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narcolini · 2 years

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when the crows come home

angel reyes x gn!reader, part one of ?, 3574 words

childhood friends, to strangers, to friends, to lovers

a/n: right. i have nose-dived into angel derangement and this is officially the first chapter of what i think will be a long running fic (based on the fact i already have more sections written and cannot fuckign stop) so i hope you enjoy!! (also, -e will be used in place of -o/-a suffixes throughout)

taglist: @drabbles-mc @ashlingiswriting @cositapreciosa (just now realising i didn’t specify in my post between being tagged for narcos or mayans so i just added u loves who i know are partial to mr. reyes) ((let me know if you wanna be tagged in the future)) ok shutting up <3

You’re shit out of luck.

Every crumb of luck that life might have once given you, is spent, gone, tossed into the fucking wind with everything else you used to possess. A job you liked, a fiancé, a pending lease to an apartment in a city you never dreamed you’d live in, and, most crucially, a car that worked the way it was supposed to fucking work. All of that was gone now, plucked from your grasp.

You put your forehead to the driver’s door in defeat, phone still in your hand from ringing the tow company. They’ll send someone your way, they said, not to fix it, but to bring it back to the lot. Can’t fix a problem ’til I know what it is, the man had gurgled into your ear. You sure it ain't the battery?

You open your eyes to the lights on your dashboard. Yes, it isn’t the fucking battery.

Sighing, you force yourself to take the keys from the ignition and shut the door. Looking at it’s stupid warning lights won’t make time pass any quicker.

The road you’ve had the misfortune of breaking down on is barren. Stripped back of any life and set into the dry backdrop, black asphalt against rusting earth. You face the way you came, then turn to look in the opposite direction, counting one, two, three and a half buildings that might contain something close to civilisation. All too far to be worthwhile walking to yet. The tow-truck will come before you have to take that step of desperation.

It really had been a bad idea coming back to Santo Padre, not that you had any choice. With no Mick, you couldn’t afford to go anywhere else, couldn’t do anything but come home and beg for an admin job at the loan firm where your dad works.

It’s the same job you’d had before you left, the same job you’ll probably have forever, now, until you’re greying like your dad is, and passing on secretarial roles to your own children.

If you’d waited a little longer to leave, then maybe it wouldn’t have ended up like this. You could have looked for a better job, closer to home, and a place to live within your budget, before saying anything at all to Mick.

You don’t realise it, but you’ve begun picking at the flaking paint around the car’s rear window, gaze sitting unfocused on the ditch by the side of the road. It’s only when you hear the rumble of a motorbike that you come back into yourself, turning to the sound.

It’s going the same way you had been trying to go, its grumbling engine noise bouncing down the tarmac in your direction. You would’ve thought nothing of it, besides it being a somewhat familiar thing, if the rider hadn’t started to slow once he neared where you’re parked.

Then, it’s all too obvious who it is, even under all the shit he’s wearing. You’d recognise him if he was dipped in tar. Angel Reyes, your oldest and most estranged friend.

Maybe your luck hasn’t run out after all.

He rolls his bike to a stop behind your car, then cuts the engine and pops the stand. You dawdle the few steps you need to set yourself in front of him as he slouches into his seat, finding balance on its stationary slant.

‘Oh, my God,’ he says slowly, removing his helmet, then his sunglasses, then the remainder of any intimidating image he’d possessed, as his face breaks into the goofiest grin you’ve ever seen. Well, one you haven’t seen in years, at least. ‘Look who’s back in town.’

‘Guilty,’ you reply, letting your hands flap up briefly. As if to say, yep, you got me. ‘It’s good to see you, Angel.’

He smiles back at you, and stares, then shakes his head, and stares, and you itch right down to your heels under the gaze of him.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ you ask, attempting to joke through the building nerves. It’s been so long that you’ve almost forgotten how to act. ‘You pull over just to stare at me?’

‘Nah.’ He draws back into life, reaching to put his helmet on the end of the handlebars. ‘Just making sure I’m not hallucinating,’ he says. ‘Didn’t think I’d ever see you in Santo Padre again, not until one of us died or some shit.’

A laugh snuffs out of you, easy as if you’d spoken to him only yesterday. It makes you relax slightly. ‘Nope, I’m very much real.’ You point at him. ‘And no-one’s dead.’

‘I see that.’ He flicks his chin toward you. ‘You look good, yo, real grown up.’

‘Thanks. You look old as fuck too, asshole.’

He laughs, and you find yourself grinning in response, cheeks rounding up to your eyes. This isn’t going to be as awkward as you thought it might be. It’s already as easy as stepping into a pair of old shoes, comfortable with the shape of you.

‘Grown up, you know,’ you mutter, knowing he can hear you still, ‘like we aren’t the same age.’

His head tilts. ‘Come on, I meant it as a compliment and you know it. Been a while since I seen you.’

You answer with a smile, just a small one flicked across to him. It’s enough to say, I know, I’m joking. It’s been a while, but not long enough to forget how.

A car whistles into your peripheral; you both pause to watch it go by, like it might have eavesdropped on your conversation otherwise. Once it’s passed, you look back to Angel and find him waiting, questions balanced on his tongue.

‘So, you back for good, or what?’ he asks. ‘Should I tell EZ you’re around?’

‘Yeah, for good,’ you brush away from the topic, ‘may be literally here forever if this guy doesn’t show up.’ You rap your knuckle against the roof of your car, paint crushed under your nails. ‘Stupid thing went dead out of nowhere. No warning or anything.’

‘You put gas in it?’

Your face falls open in false shock, gravel crunching under foot as you turn back to him. ‘Oh shit, you mean you have to put something in it, to make it go?’

The sarcasm slides right off him. Doesn’t even mark the surface. ‘Yeah, kinda helps,’ he says, as fake in his sincerity as you were in yours.

You’d forgotten how easily this came to the two of you, how quickly it could bounce back and forth, how nonsensical every conversation could be once you were both there toying with it. Like cats with a fucking mouse, batting it between you.

You put your hand to your forehead, scratching an itch that isn’t really there. ‘Do you actually know anything useful about fixing cars?’ you ask him.

‘Nope.’ He looks smug about the answer. ‘But I can give you a ride.’

You roll your eyes. ‘Thanks, but I should wait for the tow company.’

‘Aight.’ He folds his arms over his bike, leaning forward against the swell of its motor. He doesn’t look to you to continue conversation, but instead at the road, watching as a truck hauls itself past. He follows it until it’s too far into the distance to bother with, then flicks his gaze back, waiting for another.

‘What’re you doing?’ you ask, after what feels like a couple minutes but can’t really have been.

He exhales, something close to a laugh, and lifts a hand to gesture toward you and your sorry excuse of a vehicle. ‘Waiting ’til they come get your shitty car. You don’t want company?’

His? You’re still deciding. How can you ask a favour of someone you’ve not spoken to in years?

‘I’m okay,’ you tell him, crossing your arms against the cold. It’s not sundown yet, but with few buildings to keep in the heat, the temperature is dropping noticeably.

‘Yeah, not happening, biche.’ He casts another look behind him. ‘Open road like this? When it’s about to get dark? I’ll wait.’

You won’t admit it, but part of you is grateful for his stubbornness. Even if nothing sinister happened, on the side of this shit-hole road, boredom would get you eventually.

‘Don’t call me that,’ you retort, delayed, just as your phone blares from your pocket. ‘We aren’t kids anymore.’

A smile chips into his features as you answer the call. ‘No,’ he says, ‘but you’re still a bug.’

‘Hello?’ You hold a finger out to Angel, a shut up, stop smirking, finger. ‘Yeah.’

You feel his eyes on your face. It makes it annoyingly hard to concentrate.

‘Okay. Yeah, that’s right. Thank you, I will do. Bye.’

You hang up and force the phone back into your jeans. Great. Your palms drag down your face, followed by a sigh. The evening just went from annoying, to near impossible to deal with.

Angel dips his chin to you, expectant. ‘Well…?’

‘They only have the one tow truck,’ you answer.

‘And?’

‘It’s on its way out of town right now.’ You feel the words bitterly, force them through the cage of your teeth. You’re never great at admitting defeat. ‘They won’t be by until late.’

In response, he holds out his helmet for you. So smooth with it that you briefly entertain the possibility that he’d planned all this. The car, the tow truck, the road that he just happened to be on.

‘Offers still there, biche,’ he says, throwing the pet-name in like he’s addicted to it now.

You stare at his outstretched hand. Wait, and it could be hours until you’re home, go, and Angel would have you there before the sun sets. It’s blindingly obvious which is the better deal.

‘God.’ You grab the helmet and climb onto his bike before you have to see him grinning in response. ‘Don’t look so happy about my bad day, tontín.’ You stress his old nickname, trying to prove a point, but failing. It sounds endearing even by your ears.

