#angel reyes x mia flores

[anactualcaseofthetruth]

Friends Can Break Your Heart Too - Chapter 5 < ao3 link

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Story summary: Mia Flores flees to Santo Padre for one reason and one reason only: her godfather and the man who raised her, Bishop Losa. The last thing she expects is for Angel Reyes to come into her chaotic life and just maybe be the one thing that starts to make sense.

Chapter summary: Bishop gives Mia a talk then Mia and Angel have some fun.

Rated: SMUT. Sex, oral, cream pie, all that good stuff.

A/N: Esai Alvarez in this story is played by Manny Montana with Rio from Good Girls tats! Just a reminder!

Chapter 5:

“Mija?” Mia hears Bishop’s voice travel up the stairs to the bathroom where she’s finishing getting ready for a party at the clubhouse. The boys just got a big payday and that usually means a fun night.

“Bathroom!” she calls back while touching up her mascara, not at all surprised Bishop is the one to pick her up today. Angel was very clear in his text this morning the reason he wasn’t climbing into bed with her was because her godfather mentioned he planned on stopping by. Angel also mentioned that he was tired as fuck and couldn’t wait to see her later.

It doesn’t surprise her that Bishop wants to see her, he always wants to touch base after being gone on a run, and him and the boys did two back-to-back over the last week and a half, with only being home one day in between.

What does surprise her was that Angel texts her when they are on runs. It isn’t frequent, of course, but it is at least once a day, sometimes more if possible. He doesn’t say much, just that everything is going good and everyone is whole, but just the fact that he even tries means the world to her.

Most the time with Esai, Mia didn’t know he was home until she woke up and found him in bed with her, or passed out on the couch, or heard from Bishop that they were home and wanted to get lunch or dinner or something. It was rare for Esai to text her daily on runs—maybe when they first got together or if something particularly shitty was going on with her mom. She got maybe one or two texts over a five-day period, if that.

She hears Bishop making his way through the shopping bags that litter her bedroom floor. “Nice to see you’re spending your money wisely,” he comments.

“You’re the one who said you wouldn’t take anything from me for the first three months,” Mia counters while twisting the mascara closed and giving her face a last once over. “I tried to give you more than half my paycheck because I know I owe you, but you—”

“I know, I know, I’m just fucking with you,” Bishop stops her with a chuckle as he leans on the doorjamb leading to the bathroom. “You’re only doing what I want you to do—rebuild your life. I’m glad you’re making yourself at home, or at least,” his eyes flick back to the mess on her floor, “making a few businesses happy. Took a trip to El Centro?”

“That’s where Letty said the good mall is, and some pretty awesome boutiques. She wasn’t wrong,” Mia answers with a shrug. “I got her a few things too, and I’m not letting Coco pay me back, just letting you know.”

“That’s his fight, not mine,” he responds with hands up in surrender and they both smile at one another. “You look… good,” he settles on after looking her up and down a moment later.

She’s wearing a new pair of Army green cargo pants that hug her ass and thighs but are baggy at her feet. It’s matched with a dusty rose top laced up through her breasts, showing skin the whole way, but has long flowy sleeves. She isn’t wearing a bra, of course, that would throw off the whole look, but is covered up enough that Bishop won’t say anything, even if his eyes do. It should elicit a different reaction out of Angel though.

“I know,” she replies, and he chuckles again, having learned long ago that fighting about her clothes was a losing battle. “Everything went good this week? No problems?” she asks while passing him on her way out of the bathroom and starts digging through the bags for her brand new white Nikes.

Of course, she knows all went well—Angel had told her so, but Bishop doesn’t know that.

“All the drops went good, prisons up the coast and in AZ are flush with enough H to keep our brothers inside on top, and the other charters are making their deliveries,” he informs her.

“And the Chinese? I know their order was a surprise, but it seemed like you all had it handled,” she says while slipping the Air Force 1s on and smiling down at her splurge. Her godfather’s right, it’s nice to have more than a handful of things to call her own again.

“We’re a well-oiled machine,” Bishop assures her and at this Mia chortles.

“You’re definitely a well-intoxicated one,” she jokes, and they laugh once more. “I’m glad everything went well, Bop. You guys deserve this party tonight, you’ve been working your asses off lately.”

“Like we need a reason to party,” he comments, and she grins. “But a big payday does always make the boys more agreeable, and that I’m a fan of.”

“I’m sure you are. I’m ready to go if you are,” she says and slips her phone in her pocket, the only thing she’ll need for the night.

“You, uh, don’t seem surprised I’m here,” Bishop mentions.

“We usually get together when you get home,” she reminds him. “I figured we’d be doing something. It’s past lunch, so dinner,” she adds on with a shrug. “And I’m paying by the way, no buts.”

“Yeah, that ain’t happenin’,” her godfather states easily. “But, uh, wanted to check in, see how you’re doing now that you’re settling in at the job and the house, you know,” he goes on while taking a seat on her bed.

Realization washes over her. He’s not here for their normal post-run hang out, and this whole ‘check in’ shit is just that—shit. He knows how she’s doing with the job and the house, they talk every day, and before she started at the clinic he saw her everyday because she was making money at the clubhouse or scrap yard.

This isn’t just ‘checking in’. He wants to have a conversation about something particular but doesn’t know how to start it.

“I’m having flashbacks to my quinceanera, when you spent an hour talking about how I was about to become a woman,” she mumbles while taking a seat next to him, “but what you really wanted to know was if I was still a virgin because you knew Esai was about to ask me to be his girlfriend and you worried that he was going to deflower me that very night.”

“Did he?” he asks, and Mia looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“That is none of your business, but no, he did not,” she appeases him, which isn’t a lie.

Technically, because she wasn’t a virgin that night, so when she had sex with Esai after her party she wasn’t deflowered. Not that he needs to know about that, there are some things her father doesn’t need to know. Esai was her first, but she isn’t fan of the word ‘deflower’ nor is she interested in talking to Bishop about the concept of virginity. No man’s dick is important enough to change any part of her identity.

“Good, good,” Bishop murmurs and nods. “My warnings didn’t stop you from slow dancing with him at every chance that night, though.”

“Bop,” Mia sighs and crosses her legs, “why don’t we do what we didn’t manage then? Just ask me what you want to know or tell me whatever it is you want to say, because it took me a good year to realize what you wanted from me during that long, excruciating talk before my party started.”

“I thought I was pretty clear about how decisions you made that night could affect you for the rest of your life, and how you needed to protect yourself, and do what you thought was right,” he replies.

“I was fifteen, Bop,” she reminds him. “Besides that, I knew Esai was going to officially ask me out, so I had a little more on my mind than figuring out what you were actually trying to tell me,” she goes on. “Plus, I was dreading what you all would say during your speeches, which I was right to because it was another hour of men talking about my virginity without actually talking about it and I was mortified,” she says then remembers that this isn’t the conversation her godfather wants to have. “What is on your mind, Bop?”

“Look,” he starts and leans forward onto his knees, his hands clasped together between them. “I know this shit ain’t my business, that we try to stay out of each other’s personal lives, but if it involves my club and one of my guys, I should at least know what’s going on.”

“What are you talking about?” Mia asks as dread trickles down her spine, not sure exactly how dumb to play. She doesn’t want to give away information he doesn’t know while he’s fishing for whatever it is he wants to know, you know?

Bishop continues, “I know these guys, Mia. I know them, I know their habits, their routines, and I know when something is off with one of them. They are my family just as much as you are, I’d die for them, and they’d do the same for me.”

“That’s morbid, but sweet,” she comments innocently.

“I’m being serious, Mia,” Bishop says, his voice booming. “I need you to be honest with me.”

“Then ask me what you want to know instead of trying to trick me into saying something,” she responds, her tone now just as serious.

“When we’re on runs and we’ve reached our drop point and we’re bone tired, we spend the night,” he starts. “But, boys being boys, they don’t always spend their time sleeping, if you know what I mean, and Angel is no exception.”

Mia’s stomach sinks. Does Bishop think she’s dating Angel and trying to tell her he slept with someone else on their run?

Sure, she and Angel aren’t together, but they agreed while they are hooking up to only hook up with each other. Then again, with the clinic opening she’s done little more than eat, sleep, work and repeat in the last two weeks. Maybe since she’s been too busy and tired for sex lately, he started to look elsewhere. After all, that’s what Esai used to do—get his needs met when on a run. It meant she was less likely to run into whoever he cheated with, and it also meant it was with a girl who knew better than to expect anything more from him.

“Okay,” Mia manages after a minute, not sure what else to say, and not sure why her chest feels like an open wound. It’s not the first time the guy she’s sleeping with stepped out on her when on a run.

So, Angel broke their deal, she doesn’t know what Bishop has to do with it, especially since he wasn’t supposed to know they were sleeping together in the first place. If he thinks they are dating does he think Angel just cheated on her? He always stayed out of her and Esai’s relationship—that is, until she brought him into it because she was a stupid, heartbroken kid who wanted her dad on her side, not caring what position it put him in with the club.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Bop,” she murmurs. “You know the rules, what happens on a run stays on a run, and I don’t know what this has to do with me.”

“I want you to tell me the truth about what’s going on with you and Angel, Mia,” he insists as he turns his face to look her in the eye. “I wanna know if you’re the reason why the guy who never makes the smart move and chooses to sleep on a run actually has done just that ever since you moved here.”

Oh. “Oh,” she mumbles and thinks of what to say as warmth blooms in her chest and she fights the urge to smile. He didn’t cheat on her!

Well, of course he didn’t, because they aren’t dating. He’s just the best friend she’s sleeping with.

“I know you two are close, and at the first I thought it was just him actually being tired, but it’s been months and—”

“Angel and I aren’t together,” she cuts him off quickly. “If we were, I would have told you,” she assures him. “That’s not something I would keep from you. I know what being with a guy in the club means, the power it holds, and the weakness it can be. I wouldn’t keep it a secret from you. Angel and I, we aren’t doing anything like that.”

“You sure about that?” he asks with a look of disbelief on his face.

“Yes. We’re sleeping together, that’s it,” Mia admits because there is no point in hiding it now.

They haven’t exactly been discreet. The boys know, Letty almost walked in on them, it’s only been two weeks and a few of the girls at the clinic are already whispering about him. Besides, Bishop’s too smart to think they are just friends; he knows the both of them too well.

“And we’re friends. Good friends, more like best friends, even though that makes us sound twelve,” she mumbles as an afterthought. “We can talk to each other, no bullshit, and he makes me laugh, but we’re just friends, I promise.”

“Friends,” Bishop repeats and then barks out a laugh.

“We are!” Mia insists. “I’m not fucking with you.”

He stands from the bed, a hand attempting to stifle his laughter. “No, no, I know you’re not. I know you believe you’re friends, that’s what makes this funny.”

“Bop!”

“You know, I was friends with your mother once,” he says.

“Ew! No, we’re not—this is not the same thing,” she tells him, standing so she can look him in the eye.

“Your dad was friends with her too,” he goes on.

“Enough, can we go now, please? You got the information you wanted, I’ve been adequately traumatized, I think we’re done here.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can go. Just, be safe, will ya?” he pleads, his eyes much softer now.

Mia groans. “We went over this before my quinceanera too, Bop. I know how to use a condom and have my end taken care of—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” her godfather cuts her off. “I mean, I’m glad you’re using protection, but I’m talking about this,” he said and jabs a finger at her chest. “Your heart doesn’t give a fuck what’s going on up here,” he says and now points at her temple. “You have control over a lot in life, what you wanna do, where you wanna live, the stuff you wear and how you show yourself to the world, but your heart? That fucker you don’t have much control of, and it’ll get you every time, trust me. So, you protect it any way you can, you hear me?”

Mia nods and bites her lip. “I hear you, Bop,” she assures him. “But you see what you just said, that’s what you should have told me before my quinceanera,” she says. “That is the straightforward kind of shit a fifteen-year-old needs to hear.”

Bishop grins and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Shut up and get on my bike, will ya?”

“Sure thing, Papa,” she answers and leads the way down the steps and out the door, completely missing the look on Bishop’s face at her calling him dad, even if only in passing. If she had, she probably wouldn’t be calling him just ‘Bop’ much longer. “But I’m still paying for dinner!” she calls over her shoulder, not caring to listen to his response because she isn’t going to fold on this one.

Hours later Mia tilts her neck to the side, giving Angel room to continue his hot kisses, her eyes trying to focus on the fire in front of them, but everything is getting hazy. “I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have told you,” she murmurs, hoping he thinks her low tone is because she’s trying to be quiet, not because she’s breathless.

“What you mean?” he wonders, his lips now at her ear, his teeth teasing at her lobe.

“You wouldn’t be torturing me like this if I hadn’t told you Bishop knows,” she moans and pulls away when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “We need to stop. I told you we have to be respectful when he’s around.”

“Baby, this isn’t disrespectful,” he insists, his hands now playing with the lace strings at the front of her top. “If you want to see what that looks like though…” he says and tugs on the knot.

“Angel!” she gasps and slaps his hand away. “Be good.”

He grins and pulls away, leaving an arm around her shoulders and leans back in their bench seat. It’s the backseat of what probably was some kind of station wagon that the boys pulled out of the scrapyard. It fits three, and since they are so low to the ground Angel’s legs are spread out in front of them, otherwise they’d be touching his chest.

“Fuck, it feels good to be home for more than 12 fucking hours,” he sighs while scooting down the seat even more so his head can rest on her shoulders. “Feels even better to know I get to spend tomorrow doin’ nothing but you.”

At this, Mia laughs, and it’s full and hearty. “As long as you make it worth my time,” she comments. “I do only get one full weekend off a month, you know?”

“Mi dulce, have I ever not left you shaking uncontrollably on my cock?” Angel questions while lighting a cigarette, his actions very nonchalant after the sentence he just dropped.

“Hey, there’s a first time for everything,” she teases him.

He shakes his head at her. “Keep talkin’ shit, we’ll see how tough you are later,” he warns as he decides he isn’t comfortable enough and moves so his head is in her lap, his legs taking up the rest of their seat.

“Ooh, I’m scared,” she sing-songs.

“Better be,” he insists as smoke escapes his lips. “I just spent the last week on the road with dudes, busy as fuck, and without tasting my girl for sixteen days because of her job. I have needs, querida.”

Mia rolls her lips together to keep from laughing. “My poor little drug smuggler,” she coos. “Did you have a tough time partying in Oregon?”

“Yeah, fucking right. It always turns into a pissing match up there,” Angel grumbles. “They are the biggest charter next to Oakland, so they think they got bigger balls than the rest of us. The rest of ‘em forget they wouldn’t have any H if it wasn’t for Santo Padre risking our asses in the tunnels, over the border, and riding it up the fucking coast.”

“I’m sure you guys didn’t have a problem reminding them,” she comments with a hand carding through his hair.

“Didn’t have to,” he replies, “E did it for us. He’s still new to the prez patch, so he’s making sure everyone knows their places, that even though his pop isn’t the president of Oakland anymore doesn’t mean they aren’t in control.”

Mia’s movements stumble. “E? E—Esai was there?”

“Yeah. He likes to make himself known on big hauls, says he’s getting his hands dirty too, not just getting rich off our work,” Angel tells her. “Earns a lot of respect that way, and he gets to know everyone, even prospects.”

She nods, her eyes studying the orange glow. “He does have a way of making everyone feel special,” she mumbles. “Did he… did he, um, ask about me?”

Angel inhales deeply. “Asked Bish,” he says with smoke leaking from his mouth.

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know, they were walking away, wasn’t my business to listen,” he reminds her.

“Not your business?” Mia demands. “I’m—we’re best friends, it’s your business if I say it is and it is.”

“Oookay?” Angel says with his voice on the verge of laughter. “What did you want me to say?” he asks while flicking his butt into the fire. “’Wassup bro, you know the only girl you said you’d ever love? Well, I’m fucking her regularly. She says hi’?”

Mia shrugs. “You coulda gone without ‘the only girl you’d ever love’ part, I feel like that’s a little blow the belt,” she offers, and he chuckles.

“You’re alright with the ‘fucking her regularly’ part then?”

“I mean,” she starts with another shrug, “I’ve heard enough about his exploits, he can hear some of mine.”

