#Angel Reyes fanfic

[juicesgf]

Say don’t go. {A.R}

Warnings: none

“Just say the words, Angel! Please..” Y/n cried looking up at him. “Say don’t go, say it and I’ll stay.”

When Angel didn’t reply that was all she needed. She closed her eyes for a moment letting out a light laugh “Right, you can’t.” she murmured before grabbing her keys and heading towards the door.

She looked back at him praying he’d say something. Praying he’d tell her he loves her, that he want’s her to stay. But those words never came, nothing did he stood there silently still refusing to look at her.

He let her go.

[ravennaortiz]

Summary: Angel gets a surprise from his stepdaughters.

As always my stories are 18+

Speechless. For the first time in his life he is left at a loss for words. Swallowing hard as tears start to dance along his lash line he glances up from the two little girls in front of him to you. Your eyes meet and just like that he is transported back to the day the four of you met.

*2 years prior*

Angel had stepped under the awning of the small sidewalk café to escape the brutal Santo Padre heat and grab a quick drink before heading back to the clubhouse. He had been people watching as he sipped his drink when he caught site of you. You were crying as a man stood looming over you berating you.

Pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on Angel sat his drink down and made his way over. As he got closer he saw you were desperately trying to plead with the man to leave you alone as you clutched a baby to your chest while your toddler sobbed on the floor under the table.

Without hesitation Angel gently moved behind your chair and settled his hands lightly on your shoulders. "Do you have a problem with my wife or me?" Angel asked calmly as the man took him in backing up a couple steps. "You need to tell her to be modest and respectful of others. She is flashing her breast and distracted me from my coffee" the man snapped as he flapped his arms in your direction.

"I see. You have a problem with my wife feeding our child because the female body has been so over sexualized that you have forgotten all the amazing things it can do besides bring pleasure." tutted Angel as he shook his head and moved around the table to stand directly in front of the man. "I suggest you get out of my line of sight before I forget I have my family with me today sir" he added as he gave the man a gentle pat on the head and flashed a smile.

That day had changed both your lives forever. The next two years had been a roller coaster of dolls, tea parties, tiaras and pink nail polish.

*Present Day*

"Well are you gonna be our Guardian Angel forever" inquired your older daughter her bottom lip quivering as she looked at him. Angel knelt in front of her as tears slipped down his cheeks. It had been incredibly hard to get her to come around to him being in your life. He had to work hard to earn her trust and reassure her that he wasn't trying to replace her dad who had passed away.

"Always" stated Angel firmly as he pulled both your daughters to him for a hug as they squealed and giggled.

Series Masterlist

[garbinge]

Wanderlust (1)

Angel Reyes Post Canon Fic (Mentions of OC Isabeth ‘Izzy’ Flores) From these August Prompts: Wanderlust Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Mayans S5 Full Season/Finale Spoilers!!!!!!!!, mentions of death, blood, loss, angst, bad thoughts, stress, PTSD, just really sad but it does have some hope!

A/N: I… this is a lot and was honestly just flowed out onto the paper and just I have thoughts for more in this post-canon world but for now, this will be a little ode to Angel post series. Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie

It was hard to accept his dreams coming true when it took everything falling apart to get there. It was truthfully even hard to call this a dream when it was just a necessity for a normal and safe life. The peace the beach town of La Paz, Mexico had to offer wasn’t as rewarding as the fight to get here made it seem it would be. For Angel, most of that had to do with the fact that time passed differently now. There was nothing to look forward to anymore now that he was here. There were no visits from grandparents, no visits from uncles, no waking up next to the woman he loved. The goals he once had before were now achieved and alongside of them looking different, he hadn’t had the time or honest want to create new ones. The one thing that kept him going was his son, Maverick. The thought of showing him a world of endless opportunities and making life better solely for him was what let him get out of bed in the morning everyday. On their journey down, he opted to show him where the little boy’s grandparents once lived, where Maverick's mother had grown up, but Angel knew staying in those places would only ultimately leave him in the same cycle. The cycle Angel was on the path to break, because, well, it was his only option now. 

