the front door, “Coco open the fuck up! You know who it is! Open this damn door, Johnny!” You yelled, as you pounded your fist against the door.

The door whipped open and Coco stood there with an irritated look on his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Don’t bang on my door like that. You know better.” The look on his face as well as the growl in his voice would have terrified anyone.

You just stared at him before breaking out into a smile. “I missed you.”

Some of the irritation left his face and he actually sighed at you. It was the closest to a pout he’d ever get. “Yeah, yeah. Get your ass inside.”

“I hear you grumbling, but this is what happens when you keep ignoring me. Imma stay on yo head boy!” You told him, walking into his living room before sucking your teeth when you saw who was there.

Angel. Reyes.

It was bad enough that Coco joined that damn club and was busy being their prospect. It’s been even worse since he’s basically become best friends with Angel, who happened to be your ex boyfriend. Well, maybe ex fuck buddy was better. He started to push for more and as someone who hated being cornered (and someone with serious reservations about his lifestyle) you broke things off with him. It was infuriating. You finally got Coco back, but he was taken away from you again and with the one person who you wanted to avoid. Feelings were still there, but you hid them by egging him on. Were you acting like a kindergartener pulling someone’s hair they had a crush on? Maybe. Using sass to hide your emotions? You’re a pro at that. Coco had no idea about y’alls past.

“Don’t you have your own place to live? Why the fuck you always over here?” You questioned, setting your purse down in one of the empty chairs.

“Hey! Don’t start Y/N.” Coco interjected, already knowing where this was going. It was equal parts exhausting and entertaining watching those two go back and forth.

“I do. I just like being over here. It’s more opportunities to run into you.” Angel replied from where he was sprawled out on the couch. He had a cap sitting backwards on his head, a gray sleeveless shirt on, jeans, and his legs spread wide.

“You giving off real scrub vibes right now.” You rolled your eyes at him before directing your attention back to Coco. “So where you been? See when you don’t return my calls you make me have to pop up on your ass. So wassup?”

“Nothing is up. You gotta chill. You know I’m prospecting with the club now. I got a job at the scrap yard and everything. I’m just busy living.”

“Mmmhmm...so you’re too busy for me now?” You asked, letting the spoiled brat come out of you a little before deciding it was safer to just change the subject. “ANYWAY, Leticia texted me.”

That caught Coco’s attention. “Why? What’s wrong? Is she okay? What the fuck did my mom do now?” He asked, worry clear in his tone.

You waved your hand to dismiss his concerns. “She’s fine. She has a school dance coming up and she wants me to do her hair. I think perhaps you should drop by and check on her, maybe have a small discussion about the birds and bees…” You implored, and he immediately began shaking his head.

“Nah. You should do it.”

“I’m not family.”

“Yes, you are. Plus you’re a woman. Y’all can talk about shit I don’t get.”

“It would still be good for her to have a male’s perspective. One to tell her how a respectable gentleman acts and better yet, shows her.” She has always pushed for Coco to spend more time with Letty. She knew it was hard from him, but she knew the girl truly loved her older brother.

“Who the fuck is Leticia?” Angel asked, clearly confused.

“His sister.” “My sister.” You and Coco answer at the same time. You both maintained eye contact as you basically glared him into submission. Your eyes conveyed the words you’d never let slip from your lips. ‘Spend some time with your fucking kid, Co’ was the thought written clearly on your face.

“Fine, I will stop by and check in.” He conceded and you smiled widely again. You loved it when you won.

“Y’all are so cute.” Angel teased, a small smirk on his face because he knew it would get under your skin.

The small smile on your face was quickly wiped away at his words. “Shut up. That’s my brother. Period.”

“I still have a chance then.” His smirk turned into a grin. He loved getting a rise out of you.

“Psh.” You scoffed, the retort leaving your lips quick and snappy. “A chance in hell.”

“Then I’ll meet you there, sweetheart.” He always loved that fire in you. He missed not having it around as much. He felt bad about keeping the relationship from Coco, but he figured he’d bide his time for now. He still wanted you. He could remember the nights spent laid up in your bed as he watched you braid your hair or helped you lotion your body. His favorite thing to do was lather you up because it always led to him knocking your walls down.

You stood up from your chair and walked to where he was seated so you could stand over him. Your hands were on your hip and you just stared at him for a moment. He was so blasé about everything. You wanted to make him stumble just once. “Eat shit, Angel.”

“Only if it’s yours.”

You wanted to laugh so bad. He had such a quick wit and y’alls banter was something you have yet to experience with anyone else. Still, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction so you turned away from him to keep your smile in check. “You goofy as hell. I don’t have time for this shit. I have appointments. Just needed to make Coco promise me to my face.”

“All that whining about me not returning calls or having time for you and you can’t even stay and hang? You’re so fucking fake.” Coco chuckled and you laughed as well.