Angel takes her free hand and links it through his. “You miss him. Just call him, querida.”

“He didn’t talk to you at all?” she asks, ignoring him, and his suggestion, as she does every time she thinks of it herself.

“We spoke, I guess? Said hi, asked how shit was, I said good, asked how his shit was, he said good, we laughed at something dumb Pac said—”

“Pac was there?” Mia questions, her voice sad as it tapers off. “Of course, Pac was there, he’s Esai's El Pacificador,” she mumbles to herself. “What’d you laugh at him for?” she demands with a punch to the chest with their connected hands.

“Ow! Nothin’! It was a joke. We weren’t laughing at him, geez,” Angel defends.

“Pac’s the fuckin’ best, he was always being made fun of by assholes when we were kids, but… he did it on purpose. That way they weren’t teasing anyone else,” she tells him. “Then Esai came around and a fight would break out. I was the look out,” she says with both nostalgia and pride splashed across her face. “We were the three musketeers.”

“Did that extend to when you and E started dating—stop fuckin’ hitting me!” he exclaims in a laugh.

“No, it did not,” she answers anyways. “But Pac felt left out so I’d make sure to plan stuff with the three of us,” she goes on. “He used to get upset because girls were afraid to date him knowing if they hurt him I’d fuck them up.”

Angel stares up at her and licks his lips. “Call them, baby, I know you miss them.”

“It’s not that easy—”

“It is. Especially with Paco, you think he’s gonna bring up what happened? He’s just gonna be happy to talk to you. He’s like a fuckin’ puppy with a gun.”

At this, Mia laughs. “You’re not wrong, but if I talk to Paco, he’s gonna tell Esai and—”

“So fucking call them both,” he cuts her off again. “Esai’s fucked you over enough times that he definitely owes you one. Call, you don’t have to say you’re sorry or explain shit if you don’t want to. If he’s fuckin’ smart he’ll just pick up wherever you left off.”

“Owes me more like a hundred and one,” she mumbles. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Alright,” he replies easily.

“That’s… that’s it? You’re not gonna keep pushing me or tell me I should do it or anything?” she wonders.

Angel sits up and gives her a shrug, “Ain’t my place. I said my part. I think you should reach out. You’ve never given Esai your new number, so he can’t do it. If you want me or Bish to pass your number along, just say so. Otherwise, it’s on you.”

Mia leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. “You’re cute, osito,” she whispers.

“Don’t spread it around,” he murmurs, then kisses her again.

“Imma spread something later,” she says and Angel chuckles against her lips. “That sounded better in my head,” she admits and drops her head to his chest.

“To be fair, I didn’t think we were spreading mulch around,” he replies while wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Fuck, that reminds me, I told Bish I’d cut your grass tomorrow.”

“You just volunteered for this?” she asks as she lifts her head enough to look him in the eye.

“He was about to make EZ do it, and I didn’t want him at the house—I’m tryna keep you naked most the day tomorrow—so I said I’d do it, that I was dropping by anyways,” Angel explains. “Now that he knows we’re fucking he knows that was a lie, but,” he stops with a shrug. “Imma still do it.”

“You’re trying to keep me naked tomorrow, huh?” she says with a smile. “Then how am I gonna give you a beer dressed in a tiny bikini top and my shortest shorts while you mow the lawn?”

Angel pulls her by the back of her neck until they are kissing. “That ain’t happenin’ unless you want me to take you right there in the grass.”

“Only if you’re on the bottom,” Mia counters, “I feel like grass would rub in a bad way, you know?”

He laughs as he drops his head to her shoulder. “So, you want my ass on fire?”

“Better than mine!” she replies. “And you get to stare at my boobs, so no complaining.”

“Never,” he murmurs, about to go into another kiss when they are interrupted.

“Either of you need a beer?” they hear over their heads and look up to find EZ.

“If we fucking did you look real empty handed,” Angel tells his brother, then grimaces when Mia smacks him once again. “Fucking stop that,” he mutters and rubs his chest. “It’s the same spot every fucking time.”

“No, we’re good Ezekiel, thank you,” Mia answers for them after a pointed look at his older brother.

“We are?” Angel asks with crinkled eyebrows.

“If you plan on driving me home, yeah,” she tells him and he pouts, but doesn’t speak up because he knows its code leaving soon.

He does, however, stand up. “Alright, if we’re heading out I gotta take a piss,” he says, taking her hint. “You should too, you know, for what I got planned for you,” he says while sending a wink Mia’s way before sauntering off.

“You know,” EZ starts while plopping down next to her. “He’s heading into the clubhouse like he hasn’t whipped it out in front of us all week on the road.”

“Yeah, most the girls have probably seen it too,” Mia agrees, and EZ laughs in agreement. “Woulda saved him a trip.”

EZ looks to see his brother disappear into the clubhouse. “Look, I, uh, wanted to talk to you real quick before Angel comes back.”

“Should I be nervous about this?” she asks, racking her brain for something EZ would need to talk to her about, but comes up with nothing.

“No, I just—” he stops and lifts his butt up as he reaches for his wallet. “When we were teenagers, Angel was real into art. He was really good at it too, it was something he and our mom did together.”

Mia nods, not wanting to tell him she already knew this, but is intrigued all the same. What could he have to tell her?

“But, uh, back then he doodled on everything. It drove our parents nuts. It would be all over the mail, the newspaper, his homework, everything,” he goes on. “He, uh, he stopped when Mom died, and as far as I knew he hadn’t gotten back into it,” he stops and looks to make sure Angel isn’t on his way back yet. “But, uh, before we left the motel at one of our stops, the guys made me go in to check the rooms, to make sure we didn’t leave anything. I saw this and took it without thinking,” he says and pulls a folded piece of paper from the wallet to hand to her.

She opens it with eyes crinkled to find a sketch of her done in pen.

“When I looked at it closer later I thought you should have it,” he finishes.

“I… um,” she stutters, her eyes glued to the paper. It’s only from her shoulders up, and it is rough, but undoubtedly her.

“You’ve brought out a part of my brother Pop and I haven’t seen in over eight years,” EZ tells her as she studies the sketch. “He’s not as angry or closed off. He actually even mentioned our mom the other day and we never talk about her.”

“EZ, I—”

“You don’t have to say anything, Mia. I know you guys are just friends, but I know that my brother feeling lighter, and it’s all because of you. I just wanted to thank you and give you this. It’s of you, so you should have it,” he insists.

“Thanks,” she murmurs while refolding it and putting it in her pocket. “He’s my best friend, the best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re the best he’s ever had too,” EZ tells her and stands, then offers her a hand. “Just don’t tell Coco, a fight might break out.”

Mia shrugs as he helps her up. “I don’t know, I think I could take him, he’s small, you know, and I have training.”

“I’d pay to see that,” he replies and they are laughing when Angel comes back.

“Aye, get your own girl best friend,” Angel jokes while slipping both arms around her shoulders from behind, making his little brother shake his head and walk away. “You ready to go?”

“I don’t know, but I am ready to cum,” she says then laughs at her own stupidity.

Angel turns her around and looks at her as if embarrassed for her before shrugging and lifting her over his shoulder.

“Ah! Angel!” she laughs with hands on his hips to steady herself as he heads for his bike.

“I’m just giving you what you want, mi dulce,” he insists. “Better yell bye to Bish, you’re gonna be busy for the rest of the weekend.”

Mia tries to take in her surroundings between the strips of hair blocking her vision, looking for her godfather in the upside-down masses. When she can’t find him, she just takes Angel’s advice. “Bye, Bop! I’ll call you tomorrow!” she shouts and the people around her laugh, Angel included.

“Alright, be safe!” she hears and raises a hand in acknowledgement at his double-edged meaning, but he has nothing to worry about. She’s on the pill and while Angel is in her heart, it’s not in a bad way, a way that would end in heartbreak like all her relationships do. He’s just her friend because anything more would fuck everything up and she isn’t going to let that happen.

Angel is too important.

*

It had just been a joke the day before, a flippant comment.

Mia had no real intention of putting on a bikini and teasing Angel as he mowed the grass, but—well, she did just buy one and it is hot outside and Angel isn’t one to turn down a beer, ever.

Him outside in a light pair of gray sweatpants and t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up didn’t help, his skin glistening in the California sun, hair free of its usual gel and so blowing gently in the breeze, and those dark shades on his face—it’s enough to make any girl weak in the knees.

Seconds later she’s running up the steps and digging through her shopping bags searching for the bikini Letty insisted she buy the day before. It’s a warm yellow with long strings that wrap and crisscross underneath her breasts before tying at her back. Instead of matching it with the bottoms, she jumps into her shortest black shorts that barely cover the slope of her ass. She throws her hair up into a messy bun before putting on some lotion, so her skin is extra soft and glowy, and envelopes her in a flowery smell, which she knows Angel is a sucker for.

Mia takes a beer from the fridge, cursing him for not buying twist offs as she searches for a bottle opener just as the lawnmower cuts off.

“Fuck!” she curses and decides to forget about opening it. If Angel actually decides to drink the beer while she’s wearing this they are going to share loud words.

She opens the door to the backyard to find Angel on his knees, his hands on the lawnmower, looking at something. He doesn’t look at her as pushes his sunglasses up into his hair before reaching for his phone and, she guesses, sends a text.

“I ran out of gas,” he calls over, his eyes trained on the cell phone screen. “Do you know if Bish keeps a gas can around?”

“No idea,” she answers while patiently waiting for him to look up.

“He doesn’t,” Angel confirms as he stands, his thumbs flying over the screen with a look of annoyance on his face. “He’s gonna send Creep with a gas can in a little bit, what’re you—” he stops as he finally lays eyes on her.

“I thought you might be thirsty,” she says innocently and holds the beer out, but makes no move to get closer.

His eyes look her up and down. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks with no heat.

“What’re you talking about?” she questions and shakes the beer a little. “Do you want the beer or not?”

“Fuck no,” Angel answers. “But if you don’t get in the house right now we’re gonna find out if grass really does burn.”

Mia drops the bottle when Angel starts after her, and she shrieks with laughter. He catches up with her in the living room, grabbing her around the middle and lifting her off her feet.

“You think it’s funny to tease me, hm?” he asks in her ear, his hands splayed across her abdomen now.

“You were teasing me first,” she counters and bites her lip as his hands attempt to feel every inch of her. “Wearing those sweatpants low and showing off your arms. I’m only being fair.”

“You think this is me teasing?” Angel demands of her as he makes his way to the couch, pushing her down onto it. “Nah, I’ll show you how I tease, baby,” he warns before getting on his knees.

In retrospect, she should have known Angel would take this as some sort of challenge. He always does, even if they are just playing around.

Later, she might think he does it as a way to prove himself, even if subconsciously, to show he can do anything she puts him up to because his parents never expected anything out of him the way they did EZ.

But now, as his buries his face between her legs, the psychology of it is far from her mind. Except maybe her own, how she’s a glutton for punishment, but instead of falling into old habits of shitty boyfriends she does this. It’s a healthier outlet, that’s for sure.

“Angel, baby, please,” she pleads when he pulls away after edging her for the third time.

“You think you deserve to cum, mi dulce?” he asks as he wipes her wetness from his beard and starts to leave wet kisses up her stomach and chest.

“Yes,” she breathes and gasps when he nips at her nipple after having pushed aside the cup of her bikini.

“But you haven’t been good,” he tells her before switching to her other breast, teeth scraping and tongue swirling, making her moan and mewl. A moment later he slips two fingers inside her and she sighs at the feeling of something filling her up, even if it’s not as big and thick as what she’s craving.

“I—I have,” she stutters out as she cradles his face in her hands.

“You think?” he asks and his fingers crook inside her just right making her tremble.

Mia nods. “Please, I want to cum for you,” she whispers and pushes her forehead against his. “Angel, let me show you I can be good.”

He smiles at her, it’s easy and carefree makes her heart skip a beat. “Do as I say and I’ll let you cum as much as you want, okay?” he starts and she nods up and down over and over until he starts rubbing slow circle on her clit as his long fingers slip in and out of her. “Say it.”

“I’ll do as you say,” she moans, her eyes struggling to stay trained on his.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs with a quick kiss. “You’re not going to cum on my fingers or my mouth, you’re not allowed to,” he tells her, and she wants to whine, but knows it won’t help her case. “Soon, I’m gonna get on the couch and you’re gonna ride my dick,” he says, and she nods once more, this time appreciatively. “And you’re gonna cum as much as you can when I’m inside you. I wanna feel you cum on my cock, you hear me? I want to feel every single one of ‘em. I want you to cover my cock in your cream.”

“Yes, yes, okay,” Mia agrees with her hands threaded into Angel’s hair.

“Then, when I think you’re done, you’re gonna get on your knees just like I am now and lick it all off me until I cum down the back of your throat,” he finishes.

“Yes, please. Angel, yes,” she pleads and pulls on his shirt in an attempt to get him on the couch, but all it does is make Angel remove his shirt entirely.

“Oh, baby girl,” he says with a lick of his lips. “I said ‘soon’ we’re gonna do all that, remember? I’m not done tasting you,” he tells her. “Until last night I went sixteen days without this, and I hated it,” he mumbles as his fingers start to play with her slit again.

Mia just closes her eyes and enjoys the feel of his fingers inside her, playing with her, torturing her.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, baby,” he mumbles against her skin. “Look at me,” he orders, and she forces her eyes open, but her eyelids remain heavy. “Feel with me,” he says, his voice much softer now, and takes her hand in his and brings it down to her opening. “Put your fingers in.”

She does as she’s told and her much smaller fingers slide in with no resistance, coating her skin in her slick juices. She moans at the feeling, but it’s nothing compared to Angel’s long fingers, and not even close to his thick dick.

“I want you,” Mia whimpers as Angel guides her fingers in and out of her. “Not me, I want—”

“I know,” Angel cuts her off. “Here, see why yours is my favorite,” he insists and brings her wet fingers to her mouth to taste. She opens for him and he smiles. “Good girl,” he murmurs as her lips close around her own fingers.

“Mm,” she moans at her taste and Angel smiles at her.

He leans down and takes a swipe up her slit and mimics her ‘mm’ before getting up on the couch and shucking his sweatpants off. “C’mere, baby,” he offers, and she jumps at the chance to swing a leg over his hips and settles down on his dick. “Fuck, I missed you,” he sighs as she sinks down on him. “I know I said it last night, but it’s fucking true,” he insists with his hands on her hips.

“I missed you too,” she replies as she starts to move frantically on top of him, chasing the release he’s been keeping from her. Her arms wrap around his shoulders for leverage, and she leans her head to rest against his. “Please, please, please,” she chants as she practically impales herself on his cock.

“C’mon, you can do it. I wanna feel the way you shake around me,” he says and it’s like a switch goes off inside her and she does exactly as he says.

She cums and her body shakes as her pussy trembles around him, but rather than let her come down Angel starts bucking his hips up inside her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she swears and buries her face in his neck as she comes again, not as strongly, but it still makes Angel cuss as she clamps down around him.

Mia’s still trembling when Angel shifts to lie down on the couch, his hands undoing the knot at her back so her bikini becomes slack. He slips it over her head and tosses it to the side before lifting her chin to look at him. “You done already, mi dulce?” he asks while pulling at the back of her knees so he’s even deeper inside her.

She moans, but shakes her head.

“You sure?” he wonders with a thumb circling her clit. “All you gotta do is tap out and get on your knees to finish this, baby.”

“I’m not done,” Mia says once she composes herself, then with a twinkle in her eye stands, hating how empty she feels, even if for only a moment, before turning around and settling back down on him in reverse cowgirl, knowing it’s one of his favorite positions.

“Yes,” Angel groans in pleasure, his hips bucking to get deeper inside her.

She leans forward with hands on her knees and gets her hips going, throwing her head back as she grinds down on top of him. Suddenly, she feels a tug at her scalp, and she’s pulled back against Angel’s chest, her back arched perfectly in the air.

With one hand in her hair, Angel uses his other to reach around and rubs his fingers into her swollen clit. “Where am I, baby?” he asks in her ear, his voice low and full of gravel.

“My stomach, holy shit,” she cries and cums, this time feeling a gush and she knows she’s creaming his dick like he wanted, and it only makes her hips move faster. “One more, one more, please,” she pleads with both Angel and herself.