‘There it is.’ His head goes back, into your shoulder. You smell his hair gel before you feel it, scratching, against your jaw. ‘Say it again,’ he croons, ‘it’s been so long.’

You push him off, using the round of the helmet against his back. ‘I’ll key your paintwork if you don’t shut up.’

He laughs, loud like he doesn’t believe you, then asks, ‘Damn, when’d you get so bitter?’

You helmet-up and clip the strap under your chin without answering. It’s enough of a signal for him to get moving, his tone switching to something more serious when he asks, ‘You ever been on a bike?’

‘No.’

‘Tuck your knees in.’

You do. You also choose to grip the edges of his kutte, tight in your fists, to save yourself from wrapping around his torso. The contact of your inner thighs to the warmth of him is already too much to rationalise. Thirty minutes ago, you were living a very Angel-free life. Now, you’re stuck to him like a second-jacket. You’re always in favour of rekindling old friendships, but this is less like rekindling, and more like throwing a match into a waiting tank of gasoline.

‘Like this,’ he says, one foot on the ground still. Both his hands grip your knees, pushing them tightly into the sides of him. ‘There. Tight, yeah?’

‘Okay,’ you stress, ‘I get it.’

He turns the ignition and kicks the stand up. The rumble beneath is enough to make you jump, even though you’d expected it, twitching closer to him. So close that your face is almost pressed to the patches on his back.

‘Where we going?’ he asks, voice raised as he pulls off.

‘You know,’ you answer, almost embarrassed by the volume you’ve chosen in response. You’ve no idea how loud you need to be to be heard but you’ve committed to it now. ‘You’ve been there often enough.’

If he answers, you can’t make it out—but you catch him nodding—and then it’s just engine and road, and chilled, whipping air against your face.

---------

The route must be as ingrained in him as it is in you. You never forget the paths you take as a kid, it prints itself into the bones, you think. Clings, like it knows that, eventually, everyone always comes home. You always need to be able to find your way back.

The Reyes’ house was only a few streets over from yours, close enough to feel like nothing, even to littler legs, and you’d spent time there too, but your parents’ house had a tyre swing in the front yard; a natural meeting point for kids with nothing to do. Angel used to spin EZ in it until he was sick over the tree roots and the rope was too knotted to swing on. He never got you with the same game, because you refused to sit in it when he was near, no matter how innocent he pretended to be.

You had used it as a bartering tool at first, when you were friendless and desperate for them, and the brothers had been easy to convince. You went from having no-one, to having two, just like that. Friends to meet with after school, and before school. Then at school. On the weekends, in the summer when the nights dragged out and the extra light made your parents forgiving of your curfew, you had them, thanks to that swing.

Angel and his little brother. Angel and his friends from class. Now you think of it, it all came back to him, really. The centre of everything social in your life from ten until eighteen.

Well, almost. Once you met Mick it was split between the two of them.

You never quite got the balance right.

When Angel pulls up to your driveway, it’s well into dusk, the sun lingering above the skyline. You climb off as soon as the bike is still, and stable, eager to not embarrass yourself in the dismount. Which you don’t, thankfully. You make it back onto the ground with ease and pass him his helmet, your free hand quick to fluff up your presumably flattened hair.

‘Thank-you,’ you tell him, earnestly. ‘I really lucked out there.’

He shrugs. ‘Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just gotta make sure you always break down on my route home from the club.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

You put your hands in the pockets of your jacket, rocking yourself forward and backwards on your toes. Only a moment of silence passes, but it feels weighted, tangible. You swallow some of the nothingness in your mouth as if the quiet might have a taste to it.

‘You’re not gonna invite me in for a beer?’ he asks, like he’s tossing a safety rope into the water. ‘Cold soda, or something?’

You sigh. ‘My parents are in.’

‘Shit, they still live here? I figured they must of moved or something, left you the house.’

You look back at it, the one-story property you’d grown up in. Same curtains, same sun-bleached figurines in the front yard. The tyre swing’s gone now, but the tree’s still there, its empty branch bent toward the ground. You’ve updated the wallpaper in the hall, and filled your childhood bedroom with all the shit you’d bought for the apartment, but, really, it’s not changed all that much. To Angel it must seem exactly the same as it was, you included.

‘Yo,’ he says, pulling your attention back to him. He must’ve caught something in your expression because now he’s overcompensating, hands up in innocence. ‘I’m not judging. Shit happens.’

You wait, toying with a loose stitch in the seam of your jeans. You suppose there’s no harm in being honest. In saying what he could guess already, or hear from some other gossiping neighbours.

‘I was supposed to get a place with…’ The name flees from your tongue.

‘Ah.’ He nods, he remembers. You’d been with the same guy since the ninth grade; you’d been friends with Angel until the twelfth. ‘Like I said, shit happens.’ He pauses, then smiles just enough for it to reach his eyes. ‘He was an asshole anyway.’

‘Yeah,’ you agree, ‘he kinda was.’

He settles into his bike, one hand resting on the handlebar still. ‘Was it recent?’ he asks.

Two weeks ago, you think, no, a month. You can’t bring yourself to say either. It had been over with Mick long before you’d plucked up the courage to say so. And that’s a conversation for another day, so you decide to ignore his question altogether and ask, ‘How’s EZ?’ instead.

Angel snorts, quick and merciful in his ability to switch topics. ‘Still my annoying baby brother.’

You smile. Tu hermano es mi hermano, is what you used to tell him. It still feels that way now. You nod to the ink branding Angel’s forearms. ‘He a part of your little crew yet?’

‘Yes, he’s part of my little crew,’ he repeats, mocking your own teasing. ‘Kid got his rockers the other week.’

You feel your lips pull into a questioning line, like a downturned smile. It may as well have been a shrug. ’I have no idea what that means.’

Angel rolls his eyes. ‘It means he’s in, like, in in. No longer a prospect.’

‘Right.’ You nod. ‘That’s good,’ you say, but your voice goes up at the end like it might be a question. He’d said it with enough of an edge in his tone to make you doubt yourself.

‘Yeah, now he’s even more annoying than he used to be.’ It’s meant to be a joke, you assume, but it doesn’t land. He almost looks like he’s sulking as he says it.

‘Don’t act like you aren’t proud, Angel. You know he looks up to you.’

He sighs lightly, shrugging away any real sentiment. ‘Maybe.’

‘I see that hasn’t changed,’ you muse, half-shaking your head at him.

‘What hasn’t?’

‘You putting yourself down before someone else can. Always been your own worst enemy, tontín.’

‘Okay,’ he nods, sarcastic, ‘alright, Dr. Therapist.’

‘Doctor therapist?’

He tuts as you laugh. ‘Shut up,’ he scolds and the toe of his boot juts out, spraying a handful of loose stones in your direction. ‘Don’t give me attitude now, carnale, I was about to ask for your number.’

You raise a brow.

Then his eyes are rolling again, head following the movement to look away, then back to you. ‘Not like that. To catch up, rekindle old friendships and shit. I know EZ will wanna see how you turned out.’

‘Feelings mutual.’ Last time you’d seen EZ, he was still wearing Angel’s pass-me-downs. ‘I’ll text you,’ you say, handing him your phone, ‘but any drunken calls or shitty bike memes and you’re getting blocked.’

He takes it, then squints up at you before typing anything into it. ‘Did you get meaner? I feel like you got meaner.’

‘I lost my patience somewhere in my twenties.’ You kick his boot. ‘Type.’

He plugs in his number and passes the phone back. ‘If you don’t text, I’ll show up and steal one of your little—’

His own phone buzzes audibly in his jeans, stopping the threat before it can fully form. His eyes pull from the poor under-saturated flamingo he’d been targeting. You smirk at your own quickness, knowing you must look impossibly smug about it.

‘Happy?’ you ask.

Angel smiles. It’s startlingly genuine. ‘Very.’

---------

The next morning you’re watching a man called Lou, doing God knows what under the hood of your car, when your phone pings with a new message. You haven’t been here long, but the sudden reminder that shit exists outside of rusting metal and grumbling men with nothing much to say, feels like a gleaming lighthouse on the horizon. You pull your phone out so quickly that it’s almost embarrassing.

It’s Angel, of course. Or rather, Angelito, as he’d saved himself. He’d texted you enough times after dropping you off last night, that you’re starting to expect every notification will be him.

The message reads, Drinks tonight?

Sure, you reply. Bring EZ.

‘This been changed before?’ Lou asks suddenly, grizzled face appearing from behind the propped-hood. He’s holding something up by his shining head that looks like nothing but a piece of metal to you. Generic car part #462.

‘No idea.’ You shrug at him. ‘I only bought it the other week.’

He grunts in response, ducking back into his work. Then another text comes through, giving you an excuse to look busy, and less like a dumbass who doesn’t know about their own damn car.

Fine, Angel says, but he ain’t as fun as he used to be. You need a ride?

Hopefully not, you type back, she’s in surgery now.