Waking up might have been the hardest part of his day. It was ironic because falling asleep was the best. A moment of uninterrupted time where his thoughts weren’t consumed in his brain. He was shocked he didn’t have nightmares about everything, but his mind saved those for the daytime. When he was awake, he could vividly remember everything, every moment, every sound, every look, every feeling. It was why waking up was the hardest, because everything hit him like a pile of bricks the moment his eyes opened. He saw Felipe everyday. He heard EZ everyday. He searched for Luisa everyday. 

Not literally, ofcourse. The image of his father being rolled out on a coroner’s gurney was embedded into his brain. The sound of EZ’s last breaths, his last wishes of telling Maverick about him and their mother. And finally, his hand reached for Luisa in his bed every morning as some search for comfort but he was left with emptiness. Once Maverick was up that’s when he was able to push everything aside and do simple everyday things for him. He was currently living off the money Luisa had left in the crib before settling into a job. Settling into employment meant finding someone or somewhere to leave Maverick and he just wasn’t ready for that step. Luckily in Mexico, he could make that money stretch. Their place was cheap, Maverick was still sleeping in a crib so the one bedroom house they stayed in was more than doable. Food was no more than $25 a week between the two of them and that was pending if Angel even had the drive to eat a full meal. Maverick was always taken care of, though. He had tons of his favorite food stored in the fridge and freezer and lots of toys. Angel had taken his Pops truck down, loading it up with the broken down crib, stroller, and height chair, a few bags of their clothes, and that was just about it. 

It was early morning, Angel had been awake for a few minutes staring at the ceiling thinking about his brother. The ultimate choice he had to make in stabbing him. Logically he knew there was no out of that situation, but that didn’t stop the ‘what ifs’ from running through his head everyday. The biggest what if that weighed on Angel’s mind was what if he never joined the club. That was what brought them there. Sure, Felipe’s past life had brought violence to them, specifically their mother, but Angel continued it. Maybe if he never joined the club EZ would have gotten out of prison and done something with his life. Again, this was Angel told himself, but he struggled with that just like everything else. If he never joined the club, he never would have met Luisa or had Maverick, EZ probably would have stayed in jail for the full stint with no chance of getting out early. It made Angel think about who EZ was prior to losing their mother, what would have happened if everything was different. If he was a different person, his father was a different person, it ultimately brought him to one thought. Why him? Why was he the only one who got out. That’s usually when the cries of Maverick snapped him out of it as if the universe was giving him the answer. 

As Maverick’s voice cooed right on schedule, Angel was quick to get out of bed and grab him from the crib. Angel chatted with the boy, asking him how he slept, what he was hungry for, what he was in the mood to wear. All of those things took up a good couple hours of the morning between bath time and feeding, for the both of them. 

Now was the time to take on the beach town of La Paz, he and Maverick had been exploring the last few weeks, taking some time on the few different beaches, enjoying the street art and boardwalks, taking in the marinas, finding some local food spots to indulge in, and today was time to hit downtown. 

La Paz was beautiful, the streets were filled with statues, artworks, and markets as you walked along the coast to get downtown where there was just more of everything. Angel had Maverick in his arms as they walked past a bookstore which made him stop and stare into the window. 

“You know your Tío EZ loved to read.” Angel looked over at the boy in his arms. “Your grandpa, my dad, had bookshelves in his shop and would constantly be giving new ones to your Tío, I always told ‘em they smelt like meat and maybe there was somewhere better to keep 'em but they enjoyed it.” Angel nodded his head at the memory. 

“Maybe we can find you some different books, huh?” Angel looked into the bookstore and noticed it was more of a newsstand with biographies, novels, and stories versus children’s books so he began his search for a library. 

Biblioteca Pública para los Niños de La Paz, the words on the secluded building could be seen from a hundred feet away. The building was painted and bright and seemed to be exactly what he was looking for. Maverick was enamored by it, his eyes were glued to the building and his arms extended out to point to it. 