Angel lets her hair go and both arms move to pull at the back of her knees so she’s folded in half, lifting her in the air as his hips buck up into her pussy. “You’re so fucking tight, baby girl,” he says with each plunge inside her.

Mia completely let’s go, letting Angel take the lead and relaxes the best she can in his arms, her pussy clenching on his cock as she readies to cum.

“Go, go, go,” he chants, and she does with a spasm, her whole body shaking as it does when Angel is deep inside her, pleasuring her over and over again.

She hears him grunt behind her and knows he’s painfully close, he has to be.

When he puts her down, she doesn’t hesitate. It takes all the energy she has left to get off him and turn on her knees, doing as she’s told and takes all of him in her mouth in one go.

“Fuck,” he swears with fingers threaded into her hair so she doesn’t move. “You taste yourself on my dick, querida?” he asks, and she nods as her head bobs. “Suck it all off, baby.”

It’s not even a minute later that Angel is emptying himself down the back of her throat as promised. She opens her throat and takes everything he gives her, swallowing his white heat.

When she lets him go with a pop, she finds his face looking completely blissed out as she wipes her lips.

“Wanna know a secret?” she asks while lowering herself on top of him, his arms automatically wrapping around her, holding their sweat slicked bodies close.

“Mhm,” he murmurs with fingers carding through her hair.

“Your dick is my favorite too,” she admits and hears him chuckle against her hairline.

Before her can respond they hear the loud roar of a motorcycle pulling up. “Fuck, that’s Creep with the gas,” Angel groans and flips so she slides down the side of him onto the couch.

“Have fun finishing the grass,” Mia sighs and feels a blanket being placed over her, making her smile.

“You think you’re real funny, huh?” he asks while hopping into his shorts.

Mia shrugs, then squeals when he tickles her side.

“Aye, Angel, you in there?” they hear as the door starts to open.

“Yeah!” her best friend exclaims and runs for the door before Creeper can come in. “Lemme take you ‘round back,” he says and stops the other Mayan from coming in.

Mia just smiles against her blanket thinking she’s a lucky girl. She’s got a best friend who can fuck her then get up and cut her grass. He’s definitely a keeper.

Taglist:

@joalsglasses @mrsamaroevans @justahopelessssromantic @mrsjaxtellerfan @rosieposie0624 @starrynite7114 @proudlittlewitchbitch @luckyharley1903 @miss-nori85 @thesandbeneathmytoes @jasminee97 @jakiki94 @superhoeva

IF YOU WANT ADDED TO THE TAG LIST LET ME KNOW!

#mayans mc #fanfiction #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes x mia flores #friends can break your heart too #chapter 5 #mayans smut

[tasksweekly]

[TASK 082: GUAM]

In celebration of Guam History & Chamorro Heritage Day on March 5th, here’s a masterlist below compiled of over 90+ Chamorro faceclaims categorised by gender with their occupation and ethnicity denoted if there was a reliable source. If you want an extra challenge use random.org to pick a random number! Of course everything listed below are just suggestions and you can pick whichever character or whichever project you desire.

Any questions can be sent here and all tutorials have been linked below the cut for ease of access! REMEMBER to tag your resources with #TASKSWEEKLY and we will reblog them onto the main! This task can be tagged with whatever you want but if you want us to see it please be sure that our tag is the first five tags, @ mention us or send us a messaging linking us to your post!

THE TASK - scroll down for FC’s!

STEP 1: Decide on a FC you wish to create resources for! You can always do more than one but who are you starting with? There are links to masterlists you can use in order to find them and if you want help, just send us a message and we can pick one for you at random!

STEP 2: Pick what you want to create! You can obviously do more than one thing, but what do you want to start off with? Screencaps, RP icons, GIF packs, masterlists, PNG’s, fancasts, alternative FC’s - LITERALLY anything you desire!

STEP 3: Look back on tasks that we have created previously for tutorials on the thing you are creating unless you have whatever it is you are doing mastered - then of course feel free to just get on and do it. :)

STEP 4: Upload and tag with #TASKSWEEKLY! If you didn’t use your own screencaps/images make sure to credit where you got them from as we will not reblog packs which do not credit caps or original gifs from the original maker.

THINGS YOU CAN MAKE FOR THIS TASK -  examples are linked!

Stumped for ideas? Maybe make a masterlist or graphic of your favourite faceclaims. A masterlist of names. Plot ideas or screencaps from a music video preformed by an artist. Masterlist of quotes and lyrics that can be used for starters, thread titles or tags. Guides on culture and customs.

Screencaps

RP icons [of all sizes]

Gif Pack [maybe gif icons if you wish]

PNG packs

Manips

Dash Icons

Character Aesthetics

PSD’s

XCF’s

Graphic Templates - can be chara header, promo, border or background PSD’s!

FC Masterlists - underused, with resources, without resources!

FC Help - could be related, family templates, alternatives.

Written Guides.

and whatever else you can think of / make!

MASTERLIST!

F:

Lourdes Klitzkie (1940) Chamorro - long-distance runner.

Julie Ogborn (1958) Chamorro - long-distance runner.

Kimberley Santos (1961) Chamorro - model.

Jen Allred (1961) Chamorro - long-distance runner.

Rhonda Davidson-Alley (1961) Chamorro - long-distance runner.

Marie Benito (1965) Chamorro - long-distance runner.

Talia O’Neal (1975) Chamorro, probably other - actress and writer.

Sloan Siegrist (1980) Chamorro - middle-distance runner.

Cora Alicto (1980) Chamorro - sprinter.

Heather Snow Clark (1980) Chamorro - actress.

Maria Dunn (1986) Chamorro - freestyle wrestler.

Brittany Bell (1987) Chamorro / African-American, Unspecified Native American, Unspecified Southeast Asian, Unspecified Caribbean - actress and Miss Guam 2014.

Alyssa Cruz Aguero (1988) Chamorro - Miss Guam 2012.

Amy Atkinson (1989) Chamorro, German - middle-distance runner.

Starla Edney (1990) Chamorro - singer and actress.

Annrenaye Diaz (1993) Chamorro - model.

Roman Rochelle (1993) Chamorro - youtuber.

Remi Cruz (1995) Chamorro / Korean - youtuber.

Alixes Scott (1995) Chamorro, Filipina - Miss Guam 2013.

Pia Mia / Pia Mia Perez (1996) Chamorro / Italian, Dutch, Hungarian - singer-songwriter and model.

Pilar Shimizu (1996) Chamorro - breaststroke swimmer.

Skye Celine Baker (1997) Chamorro - Miss Earth Guam 2014.

Regine Tugade (1998) Chamorro - sprinter.

Emma Sheedy (2000) Chamorro - model, Miss Earth Guam 2017, and track and field athlete.

Mariana Ysrael (?) Chamorro - long-distance runner.

Teresa Garrido Roberts (?) Chamorro - writer.

Kacy Owens (?) Chamorro / Black - actress.

Fran Marie Castro (?) Spanish, Chamorro - actress.

Tricia Santos-Lujan (?) Chamorro - actress, writer and producer.

Billie Reyes (?) Chamorro - actress.

AJ Pelkey / Amanda Jo Pelkey (?) Chamorro - actress.

Jhe Manreal (?) Chamorro - model.

Sierra De Jesus (?) Chamorro - model.

Antoinette Manibusan (?) Chamorro - model.

Leslie B. Sanga (?) Chamorro - model.

Jocelyn Toves (?) Chamorro - musician.

Annalyn Buan (?) Chamorro - Miss International Guam 2016

Anna de Castro (?) Chamorro - dancer.

Flora Baza Quan (?) Chamorro - singer.

Evelyn Flores (?) Chamorro - author.

Julie “Jill” Quichocho Benavente (?) Chamorro - artist.

Maria Yatar McDonald (?) Chamorro - musician, traditional tattoo and visual artist.

Tiarra Jean (?) Chamorro - model.

Monica D. Baza (?) Chamorro - artist.

M:

Peter Onedera (1953) Chamorro - playwright, author and poet, a master storyteller.

Ronald “Ron” J. Castro (1953) Chamorro - artist.

Manny Crisostomo (1958) Chamorro - photojournalist.

Richard “Ric” Castro (1961) Chamorro - artist.

Q. Allan Brocka (1972) Chamorro, Filipino - director.

Noah Bernardo (1974) Chamorro, Filipino, Italian, German - drummer, guitarist, and singer.

Sonny Sandoval (1974) Chamorro, Native Hawaiian, Mexican, Italian - singer-songwriter and rapper.

David Cruz (1976) Chamorro - reality star.

Donovan Patton (1977) Chamorro - host, actor, voice actor, and singer.

Joseph Aguon Drake (1978) American, Chamorro - producer.

Craig Santos Perez (1980) Chamorro - writer.

Melvin Won Pat-Borja (1981) Chamorro - poet and hip hop artist.

Santiago X / Lawrence Santiago (1982) Chamorro / Coushatta - musician.

Jason Cunliffe (1983) Chamorro - writer.

Joe Taimanglo (1984) Chamorro - mixed martial artist.

Jon Tuck (1984) Chamorro - mixed martial artist.

Sean Pangelinan (1987) Chamorro - sprint canoer.

Marko Germar (1988) Chamorro - dancer.

Elias Merfalen (1989) Chamorro - footballer.

John Hattig (1990) Chamorro - professional baseball player.

Mark Chargualaf (1991) Chamorro - footballer.

Zach Banner (1993) Chamorro - American footballer.

Christian Rafan (1993) Chamorro - Youtuber.

Benjamin Schulte (1995) Chamorro - swimmer.

Jamal Agnew (1995) Chamorro - American footballer.

Sean Reid-Foley (1995) Chamorro - professional baseball player.

Peter Michael Perez (2000) Chamorro / Italian, Dutch, Hungarian - singer and model.

KC Deleon Guerrero (?) Chamorro - musician.

Angelo Villagomez (?) Chamorro - environmentalist, blogger and model.

The Crank / Frank Camacho (1988) Camacho - mixed martial artist.

Angel Vega (?) Chamorro - model.

Luke Fernandez (?) Chamorro - model.

Joshua Sapakoff (?) Chamorro - model.

Jon Kanemoto (?) Chamorro - Mister Guam 2016.

Adrian Calugay (?) Chamorro - dancer and actor.

Johnny Sablan (?) Chamorro - singer.

Ariel Perez Dimalanta (?) Chamorro - graphic artist.

Filamore Palomo Alcon (?) Chamorro - artist.

Francisco “Frank” Rabon (?) Chamorro - dancer.

Herman Crisostomo (?) Chamorro - photographer and filmmaker.

Kie Susuico (?) Chamorro - artist.

Jeffrey Crook (?) Chamorro - rapper.

Mark Dell’Isola (?) Chamorro - artist.

Vince Reyes seia (?) Chamorro - dance leader.

#chamorro fc #guamanian fc #poc fc #fc list #rph #task: 082 #task: guam

[anactualcaseofthetruth]

Friends Can Break Your Heart Too - Chapter 4 << ao3 link

Or catch up! >>>>

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Story summary: Mia Flores flees to Santo Padre for one reason and one reason only: her godfather and the man who raised her, Bishop Losa. The last thing she expects is for Angel Reyes to come into her chaotic life and just maybe be the one thing that starts to make sense.

Chapter summary: Angel and Mia settle a bet, and then face some harsh truths in the morning.

RATED: SMUTTY 🔥❤❗

Chapter 4:

It was quite possibly the stupidest thing she had ever said to date.

Well, she thinks, given the current situation, perhaps agreeing to this is worse, but she’s never been one to stand down from a good bet. It helps that she wanted to prove him wrong, to wipe the cocky smirk off his face when he suggested it. He just sounded so sure she’d lose, so confident in himself that she wanted to knock him down a peg.

In retrospect, Mia should have known. There’s a reason Angel is so confident, why he wears that smirk so well.

She turns her head to the nightstand where her phone sits, the timer counting down. Fifteen minutes. That all she needs to hold out for, fifteen more minutes. She nods to herself—she can do fifteen minutes; she’d held out for three sets of it so far. One more is no problem.

“Don’t worry about the time, querida,” Angel insists, his voice low and smooth as if trying to calm her when his actions are doing the exact opposite of that. “I’m not taking an L on this.”

“Yes, you are,” she moans when his middle fingers hook inside her just right.

“Fifteen minutes is a long time,” Angel reminds her as he maneuvers his thumb to rub her clit in slow, soft circles.

Mia squeezes her eyes closed, her hands gripping onto his sheets with such intensity she’s surprised they haven’t ripped and bites her lip to keep from moaning louder.

“Nah, baby, don’t do that, I wanna hear the noises you make,” he encourages and the rhythm of his fingers inside her pickup speed, and she knows he’s doing it on purpose, so she cries out like he wants. Sometimes it’s easier to give him what he wants than fight him, it placates him in the moment. Besides, she’s playing the long game here.

“Fu-uck,” she heaves as her legs start to shake, a tell-tale sign she’s about to cum, so Angel’s fingers withdraw from her center, leaving her on edge. “No, no, no,” she whines, but knows she only has herself to blame.

She’s the one who agreed to the damn bet, to give him free reign for an hour to do whatever he wanted sexually, within reason, to make her ‘ugly cry’ as she mentioned almost two weeks prior. It started out fun, at least for her, seeing as he gave her four orgasms in about thirty minutes, but then he’d started a new tactic—torture. He’s been edging her more than fifteen minutes now, making her almost cum three more times, and she hates it, hates him, hates this whole bet and herself for making that dumbass comment two weeks ago.

“Before you look again, I’ll tell you now, thirteen minutes,” he murmurs as his wet hand slides up her body, the other entangled in her loose curls. “I still have time.”

Mia can only nod as she tries to bring herself down, to keep her breathing even, but she feels warm, so, so warm, like she has a fever, and touches her forehead to check.

“Here,” Angel offers and grabs the bottle of water from the nightstand and signals for her to sit up a bit, his hand moving with her head and tilts the bottle to her lips.

She greedily takes a few gulps before dropping her head back to the pillow, letting the coolness of the liquid wash over her. “Thank you.”

“Twelve and a half minutes,” he responds and settles himself back along side her, his fingers returning to her core and starts to play with her outer lips. “Fuck, baby, I hope you know how much I enjoy your pussy,” he mentions as he drags a ringed finger over her clit, making her shudder.

The more they have sex and continue to get comfortable with each other, the more Angel talks during it. Sometimes its sweet, others it’s filthy, but it always makes her melt, and the last thing she needs right now is more heat.

“Do you know what a pretty pussy you have?” he questions while shuffling down her body so his face lines up with it.

Mia doesn’t answer, just stares at the ceiling and tries to think of anything else other than Angel’s velvety voice and honey-dipped words.

“Hey,” he clips and slaps her entrance with his ring-clad knuckles causing her hips to buck and a mewl to escape from her lips. “I want an answer, mi dulce.”

“No,” she breathes and blinks, focusing on the figure-eight paint on the ceiling.

“Well, it is,” he tells her as his head dips down to her mound and licks up her slit. “You’ve ruined mi dulce for me because your pussy is so sweet, it’ll only ever apply to you now.” His tongue flicks at her clit as his fingers spread the lips. “My favorite pussy,” he murmurs in between licks.

Mia throws her head back against the pillow, her entire back arching as Angel buries his face between her legs. Her hands thread into his hair to keep him in place, the inky curls soft and free of the hair gel he usually styles it with. “Yes, please, there, right there,” she pleads as her toes curl against his wide shoulders.

She tries to hide the tremble in her legs, the shake of her core, but it’s useless. He has fingers inside her, he can feel her body betraying her. He pulls his mouth from her pink heat, his beard covered with her wetness and she wants to kick and scream but won’t give him the satisfaction.

It’s a fine line between kicking and screaming, and ugly crying. She will not succumb, even if it is the fourth time he’d edged her.

But that doesn’t mean she isn’t willing to snap at him. “Just fucking get inside me already, I’m so sick of-” she stops when his free hand leaves her breast to cover her mouth.