Prayin for you. That shit looked terminal.

You smile, thinking of a response for long enough that the screen goes black and shows you your own reflection in return. You look familiar again, you realise, smiling like this. It’s been a while since it came without effort.

Maybe you should pick me up, you type, relaying what’s happening in real time. Just heard the guy call something ‘a little bitch’ so it’s not looking good.

The reply comes quick. I got you, biche.

>>>>>> part two

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes fanfic #mayans mc fanfic #angel reyes #knowing me this will end up as slow burn angst paired with really tooth itching sweetness #pLEASE let me know your thoughts!! <3

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purplerain85 · 1 year

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The loss of Coco

Paring: Johnny “Coco” Cruz x Reader

Warning: angst, kind of mention of suicide by reader but it’s more of her cry for help, mental health issues due to the death of a loved one (soulmate), blaming Álvarez for her pain, swearing, so many tears.

A/N: I came across a Facebook clip and it just broke me. And all I could think of is how the reader would be months after the loss of Coco and how she blames Álvarez for her pain. I am ignoring the whole math mountain (Coco still had a drug addiction) and Hope.

Make sure you have tissues

Proof read by @withmyteeth and @yourwonkywriter thank you ladies so much 💗💗

Tags 🏷️ @withmyteeth @yourwonkywriter @raewritesfiction @darklydeliciousdesires @darqchilddaydreamz @redpoodlern @redwood-orginals @reyeswritesmc @chibsytelford @twistnet @twistneteclipse @nestorsgirlfriend @nessamc @blowmymbackout @drabbles-mc @rebelwrites @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna @challengeahellcat @indefiniteimagines

Other characters: Angel, EZ, Bishop, Creeper, Gilly, Nails, Hank, and Letty

It’s been 6 months Six long heartbreaking months and nothing ever seems to be getting better, the brain fog, your drinking has picked up, Letty tried to help you but she needed out of that house and left Santo Parde two months ago, you talk (well she text and you sometimes respond, but she is flourishing in Florida).

Angel is the main one from the club who checks in on you twice every single day to bring you food and see how you are doin g. He knows how broken you are but isn’t sure how to help you and you really think the only reason he comes around is because he feels bad for ignoring Coco.

You show up to the club as today is Angel’s birthday he wanted you to stop by and see Nails and walk over to the bar and ask for a rum and coke. “How have you been doing girl? I miss seeing your beautiful face around here” Nails ask.

You look at her and shrug “I’m still here, it’s not any less painful then when I got the phone call I still cry myself to sleep every night.” You say. Nails looks at you with sadness in her eyes as she doesn’t really know what to say. Other than she walk over and hugs you.

An hour later you are 6 drinks in and you are borderline drunk and then men come out of church and you see the one person who you were hoping and praying you wouldn’t see Álvarez and you can feel the anger and the hurt build ten times more. Most of the guys check in on you from time to time but Álvarez has never even reached out to you which surprised you in the beginning but eventually it just made you angry.

Álvarez looks at you and walks over and says “I know you blame me but I just did what I thought was good for the club” your shocked and look at him and raise your “the best for the club!? Are you fucking serious? Instead of helping him, you sent him away! Away from anyone who could actually help him! You just threw him away!”

Everyone has stopped what they are doing and watching you two Álvarez stares calmly back at you “look at you! You can’t even help yourself how would you have helped him? And what are you doing drinking that crap? You need to take better care of yourself. Especially if you want to get better, and in time it will!” He turns from you while the tears form in your eyes and in a split second you grab his gun and hold it to your jaw everyone gets up and but cautiously surrounding you.

You scream “What the Fuck! Nothing’s getting better, it’s only getting worse! Why isn’t anything getting getting better! It’s like I’m drowning in my own fucking head!” Angel walks closer behind you “I can’t do this shit anymore I need it to all stop for two seconds” Angel and EZ tackle you with EZ grabbing the gun from you and Angel holding you in a tight grip while you two crumble to the floor “I just need everything to stop!”

After the situation the night before you agreed to go to rehab and therapy and EZ has called for Álverez to step down as president because he and most of the rest of the crew including Creeper, Bishop, and surprisingly Nestor think that what happened with you was his fault and him acting like he didn’t do anything wrong doesn’t sit well with anyone. Álverez calls for a vote and he in unanimously voted out.

A year has past since that night you have made a completely 360 change. You sold Coco’s home and decided to move to a little island in Cuba and found love again with someone you never saw coming even though he was always there Angel.

Side not this is the clip that made me think of this and it just broke me

#mayans mc #johnny coco cruz #Johnny coco Cruz angst #johnny coco cruz x reader #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #heart been broke so many times #mentalwellness

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lauraashley93 · 1 year

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I just REALLY. REALLY. Want to read angst can someone help?? Point me to ANYTHING that will hurt my feelings. It can have a happy ending.. I just wanna have my heart broke. 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

#fanfiction #x reader #angst #supernatural #bucky x y/n #anythingtobreakmyheart.#ez x reader #angel reyes fanfiction #coco x reader

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 2 years

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Curly Hair Prompt Drabble Masterlist

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

Now permanently closed

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

Little Arms, Big Bottles.❤❤

Person B sees a little kid with similar hair to A and wants a similar haired baby with person A. As Fluff. Requested by @darqchilddaydreamz

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Snapped Fingers😨🔪❤💦

"You touch her hair again, and I'll make sure you never touch anything." As Smut with Opie. Requested by @darqchilddaydreamz

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The Tangler ❤❤

"I love that you love my hair, but if you keep touching it, it's going to knot then I'm going to make you comb them out." With Juice Ortiz and Fluff. Requested by @darqchilddaydreamz

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First Dibs❤❤

"My wife needs that for her hair, I had it first so remove your hand or you'll regret it." With Happy Lowman as Fluff. Requested by @camelia35

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Honey and Oats❤❤

Person A watches on as person B accidentally eats a homemade hair mask, laughter ensues. With Hvitserk Ragnarson as Fluff. Requested by @barnes-wilson-rogers

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Pampered ❤❤

Person B does a spa day for person A. With Lyla Winston as Fluff. Requested by @camelia35

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Gentle hands❤❤

Person B washes person A's hair. With Ivar as Fluff. Requested by @barnes-wilson-rogers

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Flower Water❤❤

"Your hair smells so good. I kinda want to eat it" With Hvitserk Ragnarson as Fluff. Requested by @barnes-wilson-rogers

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The Aftermath ❤💦

Person B unpins/takes down person A's hair do after a night out. With Frank Castle as Smut. Requested by @darqchilddaydreamz

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A Very Long Day😨❤

Person B watches the wind in person A's hair. With Juice as Angst with happy ending. Requested by @darqchilddaydreamz

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Well Read😨❤

Person A watches on with pride as person B insults mansplainer. With Juice Ortiz as Fluff. Requested by @camelia35

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Hammer and Nails😨❤

"You touch her hair again, and I'll make sure you never touch anything." With Ivar the Boneless and Fluff. Requested by @barnes-wilson-rogers

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Tiny Humans😨❤

Person B sees a little kid with similar hair to A and wants a similar haired baby with person A. With Happy Lowman as angst with a happy ending. Requested by @camelia35

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Helper❤❤

“Person A watches on as person B accidentally eats a homemade hair mask, laughter ensues." With Juice Ortiz as Fluff. Requested by @withmyteeth

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Flowers and Birds❤❤

Person B always brings back a hair accessory (vintage hairpins) With Manny as Fluff. Requested by @darqchilddaydreamz

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Over the Tub❤❤

Person B washes person A's hair. With Angel Reyes as Fluff.Requested by @darqchilddaydreamz

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High Maintenance❤❤

"Say that again to my face." With Manny as Fluff. Requested by @withmyteeth

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Effort ❤❤

Person B does a spa day for person A. With EZ Reyes as Fluff. Requested by @withmyteeth

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The Gala ❤❤

Person B unpins/takes down person A's hair do after a night out. With Lyla Winston as Fluff. Requested by @withmyteeth

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Charming Heat❤💦

Person B unpins/takes down person A's hair do after a night out. With Opie Winston as Smut. Requested by @camelia35

#Jax Teller #Lyla Winston #Opie Winston #Happy Lowman #Juice Ortiz #sons of anarchy #Ivar the Boneless #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #vikings #The Punisher #Frank Castle #Smut #Fluff #angst with a happy ending #manny mayans #ez reyes #angel reyes #sp's curly hair drabbles

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emiwasabi · 2 years

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Fanfic Updates!!

Hey all! I've been taking a writing hiatus waiting for those creative juices to start flowing again. Watching the episode from Season 4 has given me a bit of a jumpstart. I'm not a huge fan of the way the plot is going as of now but I'm feeling motivated enough to finish those fics that I have in progress. I'm putting a list of the ones that I will be continuing below and hopefully I'll put out some new stories as well!