Angel let out a laugh, “Alright, little man. Let's go check it out.” 

As they entered the building it was a lot fancier than he imagined a library to be, there were different sections despite it being majorly a children's library. They had movies, DVDs, novels but when Angel looked to the left he was met with a huge children’s section. There was a big circular room that he assumed was for events, walls and walls of books, almost never ending and somewhere in the middle of that were couches and play sets. In the midst of all of this there was a big circulation desk that was covered in posters and kids toys and flyers where there was an empty desk chair. Angel assumed someone must’ve been on their break or roaming around the library so he walked past it and let Maverick roam around the play sets. 

“Mav, come, look at these.” He called the little boy over to the half shelf of books. Angel sat squatted on the ground at Maverick’s eye level as he pulled books out, there were two that he held onto which Angel assumed they’d be checking out while the others were left on the floor in his path along the shelf. Angel was quick to grab the discarded books and put them back in their proper place as he moved behind his son, making sure that nothing was left out of place. 

“Maybe we can find a book that daddy used to read all the time.” Angel started to look at the next shelf over for the book he remembered Marisol reading to him while Maverick plopped down right next to him as if he was waiting for the book. 

“Buenas tardes, como los puedo ayudar? ” A woman’s voice caused Angel to startle and turn around immediately. He was such a tall individual that looking up to someone wasn’t usual for him. 

“Lo siento,” he let out a chuckle and shook his head as he tried to think straight, “uh, estoy buscando un libro.” He explained in spanish what he was doing. 

“Perdoname,” the woman laughed back, “no quise asustarte.” Her eyes were soft as she apologized. “Sabes el nombre del libro?” 

Angel thought for a minute. “Uh, si, se–se llama,” Angel closed his eyes as he tried to remember the name, “olvidé el nombre, pero se trata del sol y…” He lost it, it’s like any bit of spanish left his brain when he tried to think of the word he was looking for. “Ah, que es,” he thought to himself now feeling fully embarrassed by his lack of fluency. “Come se dice, un reptilio?” He replaced the word he wanted with a similar synonym. 

“A lizard?” The woman spoke her English as clear as day even with her accent. 

Angel let out a sigh of relief. “Yea, the book is about a sun and lizard.” 

“La Lagartija y el Sol.” She nodded, knowing exactly what book he was referring to. 

“Yes!” His eyes lit up. “Sor– Perdoname, si, La Lagartija y el Sol.” He confirmed still stumbling over his words. 

“It’s okay, I speak English.” The girl met Angel at eye level as she squatted down and reached across his face to search for the book. 

“I’m trying to fit in, act like a local.” He let out a nervous chuckle that made her smile. 

“We stick out like sore thumbs.” Her thick accent was littered with humor as she related to him. 

“You’re not local?” Angel asked her out of curiosity. 

“No, I’m from Mexico but not La Paz. I learned English in the States a few years ago.” She wasn’t willing to give up more specifics but Angel wasn’t one to pry either.

“Any advice on how not to stick out and seem like a local?” He laughed as he adjusted himself to stand up. 

“No one cares here, everyone minds their business, it’s why I enjoy living here.” She stopped dragging her finger along the books as she found the one she was looking for and pulled it out by its spine. “La Lagartija y el Sol.” 

“Thank you, I think he’s gonna like this one.” Angel pointed to his son who was sitting on the couch mindlessly going through the few books that he had grabbed himself. 

“It is about perseverance and bravery, two traits you’ll need if you want to try and fit in as a local.” She teased. “The book is bilingual, also. Might help both of you.” 

“Good to know, ironically, my mom used to read me the bilingual version and well, you’ve seen how well that worked out.” He was now standing with the book in his hand. 

“Takes perseverance.” She smirked. “Let me know if you need any more help.” And with that, she was moving back behind the children’s circulation desk. 