“I don’t give a shit what you’re sick of,” he informs her, his voice low and firm, and his hand slides from her mouth to her throat. Being manhandled by Angel doesn’t scare her—in fact, before Jay it was a turn on, and now with Angel, with that trust continually building between them, it is starting to again, even if in baby steps. “I’m in charge for seven more minutes, aren’t I?”

Mia can only nod as her core clenches on nothing, and she hates being so completely empty when she knows how wonderfully he fits inside her.

“Good girl, now,” he goes on, which doesn’t help her situation. “I’m not inside of you because I know this pussy, my favorite pussy, and I know exactly what you’ll do.”

“What?” Mia asks while trying not to focus on his fingers slipping inside her.

“You’ll grip me so fucking tight I’ll fuck you until we both cum, and then time will be up, and you’ll win,” he answers. “I tried giving you multiple orgasms, all it did was make you sated and sleepy. That’s not what I’m going for here, remember?”

She nods, her body temperature high again and her heart pounding in her core as his two fingers tap her G-spot in a rhythm that has her hips going too.

“What am I going for? Tell me, baby,” he urges before latching his mouth over one of her breasts, his tongue sucking and massaging.

“To make me ugly cry,” she says and feels him nod against her chest.

“That’s right,” Angel confirms, shifting so his tongue can lave over the other nipple. Once it’s been given enough attention he pulls away and blows on it, making her shiver. “And I think my best plan is to play with you until you crack.”

“Five minutes,” she sighs when his fingers finally pull out of her.

“I know how much time I have,” he clips in return and slips his ringed finger in her slit, the ring nudging at her clit. “You know, you should be nervous.”

“What? Why?” she asks, breathless, as his fingers pick up pace at her clit.

“The less time I have, the more desperate I get,” he admits and it’s like a flip switches—his middle fingers slip back inside her, pumping her at an alarming pace while his other fingers start rubbing her clit, hard. “Maybe if I’d edged you from the beginning, but I don’t got time for that,” he goes on, his voice calm despite his frantic movements.

“Don’t stop,” Mia pleads, unashamed that she’s begging, and Angel seems to like it because a shit-eating grin overtakes his lips. “Please, keep going, let me cum, please, Angel, baby.”

“Ugly cry and I’ll do more than let you come, mi dulce,” he vows, but all she can do is shake her head as the assault continues on her body.

Mia mewls and moans and pleads and begs, but Angel is relentless. She tries closing her eyes, thinking of something else, but it’s impossible when his fingers are playing her like an instrument he’s perfected.

“I know you want to, baby, I know you’re close,” he encourages. “Just let the tears fall and I’ll make you come so hard, and so much, dulce, I promise.”

She shakes her head, her spine arching as she feels a rush of warmth at her core. “Fuck, Angel,” she pants. “Something—something—” she tries to warn him as she explodes literally just as the timer goes off. Tears spring from her eyes and something practically shoots out of her entrance and completely covers Angel’s chest, leaving him dripping wet.

“Dios Mio,” he swears, his voice thick with want.

With her entire body shaking, Mia lifts her head to look him in the eye. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I swear to Go—” shes cut off with his mouth on hers and it’s only a few seconds before he’s fully sheathed inside her.

She’s not even sure she can come again, but trembles at the feel of him all the same as he pounds into her, chasing his own release. His arms are mounted beside her head as he rests his forehead on hers, their eyes locked on one another. He’s saying such filthy things with his talented tongue, and she knows he’s close.

He was close before he even entered her.

Even though she wasn’t sure she’d come again, she feels herself being pushed over the edge once more, reaching her high right along side him.

Angel pulls out just as her walls flutter around him, and uses his hand to pump his release out on her belly, the white ropes hitting her stomach as he grunts with each jerk of his hand.

“Fuck,” he croaks and practically collapses on top of her, apparently not caring that their collective juices are creating more of a mess between their sweat slick bodies. To be honest, she doesn’t care either, likes the closeness of his body.

After they’ve both caught their breath, Mia lifts her arms to wrap around his shoulders, her fingers lightly scratching the valley between his shoulder blades.

“Dios mio!” he repeats against her collarbone a few moments later. “If you want me to say it, I’ll say it. You won. But this is war and that was just one battle.”

She can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up her throat, but also doesn’t want to. “You think I’m going to agree to this again? Especially since I won?”

Angel lifts his head to look her in the eye. She doesn’t like the playful glint it has. “If you want to squirt again, you will.”

“Oh, my God, shut up!” she exclaims as her hands move to cover her face in embarrassment.

“You’ve never done that before, have you?” he asks, but all she does is whine in her hands in return. “You haven’t! That makes it so much better.”

“You’re a jerk and I don’t like you anymore,” she mumbles while he pulls her hands away. “No, I—I’ve never done that before, and I don’t know—“ she’s stopped midsentence when his lips press against hers, and it goes on longer than she expects, and tongues are involved.

“That,” he starts as he pulls away, then rethinks it and kisses her once more, “was so fucking hot, mi dulce.”

“Really?” she asks tentatively.

His face breaks out into a glorious smile. “Yes. Fuck, yes,” he insists. “That happening is worth me losing, even if it was a cheap win on your part.”

“Cheap win? I won fair and square!” Mia exclaims.

“You were crying when the timer went off, but I’ll give you the win as long as I get a rematch,” Angel insists.

“Fine, I will give you a rematch but crying as the time goes off implies time was up, therefore—”

“Don’t be a bad winner, no one likes those,” he interrupts with a look on his face she wants to slap, so she does just that, only its more of a tap. “Hey!” he laughs and pretends to bite at her fingers.

“Have you ever had that happen before?” she asks quietly, still embarrassed.

“Not that, no,” he answers and nips at her neck softly.

“What have you had happen, then?”

He pulls away from her throat. “I was eating this girl out once, behind a bar—”

“Of course, you were at a bar,” she comments, but he ignores her.

“And all of a sudden she pushes me away, I thought like, cool, time to get my dick wet, but instead she…” he trails off with a weird look on his face, like he smells something bad. “It was more of a golden shower. It was not what you did. I was just happy she pushed me away. She was so embarrassed she ran off, but I was like, man, I don’t even get my dick sucked after that?”

“Poor baby,” Mia murmurs while combing his hair back with her fingers. “Speaking of golden showers, I gotta pee,” she tells him. “And we gotta clean up, there are bodily fluids all over us.”

“Ooh, you talking dirty to me now? Trying to get me hard again, huh?” he jokes as he gets up on his knees.

“No,” she states firmly. “My vag needs at least twenty-four hours rest, and my clit? That is getting forty-eight, for sure.”

“So we can fuck this time tomorrow as long as I can get you wet without touching your clit? I accept this challenge,” Angel states while getting up.

“No, that is not what I meant!” Mia calls after him, then whines as she tries to get off the bed and follow, but everything in her lower half is telling her to just rollover and go to sleep. Her limbs feel heavy and tingly at the same time, and her vagina is definitely going to be extra sore tomorrow.

She hears the toilet flush, and the bathroom door opens to reveal a still-naked Angel wiping off his chest with a wet rag. “You coming?”

“No, I’m done doing that tonight, thank you,” she mumbles and groans at the thought of getting up. It just seems like so much work. She’s still figuring out the path of least resistance when Angel crawls back onto the bed. “What’re you—?” she stops when she sees the cloth still in his hand.

“Helping,” he answers her unfinished question while cleaning her abdomen.

Mia doesn’t say anything, and hopes he can’t hear when her breath hitches with each soft touch. When he goes to separate her legs, she resists. “You don’t have to-“

“I’ll be gentle, promise,” he tells her and nudges them open once again.

He is gentle, extremely so, especially when he reaches her core. It’s very intimate, the care he takes in making sure she’s clean and comfortable.

“C’mon, I’ll help you get to the bathroom,” he insists before she can protest and lifts her bridal style. “Can you get yourself back to bed?”

“You’re not that good, calm down, I can walk,” she mumbles as he sets her down in the bathroom. “I’m just being lazy.”

“You want to make that the next bet? After I win this one, I mean?” he questions with an eyebrow raised.

“You don’t have to make everything I say a challenge, you know,” Mia tells him. “So, unless you want to watch me pee—”

“You think I won’t?”

“Oh, my God! Out!” she orders and pushes him out of the room with all the force she has left, which isn’t much.

“It’s just piss, geez,” she hears him grumble, but continues his way to the bed as she kicks the door shut, thinking he’s lucky he’s her best friend because he sure can be annoying.

However, minutes later, when he’s resting his head on her chest and running fingers up and down her bare leg as she combs her own through his hair, she knows no matter how annoying he is he’s also the sweetest man she’s ever known, and that more than makes up for it. Especially when his soft ministrations put her to sleep so easily and peacefully.

When Mia wakes in the morning or early afternoon, she’s not sure, she’s on her side with Angel’s head cradled into her chest, her arms looped around his shoulders, and one of his lazily tossed over her hips.

She likes sleeping with Angel—when she does her nights aren’t plagued with nightmares or waking up every other hour at the slightest noise. When he’s in bed with her she knows she’s safe, from her subconscious or whatever else comes along. Especially when she stays at his place, no one would dare mess with a Mayan.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Angel’s phone pings from the nightstand. He groans against her chest before rolling over, leaving one arm underneath the pillow below her head as he checks it.

He groans again, looking at the notification, then resituates himself against her chest. It takes a few moments, but eventually he looks up at her, and jumps a little when he notices she’s awake. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that.”

“I didn’t do anything!” she laughs while pushing hair away from his forehead.

“It’s fucking creepy to wake up finding someone else looking at you,” he mumbles and looks very much like a child with his puffy face and sleepy eyes. “It’s scary movie shit.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Reyes,” she teases, and he scrubs a hand down his face, probably to wake himself up further. “Are you being summoned for big, bad biker business?” she asks while rolling onto her back and stretching.

Angel shakes his head and ghosts his lips across her collarbone. “Nah, some weather app or some shit. Goes off every morning, just usually sleep through it.”

“Weather?” she questions in a laugh. “We practically live in Mexico, it’s gonna be hot. Hot yesterday, today, and tomorrow. How you guys wear leather I’ll never know.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” he tells her with a kiss to the forehead. “Mornin’,” he murmurs sweetly. “See, this is how you say good morning to someone, unlike what you do, you psycho.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Mia echoes and he rolls his eyes.

He’s about to respond when his phone goes off again and he reaches for it just as quickly as before. With another groan he drops it and shakes his head.

“Let me guess, it’s going to be hot today,” she teases, and he gives her the finger before rolling back over to face her. “Are you waiting for a certain weather update or—”

“Nah, that wasn’t—that was Taz reminding me we have templo during the yard’s lunch break,” he explains. “I’m not waiting for anything, just might be getting something from EZ. Not sure.”

“Everything alright, osito?”

Angel shrugs with his head propped up on his hand, the other drawing swirls on her bare abdomen. “I don’t want to remind him if he doesn’t remember, but… I don’t want him to think I don’t remember if he does, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Mia laughs and Angel does too. “What are you talking about?”

“Today’s the date eight years ago EZ killed that cop,” he tells her on a more solemn note.

“Oh.”

He nods and bites his lip. “I only remember because Letty was going off on Coco a couple days ago. He was teasing her about school and she had a meltdown over some math final she had coming up.”

“Yeah, a statistics test,” Mia confirms. “I’ve heard her bitch about it.”

“Yeah, she kept saying the date, and it finally hit me why it was ringing a bell in my head, like there was something I was supposed to remember, because there was,” he says as his lips form an upside down smile for the briefest of moments.

“You don’t think EZ remembers?”

“No, I know he does,” Angel insists. “I’m just… just hoping the clubs kept him busy enough that he doesn’t know what today’s date is, you know?”

“Sorry to tell you, osito, but knowing EZ’s brain, he knows,” she comments.

“Yeah,” he agrees in a sigh. “I wasn’t the best brother when he was in Stockton. I didn’t visit as much I should have, and I wasn’t a great one before he went in either. If I was, he probably would have never done what he did—”

“Or, you both would have gone to prison. We’ve been over this, babe, don’t dwell on the ‘what ifs’, it’ll only make you go crazy thinking what might have been,” Mia tells him.

“I’m trying to be better now, that’s the point,” he says, his voice firm. “I guess I just don’t know how to be there for him.”

“Have you tried asking him?”

Angel looks up at her, skeptical. “That simple, huh?”

“Can be, if you want it to,” she replies. “Or, if he wants it to.”

“Maybe,” he breathes. “What if I’m afraid of his answer?”

“What do you mean?”

“He still hasn’t been out long, querida,” Angel murmurs. “Sometimes I see him staring off, thinkin’, and I worry he’s getting the same thoughts he was that got him into that whole mess. Like, maybe, he’s thinkin’ about who killed our mom again, thinkin’ about how to figure out who did it.”

“Do you ever still wonder who did it?” Mia asks. “I know back then you weren’t on the same page as him, but what about now?”

At this Angel moves onto his back and rests his hands on his chest. After a long minute he looks over at her and shakes his head. “No, I don’t.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” he answers easily and with finality. “Do you think about those fucks that killed your dad?”

“Touché,” she replies. “But, the answer’s no, I don’t, because they’re dead. Marcus had the whole bullshit MC killed, practically a mag emptied into each of their backs so their patches were illegible.”

“Hmph,” Angel grumbles with an appreciative nod. “Good.”

“So, you gonna lie to me again or tell me what you really think?”

“Fine. I wonder who did it sometimes, but… I still don’t wanna find him,” he confesses. “I don’t have the right to justice.”

“The right?” Mia asks while sitting up. “You have every right to. This person killed your—”

“I know what he did, alright!?” Angel interrupts her, his voice booming, and for a split second her body shakes before she gets control of herself.

Angel would never hurt her. Sure, she thought that about her ex in the beginning, but… she knows Angel’s heart, and from what she’s learned about his mother she knows Marisol raised two men who would never lay a hand on a woman.

He must have seen her startle because almost instantly he deflates and sits up with her. “I’m sor—look, this is why I don’t talk about my mom. I turn into a dick. I didn’t mean,” he stops his attempt at an apology and reaches for his cigarettes, lighting one quick and inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry,” he finally manages as smoke escapes his mouth.

“No, it’s me, I’m pushing. You don’t owe me any kind of explanation. I’m sorry,” she whispers and squeezes his free hand.

They are both silent for a minute as Angel seems to finish his first cigarette in record time and instantly moves onto a second. “I don’t have a right to,” he starts, startling her, “because I’m no better than the man who killed her.”

“What?” Mia demands as her eyebrows crinkle in confusion.

“When I was given my kutte as a prospect, before I put it on, Bishop stopped me. He stopped all of us—me, Coco, and Gilly,” he begins again. “He said it took a certain kind of man to wear a kutte, and who we would become if we were patched in would be very different from the men that stood before him. Being in the club, it changes you,” he tells her while ashing.

Mia nods, encouraging him along with a squeeze of her fingers.

“And he was right. Maybe the man I was before I joined the club deserved to know who killed his mother and wanted justice. But the man after I patched in? I’ve—” he stops and puts out his cigarette. “You know the kind of shit I’ve done, the kind of shit I have to live with, the sins I’ll die with.”

“Angel—”

“I’m not looking for sympathy, querida,” he assures her. “If you can’t find a way to live with what you gotta do, there’s no place for you in the life, that’s just the truth. I’ve found a way to live with what I’ve done, and I’m not gonna act like I’m a saint, ‘cause I ain’t.”

He stops again for a moment, and she just knows he doesn’t want her to say anything just yet.

“I have no right to expect justice for my mother’s killer, because I’m no better. I’ve killed too, Mia, and saying he should pay just because it was my mother? It’s fucking hypocritical. That means I deserve to die too, and maybe I do—”

“No,” Mia interrupts him, firm. “You don’t. It’s different.”

“A murder is a murder, mi dulce,” he responds. “Just ‘cause you’re sweet on me doesn’t mean what I’ve done isn’t murder.”

“It’s different,” she sniffs. “The people you deal with, they are in the life too, they know what they’ve gotten into and have done bad things too. You don’t go killing women or-or children or—”

“Hey,” he murmurs and cradles her face in his hands. “Maybe that’s true, but I’ve killed someone’s father, brother, son, and if need be, I’ll do it again. It’s the kind of man you become when you’re patched in.”