“Don’t hate. I do what I gotta do. Walk me out bestie.” You grinned, walking toward the exit and grabbing your purse on your way out.

“Bye mamí.” Angel yelled at you and you merely lifted your hand to give him the finger. His answering laughter warms you up and you can’t help throwing him a look over your shoulder.

Coco walked you out the front door and closed it behind him.

“If you think that ‘tough bitch’ act is putting him off you’re so wrong.”

You stare at Coco with your eyebrows raised giving him that ‘you should know better’ look before going, “Who is acting?”

“Alright, Y/N.” He just shook his head and decided to let y’all figure it out. No way was he gonna jump in the middle of that. He knew it would resolve itself eventually.

xxxxxxx

The next time you got to see Coco things were an absolute mess. You don’t know exactly what happened but the gang got into a shootout. Coco was injured and your heart was beating against your chest so hard as you raced toward the scrap yard. This was out of your comfortable zone completely, but you needed to see that he was okay.

Even though on the inside you were freaking out, you tried your best to keep a calm outer appearance as you came face to face with the gang. You went through the basic introductions and then you found yourself crouching in front of a passed out Coco.

“He always said he didn’t really have family so we didn’t know who to contact until Angel told us about you.” The president explained, as you studied the bandages on Coco’s chest.

You tore your attention from Coco to look at Angel and saw him already looking at you. It was like he was studying you. You gave him a small smile, trying to convey your gratefulness that he contacted you. He just nodded back at you.

“Thank you all for everything you do and did for him.” You looked back at the president, Bishop, and all the other guys.

“He’s our brother.”

“He’s my brother too.” Your gaze went back to Coco, a soft look on your face that made Angel want to just wrap you up in his arms.

Luckily the bullets just grazed Co and nothing vital was hit. You could only sit still for so long before your anxiety got the better of you and you stood up, striding out of the door. You inhaled deeply once you felt the fresh air.

You would have been so heartbroken if Coco had died. Just the thought made your hands start shaking. You curled them into tight fists and closed your eyes as you focused on slowing your breathing. Your eyes only shot open when you felt someone touch your elbow.

“Hey, you okay?” Angel asked, his eyes soft as he gazed at you so you diverted your eyes.

“I’m fine.” You replied, the sigh you let out in the end betraying your words.

“You want a drink?” He offered and you perked up a little.

“So badly.” You admitted.

“Come on.”

He led you to the little trailer that was parked on one side of the scrap yard. You wanted to say something smart, but you’d been to his home and knew he didn’t stay here. Plus your heart just wasn’t in it at the moment. He grabbed two beers out of the fridge and opened them before handing you one. You immediately took a big gulp of it.

Angel went to lean back against the fridge and you saw him wince. It dawned on you that he was also in the shootout with Coco. You were so focused on your brother because they said only he was shot, but Angel looked hurt too.

“What happened to you? Don’t tell me you got shot too.” You set the beer down and invaded his personal space. You lifted up his shirt and noticed some bruising there and your head lifted back up quickly to look at him.

“I didn’t get shot. Just got the shit kicked out of me.” Angel explained, staring at you as you fussed over him.

You let out a loud sigh. “Well you need to be icing it and resting. I can’t have both of y’all fucked up at once.” You murmured, eyes dropping back to his bruises for a moment.

“Are you admitting to actually giving a shit about me now?” Angel inquired and you immediately dropped your grip on his shirt and took a step away from him.

“Don’t start this right now.” You pleaded. It was easy when you two were bantering back and forth, but his face was so serious. You knew the conversation was going to get heavy.

“Don’t start what? So you still want to pretend we don’t know each other? That we didn’t spend nights wrapped around each other for months?” He stepped closer and closer to you as he spoke. “That you didn’t become mi corazón before you took it all away? I’m tired of pretending.”

As he stood directly in front of you, you felt your heart racing. You couldn’t look him in the eyes. You knew if you looked him in the eyes you would fold. He knew as well so his hands caressed your cheeks before bringing your face back up so you would look at him.

“I know you love me and I love you. We should be together right now.” He was beyond frustrated. This game has gone on for too long. He wanted you back.

“Why? For what huh? So in five to ten years you can get yourself killed and leave me a widow? So I can have another person I love ripped away from me? So all I’m left with is bittersweet memories? Nah. Coco is laying on a couch with bullet wounds at this very moment. Fuck that.”

“I never would have taken you for a coward.”

“I’m a coward for wanting to live my life with as little pain as possible? Fuck you, Angel.” Your eyes blazed at his words.

“No you're a coward because you’re scared to face the fact that you love me and want to be with me. I can’t promise nothing bad will ever happen, shit something could happen to you and it would absolutely break me. But I’m willing to take that risk. I promise to make you more than just comfortable. You deserve to feel loved, cherished, appreciated, and fucking happy. I wanna spend the rest of my life making you happy. Don’t you want that?”