Angel stayed with Maverick in between the two shorter shelves where the playsets were, letting the boy enjoy the toys and time out of the house. They picked out a couple DVDs too in addition to the 3 books in his hands, just trying to think of ways to pass the time back at home. About an hour and a half had passed and Angel decided it was time to leave to grab some lunch and maybe head to the marina so he began to approach the childrens desk with Maverick in one arm and the things he planned to check out in the other. 

The same woman came out from the back office and smiled as she situated back in her seat at the computer that was likely from the early 2000s. 

“Do you have a card with us already?” She looked up at him before taking the movies and books off the part of the desk that was raised to be more of an appropriate height for those standing on the opposite side of it. 

“No, I’d have to sign up for one if that’s not a big deal?” His tone had a little apprehension in it. 

“Nope, just need to get some info from you.” She began clicking things on the computer and then asking him questions. “Need a name, address, and some form of ID.” 

Angel froze for a minute, he wasn’t exactly sure what he felt comfortable giving up information wise. He was well aware that this was some random woman at the library and not the cartel or even a police officer but it just felt nerve wracking. 

“Um, do I need to give all that information?” He stood awkwardly as he re-situated Maverick on his side. 

The woman looked up at him and immediately understood. “I can make it work with just a name.” She agreed. “I just need you to promise you’re going to return those items in 3 weeks because if not it’s my paycheck the replacements come out of.” Her face was soft when she spoke. 

“Promise. You can put the card under Angel Reyes.” He leaned over to see what she put into the system. 

After a few minutes she took out a card and scanned it before placing it on the table in front of him. “If you have any trouble just ask for me and I’ll take care of it. I put the address in as my own.” 

Angel was speechless for a minute before he spoke up. “Thanks, I didn’t mean to have to have you–” she cut him off before he finished speaking. 

“It’s okay, I get it.” Her eyes moved to Maverick, who was beginning to fall asleep in Angel’s arms, and then back to Angel’s eyes before grabbing his things to check him out. After scanning all the items and placing them in a bag she moved to go grab something on the other side of the desk. “Also,” she twirled in the chair. “I pulled this for you. I think you and your son would enjoy it.” 

La Frontera: El Viaje con Papá - A Journey with Papa. 

Angel stared at the book for a minute with a smile on his face. 

“You know, I always wanted to travel. I had dreams about it. Going all these different places. I went to some but like I wanted to see things my family saw, see things they didn’t, just have the world at my disposal, right?” He was staring down at the book, holding it in his hand, wiping his tumb across the cover. “But now I just don’t feel that way anymore.” He put the book down on the table and snapped himself out of his thoughts. “Sorry,” his head shook. “I didn’t mean to unload, I don’t get to talk to many people that aren’t above the age of 2.” 

The woman smiled, “You know, sometimes that feeling of wanderlust is your gut telling you that you are not in the right place.” Her shoulders shrugged like what she said didn’t hold a heavy weight to Angel’s ears. There was a moment where he just took in those words before she spoke up again. “Maybe you’re just finally in the right place.” 

She had gone back to doing something, not paying Angel any attention as he slowly put the book in the bag. Maybe it was true, he was in the right place, he had finally escaped all the violence, the stress, the uneasiness, and he could feel free. That still didn’t come without punishment. The thought of feeling free reminded him that his brother, father, and mother died being stuck. The images of his mother on the floor of the shop followed by his father on the gurney and his brother on the floor of the Mayan clubhouse rotted his brain. Repetitive words of the things they said throughout their lifetime haunting Angel. How could he be free when he felt so chained to their memory. 

“Are you okay?” The woman’s voice snapped Angel out of his thoughts. 

“Si, Yes, Gracias, seriously for all your help.” Angel started stepping away now. 

“You are welcome, Angel.” She smiled and went back to her work before looking up when Angel stuttered after wishing her a good day but realizing he had no idea what her name was. 

“Isabeth–Isa.” 

Angel stood there frozen again and repeated her name. “Isa?” The woman’s head nodded and she looked at him confused.