“You’d never senselessly murder someone’s mother, never, and you will never be able to convince me of that,” Mia states as her eyes blink to hold back tears.

“Maybe, but I’m still no better than him, and you won’t convince me of that,” he counters, his tone just as sure as her’s.

Mia stares into his eyes for a long moment, until Angel drops his hands and looks away from her, reaching for another cigarette. She knows he believes what he’s saying, that he’s no better than a cold-blooded killer, like the one who shot his mother, and it breaks her heart.

The air is heavy around them and she knows Angel is uncomfortable with his confession, not to mention the vulnerability he’s now shown her. She wants to tell him he’s wrong, that he’s the sweetest man she knows, that the sins he’s committed in the club don’t scare her, or make her think any less of him, but knows he won’t believe any of it.

So, instead, she confesses something that she’s ashamed of too, something to make her feel as vulnerable as he does, something to even the score. “I’ve almost done heroin,” she blurts out, and Angel turns to her, his mouth agape, and so his cigarette falls to the bedsheets.

“Shit. Fuck,” he swears as he picks it up, wiping the ashes from the dull yellow sheets. “What?”

“I—you told me something you’re ashamed of, so I’m doing the same to you,” she explains. “It’s only fair.”

“Okay, but heroin?” he questions. “You told me that you hate the stuff because of your mom, and because it’s fucking heroin.”

“I know, I know, I do,” she replies. “But I… but there were a few times where I got I down, really down, it’s like every bad thing that’s ever happened to me replays through my head again and again and again until,” she stops and looks down at her fingers, embarrassed. “All the times I watched my mom break Bishop’s heart, all the shit she’s put me through, every time Esai came home with that stupid guilty look on his face and I knew he cheated on me,” she lists off. “I feel it all.”

“Mia,” Angel whispers.

“I told myself I’d never do heroin, because you’re right, it’s fucking heroin, but I’ve seen my mom’s face when she shoots up, Angel,” she tells him. “Fuck, there were times she was shaking so hard because it took so long for her to find her next fix that she made me do it for her. One time she dropped her dime bag down a grate in the road, but it had one of those storm drains a few feet away. So, she literally forced me down into it and wouldn’t pull me up until I found it.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“The point is,” she continues with shaky hands, “I’ve seen what it looks like when the high hits, how every problem she has melts away, and all she feels is euphoria. When I get down, when I’m in that blackhole and I don’t see an end, I want that feeling, Angel.”

“So you’ve thought about doing it, that doesn’t mean—”

“No, I haven’t just thought about it, I’ve,” she sighs and shakes her head. “I grew up in the club, Angel, it’s what you guys put into the streets, smuggle over the border, it’s—it’s not hard to find, and I told you, I’ve done it for my mom, so I know exactly what to do, and even if I didn’t it’s not hard to figure out.”

“What happened?” he asks, his voice soft.

“I’ve had the needle against my skin, picked out a vein,” she answers, finally looking up to meet his eye. “I guess it’s good I hate my mother because that always outweighs the want to not feel anymore.”

“Thank fuck,” Angel murmurs before pulling her into his arms. “Does anyone know?”

“Promise me you’ll never tell Bishop, please,” Mia says, her face buried in his neck.

“I won’t,” he states as he gives her a squeeze.

“Esai knows,” she answers his previous question. “He found me once, that’s a whole different story, but,” she stops and let’s out a long breath, “he didn’t yell at me, make me feel bad, or anything like that. He never judged me or held it against me, never once brought it up during one of our fights or our break-ups.”

“What’d he do?”

“Held me,” Mia tells him honestly, leaning away from Angel’s hold so she can look him in the eye. “Told me that no matter what we were going through, together or apart, in a fight or perfectly fine, he’d be there for me, no doubt about it. And, every time I called, he was. He held me until I could pick myself up and then he made me get rid of it myself, to prove to myself that I didn’t need it, and never would.”

“So this hasn’t happened in almost two years?”

Mia shakes her head. “It’s happened four times. Esai has only been there for three of them.”

“What about the fourth?”

“It was when I was with my ex,” she admits.

“Jay?” Angel asks and that name in his mouth makes her shudder.

“Yeah.” Mia doesn’t make eye contact, doesn’t know how to tell him the situation that caused her to drive to Oakland, to Niner territory because if a Mayan saw her it would be only minutes before Esai got a call, found her, and she broke down in his arms, telling him what she had done the day before at the clinic. “It doesn’t matter why, what matters is that I didn’t do it. That’s what Esai always said, to focus on the fact that I didn’t do it, not the reason I thought I needed it.”

“I’m glad you realized how strong you are,” he responds, his voice still low and soft, and so very comforting.

“I did what I always did with Esai. I got rid of it and told myself I didn’t need it, I’m stronger than that, and I will never give my mom the satisfaction,” she tells him. “She always said I’d end up like her, an addict and only good at lying on my back.”

“Bishop know that?”

“No, she’d deny it anyways, and I was always afraid he’d take her side. She knows exactly how to get under my skin and is Bishop’s weakness, so I never spoke up,” Mia says. “Esai fucking hates her, and she avoids him at all costs. She knows if she says or does one thing to piss him off he’ll go off, and there would be no coming back from that, especially know that he’s president of the mother chapter.”

“I don’t know what it’s worth to you,” Angel murmurs as he links their hands together, “we don’t have the same history that you and E do, but I’m proud of you.” He brings her hands to his lips and kisses them gently. “Even without someone there to tell you that you’re strong, that you don’t need that shit, you realized it on your own.”

“Angel—”

“I don’t know your mom, but I know you’ll never be like her. You do know that, right?”

Mia looks down and let’s her hands slip from his, like it’s accidental, not a big deal, but it’s intentional, because he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know how much she’s already like her mother, how she’s just jumped from man to man like her, how she ran to Bishop with her tail in between her legs like her, how she expects him to be able to fix all her problems like she does, and how she’s let one man ruin her for anyone else because she refuses to get hurt again. They were very different men, of course, but the outcome is still the same.

“Mm-hm,” she manages, but knows it’s not believable, so she continues, “but it’s always in the back of my head, you know?”

“I get that.”

“I guess everyone worries about becoming their parents,” she goes on before he can. “It’s part of the whole cycle, isn’t it? You have kids, love them, raise them, try not to make mistakes, but it’s inevitable, and in the end you want them to be better than you. Then, because of the mistakes you made, they want to be better than you, to not put their kids through the same shit you put them through.”

“Maybe that’s the real American dream, huh? To be better than your parents,” Angel muses.

“Well, we’re halfway there, don’t you think? Just for trying. That’s half the battle, right?” she asks.

“I hope, but I guess I’m just happy that I’m not losing the battle. Yet, at least,” he mumbles, then grabs her by the hips and lifts until she’s straddling him. “I need you to do something for me though, you think you can do that?”

Mia loops her arms around his shoulders and nods. “If it’s some daddy-daughter roleplay because of parental issues I’m gonna have to pass,” she answers, and he barks out such a loud laugh that it fills her chest with warmth. “I’m down for roleplay but, the whole ‘daddy’ thing just isn’t for me, not with my parental shit show. I don’t look down on people that do, just isn’t for me. We don’t kink shame here.”

“Oh, well, what kind of kink would you do?” he asks, curious.

“Hm, well, I call you osito so maybe Mr. Bear? If you really want the dad thing I could try Papa Bear but—”

“Stop,” he cuts her off in a chuckle. “I was kidding, but I’m gonna veto Papa Bear while we’re on the subject, just to be safe. You have time to think about it. Besides, I already have my name for you.”

“You do?”

“I told you last night. I’ll only ever call you mi dulce because your pussy is so sweet, and I can call you it around anyone. I’m not into the whole mister thing, or the daddy kink because I got my own parental shit too,” he tells her.

“I’m gonna have to give this a lot of thought, then.”

“You know this has nothing to do with what I was gonna ask you, right?”

“I figured, so much for a change of subject,” Mia sighs and lets her arms fall from his neck, her hands moving to trace the tattoos on his chest.

“I’ll be quick so we can get back to this,” he says with a smirk playing at his lips. “I know I’m not Esai, but if you feel comfortable, I want you to promise to call me if you ever find yourself in that dark place again,” he asks, and her breath catches in her throat. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I’ll sit with you, talk with you, get rid of it with you, whatever you need, and I promise not to judge you or give you a hard time.”

Mia opens her mouth, but nothing comes out, doesn’t know what to say to him, to the sweet man before her who thinks so little of himself, yet is offering to be there when she thinks even less of herself. “I… sure.”

“C’mon, you can do better than that, querida,” he insists.

“I will, I just don’t want you to see me like that,” she says honestly.

“You don’t gotta worry about shit like that with me, you know that,” he murmurs and cups her cheeks. “I’m never gonna use anything you tell me against you or tell anyone you don’t want me to. What we say and do stays between us,” he promises.

She nods and leans forward until their foreheads are touching. “Okay.”

“Promise me,” he urges. “I need to know that if you’re ever like that again you won’t think you’re alone. I don’t care if I’m on a run, over the border, or what the fuck ever, I’ll drop anything I’m doing and be with you if that’s what you need.”

Mia licks her lips and closes her eyes as his thumbs brush up and down her cheeks. “I promise,” she whispers and feels him move so his lips touch her forehead.

“My name,” he says a moment later and Mia opens her eyes and crinkles her eyebrows together questioningly. “I don’t need a kink nickname or whatever. I like it when you call me osito but when I’m pleasuring you, when you’re pleading for more, I love it when you call me my name.”

“I can do that,” she agrees and presses her lips against his. At first, it’s soft and sweet, but quickly becomes more demanding with their tongues touching.

Angel’s thumb pushes on her windpipe as he pulls his lips from hers. “I thought you said twenty-four hours minimum?”

“I did, didn’t I?” Mia whispers and scoots down his legs until his growing hard-on is visible. “Doesn’t mean I can’t help you out. After all, I got what, six orgasms last night? And you only came once.”

“Mm, do you have any idea how hard I came after you squirted all over me?” he asks, a hand still resting at the hollow of her throat, squeezing slightly at times, and rubbing the sensitive skin at others.

Mia swallows, hard, and Angel smiles at her in a way that makes her stomach coil.

“Your heart is beating very fast, mi dulce,” he comments. “I wonder where else you can feel it beat?” he asks as his free hand slides down her bare body until it’s between her legs. “Let’s see how sensitive you still are, hm?”

One finger sinks in and Mia tilts her head back because she’s still so tender, but before anything else can happen Angel’s bedroom door opens.

“Angel, you awa—holy shit, yes you are,” EZ walks in saying, but all Mia registers is Angel practically throwing her behind him and covering her up so all she can see is his tatted back.

“What the fuck, Ezekiel?” Angel demands of his little brother. “Ever heard of fucking knocking?”

“I did knock!” EZ insists. “On your front door, but now I can see why you didn’t hear it. Hi, Mia.”

She doesn’t respond, just lifts an arm to wave, for which she’s given a chuckle from both brothers.

“I can see you’re busy, I just stopped by to talk. Maybe we can meet up later—”

“No,” Mia speaks up, causing Angel to turn and look down at her with questioning eyes. “You can stay, I have to get going anyways. My interview is in a couple hours and I need to get ready,” she says while giving her best friend a look, hoping he remembers what today is, the conversation they started not even an hour ago.

Angel closes his eyes in realization. “Yeah, stay, baby brother,” he insists and turns to look back at him. “We got time before templo unless you have a yard shift or something.”

“Nah, nah, I’m free. Maybe we can get breakfast?” EZ suggests, a softness in his voice she’s never heard before. He definitely remembers what today is.

“Yeah, at the diner, like we used to when I made you skip the first hour of school,” Angel agrees.

“You mean when you refused to go to your first class because—”

“Let’s not get into that,” his big brother cuts him off. “But, uh, this ain’t a free show, so go wait in the living room so we can get dressed.”

“Fine, fine,” EZ mumbles. “I’ll tell you all about it later, Mia,” he calls over his shoulder as he leaves.

“Thank you!” Mia replies, only sitting up once she hears the door click shut. “So why’d you skip the first hour of school? Unless you’d rather me hear it from EZ later?”

Angel shakes his head and smiles at her while getting up, giving her an excellent view of his naked ass. “Let’s see what he tells you, then I’ll tell you if it’s true or bull, yeah?”

She watches him step into a pair of his underwear, a pair of briefs that hugs him just right, making her bite her lip. “Too bad he didn’t walk in thirty minutes later,” she sighs and shoves the blankets off as she stretches.

Angel grins and tosses underwear at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you later, after you kill it at your job interview,” he promises with wagging eyebrows.

“Yeah, after,” Mia mumbles, then busies herself with slipping her cheeky underwear up her legs as her eyes scan the floor for other clothes. “Fuck, Angel,” she groans as two things hit her at the same time.

“What?” he asks while hopping into a pair of jeans.

“Do you think he’ll tell? I mean, Bop is his sponsor and—”

Angel shakes his head and bends down in front of her. “Hey, don’t worry about that. He won’t say nothin’, I’ll make sure of it. He’s been keeping secrets for me all his life, he’ll keep this one too,” he assures her.

“You mean like the reason you kept him out of school for the first hour during your senior year?” Mia questions with big, innocent eyes.

He rolls his eyes and gives her a knowing grin. “I was messing with this girl over the summer, nothing serious. Because it wasn’t serious I was also gettin’ somewhere with another girl, turns out they were cousins, and were both in my first class,” he explains. “It got pretty ugly first day, so I made myself scarce and got some teammates from football to ask them out. When the smoke was clear I stopped skipping class. Good thing too, my mom was about to kick my ass if she got one more call about either of us missing class.”

“You’re lucky they never found out you made your friends date them.”

“Hey, I didn’t make them date anyone long term. I asked them to take them out once, maybe twice, get their attention elsewhere,” Angel insists. “It worked out for one of ‘em. Dated my friend until graduation.”

“Mmhm.”

“Uh-huh, get dressed before EZ walks in on us again,” he instructs. “I can think of a couple things I like your mouth doing more than giving me shit.”

“About that first part,” Mia starts and stands before him, remembering her second thought earlier. “You started undressing me as soon as we walked in the door, Reyes. We’re lucky my underwear is even in here,” she says. “So unless you do want your little brother to see my goods, or maybe show him what my mouth can do—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Angel sighs while grabbing a t-shirt. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

While he goes to get the rest of her clothes, Mia goes to the bathroom to pee and do something with her hair. She’s putting it up in a messy bun when she walks back into the bedroom, fully expecting Angel to be back with her stuff, but he isn’t.

With a sigh she grabs one of Angel’s button ups and slips out of the bedroom. “What’s taking so long? It can’t be that hard to find—fuck!” Mia exclaims, ducking behind the kitchen counter, which is the only thing blocking her from view of the living room, where not only do Angel and EZ stand, but Coco and Gilly too.

“I fucking knew it!” Coco boasts, his voice full of glee.

The boys around him join in the laughter and she can feel her face getting hot. She hasn’t done the walk of shame in years. And these guys are never going to let her live it down.

“You didn’t know shit. Now, pendejos, get the fuck out,” Angel orders and she hears the front door open.

“Nah, I did, you’ve been in a good mood for way too fuckin’ long,” Coco insists. “You ain’t been in the cage in over two months, carnal, you think we don’t notice this shit?”

“Yeah, we ain’t never seen you this well tempered,” Gilly agrees.

Curious, Mia stands up, the shirt now fully buttoned. “What do you mean, he hasn’t been in the cage?”

“Nothing, I—”

“He’s the reigning champ of our cage, he never tell you that?” Coco cuts Angel off. “You’ve been selling yourself short to your girl? That’s not like you, bro.”

“I haven’t been—”

“We open up the fights in the cage to the town and put some money on it. Usually, every month or so we have a fight. Angel is the one who puts the feelers out, is the one itchin’ for a fight, and he always fuckin’ wins. This dude has rage like a fuckin’ beast,” Coco fills her in, ignoring Angel once more. “But he hasn’t since you moved here, and now we know why. Getting laid on the reg really calms you down, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up, I’ve always been able to get laid,” Angel says, then makes a face. “Uh, you know what I mean, we’re not just,” he starts to defend himself. “She and I aren’t just, like, we’re also,” he stops and clears his throat. “A little help here?”