Thank you for reading!!!

Stalker

Stalker: Part 1

Stalker: Part 2

Stalker: Part 3

Stalker: Part 4

Found

Found: Part 1

Found: Part 2

Breakout

Breakout: Part 1

Breakout: Part 2

#mayans mc #mayans fanfic #fanfiction #angst #action #gilly lopez #cococruz #ez reyes #angel reyes #taza #creeper

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garbinge · 9 months

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Motion Sick

Angel Reyes x F!Reader From these August Prompts: “I don’t usually get motion sick but— oh, I think I’m gonna puke.” A/N: Hope you’re enjoying the fic a day challenge with me! Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy. Fluffy but light angst.

Mayans MC Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @danzer8705

It was the middle of the day and you were traveling back home from a club errand with Angel. You might’ve had the day off but Angel didn’t and you figured if you were gonna snag anytime with him alone this was going to be it. Things had been busy between the club and the scrapyard. There wasn’t even a point in asking Angel if the errand he was running was for either because it likely had to do with both. All you knew is Angel had mentioned needing to take a ride to Santa Ana in the morning before he left your house and you met him at the clubhouse and hopped in the passenger seat of the van without any argument on his side.

Angel didn’t mind the company, if anything he enjoyed it. These days it was rare you two got to do anything together besides roll over and shake the other to shut off the alarm so taking a ride together was like a date on the town for you.

The ride up was smooth and quick, both of you wanted to get the errand done as soon as possible so that the rest of the day was your own without any responsibilities lingering over your head. The way back was more enjoyable. Angel took the long way back down the Pacific Coast Highway to give some romance to the trip, opting to stop at a whale watching point because he really wanted to spend as much time as he could with you. It was nice, it was something that had been missing between you two lately and this was his way of acknowledging it.

As you got back on the road you started to fidget in the passenger seat. Finding a comfortable position was making itself hard as you moved around.

“You alright? You can’t sit still.” Angel looked over at you as you switched to your 4th position in the last minute.

“Yea, just feel uncomfortable. I don’t know what it is.” You frowned and leaned forward to grab the handle that would easily adjust the seat back in hopes that would help.

“You think it was the lookout dock? The waves and shit making you sick?” The worry grew in his voice as he slowed down on the highway, taking the opportunity to look at you longer verse the road to get a better understanding about what was going on.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so. We were on solid foundation not like a dock or anything that was moving. Maybe I’m just getting antsy from the ride.” You brushed off his concern.

“Look, maybe you just need a break, we can stop and get some fuckin’ food or some shit.” Angel was starting to argue with you now, not out of spite, but from a genuine place. “You’re probably just motion sick. We’ve been in this van for a minute.” He had already begun to pull over at whatever food stop was coming up before you could put up a fight but it didn’t stop you from trying.

“I don’t usually get motion sick,” your hand lifted to wave him off to continue driving until you almost immediately brought it to your mouth, “oh– I think I’m gonna puke.”

Luckily the car was stationary as you opened the passenger door and vomited out of it. Angel thinking quickly to lean over and pull anything out of the way of your upchucking.

“Damn querida. I thought you didn’t get motion sick.” He said when you finally stopped and used one of the napkins that was shoved in the side pocket of the car to wipe your mouth off. As he spoke you turned to him and lifted your middle finger which made him laugh.

“I feel like shit.” You closed your eyes and leaned back in the seat.

“You need anything? I’ll get the food to go, we can grab a spot in the grass or something, I’m sure we got a blanket somewhere back here.” Angel went into full solution mode.

“If I sit on any blanket that’s in this van I’ll end up sicker than I am right now.” You let out a chuckle and let your head fall to the left to stare at Angel. He was on edge, you could tell. His arm was on the steering wheel and his body was twisted to look back at you. “Why don’t we find a convenient store, like a CVS or Rite Aid or some shit, I think I’ll get better if I get my hands on a gatorade and some saltines.”

Angel was moving in seconds, he had put the car in drive and you were about to argue it but he spoke up. “I’m just moving it up a couple feet so you don’t step in your own vomit.” His smiled openly.

“Angel the angel.” You teased him as you stepped out the van.

The convenient store was close, it was a matter of minutes before you both entered the air conditioned building that was playing some top 40’s radio station through the speakers. The cold breeze already had you feeling better, the club van didn’t exactly have the best AC for an old overused vehicle.

“Grab what you want, I’m gonna see if I can get you some of that motion sickness shit from the pharmacy, half the shit on the PCH is behind lock and key.” Angel placed a quick kiss on your head before walking towards the medicine aisle. “Oh and maybe pick up some Listerine or toothpaste!” His whole body turned around as he kept walking backwards with his nose scrunched up.

That earned him another middle finger and a headshake, although, you knew he was right. Toothpaste and a toothbrush was the first thing you were grabbing on your way to grab the essentials but he didn’t need to be annoying about it.

As you entered the toiletry aisle your eyes scanned the shelves. Mouthwash was first, and while it was a viable option, you knew brushing your teeth would be a greater benefit for both of you. As your eyes moved to the toothpaste, you saw the travel brush and paste kit and grabbed the first one you saw before walking down the rest of the aisle. You browsed the rest of the aisle, taking your time not wanting to leave the cooled store anytime soon. As you looked around your eyes stopped on a box of tampons. That’s when it hit you like a tons of bricks. The speed at which you took your phone out your backpocket was unmatched, all just for your thoughts to be confirmed by the date displaying on your phone. You were late.

Without a second thought you grabbed the pink box that was to the right of the pads and tampons and flew to the bathroom. Luckily it was on the opposite side of where the pharmacy was so there was no chance you were going to run into Angel.

3 minutes was beginning to feel like 3 days with how long it was taking. You had grabbed the digital test, which was likely the more expensive one but at this point you didn’t care. You stood over the sink staring at the flashing lines waiting for words to pop up on it. You could’ve taken the time to brush your teeth but you felt like if you took your eyes off the test, you’d miss something.

You heard the digital beeping and the words appeared across the screen.

Pregnant.

“Holy shit.”

You weren’t exactly sure how to feel but before you could really even process it, you were stepping out of the bathroom and looking down the aisles for Angel.

He was in the toy section, gatorade and saltines in one hand and a squishmallow in the other.

“Hey look! It kinda looks like Sally right? I know it’s a seal but they got the same fuckin’ eyes.” Angel held up the gray stuffed animal and compared it to his little brother’s dog.

As you walked over to him and said nothing his smile started to fade.

“You get sick again?” He asked a follow up question.

Without saying anything you held up the pregnancy test for him to see. It took him a couple seconds to process what you were showing him before he was picking you up in the air in celebration. The squeal that left your mouth was full of shock but the laugh that came after was genuine. Angel was clearly excited about this and that sent a wave of relief through you that let you enjoy this.

“Alright, alright, put me down you’re gonna make me sick again!” You spoke through another laugh.

“What happened, I thought you don’t get motion sick.” His voice got deeper as he mocked you and put you down.

“Yea I don’t, but apparently your kid does.”

Angel’s smile grew even bigger at that sentence. You leaned over and grabbed the squishmallow from him and made your way to the front of the store to pay for everything you two had gathered up.

“We gettin’ that?!” Angel lightly jogged to catch up to you.

“Baby’s first toy?” You squished it against your front in a hug.

Angel brought you into his side, throwing his arm around you as he left a soft his on the crown of your head.

“Yea, baby’s first toy.”

#Angel Reyes #Angel Reyes Fic #Angel Reyes Fanfic #Angel Reyes Fanfiction #Angel Reyes x Reader #Angel Reyes x You #Mayans Mc #Mayans FX #mayans mc fanfiction

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imagineredwood · 3 months

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“I don’t always need you to fix everything. I just— sometimes I just want you to listen."

Request: “I don’t always need you to fix everything. I just— sometimes I just want you to listen." for angel or ez

Pairing: EZ Reyes x female reader

Warnings: Angst, friend breakup, tears

Word count: 868

A/N: This one is also self-indulgent after how this year has gone

"Where the hell is she?"

EZ grumbled to himself as he wandered around the house. He'd woken up and had to pee, finding that the bed beside him was empty. Naturally, he thought that you had beat him there, expecting to walk into the bathroom and find you peeing in the dark, but it was empty. He'd gone out to the hallway then and rasped out your name, only to get no response. It had confused him greatly. Surely you hadn't gone anywhere. He went back into the room and grabbed his phone checking to see if he had any notifications. No texts. No missed calls. Nothing from either the club or you saying that there was some emergency where you would've had to leave. His brows were knitted as he walked back down the hall, checking the living room. Sometimes when you couldn't sleep you would come to the living room and watch your favorite movie, not wanting the light or sound of the TV in the bedroom to bother him. When he got there though, he found the TV off and the couch empty. He was worried now, going to the front door and looking out the window. Your car was still parked out front, so where the hell were you.