“Is there something wrong with that?” She let out a nervous laugh. 

 “I’m sorry, that was sort of my mom’s name.” He closed his eyes with a smile. 

“Sort of?” She twisted her head and met him with the same smile. 

“Yea, sort of–it’s complicated.” He chuckled back. 

“Well to make it more complicated, you can call me Izzy. That’s what my friends in the states used to call me, I kind of miss it.” 

“How’d you know I was from the states?” He asked curiously, a look that didn’t last long as she gave him a knowing look and tried to hold in her laugh. “Fair enough, Izzy it is.” He nodded and with that he left the library with a feeling of content.

It was nice to finally have a conversation with someone that held some sort of mature value, despite the fact that it brought Angel some of his darkest thoughts, but he would have had those regardless, at least this time he was offered some solace. Maybe he was finally in the right place, maybe this is where Maverick needed to be, where he needed to be. Perhaps it was everyone he lost that guided him to this spot simply because it was the right place. Maybe wanderlust didn’t need to be about huge travel but just roaming around your own space, your mind even, finding one place of peace and calmness where all the bad things weren’t allowed to go. That was what Angel’s next adventure would hold, wanderlust of his mind, a place where all his demons and nightmares weren’t allowed, and just peace and tranquility could be found.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Twenty Nine + Epilogue.

The end is here, besties. A huge thank you as always for those who have stuck it out until the end and offered such kind words in the way of feedback. Huge love to you all. It was a challenge to write this as it’s very different from my usual offerings. I can only hope the bittersweet ending meets your expectations :)

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen  Twenty Twenty One  Twenty Two  Twenty Three  Twenty Four  Twenty Five  Twenty Six  Twenty Seven  Twenty Eight

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,186 

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

His hand kept reaching into the space beside him on the pull out, vast in its emptiness, no small body curling against his, no warmth from her skin. He would never awake to find her using him as a pillow again, just like she had on his first morning there all those months ago. No little sleep snuffles, no morning kisses. No more shared dreams.  

She really was gone.

His brain couldn’t quite absorb it, yet the shock kept on hitting him over and over, like the perpetual jab of a knife into his heart. It had all happened so fast. One minute she was there and the next... gone.  

How precious and fragile life truly was.  

Angel knew better than most that’s how death worked sometimes, too. There were no guarantees of notice given. Death did not call and tell you to mark a date in your calendar. It snatched people without warning.  

It had done this to him twice now. First his mom, and now his love.

His eyes stung from crying, his heart completely shattered. He couldn’t believe it was real. He still expected her to walk back in from the kitchen and tell him to scoot over, or ask if he’d farted, slapping him if he revealed he had.  

Why? Why her? She’d barely even begun to live her life before it had been snatched from her. Angel felt his throat tightening again as he thought of all the things she’d shared with him, everything she wanted to accomplish, all that he was looking forward to being proud of her for. What hit him the hardest, though, was that she’d died before he’d truly made it up to her, ironed out the crazy behaviour that had been driven by his insecurities.  

He still owed her, and he could never repay it now, never show her he was worthy of her love, never prove himself. Stretching his arms above his head, his chest quivered on a sob, sniffing hard as his tears began to fall again. God, the loneliness. She’d only been gone for ten hours and twenty-three minutes, and yet he felt like he was being buried alive in the grief of losing her, how vacant he felt without her there.

He knew then he should have appreciated her more while he could and not acted like such an overgrown child at her being away, because at least she’d still been alive then. He’d now suffered the ultimate abandonment, and it wasn’t her fault or his, but fuck, how he wished he could turn back time. Just a little more time with her, just a day, an hour, a moment to hold her again.  

“I love you so fuckin’ much,” he whispered into the dark of the living room. “Dunno how the fuck I’m meant to carry on without you.” The pain crashed through him, hitting him over and over as it swallowed him whole, Keri was dead... Keri was dead. He’d managed to stop his tears by the time the bedroom door opened, Frankie exiting quietly, coming over to sit on the edge of the pullout.  