Mia grins and leans on the counter. “No, I like where you’re going with this. Please, keep making absolutely no sense.”

“You’re just as much of an asshole as they are,” he mumbles, making the room laugh some more.

“Yes, I am, and if someone could just toss me my clothes I can get out of your hair so the real ridicule can begin once I’m gone,” she offers.

“What a team player, you finally slept with a good one, bro,” Gilly comments while nudging Angel with his shoulder.

“Why are you guys even here?” Angel whines while reaching under a pillow on the couch, revealing her clothes in their apparent hiding spot. “Here, I don’t want you to be late,” he adds, and gives them to her.

“Thanks,” Mia says and leaves the kitchen with a wink.

“Saw Boy Scout’s bike parked next to yours, then on further inspection, Mia’s car in your free spot,” Coco answers as she is walking away. “Got curious.”

She trusts Angel to answer their questions, or dodge them, more like, but still dresses quickly all the same.

When she gets back to the living room, the guys are all sitting down, smoke now in the air. “Aw, well I’m glad everyone kissed and made up. Wouldn’t want to break up the band. No one wants to be Yoko, you know,” she mentions while putting her shoes on.

“Nah, they’re still fucking annoying,” Angel says. “But they know too much, you know how it is.”

Mia smiles and shakes her head at him. “Alright, the secret’s out, me and Angel are sleeping together, but can you keep the mocking for when the wisemen aren’t around?”

“The what now?” Gilly asks.

“The three wisemen—Bishop, Taza, and Hank,” she explains. “It what me and Letty call them, you know, because they are the only ones with a clue.”

“That’s fucking clever,” EZ remarks in a chuckle.

“Thank you. Listen, I put Bishop through hell when I was with Esai, and I don’t need—”

“Wait, Esai Alvarez, Esai?” Coco cuts her off. “You fucked around with Esai Alvarez?”

“Fucked around, dated, exploded, repeat, whatever,” she answers with a shrug. “The point is, I keep Bishop out of my personal shit, he does the same, and I don’t need him worrying about me, or this, or doing any other protective dad stuff, okay?”

“Wait, that tattoo he told me to shut the fuck up about—”

“Yes, that’s me, I am the one that got away, it’s all very telenovela,” she stops Gilly. “Now, are we all on the same page?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be good in front of daddy,” Coco promises with smoke coming out of his mouth.

“Great,” Mia says with a smile. “I hope you all have a great day teasing Angel, but I gotta get going.”

“I’ll walk you out real quick,” Angel says as he stands.

“Wow, never seen my brother this chivalrous,” EZ comments, then winces once Angel kicks him in the shin on his way out of the door.

Angel waits until they are at the top of the steps to talk. “Don’t worry about them, I’ll make sure they behave,” he promises, then thinks about it. “To the best of their ability, anyways.”

Mia nods and bites her lip as they go down the stairs. “I’m not ashamed of what we’re doing or anything, you know that, right?”

He leans against her car once they reach it and seems to study her face for a moment. “I do, still nice to hear,” he decides on saying. “I really don’t need my president knowing I’m fucking his daughter either. Shit can be complicated enough in the club, I don’t need that hanging over me.”

“You still worried about EZ?” she questions, her voice soft.

Angel lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, but… he came to me and didn’t go off and do something stupid, that’s gotta be good, right?”

“Well, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black,” she teases, making him chuckle. “Let me know how breakfast goes. Are all you going or—”

“Nah, Gilly and Coco gotta open the yard, they’re leaving a little bit after you,” he cuts her off. “Gotta take the time to ask their questions without you around.”

“Oh, of course, make sure you tell them I’m the best you’ve ever had,” she insists.

“I’m sorry, who was the one that ugly cried and squirted last night—ow!” he laughs when she hits him. “You know how much I love your pussy, don’t worry, mi dulce.”

“Please, I have more important things to worry about,” she says while opening her car door.

Angel pulls her close by her hips. “Like your interview? You know you’re gonna crush it.”

Mia looks down and nods. “Yeah.”

“I know it was pushed back a few times, but that ain’t got shit to do with you. Gracie is always busy, she’s gonna be lucky to have you, you’ll take some shit off her plate,” he goes on.

She shrugs. “I haven’t worked as a nurse in over a year,” she reminds him. “Just nervous, I guess.”

“Want me to set up a fight? You can take care of me after, freshen up some of your skills,” he offers.

“No, but I do want to talk about that later,” Mia says. “I mean, you can fight if you want, but don’t do it on my account.”

Angel lifts her chin with a curled finger. “You’re gonna do great. Even if you’re rusty, you’ll pick it back up and kick ass. I’ve never seen you fail at something, querida, you ain’t gonna start now.”

She wants to laugh at him, at how wrong he is, but she just smiles appreciatively and kisses him.

“Besides, it’s gotta happen to today. If it got pushed again, Bishop said he was gonna talk to Gracie,” he mentions.

“He needs to stay out of my business. It’s my job, my interview,” Mia insists.

“He’s your dad, he worries,” he reminds her. “Can’t be mad about that.”

“I’m not, I just,” she stops and sighs. “I can handle my own, he needs to remember that.” She kisses him once more and steps out of his hold. “I’ll call you after, let you know what’s up.”

“Counting on it,” he tells her and watches her get in the car.

She starts the car and puts down the window as Angel closes the door. “You boys be good today.”

“That I can’t promise, and you know it,” he says and they both laugh before he starts back for his apartment building.

She waits until he’s back up the steps before banging her head against the steering wheel a few times.

It’s official, she can’t push it off any longer, she has to go to this nursing interview today. She’s made Gracie look bad already by saying she’s the one who pushed back the interview, when it was actually her. The last thing she needs is Bishop going to Gracie and learning the truth, that will open a can of worms she’s tried to keep nailed shut.

There can be no questions about why she really came here, why she’s so reluctant to take a job that is legit. Sure, she’s been making money helping out bartending at the clubhouse and doing some bookwork at the yard, but it’s not nearly enough for what she needs to start paying Bishop a decent price in rent.

She needs a legit job with real income, even if it means attaching her name to a file that will leave a trail. A trail that could lead Jay right to her if he’s looking.

Mia bangs her head a few more times before putting the car in reverse.

She isn’t ready to stop hiding, but it looks like she doesn’t have a choice, not unless she tells Bishop the truth, and that is not an option. Not even for a second, which means she has a job interview to get ready for. A job she’s unlikely to get because she cancelled on the woman twice with little explanation or apology.

Just fucking great, she thinks, as she drives off, her hands already sweaty at the thought of stepping out of the shadows and into the light.

*

Her outfit is all wrong.

It’s all she can think about as she walks into the ER, as instructed, holding a folder full of papers close to her chest.

Mia sees herself in the glass windows—a black skirt, the longest one she owns, but it still doesn’t go past her knees, with a white top that’s too tight and tucked into the skirt. It’s a button down that is closed up to her neck, but she still isn’t happy with it. Her hair is half up, half down and in it’s natural state of loose curls, she kept the make up light, and matched it with a pair of simple black heels.

She wants to turn around and leave, to walk out of the building and get in her car and drive far, far away, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she walks right up to the admit desk in her completely wrong outfit and forces a smile. “Hi, I’m looking for Gracie—”

“Sanchez,” a woman says from behind and she turns to find, Gracie, she assumes, dressed in a pair of jeans that make her legs look great, a pink scrub top, and comfortable white shoes. “Charge nurse, you must be Mia Flores.”

“Yes, hi, nice to meet you,” Mia greets with a hand out, and watches as the woman looks her up and down very thoroughly. For some reason, it makes her very aware of the small hoop earrings hanging from her lobes and the black choker around her neck.

She is so not getting this job.

“Yes, it is, especially since I had planned to meet you, what, two weeks ago now?” Gracie questions.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I just moved here—”

“Follow me,” the nurse cuts her off and leads her to what she knows is the breakroom, but it is thankfully empty at the moment. “Take a seat. Drink?” she asks with quarters in her hand and shakes them in offering.

“No thanks,” Mia answers and sits, making sure to smooth out her skirt and cross her legs appropriately.

“Suit yourself,” she replies and moments later a glass Coke is in her hands. “So, Flores is the last name, correct? Went with your mom’s?” she questions while sitting down across from her.

“Um, no,” Mia says and shifts awkwardly. “Why do you—”

“Oh, I don’t need these, I had your files pulled from your previous employer,” Gracie tells her while taking the folder from her and sets them off to the side. “It’s surprising is all, I figured you’d have Bishop’s last name.”

Realization washes over her. “Oh, no. Bishop is my godfather. He and my dad were best friends, and when he died Bishop stepped in. He’s my father in every way besides blood,” she explains.

For the first time, Gracie smiles. “I knew he had a heart buried in that chest somewhere,” she comments.

“That he does,” Mia agrees, and matches the woman’s smile. “It only really comes out when me or my mom around, but he has one, that’s for sure.”

“He paid a visit to my shelter about four days ago,” Gracie informs her. “I’m sure you know about my side work at the shelter.”

Dread fills her. “Um, I know about the shelter, I did not know he went to see you. I’m sorry if he was—”

“Brash? Demanding? Pushy?”

“Yes, to all three,” she answers. “Look, I can explain—”

“Don’t worry, I went along with your lie,” Gracie says. “Told him I’ve been busy here and at the shelter, but that it wouldn’t happen again. To be honest, I was more curious than anything, wanted to know what I was made be part of.”

Mia tries to still her shaking hands. “We don’t have to go through this whole game of back and forth. I’m obviously not getting the job, and honestly, I don’t deserve it after how unprofessional I’ve been. I can just tell Bishop the spot was filled.”

“Oh, it is,” Gracie confirms. “I needed two ER nurses when you first applied, but I filled the last spot after you cancelled the last time.”

“Then why am I even here?” Mia asks as she feels heat rise from her chest.

“I told you, I’m curious,” the older woman says.

At this, Mia stands. “Okay, I don’t have time for this game. I’m sorry I wasted your time, or maybe you wasted mine, I don’t know—”

“There she is,” Gracie cuts her off once more with a smile.

“Excuse me?”

“Bishop’s daughter,” she answers. “And I said that the position you applied for is filled, not that I still couldn’t use you,” she corrects herself. “Now, please, sit.”

Mia sits and relaxes a bit in the plastic chair. “I really am sorry I made you look bad. That wasn’t my intention.”

“I’ve been made to look a lot worse, believe me,” she replies. “So, do you want to tell me the real reason you cancelled on me twice or do I have to guess?”

“I haven’t worked as a nurse in over a year,” Mia starts with honesty. “I actually haven’t had a real job in the same amount of time. I let my nerves get the better of me.”

“I talked to your last charge nurse,” Gracie tells her. “Miriam? Nice old gal. She couldn’t stop gushing about you,” she goes on. “That is, until your boyfriend came into the picture.”

Mia’s back straightens. “Ex. Ex-boyfriend,” she corrects.

“Right. She said you were one of the best nurses she had. You did very well under pressure, always kept a level head, you were the first one in on your shift, and often the last one out,” the charge nurse goes on. “Said you were great with patients, at keeping kids happy if needed, and had absolutely no issue knocking unruly men down a couple pegs.”

“Miriam is a very nice woman,” Mia agrees. “But earning her praise wasn’t easy.”

“Well, she had nothing but praise for you, until the boyfriend came in the picture,” Gracie insists.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Mia says again.

“Right,” she repeats. “She said once he came in the picture you were often late, always looking at the clock, the first to leave if there were any cuts, that he liked to stop by during your shifts and was not well liked among your peers.”

“About that—”

“She saw quite a few changes in you, said when she tried to get you to talk about it you quit,” she continues. “Me and Miriam had quite the conversation.”

“Seems so,” Mia says with a tight smile.

Gracie sits back in her chair and stares at her for a long minute. “Does Bishop know?”

“Does he know what? That I quit? Yes.”

“Does he know that you were seen at your own ER twice for accidents?” she asks. “Once, I think Miriam said was a fall down the stairs, and the other was tripping through a glass door?”

Mia’s stomach drops to the floor. “He and I weren’t talking for two years. Family issues.”

“Miriam had a few theories as to what really happened,” Gracie comments. “After hearing such glowing words about you, and getting Miriam’s two cents on the boyfriend, so do I.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” she says in a hard tone. “I’d appreciate if you’d refer to him as such. He’s not in my life anymore,” she tells her with finality.

Gracie nods, apparently happy with her answer. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time, what happened is your secret to keep, but I need to know who I’m interviewing right now. Are you the capable, reliable woman I first heard about, or are you flighty and going to be someone I have to check on every five minutes, because I have no use for the second one.”

Mia lets out a long breath to settle the nerves in her gut. “You’re right, I do have secrets, and I’m not proud of the person I became at the end of my time at my last job. I won’t lie to you, I did those things,” she admits. “And I can promise you that the nurse you’d be hiring is the first one you described.”

“Why’d you become a nurse?” Gracie asks, her entire demeanor different from when they first sat down.

“I’m sure the safe answer is I like helping people, knowing I’m making a difference on what could easily be the worst day of their lives. I mean, no one plans on going to the ER,” she starts.

“And the unsafe answer?”

“When I was seventeen my boyfriend was shot,” she tells her. “Different boyfriend than the last one,” she adds on quickly. “You know Bishop, so you’re familiar with the club, my boyfriend at the time was in the club too, Oakland charter.”

“He live?”

Mia nods. “Yeah, the club doc came and pulled the bullet out, sewed him up,” she explains. “But I was there when he came to the clubhouse, blood soaked through his shirt, leaning hard on our friend Pac, whiter than I’d ever seen him. I’d never seen him weak before either, ever. And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it because I knew nothing.”

“It’s definitely tough seeing someone you love in rough shape. Not everyone wants to do something about it, but people like us? We hate feeling helpless,” Gracie comments.

“I told myself if something else happened I’d know something. So, when I graduated high school I went into an eighteen month nursing program. Once I got through that, I was hired at St. Francis’s and then enrolled to get my bachelor’s in nursing, which I did,” she goes on. “I learned that I didn’t just like being able to do something when someone I loved was hurt, I like being able to help people in general. I did rounds in all the specialties, but preferred the ER. Maybe it’s the instant gratification, but being able to solve a problem someone has, quickly help with the situation, in whatever way I can, I love the feeling. I grew up in a fast-paced environment and the ER felt like home in that way.”

“Your file said you also volunteered at a free clinic near the neighborhood you grew up in,” Gracie mentions.

“I did,” Mia confirms. “They couldn’t afford much a staff, and some of the ones that were employed there, well… they weren’t there for the right reasons,” she tells her. “I did what I could, tried to make a difference. Sometimes it didn’t feel like much, just handing out condoms and clean needles, reading pregnancy tests, but the way I saw it,” she stops to think of her words, “I would have wanted someone like me to be around when I was young. I tried not to just be a nurse, but someone they could talk to, confide in, and for some of them I was.”

Gracie’s lips form a ghost of a smile. “I feel that way at the shelter. It’s more than just detoxing for me. It’s the first step for all those people, a step they choose to take, and it’s one of the hardest ones they’ll make. I try to help in every way I can, but between here, the clinic, and there, I’m spread too thin.”

“I didn’t know Santo Padre had a clinic too,” Mia mentions.

“We don’t. It opens next week. I secured the funding three months ago,” she answers. “The truth is I never wanted you here in the ER. I need a charge nurse at the clinic. Someone I know can handle the chaos, the good and the bad, and be eyes and ears for me in the community.”

Mia sits straighter in her chair, her curiosity peaking. “Aren’t you already really involved? Between here and the shelter?”

“I am, but I also believe in stepping in before there is a problem, if possible,” Gracie says. “Too many places are overrun, understaffed, and letting people slip through the cracks. I made a promise to this community to provide more than basic medical care. I need a staff that is willing to go above and beyond, and that all starts with management.”

“You’re willing to consider me even after I cancelled on you twice?” she questions.