It was the light moving around outside on the patio that caught his attention. Walking over he saw you sitting there on the outdoor sofa, cuddled up into a blanket with a cup of tea, scrolling on your phone. He opened the door and walked out to join you, shivering at the cool chill that shocked his bare torso. You smiled softly as you looked at him. It was dark, but not dark enough that he couldn't see how fake it was. He lifted your blanket-covered leg up and then sat down, putting them to rest on top of his lap.

"What's the matter, baby?"

He ran his hand comfortingly over your legs as he watched you shrug.

"Just couldn't sleep."

Your voice was nasally and the slight sniffle you gave at the end of your sentence confirmed.

"Why are you crying? What's wrong? Talk to me."

You shrugged again and let out a small, watery laugh.

"Just sad. Thinking about her again."

EZ sighed and rubbed your legs more comfortably. The falling out with your best friend had been hard on you, especially because it was more her drifting away. You had always been there for her through thick and thin, been her shoulder to cry on when she needed it, given her all of yourself. And then just like that she'd gotten a new best friend and had left you in the wind. You had EZ still, of course, but it wasn't the same. She had been your best friend, not a secret or unsaid thing between the two of you. You both were attached at the hip, two peas in a pod, and just like that you had been replaced.

"It's like...how do you just move on from someone that you said you loved so much? How do you just change them out? Like it's nothing?"

You shook your head and EZ saw the tears begin to flow again in the moonlight.

"Sometimes people just grow apart, babe. They change and life starts to-"

You shook your head almost furiously, a few tears slinging off of your face and onto his chest.

"Don't. Please don't do that."

EZ squinted, not knowing what it was that he was doing.

“I don’t always need you to fix everything. I just— sometimes I just want you to listen."

EZ's heart clenched. He was a fixer. That's what he was known for. All quick thinking and sharp solutions. He prided himself on that. On being able to fix things. But that wasn't what you need right now, and he was going to respect that. He nodded and squeezed your knee, eyes on you as he apologized.

"I'm sorry. I just want to help; find a way to ease your pain. But I understand. I'll be a better listener. I promise. Go on."

You smiled tearfully and placed your hand atop his, squeezing.

"I just wish that she cared more. Cared as much as I did. And do. I guess that's why I'm crying. I can't just write her off. No matter how much I say I'm going to stop thinking about it and stop letting it bother me, I can't. Some days it's easy and I can but then I see something or hear something and it brings me back. I just want to feel better about it. And crying makes me feel better sometimes. So I came out here to cry."

You shrugged and EZ had to swallow down all the urges to intervene. Instead, he nodded and reached forward to wipe away your tears.

"You're right to feel upset and abandoned. Your feelings are valid."

You chuckled sadly and then took in a long shaky breath, using your fists to wipe at your eyes.

"I feel better. And I'm tired."

He uncovered you and helped you stand, taking your face in his hands and kissing your forehead.

"Well let's get you to bed then."

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @destynelseclipsa @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester @alexxavicry @savagemickey03 @fanfic-n-tabulous @gangstaliciou06

Mayans MC taglist

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

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

#imagines #mayans mc #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes #mayans imagine

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drabbles-mc · 1 year

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Collateral Damage

Angel Reyes x GN!Reader

For Day 16 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: guilt / shock / "I'm so sorry"

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

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Angel was overdue for a good whumping. Love this for him. 😌

Angel Reyes Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lilacyennefer @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @queenbeered @littlekittymeow @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @kelpies-shed @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @frattsparty @yourwonkywriter @amorestevens @withmyteeth @winchestershiresauce @nessamc @narcolini @mijagif @choochoo284 @fanfic-n-tabulous @passionatewrites @artemiseamoon @justazzi @camelia35 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Moving into the new house with Angel was supposed to be something reminiscent of a fresh start. It was still Santo Padre, still the border, but it was a place that was going to be something that was just for the two of you. You were thrilled to leave your tiny apartment behind, and Angel didn’t seem too upset about ditching the glorified bachelor pad that he’d been living in for the last few years. It was supposed to be something new, something good.

The two of you hadn’t even gotten all of the boxes unpacked yet before someone came after Angel, but ended up giving you the scare of your life instead.

In the back of your mind, you knew that that was part of the risk. Being with him was always going to have lingering dangers. That was the price of him being an outlaw. Intellectually, you knew that. When the threat wasn’t right in front of you with a gun pointed at your chest, it was easy to say that you were willing to accept that type of responsibility, that you were cut out for being part of the life that he’d chosen. But when he’d gotten home a few hours later to find you curled up on the floor behind the couch, still crying, still shaking, it became apparent to both of you that maybe you should stop and take a beat to reconsider it all.

You weren’t quite sure if you were refusing to leave because you couldn’t handle that kind of change after what had happened to you, or if you were really trying to rally and prove to yourself, prove to Angel, that you weren’t going to quit on what the two of you had. Your reasons for staying changed depending on the day, and how hard it was to get yourself out of bed in the morning.

The two weeks following the incident, you saw Angel more than you had in months. It was admirable, the way that he was pulling out all the stops. He was home as much as he could be, and when he couldn’t be he always made sure to check in on you, calling and texting almost as much as he had when the two of you first started seeing each other. All it took was a break-in and someone threatening to kill you.

Days came and went without incident. There hadn’t been so much as a sketchy vehicle even driving by the house, let alone someone stopping and bursting into it like they had before. If you hadn’t already known better, you almost would’ve thought that what had happened was an isolated incident. But you’d seen the kutte on the man’s shoulders. You knew that whatever it was, wasn’t over.

You were still working through your first cup of coffee, cross-legged on your bed with your computer in your lap, when you saw Angel materialize in the doorway. You’d been observant before, but now that you found yourself on-edge most of the time, hardly anything got past you. You didn’t take your eyes off the screen in front of you, not wanting to look over and see the same look of pity in Angel’s eyes that had been there for weeks. He never seemed to be able to shake it, and considering the state that you were in, that you were still electing to work from inside the four walls of your bedroom instead of actually going to work, you supposed that you couldn’t blame him. It didn’t mean that you wanted to be faced with it all the time, though.

“Hey,” he spoke up, hoping it would make you face him.

Something about his tone made your stomach knot. Still, you looked over at him. “Yea?”

“Got a sec?”

You saw the way that he shifted uneasily on the balls of his feet, trying to decide if he was going to lean against the doorframe or not. It made you shift nervously as well. Setting your laptop to the side, you nodded. “What’s up?”

Stepping through the doorway, he walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat close enough to you so that he could reach out and toy with the loose strings of the comforter right next to your legs. He kept his eyes trained on the stitching as he tried to pull together what it was that he wanted to say.

“It’s about the club.”

A knot immediately formed in the back of your throat. No matter how hard you tried to keep a neutral expression, you knew that you weren’t going to succeed. You gave one slow nod. “Okay. What’s…what’s going on?”

Angel let out a small sigh, head tilting back as he looked up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at you again. “Got a run coming up. Bish said that he needs me on this one.”

You knew that it was only a matter of time before he would have to actually leave to do things with the club again. Running with the MC wasn’t exactly the kind of job that he could do from home, no matter how badly you wanted him to stay with you as much as possible. Still, the thought of him being gone for a few nights made your hands start to shake.

“How long?” you asked, hating how weak your voice sounded.

It hurt him to look at you, how scared you were when he hadn’t even left yet. “Couple days. Not…not long.”

You nodded. There was no point in starting an argument about it—it wasn’t going to change anything. Realistically you knew that you were going to have to get used to being alone again. Angel was your partner, not your babysitter. The nervous heat creeping up your neck was telling you that you weren’t ready yet, but you knew that if you told Angel that all it would do was make him feel guilty. It wouldn’t make circumstances anything other than what they were.

“Okay,” you said, your voice just above a whisper.

His lips curled down into a frown. He knew that it wasn’t okay—that was half the reason that he didn’t want to tell you about it. But he also knew that trying to hide it from you was only going to put off the inevitable for a few days. There was no getting away from it.

“I’ll make sure EZ stops by.”

It was an attempt to reassure you, one that you appreciated. And for as much as you loved EZ, you and Angel both knew that it wasn’t going to be the same. Even if EZ camped out on your couch for the entire time Angel was gone, it wasn’t really going to make you feel any more at ease.

“You don’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, trying to smile and lighten the mood. “He’s a prospect—gotta keep him busy with something when we leave his ass behind.”

It got a tiny chuckle out of you. “Right.”

The silence that followed brought the heavy feeling back over the two of you full-force. Angel shook his head, more at himself than you. “I’m sorry.”

You sniffled, trying to pull yourself together in hopes of alleviating some of the guilt. “I’ll…I’ll be fine, Angel. Really.”