Tears filled your eyes and you closed them as some spilled over.

You weren’t ready to have that conversation with him. Not right now. You wanted to feel good. Your eyes met Angel’s briefly before you were surging up and connecting your lips to his.

His arms slid down your back to attach themselves to your ass, pulling your body against him. You felt every part of him. He wasn’t too muscular, but he was solid. It felt good to be back in his arms. The kiss got more passionate as your tongues tangled with each other. He was a fantastic kisser.

He turned you around and propped you up on the one table in the trailer. Your hands worked his kutte off and you let your fingers run under his shirt and feel his chest again. His kisses ran down your neck and you moaned as he sucked on that spot on your neck. You began unbuckling his belt ready to feel him inside you.

“Eager huh?” He teased, his lips at your ear. You pulled back to look him in the face and stopped what you were doing.

“Oh I’m sorry. Would you like to sit down and talk about our feelings more or would you prefer to feel this pussy wrapped tightly around you?” You asked cockily, one eyebrow raised.

Angel looked at you and smirked. “Continue.” Shit, who was he to turn you down? He never really could. You got his jeans undone and your hand was in his underwear and stroking his dick while kissing his shoulder before he could say anything.

“Ah, shit.” He moaned, as you stroked his dick and felt it harden under your hand. You squeezed it a little just to see if his breath still caught in his throat and you smirked against his neck when you heard the sound.

“Don’t get cocky.” He whispered, rubbing your pussy through your jean shorts. Your hips jumped a little at the contact and you felt your panties getting more wet than they were before. He kept rubbing; the friction of your jeans and panties rubbing perfectly between your pussy lips had you squeezing your thighs closed.

You leaned your head back to look at him. “You’re gonna ruin my jeans, stop it.”

It was his turn to smirk as he took a small step back, your hand falling off him. “Then let’s take them off.” He peeled your shorts and panties down, spreading your legs so far apart that your right foot slid out of your pants. Your shorts and panties dangled around your left ankle.

“Oh baby, that pussy is still as pretty as ever.” He popped two of his fingers in your mouth, slipping them a little down your throat so he could hear the always beautiful sound of you choking before he stuck those fingers inside of you.

“Fuck..” You groaned, your hand squeezing his arm.

“And you still feel like Heaven. I gotta feel you around my dick again. That’s what you want right? You want me to fuck that attitude right out of you.” He asked, though it wasn’t really a question. He was just talking. “I know what you need, mami. Always have and always will.” He let his pants fall and in a quick and smooth move he removed his fingers and replaced them with his dick inside of you.

He had both hands squeezing your thighs as he kept your legs apart. He had you open wide for him. Your nails were digging into his arm and your other hand was bracing yourself on the table. There was so much in those thrusts. It was all his feelings in one. He was conveying how mad he was, how much he missed you, and how much he loved you.

“Angel,” you moaned, head thrown back as you got lost in the feel of him. You couldn’t focus on anything, but him. He still knew exactly how to fuck you and drive you over the edge. Your stomach was in knots as you felt your orgasm building. He could feel it too and he slowed his strokes down to more shallow ones.

“Look at me.” He demanded, and you tilted your head down until you made eye contact with him. “Look at me fucking you. Look at me giving you what you need. I’ll always give you everything. All you have to do is ask. Tell me, mi dulce. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“I-I wanna cum Angel please.” You begged, barely able to get the words out. You knew that he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

He kissed your lips and sped back up his thrusts as the pressure built back up in your stomach. He kept kissing you, his tongue tasting every inch of your mouth as he fucked you. With a shaky hand, you reached down and rubbed your clit to push yourself over the edge.

You moaned into his mouth as he fucked you through your orgasm. As you clenched around him, the tightening of your walls around him helped to trigger his own release.

Angel tucked his head in your neck and placed kisses there and along your shoulder as you both came down from the high. “Will you let me take you to dinner, mi dulce? Por favor.” He pulled his face from your neck so he could look in your eyes.

You didn’t shy away from his eyes this time. You held his face in your hands as you gazed at each other. His words echoed over and over in your head.

“You deserve to feel loved, cherished, appreciated, and fucking happy. I wanna spend the rest of my life making you happy. Don’t you want that?”

Mind blowing sex and one beautiful love declaration does not fix everything. You still had your reservations about the relationship. You were still scared. You were still worried. You were still unsure. But when you looked into his eyes you saw nothing but his love for you and his certainty. He was so sure it was you for him. You could picture a wedding and children in your future. Maybe even growing old together. Suddenly, you knew you wanted to try.

Don’t you want that?

With all that in mind, the answer was simple:

“Yes.”

#angel reyes #angel reyes x black!reader #hhgbyebruh fics #no letting go #black!reader

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