“No. I was willing to consider you after you showed up today, owned up to your mistakes, and proved you’re not the same person that quit your last job,” Gracie corrects. “I read your transcripts. You were the top of your class, had multiple job opportunities in high-income areas, yet you chose a place in the city, to volunteer for a clinic in a place overrun with drugs and crime, and from what I learned from Miriam, and talking to you today, you’re a survivor. A survivor is what I need.”

Is she a survivor, she wonders? Or is she a runner, someone who knows when to quit and flee into the night? Sure, she’s survived everything life has thrown at her so far, but what if what she’s running from catches up to her? Can she promise Gracie she won’t pack up and take off? After all, she’s been doing all she can to not promise Bishop the same.

“Gracie, I—”

The woman holds up her hand to stop her. “I told you that your secret is yours to keep, and it is, but I have a feeling I know what you’re afraid of.”

“Miriam used to say nurses have superpowers. We see so many people, a lot of them keeping secrets. It was our job to see through the bullshit and treat the patient with no judgement,” Mia mentions. “That seeing through bullshit was our power.”

“I might have to steal that one,” Gracie chuckles. “Well, I’ve been a nurse long enough that I’ve fully developed my superpower, let’s say.”

All Mia can do is nod with her head hung low. “Please don’t tell Bishop. He doesn’t know anything, he can never know.”

“I’m not doing to ask for details, those are for you to offer on your own, but I do know fear,” Gracie responds. “I know what it’s like to want to leave something horrible behind you, to be so scared to turn around and find that it’s all caught up to you, to feel that everyone is seeing right through you.”

“It’s when I’m alone that it’s the worst,” she murmurs.

“I think you’re the exact right person for this job, the one I can rely on to get the job done as well as I could do it, so you let me know what you need from me to make this happen,” Gracie insists.

“I want the job, trust me I do, and I’m honored you think so highly of me after just meeting me,” Mia says honestly. “I think I can do it. I miss helping people, being part of the solution and not the problem, but,” she stops.

“This is the part where I come in. What can I do to make you feel comfortable?”

“I’ve been off the grid, so to speak, since I moved here. I don’t have anything attached to my name. I’m on Bishop’s phone plan, live in his rental rent free, for now, his name is on the utilities, I have no social media, nothing. I’m worried—”

“By taking this job you’ll be able to be followed,” Gracie pieces together. “Miriam was right, seeing through bullshit is our superpower, but it’s only one of them. You want to know what another one of them is? Making things happen,” she says and Mia looks at her with wide eyes. “Hunny, I’m the charge nurse, run the shelter, and managed to cut through enough red tape to not only open a free clinic, but also scored enough funding to run it for the first year. I know the tricks of the trade.”

“Tricks like keeping me off the books, but still paying me?”

“Are you complaining?”

“No, ma’am, when do I start?”

“How about in two hours?” Gracie asks.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, that should be enough time for you to go get something to eat and change, right?”

“Change?” Mia questions.

Gracie stands. “Yep. We’ll meet at the clinic in two hours. We have a few interviews to do and some set-up to finish. After all, you open up Monday at eight AM,” she says. “Unless you want to do manual labor in that.”

“I only need one hour,” Mia counters and Gracie gives her a smile.

“That’s what I like to hear, let’s get started.”

TAGLIST:

@starrynite7114 @joalsglasses @mrsamaroevans @justahopelessssromantic @mrsjaxtellerfan @rosieposie0624 @luckyharley1903 @miss-nori85 @proudlittlewitchbitch​ @thesandbeneathmytoes

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know!!!

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

SOOO Gracie (aka the doc/vet? from season 1 at the shelter) is going to be in this story. I write a preface about this because upon research for her character I learned the actress is trans and BEAUTIFUL. Of course, I am NOT taking that away from her, so her character IS trans. It is not mentioned in this chapter, but will be spoke about later. However, because I am not at all a fountain of knowledge on this subject, nor would I ever claim to be, I am going to tread lightly. I have done further research, but will keep the details light because she is not a main character even though I wish she was on the show because I've decided I love her and she deserved more than 2 minutes on screen. There was a STORY there, am I right?

#fanfiction #mayans mc #angel reyes #angel reyes x latina!oc #friends can break your heart too #chapter 4 #angel reyes x mia flores

[anactualcaseofthetruth]

masterlist.

If you missed my link for ao3 in my bio here it is once again:

ao3 - here you will find ALL my stories, meaning for Riverdale, the 100, Mayans MC, and Top Gun: Maverick.

Top Gun: Maverick

I Don't Want to Keep Secrets Just to Keep You: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC

Summary: Kadie thought they had an agreement.

Their relationship only exists when Rooster is on shore, but what happens when that's not enough for him anymore?

Chapter 1 > ao3 link ⬇️moodboard⬇️

Chapter 2 > ao3 link ⬇️moodboard⬇️

For my Angel baby <3

Friends Can Break Your Heart Too: Angel x OC

Mia Flores flees to Santo Padre for one reason and one reason only: her godfather and the man who raised her, Bishop Losa. The last thing she expects is for Angel Reyes to come into her chaotic life and just maybe be the one thing that starts to make sense.

Chapter 1 / ao3 ⬇️moodboard⬇️

Chapter 2 / ao3 ⬇️moodboard⬇️

Chapter 3 / ao3 ⬇️moodboard⬇️

Chapter 4 / ao3 ⬇️moodboard⬇️

Chapter 5 / ao3 ⬇️moodboard⬇️

Btw if anyone wants added to the taglist let me know!

#masterlist #mayans MC masterlist #fanfiction #friends can break your heart too #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes x mia flores #ao3 links

[anactualcaseofthetruth]

Alright peeps. This chapter is coming out tonight. If I can't get the sex scene done then so be it. I'm sick of looking at it.

BE READY YALL.

#me #fanfiction #friends can break your heart too #mayans mc #angel reyes x mia flores #angel reyes x oc

[anactualcaseofthetruth]

Friends Can Break Your Heart Too 

Summary:

Mia Flores flees to Santo Padre for one reason and one reason only: her godfather and the man who raised her, Bishop Losa. The last thing she expects is for Angel Reyes to come into her chaotic life and just maybe be the one thing that makes sense.

Notes:

This is my first go at Mayans M.C. fanfiction, so let me know how I do. I honestly don’t know if I’ll finish this, but it’s in my head and won’t go away, and I’ve become quite fond of my little O.C., Mia

BTW Jeanine Mason (aka Liz from Roswell, New Mexico) as Mia!

Chapter 1

“Of fucking course, goddammit!” Mia Flores curses as she tugs and pulls on the locked chains around the gate of Romero Bros Scrap. “Son of a bitch!” she exclaims to the darkness and delivers a few swift kicks to the iron gate covered in chains with a huge metal lock just for the hell of it.

The twenty-seven year old then steps back to her car and presses her hands onto the hood, silently berating herself for the decision to not stop one last time at yet another shitty, dirty motel, because now it looks like she’s in for a night of no sleep in her car. Again. All she had wanted was to get here, to feel safe, to finally reach the place she has trying to get to.

A loud rumble in the distance catches her attention, the tell-tale sound of a motorcycle, and her breath hitches. What are the odds that they are heading back to the clubhouse?

Mia waits for the appearance of the loud two-wheelers, but they stop short of her being able to see them or hear exactly where they go. Of course.

She considers her options—resign to sleep in her rundown Chevy Cavalier filled to the brim with clothes and all the rest of the shit she took when she made the split decision to leave or follow the noise in an attempt to find the man she came here for?

“Alright, I guess it’s time for a walk,” she mumbles to herself, opening the passenger side door to reach for the little cash she has, her trusty brown faux-leather jacket, and cell phone. She slams the creaky door shut as she swings the jacket on over her form-fitting soft pink v-neck.

After shoving everything into her pockets, Mia looks over herself one last time in the window. Having expected to go right into the clubhouse when she arrived in Santo Padre, she thinks she already looks pretty decent with minimal makeup, hair clean from the motel she stayed in the night before, hanging down her back in its natural state of loose dark brown curls, she has her signature hoop earrings in, a pair of skintight jeans, and her favorite ankle boots with big, thick heels.

It takes over ten minutes of walking and zig-zagging, but Mia finds three Harley’s parked out front of a bar engulfed by smoke. She doesn’t recognize the one bike she wants, but does see the Mayans emblem on the side of all three.

With a sigh she opens the door and enters the smoke-filled bar thinking that even if she doesn’t know any of the Mayans inside—and that’s the likely case—she could at least use a fucking drink.

Her eyes look for kuttes among the crowd, but sees none, and decides to take an empty seat at the bar.

The drink it is.

“What can I get ya, cariña?” the bartender asks, he’s older with worry in his eyes. She’s not sure if it’s something to do with the missing Mayans or being by herself.

“Uh, a beer and shot of whiskey,” she orders, shrugging off her jacket. “Thanks.” A bottle is set in front of her, the lid pulled off with a clink, and a shot soon follows. Mia wastes no time downing the shot and chasing it with the beer.

“A word of advice, chica,” the man says after the empty shot glass is placed in front of him. Mia’s eyebrows raise as she swallows the alcohol. “Finish your drink and head on home. This isn’t the best place to be this time of night for a niña such as yourself.”

“Thank you, but I can take care of myself. Another shot please,” Mia responds with a sweet smile that causes the man to shake his head at her supposed naivety.  

Just as the shot is placed in front of her three men in kuttes exit the backend of the bar. As predicted, she doesn’t recognize any of them, but isn’t shy about looking them over. She practically grew up in the Oakland clubhouse—much can be told simply based on the appearance of a patch.

The first a bigger guy with a shaved head and well-kept beard, which means he has patience and cares somewhat about his appearance. There are tattoos up and down his arms, of course, they even crawl up his neck, and that’s dedication. Mia has no doubt the man would shoot a man without hesitation, but there is also a kindness to his eyes. He isn’t one of the emotionless soldiers.

The second is smaller in stature and body type, a cigarette in his fingers held as if it’s an extension of him. He’s rougher around the edges physically with longer hair and patches of facial hair, he even has some muttonchops forming. He too has tattoos littered all over his body, a small one even on his face. He’s smaller for sure, but there is a fierceness to him that is concerning. His head is on a swivel, meaning he’s always checking his surroundings, and she knows he is completely aware of everyone, and everything, in the room. He’s ex-military, for sure.

The third one catches her by surprise, making her heart skip a beat. He’s taller than the other two by multiple inches, his hair is short on the side and styled on top, and his beard is heavier in the front, but still taken care of. He’s good looking and fully aware of it, and so carries himself with a confidence that can be dangerous. His shirt is tight on his biceps and his arm veins bulge under his tattoos in the best way. MAYANS is tattooed in bold on his right arm, and this alone tells her how important the club is to him. Maybe it’s the brotherhood, the family he gained from joining, or the acceptance they offered. He’s proud to be part of the club.

There’s an ease to his walk that is attractive, it’s a swagger that isn’t forced and is unique to him. She can tell there is a strong bond between the three—they move almost as if they’re one, they are that in tune with one another. Their friendship likely started before they joined the Mayans.

Suddenly his eyes are on her, and now Mia’s heart skips too many beats, but that doesn’t stop her from meeting his gaze. He’s so fucking good looking.

She sits up straighter and runs a hand through her hair, flipping it in a way to get that perfect mixture of messy and sexy, but also can keep a guy’s attention.

One of his friends, the lean one, says something to him that makes him laugh, and it echoes throughout the bar, but his eyes never leave hers as he licks his lips.

Something about the nonstop eye contact makes her uncomfortable, so she looks down at the bar for her shot before tipping her head back with it.

Maybe it’s the intimacy in his stare, the way he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, what she wants, when she doesn’t even know what’s going on in her head. Or maybe it’s the relationship she just left, how his stare never made her feel anything except dread, especially towards the end.

While Mia knows he’s going to end up at the bar with her and it makes her palms tingle with excitement, she knows this is the last thing she needs right now.

Her brain screams at her to get up, to go back to her car, because she’s so close to what she came here for, because of what she’s running from, because she swore she would be different. Her gut, however, and parts further south, urge her to wait because he’s coming any second and it’s so fucking nice to feel excited about something again, especially a guy.

“Hey, Cisco. Two more shots?” she hears next to her not even a minute later and the anticipation in her stomach bubbles over.

The bartender, Cisco, apparently, nods at the request, but says nothing. Quickly their drinks appear, then he is down at the other end of the bar, far away from them and the outcome he was trying to stop by urging her to leave.

One of the shots slides towards her, and it’s only then that Mia lets herself look up at the man next to her. His hazel-brown eyes connect with her honey-brown and there’s that feeling again—that he’s searching her soul for answers she doesn’t even have the questions for.

“I’m Angel,” he introduces before he tilts his head back and takes the shot with no chaser.

His voice is husky and smooth, and she wonders what it would sound like between her thighs. Would it be lower? Would it tickle her skin with the rumble? Fuck, how long had it been since thoughts like these have crossed her mind?

Is he an angel sent for her during her time of need?

“Is that a line, like you’re my angel, or your real name?” Mia questions, being too honest for her liking, and swallows the warm whiskey in one gulp, knowing it’s been too long since she drank and needs to slow down before she embarrasses herself.

He chuckles, leaning on the bar and closer towards her. He smells like smoke and Earth, and she is curious to know if he tastes the same. “It is my real name, and well, if I’m an angel,” he stops to bite his lip, “that depends on who you ask.”

“I bet that’s true.”

“And your name is?” he asks with a lick of his lips.

Suddenly, she wants to take his bottom lip between her teeth to find out what sound he makes. “Not Angel,” she manages.

“I’ll buy you another shot once you tell me your name.”

“Mia, and I don’t need another shot just yet, but thanks for the offer,” she tells him. Another shot is not what she needs right now, all it will have her thinking is how Angel is that type who would like a girl to be loud in bed, uncaring who can hear. In fact, he’d be proud if the neighbors heard.

“Mia,” he tests the word on his lips and it snaps her back to reality. These are not thoughts she should be having, especially with the relationship she just left.

But, as she looks up under heavy eyelids, all she wants to do is be reminded what it feels like to enjoy being with someone again, for once to not know the unsatisfying outcome, to be spontaneous and not care about what others think, to be free to be herself, if she even remembers who that is anymore.

“So, what’re you doing here, Mia?” he asks as he holds his ringed hand up showing two fingers, and she knows their shots will be refilled momentarily. “You’re not from Santo Padre. Small town, you know.”

“It was the first bar I found,” she answers and his throat rumbles in a chuckle.

Angel takes his shot quickly and hisses as it goes down. “You didn’t look very hard.”

“Truth is, I’m on the run,” Mia tells him and pushes the small glass towards him.

“Somehow, I don’t find that hard to believe,” Angel admits while tilting his head down at her. He’s getting dangerously closer and closer to her, and her buzz is running high.

“I was hired to assassinate a high-ranking government official, but before I could my cover was blown and I was forced to flee in the night,” she says. “I’m on my way to Mexico.”

“’ Cause that’s the last place they’d look for a Mexican on the run,” Angel comments with a smile curling at the edges of his lips.

“Well, I figured with how many they are trying to stop getting here it wouldn’t be hard for one to do the opposite,” she says, “even on the run.”

“Your first time?” he asks

“Going to Mexico?”

“On the run,” Angel corrects.

“Isn’t everyone running from something, Angel?” she questions in return.

“Maybe, but,” Angel stops to take the shot between them quickly, “if you’re on the run from the government, you should be better at it.”

“Are you saying I’m bad at it?” she asks, her voice low, making him lean in even closer.

“If you’re trying to hide, you need to keep shit that is recognizable to you covered up,” he explains and his finger begins to swirl at the skin just below her short sleeve. “This gives you away, mi dulce.”

Mia looks down at his finger still caressing the tattoo peeking out from under her sleeve. It’s a skull with a full, vibrant marigold surrounding it, and written underneath is “It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was” with his life and death dates, and one start date with no end.

“The flower of el Dia de los Muertos,” he murmurs.

“Yes,” she whispers and lets him push her sleeve up to see the whole tattoo.

“It’s beautiful,” he tells her, his voice deep and full of gravel. “Two dads?” he soon wonders aloud.

The thought makes her laugh a little. “My biological father died, and my mom couldn’t deal, so his best friend, my godfather, stepped up and raised me for the most part.”