He knew you were lying, to him and to yourself. Reaching out, he rested his hand over yours, interlocking your fingers together. “It’s been quiet since all that shit went down, right?” He paused, and when you nodded silently in agreement he continued, “And I’m only gonna be a couple days. Trust me, I don’t wanna spend any more fuckin’ time in Yuma than I have to. I’ll get these motherfuckers back on the road to SanPa ASAP.” He offered a weak smile.

You tried to mirror the expression, knowing that you were coming up short on it by the look in his eyes. “You better.”

He could feel the tremor in your hand still, despite the reassurance he was desperately trying to give you. “It’s gonna be alright. Those guys…they’re not gonna come back. They’re not gonna try and hurt you again.”

That was the most that he’d spoken directly about the break-in in a long time. The two of you talked around it, alluded to it. He was never good at talking about those sorts of things head-on, not when he didn’t have a solid solution to the problem.

“Promise?” It was an unfair ask, but the word came out before you could stop it.

Angel had always been an expert at guaranteeing more than he could hope to deliver. He gave your hand a light squeeze. “I promise.”

The day that Angel left for the run came sooner than you wanted it to. If it had been a few weeks before, you would’ve gone to the clubhouse with him to see him off, to tell the rest of the guys to be safe and to take care of themselves. You would’ve been joking with them about not having enough bail money to get all of them out of fail so they needed to be careful. This time, though, you simply stood on your front step as Angel shouldered his duffle bag. Neither of you looked like you wanted to go through with what was about to happen.

“EZ’ll be by in a bit, alright?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“You can make him stay if you want. He’s got nothin’ better to do. Promise,” he tried to joke.

You managed a smile that was a little more convincing than usual. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Cupping the side of your face, he pulled you in for a kiss. “I love you.”

You wished that you could stay right there in that moment forever. It’d make life so much simpler if you could. “I love you too.”

Usually Angel would pepper you with a million promises to call and text that he undoubtedly would never keep. He would tell you that he’d be back before you even started to miss him, which was never true. But there was none of that this time. The weight that was slung across both your shoulders, something that the two of you were each forced to carry against your will, snuffed out all of the banter-filled rituals of saying goodbye. You wished that it didn’t.

“I’ll let you know when we get there,” he said, and for once you almost believed him.

“Be safe,” you said with a small nod.

He kissed you again. “We’ll be good.” One more kiss. “Both of us.”

You could’ve dragged out saying goodbye on that front step for hours, could’ve made him miss the window to leave with the rest of the club. Hell, part of you wanted to do just that. You couldn’t quite force it, though. Much sooner than you wanted, he was heading off towards his bike, one long stride after another taking him farther and farther away from you.

True to Angel’s word, EZ showed up hardly an hour after Angel had left. You hadn’t seen EZ since he’d come over to help clean up some of the mess left behind by the break-in. You had no clue what Angel had said to him about any of it, what he’d said to any of the men in the club about any of it. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

Out of the two Reyes Brothers, EZ was the one who had been gifted with a convincing poker face. You had no idea what he was really thinking or feeling about you, about the entire situation. He kept it light, pleasant. He hung around long enough to eat, long enough to give a mild sense of security and that he had fulfilled his duty for the evening.

“Want me to stay?” he asked as he sat at your dining room table. “I brought my stuff.”

It was tempting. You really did want him to stay. You didn’t want to admit that, though. If you set the precedent now that you were always going to need someone to stay with you, when was it ever going to stop?

You studied his face for a moment. You wondered if you would get a different answer to your questions from EZ than you did from Angel. EZ wouldn’t feel as obligated to placate you, to protect you from the monsters under the bed and outside the windows. If you asked him for his honest opinion, you wondered if he would actually give it.

“You think you need to stay?” you asked tentatively.

He didn’t miss a beat. “If you want me to, I will.”

You shook your head. “No, I mean,” you huffed, staring down at the floor for a moment, “do you think that something is gonna happen if you don’t?”

“Those guys want Angel, the club. Not you.” He watched the shift in your expression for a moment before saying, “I’ll stay if—”

“No,” you cut him off, your voice still uncertain in the gesture. “I’ll be fine. I’ll…I’ll call you if I need anything.”

He gave you a nod, his movements easy. He had such an air of certainty around him that neither you or Angel had had in weeks. There was something reassuring about it, even if he was only able to be so confident because he hadn’t been living in the mess the same way that you had. He could handle it all in small doses just fine and not crack, while Angel had to be steeped in it with no break.

Standing up, he started to walk towards the door, grabbing his bag along the way. You followed him, intent on saying goodbye but more importantly doing the locks behind him once he left. He pulled you into a hug when he reached the door, promising you that his phone would be on and close by if you needed anything from him, if you changed your mind. You believed him. You believed most things that he said in a way you didn’t with most of the other men from the club.

You watched from the window until his bike was well down the street. Pulling the curtains closed, you started to set about cleaning up. There wasn’t much to do, but any little task to help keep you busy until you were tired enough to at least attempt to get some sleep was better than nothing.

The sound of screeching tires had barely hit your ears when bullets started flying through the windows and from wall of your house. You screamed, instantly dropping to the floor. Trying your best to stay as low as possible, you made your way back towards the very same couch you’d hid behind before. It wasn’t the best buffer, but it was the only one that was close to you at the moment.

Your hands were clamped down over your ears, knees pulled to your chest and eyes shut tight. The gunfire was fast, incessant. You had no idea how long it had really been going on for, but it felt like an eternity. The guns were going to have to run out of ammo eventually, right?

Then they finally did. The silence felt manufactured, like someone had made a call on a set and they were about to yell action to kick it all off again. You didn’t know if you should get up and try to go out the back of the house, or if you should stay put in case they all opened fire again. The right choice didn’t matter much since you didn’t think that you were going to be able to get your legs to move.

You eventually managed to pry your eyes open. You still felt like you couldn’t quite pull in a proper breath, but at least you could see now. Although, the mess you were surrounded by wasn’t a particularly comforting sight to open your eyes to. You took a quick scan, moreso just to make sure that people hadn’t also entered the house along with the bullets. It all happened over the span of just a few seconds but it felt like so much longer.

It'd been quiet for just long enough to make you think that someone was either about to barge into the house, or they were going to drive off. You were about to try and force your legs to hoist you up when you heard more gunfire. It was different than what you’d heard before. Singular shots, longer breaks between. But it went from just a few to the sounds of an actual exchange and you felt yourself freeze up again.

There was the sound of a few loud thuds against your front door and you couldn’t stop the whimper that slipped out of you. You clamped your hand over your own mouth, trying to stifle the sounds, not that it would do you much good. A few more thuds and suddenly you heard the cracking of the door frame breaking, followed by heavy footsteps.

You were crying now, not even attempting to quiet the sound. Your body was shaking more than you thought it was capable of, heart pounding so hard in your chest you thought for sure it was going to crack one of your ribs. The footsteps kept getting closer and you wished that you had it in you to get up and run, but you couldn’t. The floor may as well have been pulling you down.

Then you heard it, the sound of your name. It was quiet, but intense. It took a few seconds for you to realize that it was EZ who was saying it. He must not have gotten so far away that he didn’t hear the gunfire.

Suddenly he was crouching down in front of you, blood splattered across his clothes. “Let’s get you out of here.” You watched him as he looked you over, his expression steady as ever. “Can you walk?”

“When the panic subsides enough to let me stand,” you thought. You couldn’t get the words out, though, so instead you just nodded. Reaching for EZ, you grabbed onto his shoulder in an attempt to use him as a means to push you up onto your feet. Your fingers dug into the leather of his kutte, arm and shoulder tensing in preparation for the lift, but then you didn’t move. Nothing happened.

Instead of looking at yourself, you looked at EZ. He always had answers. When you took in the look on his face, your heart started to speed up all over again. The frown he had on hadn’t been there earlier. Whatever the situation was now, it must’ve been worse.

He could see that you were about to look at the state of yourself and he spoke up, distracting you as he slid his arm around you to help you to your feet. “You’re good,” he said, a convincing lie. “You’re good. C’mon.”

He got his feet underneath himself enough to help you to your feet. Once you were upright, you were so distracted by the disheveled state of your house that you hardly noticed the way that he was practically dragging you towards the front door. He was shouldering more of your weight than you were, but you couldn’t even feel it happening.

Despite all of the chaos and destruction and mess, your car keys were still somehow resting on the table just inside the front door. EZ swiped them on the way out, knowing that there was no chance in hell that you would be able to get on the bike.

As he maneuvered you down the front steps and towards the car, that was when you saw the destruction that was outside, too. You felt your stomach tighten, feeling dizzy at the sight of the blood and the shot-out car windows. EZ was talking to you, attempting to distract you from the carnage that he’d created in the process of getting to you, but it was too late.

“EZ,” you didn’t even recognize your own voice as you repeated his name over and over, unable to get any other words out, “EZ. E…EZ.” Despite his best efforts you almost sank to the ground anyway. “Oh my god.”

“Look at me,” he kept his voice level, calm. He pulled the passenger door of the car open, sliding the seat back with no grace at all before going to help get you into the seat. “Just look at me.”

You tried. You tried to focus on him, on the way he needed you to move so that you could get into the seat of the car so that he could get the two of you out. But your eyes kept straying back to the mess.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, EZ was in the driver’s seat, slamming the keys into the ignition of the car. You were finally able to watch what he was doing. “Where,” you swallowed hard, “where are we going?”

You assumed he was going to take you to the clubhouse, maybe to Felipe’s—somewhere that you’d be safe while he cleaned up the mess. He didn’t say anything at first, one hand reaching and gripping onto the headrest of your seat as he looked over his shoulder to reverse out of your driveway.

The longer he went without answering your question, the harder you stared at him. A million scathing comments and a thousand other questions were racing through your head as you stared at him, but for some reason you couldn’t seem to force any of them out. You were trying to get yourself to take a couple deep breaths, thinking that if you got your breathing under control, the words would come.

Leaning back in the seat, you rested your hands in your lap as you started to shut your eyes. It was only a couple seconds after you closed them when you heard EZ saying your name again, this time with a little more of an edge to his voice.

Prying your eyes open, you looked over at him. Picking your hand up off your lap, you went to rub the side of your face when you saw that your skin was covered in red. Confusion washed over you for a moment as you stared at your hand, like your brain was willfully not connecting the dots. You could see EZ in your peripheral, looking back and forth between you and the road as he waited for the fallout.

“Where are we going?” you repeated your question from earlier.

He knew that there was no more avoiding it, no more letting you have your denial. “Hospital.”

You felt your brain trying to rouse you into a panic, but you just couldn’t seem to do it. Your heart sped up but you couldn’t make yourself move any quicker. Even if you could, there wasn’t really anywhere that you could go.

“You’re okay,” he said, trying to reassure you despite the evidence stacking up proving just the opposite.

Your eyes widened. “Angel.”

“He’s already on his way back.” He looked at you for a moment, and when he saw the look on your face he elaborated just enough. “Called him when I heard the shots.”

You forced yourself to look out the windshield, your brain caught between thinking about everything that had happened, and trying to distract yourself by thinking about literally anything else. Luckily, it wasn’t much longer until the two of you reached the hospital. EZ managed to help you get to the door, where you were met by a team of doctors and nurses who seemed more ready than you could ever hope to be. You remembered them taking you off in the wheelchair, and telling them that they couldn’t send EZ away because you needed him, but after that everything got fuzzy, and then everything went dark.

All you could see was blinding light when you came to, and for a moment, you thought that maybe you’d actually died. Heaven was a lot harder on your eyes than you thought it would be.

But then you heard the sound of a chair scraping across tile. After a couple long, hard blinks things slowly started to come back into focus. You felt someone’s hand wrap around yours, the familiar coolness of metal rings letting you know that it was Angel. Within seconds you felt his forehead pressed against yours, the feeling of his breath on your skin as he let out a sigh of relief. He squeezed your hand, the compromise for not being able to hold you.

“You’re awake,” he said it like he was reassuring himself that it was true.

You gave a small nod, your voice still not sounding like your own as you said, “You’re here.”

“EZ called—I turned right around. I’m,” he sucked in a short breath to keep himself together, “I’m so sorry.”

The apology made tears spring into your eyes. Hardly awake for a minute and all of the emotions that you’d been drowning in for weeks came flooding right back to you. Your hand trembled in his. “You said I’d be okay.”

He flinched at the statement even though you were speaking softly. He didn’t pull away, his head still resting against yours as he nodded slightly. “I know.”

“You and EZ. You both,” your voice was slowly starting to come back with each word, “you said that I would be okay. That there was nothing to worry about.”

“I didn’t think—”

“You left me,” the words came out strained, fighting with the sob that was trying to dislodge itself from your throat.

Pulling back so that he could look you in the eyes, Angel could see how tired, how broken you were. You could see the tears in his eyes as he looked at you, neither of you still the same people you were when you met those few years ago. Everything was different now. Worse, in some ways.

“I know,” he conceded with a nod. “I know I did.”

Your bottom lip was trembling as you watched him run his thumb over your knuckles. “I don’t think I can do this, Angel.”

He froze. “What?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I can do this. I…I can’t go through this again.”

“We’re gonna handle—”

“And then what?” you cut him off, talking despite the pain that was starting to radiate throughout your body now that you were fully awake. “We wait until the next guy who has a problem with you comes and shoots our house up again?” You shook your head. “No. I, I can’t. I thought I could, but,” you shifted slightly on the bed and felt the pull of multiple bandages beneath your hospital gown, “I can’t. I’m, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, clasping your hand tighter in his as he plead, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you again. I won’t. I promise.”

The tiniest, saddest smile curled your lips. Angel Reyes, always so full of promises. “I know you think you mean that, but…” you trailed off.

“I do mean it,” his words sounded so earnest.

Despite everything that had happened, all that you’d gone through the last few weeks and the fear that had settled so deep into your bones, it was the most sure of yourself that you’d felt in a long time. It didn’t feel good, but underneath it all you knew that it felt right.

“Angel…”

He shook his head. “No, no. Don’t say it like that.”

Tears trickled out onto your cheeks. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

The sadness on his face broke your heart. You knew that on the tip of his tongue were a thousand things he wanted to say to try and make you change your mind. But you could see it in his eyes that he knew that it wasn’t going to happen. He knew that this was too much, that things had gone too far. He knew that this was it.

“I love you,” he said, lips twitching as he tried not to let his own tears escape.

You managed a soft smile. ��I love you too.” That hadn’t changed.

Dragging his hand down over his mouth and his chin, he got himself together enough to ask, “Can I still stay here? With you?”

You nodded. “That’d be good.”

He nodded in return, going back to the chair that he’d been in while he was waiting for you to wake up. There was more to say, more questions to ask, but all of that could wait now. You laid in the hospital bed, staring over at Angel while he sat in a chair that looked too small for all of his height, staring right back at you.

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ficnation · 10 months

Text

Chapter 2: The Guilt She Bears

Series: “She” Word count: 2,5k+ Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female! Reader; Past! Angel Reyes x Luisa Espina Warnings: SPOILERS for Mayans MC season 5 episode 7, mayans mc typical warnings A/n: I’m starting to enjoy all of this angst muahaha

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A few days have passed since Luisa’s death. Angel tries to return to the life he once knew, but it isn’t easy. He tries not to think about Luisa, but the apartment they once shared reminds him of her every second of the day. Every moment he spends there makes it harder not to reach for a bottle of cheap whiskey and the company of another woman.

One day he shows up at your doors, hastily packed bags in his hands as he supports Maverick’s bottom with one muscular arm. Angel’s fist shakes as he raises it to knock on your door. The sound echoes in his ears. He wonders if you’re even home, he forgot to text you before getting in the car, but something in his heart tells him you will be there. You’re always close when he needs you.

As Angel waits, staring intently at the door, each minute feels like an hour. The weight of worry and anticipation seems to become physically tangible. Finally, his impatience wins, and the man reaches for the doorknob, but the door is slowly pushed open from inside before he can make contact.

The door opens just an inch so you can peer out at the intruder with a grimace. You look exhausted, your hair is all over the place, and your eyes tell him you haven’t slept in a while. You give the impression of someone who has been through hell and is struggling to survive. On top of all that, you seem stressed and worn out, ready to give in at any moment. Angel knows he doesn’t look much better, but seeing you like that still worries him.

The grimace falls from your face when you recognize him, and you open the door wider. You see the bags he’s holding in his hands as he stands before you, your expression turning into one of pure confusion.

“Angel? What are you doing here?” you ask him with a raspy voice. You notice Maverick in his other arm. The baby looks just as tired as his father, his big brown eyes drooping sleepily.

“Please, can I come in?” His voice is pleading even though he knows you’d never refuse him that.

You nod, stepping back out of the way to let him in. He can feel your eyes studying him intently as he walks inside. You watch his every move, every breath, and every blink.

“What’s going on?” You grab Maverick from his arms, holding him against your chest as you kiss the crown of his head softly.

Angel heads over to the couch and sets his bags next to it, letting himself fall onto the furniture heavily. He ignores your question for now, and you refrain from asking again, focusing instead on the child in your hold.

“Is he okay? Does he feel better?” you question, observing the little boy. He’s so quiet and tired. You wonder if he can’t sleep without his mommy, if he can sense her absence in his life.

“He’s okay. Just doesn’t sleep well lately,” your friend explains with a deep sigh.

“Oh… poor baby,” you say to Maverick, caressing his soft hair. The child presses his face into the crook of your neck, grabbing your shirt in his tiny fists. You turn your gaze back toward Angel. “What’s in all those bags?”

He doesn’t respond to that question, instead cutting right to the point. “I can’t be there anymore. Everything reminds me of her,” the man confesses, his eyes pleading.