Angel nods with a look of approval overcoming his face before murmuring, “good man.” His finger outlines the entirety of it slowly and painstakingly. Her body flushes, and she isn’t sure if it is from the alcohol or Angel. Probably a little bit of both.

“My mom’s gone too,” he admits. “I don’t have anything for her yet,” he goes on, his hand dropping down to her thigh and squeezing just enough. “Nothing seems good enough.”

“I never got to know him, my real dad,” Mia confesses, finding her voice. “He died when I was five. I’ve heard stories about the things he’s done, what kind of man he was, how he died, but all I remember is that he was always there to put me to bed, to say my prayers with me, and always, always kissed me goodnight.”

“Did your… other Dad continue to tradition?” he asks and sounds so sincere her heart clogs in her throat.

“Every chance he got,” Mia confirms with a wistful smile. “He, uh, didn’t have what you would call a regular job, but when he could he never missed it. At least until I became a shitty tween and told him I was too old for it.”

“Damn, quierda, you probably broke his heart,” Angel teases.

“Oh, he was just the first in a line of many,” she continues in hopes of lightening the conversation.

“You have good taste, the tattoo. It’s a piece worth his memory, or their memories, I guess,” he tells her.

“Thank you,” she says and eyes his arms. “You have quite the mural yourself.”

Angel looks down and grins. “I like to think so.”

“Very… colorful in their own way,” she comments, her finger following the pattern of his veins as it climbs up his muscular arm.

“Some more straightforward than others,” he agrees as she traces ‘MAYANS’ very carefully. She’s sure he is waiting for her to ask questions about the M.C. as people passing through probably often do, or at least want to.

“So, are you going to ask what I’m actually doing here?” Mia questions, her eyes flitting up to meet his. The hazel seems darker than when he first came over.

He opens his mouth, but just licks his lips for a moment. “Are you going to tell me?”

Mia grins, and it feels like her first real smile in months. “No.”

“There’s that, and it’s none of my fucking business,” Angel says and catches her hand in his, linking them together. His thumb sweeps over her skin leaving tingles in its wake.

“And what is your business over here, Angel?” she asks of him, her free hand resting on his knee, her face so close to his that his breath tickles her eyelashes.

“Not sure yet, will be soon though,” he tells her, that cockiness shining through.

“Oh yeah, what would make you sure?” Her nose brushes against his while her hand slides up towards his crotch, her fingers gliding over his zipper as the hope in her chest swells.

“Done,” he states before their lips crash together and Mia finds he tastes like nicotine, alcohol, and something sweet.

His beard tickles her chin, making her smile into his kiss and pull him closer by the openings of his kutte. Angel’s fingers brush along the visible skin on her chest on their way to cradling her chin with both palms. The moan that escapes her throat makes it his turn to smile.

His tongue meets hers and she’s one more smooth move from crawling into his lap right here in the bar. Although, being a Mayan, that isn’t new to him. Still, it’s not something she does, a part of the M.C. life she never thought she’d take part in—the footsteps her mother left behind and she swore she’d never follow.

Mia’s hand cups his growing hard-on and it causes their lips to pull apart.

Angel studies her face for a moment before he nods towards the back of the bar he first came from and stands with a hand extended out towards her.

She doesn’t hesitate, simply takes it and lets him pull her from the barstool. Even if this isn’t something she should be doing, it is something she wants to be doing.

Mia’s whole body starts to buzz with adrenaline as he leads her through the back hallway to what, in Spanish, reads the women’s restroom. He opens it as if he knows no one is inside and brings her along right behind him.

It’s a single bathroom, one toilet and adjacent sink, and is cleaner than Mia expected.

The door locks behind them and she turns to find Angel leaning against it, studying her as if waiting for her to make the first move.

With a tilt of her head, Mia looks him in the eye, lifts her v-neck over her head, and tosses it on the side of the sink. It leaves her in a lace white bra with a pink bow nestled between her breasts.

Angel simply stares at her a moment, a grin forming as he pushes off the door and steps up to her. His arms slither low around her waist, his hands cupping her ass as he looks down at her and pulls her against him, lifting her the tiniest amount as their lips meet. Mia takes the hint and with a hop her legs are around his waist. She doesn’t even notice he’s walking until he sets her on the edge of the sink, his hands firmly on her neck to keep her close.

It’s only now that Mia pushes on his kutte, knowing he wouldn’t have dropped it on the floor, regardless of how much they want to fuck each other. Angel understands, letting it fall down his shoulders and tosses it on top of her shirt. He pulls away a moment later and tugs his shirt up over his head revealing more of his ink.

“Hmm,” she whispers as a hand caresses the black markings on his chest. “Less than I thought there’d be.”

Angel lets out a breathy laugh. “More than I thought,” he counters before dipping his head down to kiss at the colorful silhouetted birds tattooed on the underside of her breast.

Mia leans back against the wall as his lips make their way up the valley of her breasts and neck. Her arms loop around his shoulders, squeezing the solid expanse of skin. His teeth nibble on her ear and she sighs in pleasure.

Surprisingly, Angel doesn’t continue and instead brings her heeled feet up on top of the sink with her. He rips his lips from hers and begins to untie the laces, but Mia smacks his hand away with a laugh before pulling down the zipper on the side.

“Like I was supposed to fucking know that,” he mumbles as the boots drop to the ground.

Mia smiles and reaches a hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb resting on his bottom lip. “You gonna fuck me or what?”

Angel’s lips pucker into a kiss against her thumb before reaching down for the opening of her jeans and unbuttoning them. “Something I gotta do first,” he says.

Mia lifts her weight up onto her hands as he pulls her jeans down. “And what would that be?” she asks once he frees her legs, the jeans now turned inside out from being so tight.

Instead of answering, Angel opens her legs wide, pushes her underwear to the side, and his head swoops down in-between her thighs.

“Holy—!” she can’t even finish as his lips suck on her clit, hard, and his tongue starts to swirl around the nub. Her hands grab ahold of his hair to keep him in place. “Shi-it, yes,” she stutters.

She feels him smile against her and she tilts her head back on the mirror, not caring about the sounds she’s making or how loud she is. It’s been months since she’d been eaten out, or even had any kind of sexual interaction that felt good, wanted.

It’s not long before two of his fingers enter her, expertly hitting that special spot, and causes her eyes to roll into the back of her head as she suddenly comes. It’d be embarrassing how soon she unravels if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

Angel’s fingers pull out, but his tongue circles her clit until her orgasm is over and leaves her heaving against the wall. “Fuck me,” she breathes in an attempt to regain her bearings.

“I’m getting there,” Angel promises, making her smile as he undoes his own jeans.

“Yes, you are,” Mia agrees and licks her lip at the sight of his cock. It’s bigger than her ex, although that isn’t hard to be. She reaches down and wraps her hand around him, giving a tug that makes his forehead fall to her shoulder as he groans contentedly. She pumps it a few more times before he pulls away, reaching into his back pocket for something.

Angel flips the golden condom through his fingers with a certain finesse that she hopes is supposed to be funny because it makes a laugh erupt from her throat. He rips the package open with his teeth and rolls it up his member in seconds.

Mia opens her legs wide once more for him to nestle inside, then tilts her head up to him. Angel presses his lips against hers before slipping inside her in one swift movement. She breaks the kiss in a gasp at the feel of him, of how she stretches to accommodate his size and girth.

“Fuck,” she breathes as he moves in and out of her. The pace is fast and Mia tries to find purchase on the sink, something to grab onto, but all she finds is smooth porcelain. So instead, she reaches forward and places a hand on either side of his hips for leverage.

“C’ mere, quierda,” Angel murmurs and lifts her jaw to push their lips together. She can do little more than moan and breathe into his mouth, but likes the contact.

Mia already starts to come undone, feels that familiar tingle begin to climb up her spine, but shakes her head. “No, no, no, not yet,” she pleads with herself. She’s not done feeling this, not ready for it to be over yet. “I’m not ready.”

Angel smiles against her cheek as he continues to pound into her. “Your pussy tells me you are,” he moans into her ear.

She shakes her head, her nails now digging into his ass. “Uh-uh.”

He takes her hands from his bottom, where she was probably about to draw blood, and links them through his own, then presses her against the wall. “You’re gonna come, mi dulce, right fucking now,” he orders through grinding teeth.

Against her own wishes, her body lets go, and she bites her lip to keep from calling out as her inner walls clamp down on his cock, hard. Her body starts to shake, her fingers squeezing his, probably cutting off circulation, as comes harder than she ever has before.

Angel is cursing in her ear as he fucks her through the orgasm, not letting himself go until she’s coming down.

“Holy shit,” Mia breathes, wiggling one of her hands free to thread it through his hair, caressing his scalp while he comes down himself. “I think you are my angel,” she murmurs.

Angel lifts his head from where it was resting on her shoulder, a grin on his face. “Happy to oblige.”

Mia smiles back at him and kisses him. “I’m sure you are.”

With that, Angel finally pulls out of her and drops the used condom in the trashcan before reaching down to pull up his pants.

“You think you can hand me my jeans, Angel?” she asks with her legs dangling from the sink.

Angel reaches down for the denim and even turns them right side out for her.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Mia teases as she starts to slip them up her legs without getting off the sink just yet.

“That so?” he questions, bending down to put her boots back on her feet, zipper and all. When he stands, he winks, and reaches for his shirt and kutte.

“You are a smooth one,” she remarks as she hops down and shimmies the tight jeans all the way up her thighs. “You mind, uh, giving me a minute? I got a little more to clean up than you.”

“Sure thing,” he replies while swinging his kutte on and reaching for the door handle.

“By the way, Angel,” she starts before the door is quite open. He turns with his eyebrows raised. “That thing about not thinking anything is good enough for the tattoo of your mom, it’s bullshit.”

“Oh, really?”

“It’s not about something being good enough, it’s about what will make you think of good memories of your mom when you see it or when you touch it. It’s for you to remember her, to honor her, no one else,” she tells him. “That’s all it has to be.”

Angel looks her over, then nods in what looks like respect. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

This time Mia winks at him and he leaves the bathroom with a chuckle. She finishes dressing, pees quickly, and throws her hair up in a bun since it’s no longer going to look nice down, not after his fingers got all tangled up in it.  

She heads back to the bar, stopping short of being seen coming out of the hallway and looks for Angel. He’s not at the bar, but she does see him off to the side, turned in the opposite direction on the phone.

Mia quickly grabs her jacket and drops a few bills for her share of drinks before ducking out the side door, hopefully before Angel caught sight of her.

She has no trouble making her way back to her car, a smile glued to her face the whole way.

This is not the way she expected her first night in Santo Padre to go. However, as she gets into her car, kicks off her boots, extends her driver’s seat as far back as it will go, and settles under a blanket, she can’t help but think it’s kind of perfect.

They say the best way to get over your ex is to get under someone else, and there’s nothing like kickstarting the process.

For the first time in a long time, Mia falls asleep quickly and with a smile on her face.

-:-

She feels like it’s only been five minutes when she wakes with a start and pounding on her driver’s side window.

It’s accompanied by angry Spanish that doesn’t stop even though the perpetrator can see that she’s awake. As the pounding gets louder the voice changes to English. “Get the fuck up! You think this is park and ride? Are you deaf?” he’s asking.  

In a fit of anger, because the noise is not helping her headache, Mia pops open the door and hits the man with it.

“What the fuck? The fuck is wrong with you, lady?”

“Me? You’re the one knocking on my door like the fucking police,” she reminds him as she reaches for her boots.

“So you understand English, now get the fuck out of here,” he tells her.

Mia stands, squinting in the harsh sunlight, and looks the guy who has been bothering her up and down. It’s one of the guys from the bar, obviously not Angel, but the smaller one. “What time is it?”

“Time for you to get the hell out of here. Do you not understand what I’m telling you? You. Can’t. Park. Here.”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that,” Mia sighs and reaches for her cellphone. It’s just past nine AM, the gate to the clubhouse is now unlocked, and Romero Bros Scrap is now open, she guesses. “Bishop here?” she asks while walking around to the trunk of her car as it pops open.

“What the fuck? How do you know Bishop?” the man asks, his attitude becoming even more impatient as he steps closer to her.

Mia fishes out a black flowy shirt that has crisscrossing straps across the chest and unashamedly brings it to her nose for a sniff. “Smells clean enough,” she mumbles to herself before taking off the pink v-neck from the night before.

“Jesus Christ,” the guy complains and turns away from her, which is completely unexpected.

“You Santo Padre boys, you keep surprising me,” Mia comments, the new shirt now on, but he still doesn’t turn back.

“Yo, Coco! You take care of our curbside trash yet?” they both hear and she definitely recognizes this voice.

“Can’t get a straight answer out of her,” Coco, it seems, calls back.

“Her?” Angel questions as Mia closes her trunk and it stops him in his tracks at the sight of her.

“What’re you…” he trails off, looking from her to Coco and back. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Your friend didn’t seem to understand the question, so I’ll ask you. Is Bishop here?” Mia asks

“Bish… you know Bishop?” he responds.

“Yeah, that’s about as far as I got with Coco here,” Mia sighs as she makes her way between the boys to enter the scrap yard.

“How the fuck do you know Bishop? Let’s get that far and maybe we’ll tell you where he is.” Coco catches her by the arm in an effort to stop her from going any further.

Mia shakes her arm free from his grasp. “Touch me again like that and you’ll be dealing with me and wish it was your el Presidente by the time I’m done,” she warns causing both men’s faces to be overtaken in shock. “And, actually, we’re going to do it this way. I’m going to find a bathroom so I can pee. By the time I get back, you can either have Bishop here or on his way, or even an address for me to go to him. How does that sound?”

“Listen, perra—”

“Hey, enough,” Angel stops the insult coming from Coco’s mouth mid-sentence. “Bathroom is through there. If you can’t find it ask the guy with wooden fingers, he’ll point it out to you,” he says with a head nod towards the scrap office.

Mia nods thankfully, but throws a glare Coco’s way before turning towards the building she was directed to. It’s minimal, a computer and stacks of paperwork, but she sees the bathroom sign and a little grateful she doesn’t see the wooden finger man. That has to be a whole other story.

When she’s done, Mia stares at herself in the mirror. Her bun kept through the night, the little makeup left on did too. She breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth to calm her nerves.

When Coco grabbed her arm… she didn’t mean to snap, but she’s done being a doormat. That isn’t the woman her godfather raised. She needs to remember who she is, where she came from, and that all starts and ends with Bishop.

When she manages to stop the shaking she exits the scrap office and finds it’s not just Angel and Coco waiting for her, but is now Taza and the one she’s been asking for.

“…has a fucking mouth on her,” she hears Coco saying, a cigarette now in his mouth.

“Do you know how many women that could be?” Taza asks and the honesty makes her snort a little.

All four turn to her and Bishop’s face goes from confusion, to shock, to a smile bigger than she ever remembers all in a matter of seconds.

“She certainly does have a mouth on her,” he comments and is already walking towards her.

“Well, I learned from the best,” Mia jokes as he scoops her up in his arms.

“That you did, baby girl,” Bishop laughs in her ear.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much, Bop,” she whispers and lets him hold onto her so tight it almost hurts.

“Me too,” he says and squeezes her one last time before letting go. “What are you doing here? Did you call?”

Mia shakes her head and tries to hide the tremble threatening to overtake her body. “What? A girl can’t come to see her old man?”

“Any fucking time, pequeña, any time,” he assures her with a kiss to her forehead.

She smiles and hugs him again, this time it’s softer, but feels no less safe than the one before.

“Uh, you mind fucking introducing the rest of us?” comes from their onlookers a moment later and causes them to pull apart.

“Not all of us need introductions,” Taza mentions a second later and Mia smiles before giving him a quick hug too. “It’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

“You too, Taz,” she replies and steps back to Bishop, who wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Boys, this is Mia, my baby girl.”

CHAPTER 2

Notes:

Thoughts??? Reply with ‘em! Or go onto ao3 and do it as a guest or signed in if you have an account. 

And to the people who asked me to tag them:

@mrsamaroevans && @joalsglasses

#mayans mc #mayans m.c. #angel reyes #fanfiction #angel x oc #Friends Can Break Your Heart Too #mia flores #miangel as i call them