You pause, trying to understand what he’s asking. “You want to... live here?” you finally say, your expression conveying your confusion. It’s not something you had anticipated. It hasn’t even crossed your mind.

Angel nods, shamefully hanging his head. “Please, it’s either you or my dad.”

You bite your bottom lip, noticing how abashed he is to ask you this. Angel has always been so strong and independent that you never expected him to need you this much. Even when he was at his worst, drinking himself into oblivion, he has never turned up to your door asking for a place to stay. Not even once. He was always the one making sure you were alright. But you know the circumstances are different this time.

“Angel,” you begin, and the man sitting on your couch prepares for you to say no. “You know that you’re always welcome here.”

He sighs in relief, some of the tension disappearing from his muscles as he slumps down against the couch. He thanks you wordlessly with an appreciative nod of his head.

“What about your dad?” you inquire, meeting his tired brown eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to live with him, but he’s old, you know. He needs his sleep and I don’t wanna be a burden,” your friend explains. “Not that I’m not gonna be a burden to you but—”

You cut him off before he can doubt himself even more and try to explain something that doesn’t need to be explained. “No, no, Angel, you’re not a burden. Trust me,” you reassure him, “you and Maverick are more than welcome here.”

You know their company might help you too. You have been lonely lately more than ever. The nights seemed too long and restless as you kept overthinking every little thing—the guilt swallowing your whole being, drowning you in its darkness. You kept thinking day and night—what could you’ve done to save Luisa, what could you’ve done to take her place and die that night instead of her.

“I’m not sure where I’ll be in a few months. My lease is almost up. But for right now, and as long as you need it to be, my home is your home.” You look down at Maverick, who’s fallen asleep in your arms, the corner of your lips arching as you kiss his head softly.

A faint smile crosses Angel’s face as he watches the two of you together. It’s painful to know his mommy will never hold him like that again—will never kiss him like that again, but he cherishes the fact that at least you’re there for him and his son. You bring them the comfort—the love they need so desperately right now.

“I have a spare room.” Your voice breaks through Angel’s thoughts. His eyes follow you as you step toward the archway and nod your head in the direction of one of the doors across the corridor.

You can feel the nervousness radiating off him when he follows you. He’s uneasy at the prospect of crashing here, at your house. It’s not like he hasn’t been here before—he has—many times, sometimes with Luisa or Maverick and other times by himself, but he’s never spent the night.

“I don’t have a crib, but we can arrange something. Get the one from your house or get a new one,” you offer, opening the wooden door and stepping inside. You make a gesture with your hand to bring Angel’s attention to the room.

He looks around curiously. The room isn’t too fancy, but it’s cozy and bright. There’s a bed, a small dresser, and other minor furniture. The walls are a light blue color, with a few clouds painted onto them to give the feel of a dreamlike peace. You can tell that Angel likes it by the way he takes it all in with sparkling eyes, the corner of his mouth curving up.

“I can bring it. I planned on that,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I knew you wouldn’t have those stuff.” He sets the bags down by the wall, the tips of his fingers trailing over one of the painted-on clouds.

Maverick fusses in his sleep, still cuddled up to your body. You hum softly, caressing his back. “He’s finally getting some good sleep,” you whisper, a smile crossing your face.

“He feels safe with you.”

Angel’s words are simple, but nevertheless, they stir something inside your heart. Something you’ve buried deep within a long time ago.

The two of you remain silent for a few more minutes. You take in the fact that your friend will be living with you, sharing your space—your mornings, evenings, and nights. The thought of it makes you feel peaceful in a way you haven’t felt before.

“We can take out the mattress from the bed frame and place it in the corner of the room,” you propose, making Angel look at you confused. You roll your eyes at him. “So Maverick doesn’t roll off the bed,” you explain further.

“Yeah, that’s smart,” he agrees, nodding his head at your idea. It feels like his mind is somewhere else.

Your eyes soften, and you giggle softly as the realization hits you. Angel’s head is in the clouds, almost literally. “Well, my hands are kinda busy, so you have to figure it out yourself.”

It takes your words a minute to reach the man. He shakes his head and looks at you, confused. You repeat the sentence, and Angel chuckles softly—the tension relieved by a bit of humor. Just like when you first met him, your heart can’t help but soften at the sight of his smile.

“Oh, you’re funny. Just wait until I’m holding Maverick,” he says, moving past you toward the bed.

He kneels down in front of it and tries to lift it up without success. You notice his struggle and almost let out a very unladylike snort, but you catch it at the last second, not wanting to wake the baby in your arms. Angel doesn’t look like he wants to ask you for help—his manly pride is not allowing it in this matter.

Knowing fully well he won’t be able to figure it out on his own—you decide to save him the embarrassment. “It’s attached to the bed frame. You have to reach underneath and pull the elastic loose,” you guide him, amusement in your eyes.

Angel listens to your instructions and reaches under the bed. He feels out the elastic and begins to pull at it. It takes some effort, but he’s successful in freeing the mattress. He straightens up and lifts it off the bed frame, placing it in the corner of the room.

His brown eyes look down at his little son, cuddled up in your arms. “He looks comfy,” he says softly. “He’s still asleep?”

You walk up to the mattress and place Maverick in the middle, the mattress barely dipping beneath his weight. “Sleeps like a rock. Just like his daddy.”

“So small,” Angel whispers quietly, his eyes glued to the boy’s tiny body—to his clenched fists and his small chest, rising with every steady breath, to his round pink cheeks and the little waves of his hair. His little miracle.

You look back at your friend, tears prickling in your eyes. You know you can both see so much of her in Maverick. The resemblance to his mommy was painfully evident. It was hard for both of you to look at his innocent face and be reminded of what you’ve lost.

Angel notices the tears threatening to escape your eyes. He feels responsible, knowing his presence has indirectly brought you to tears. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes in a whisper, his hand reaching out to gently caress your arm.

“No, I’m sorry. I know you’re hurting just as much as I do.” You wipe your tears away with the sleeve of your shirt. You stand straight, stepping out of Angel’s reach and nodding at him in appreciation.

“Do you want to get some rest? You look like hell,” you say, glancing at him.

He still hasn’t taken his kutte off; he looks exhausted and worn down. But he still refuses with a shake of his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

You know it’s a lie, but you don’t push.

“Come on, I will make us some tea.”

You walk into the kitchen, Angel rubbing his temples in an attempt to relieve the headache he caused himself by the lack of sleep and food. You take out two mugs from one of the cupboards above as your friend moves to lean on the counter beside you.

“How are you holding up?” He can easily guess the answer to this question, but he still lets it slip out of his mouth, concern in his voice.

You’ve known Luisa for years; you’ve known her before Angel has even joined her world. The lack of her quiet presence in your life is devastating—sometimes, it just makes you want to blow your brains out. But you know you wouldn’t be able to do that—not when you had people who still loved you and needed you there. And you know Angel is one of them; he cares about you probably more than he cares about himself. The two of you have grown much closer after Luisa’s death. In the span of those few days, you became each other’s lifelines.

“Just getting through, I guess... I miss her a lot.” You let out a deep sigh. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s been hard. Especially—” Angel pauses; he hesitates, unsure if it’s something he should share with anyone. He clears his throat, his voice breaking slightly. “Seeing him… It’s a constant reminder.”

You sense the pain in his words, the struggles he goes through every day. It kills you to hear it. You squeeze his hand in yours for a second, wordlessly showing him your support.

You can tell the conversation took its toll on Angel. He remains nearby, not wanting to leave your side. You fill the kettle and place it on the stove, turning around to lean against the counter next to your friend.

“I miss her,” the man admits; he wraps his tattooed arms around himself. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. I thought I was just dreaming.”

“It’s tough,” you nod in understanding.

“I always knew someday we would have to say goodbye. I always knew that,” Angel continues, his eyes gazing off into the distance. “But I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

He turns his attention to you. You can see that there are so many things he wants to get off his chest, but he doesn’t know where to start. You reach for his hand to hold it in yours, to comfort him. You wish you had the ability to make it all better, but there’s not much you can offer him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles out, his voice so shy and quiet you can barely hear him. “I’m sorry that you have to be here for me when I’m like this.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Angel.” You squeeze his hand to make him look you in the eyes. “I want to be there for you.”

You watch as his eyes fill with so much love and gratitude. He looks like he wants to pull you close, hold you in his arms, and cry it all out. But he fights it, trying his best to stay afloat.

“I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’d be miserable by yourself. Now, at least you have some company,” you joke, trying to change the topic. It was starting to be too much; you could feel the darkness of guilt crawling up the walls of your brain. You couldn’t save her. You did nothing to save her.

#angel reyes x you #angel reyes x female reader #angel reyes fic #angel reyes imagines #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes #mayans m.c.#mayans fx #mayansmc #mayans #mayans x reader #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc x you

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