“Can’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” he confirmed.

She gestured to the space beside him. “Mind if I cuddle up? I get it, if you’d rather be alone.”

He snorted softly. “Course, I don’t. Get over here.” She climbed under the comforter, resting her head to his chest, his arm wrapping around her. He wasn’t the only one completely heartbroken. Hell, they’d had to sedate Meryl, she was so hysterical.  

“This feels weird,” she muttered, tapping his chest gently with her splayed hand. “No boobies.”

He smiled, laughing softly through his nose, Frankie continuing. “It doesn’t feel real. Like, you’re here, so my brain by default thinks that she should be, too. I keep thinking the door is gonna open and there she’ll be, my little beets.”

“Yeah, yeah you ain’t the only one,” he began, hand stroking her arm idly. “Just feels like she’s in the next room.”

“Oh, you know about the poem?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Yeah, the poem about death, about it being like they’re in the next room,” she explained, sitting up a little. He still looked confused. “Pass me your phone, I’ll find it.” He reached for it, unlocking the screen and handing it to her, Frankie searching for the piece she’d always found so comforting during times of loss.  

“Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away to the next room. I am I and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, That, we still are. Call me by my old familiar name. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effect. Without the trace of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same that it ever was. There is absolute unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you. For an interval. Somewhere. Very near. Just around the corner. All is well.”

“All ain’t well,” Angel grumbled, sighing. “I get what the dude who wrote it meant, though. But like, I ain’t in that place yet. Hurts too much.”  

“Yeah,” Frankie sighed, closing the webpage and locking his phone, handing it back. “Yeah, it’s too raw right now, but the words are beautiful. I’ll come back to them again. Right now, I just want to go someplace quiet and scream about how fucking unfair it is, that I lost my bestest buddy in the entire world.  

“Isn’t just me, though. You lost your girlfriend, Meryl and David lost their daughter, and so many other friends, too. Rachel couldn’t breathe when I called her earlier. It isn’t fair, Angel. She should be here with us and she isn’t! She’s all alone in a fucking morgue!”  

He winced at those words, not wanting to imagine it. It had been painful enough when after the nurses had pulled all of her tubes out, he’d gone back into the room, kissing her head and stroking her hair as she’d lain there, statue still, her warmth beginning to fade. She’d looked like she was sleeping, like she was about to wake up and ask him why he was crying on her.  

Having to say goodbye to her like that had killed him. At least, though, he’d gotten to hold her once last time in their final shared dream. That provided a tiny slither of comfort blanketing the sharp edge of pain, if only for a short time. Tightening his arm around Frankie as she began to sob, he lay there in quiet contemplation about those dreams he’d shared with her, so much more about them now making complete sense to him, now the story that was him and her had sadly come to an end.  

“I saw her in a dream, just before she died.” He paused, swallowing hard. “I fell asleep for a few minutes, and we dreamed together. She told me she didn’t wanna go, but she had to. Knew it was her time and shit. I begged her not to, then I woke up and she was gone.”

A little exclamation fluttered over her lips, Frankie looking up, reaching to stroke his cheek. “Of course, she’d come and say goodbye to you. She loved you so much, you were so special to her.” She swallowed back the little stab of envy, that he’d gotten to say goodbye to her when she hadn’t, Frankie realising that it was probably hell for him, to realise he was going to lose her, for him to wake and find she’d died.

“Didn’t get to prove myself worthy of that love.”  

“Hey, none of that,” she began, pointing a soft finger at him, tapping his chest. “You were the love of her life, alright? Remember that. Don’t let regrets eat you up inside.”  

“Hmm.” She didn’t push him further on it, guessing he likely wouldn’t stop feeling guilty just because she’d told him not to. Humans were rarely so simple. “I dunno, like... fuck. I dunno.” They lay there in silence, eventually falling asleep, although it was fitful, waking up regularly, both deciding to get up and go for a cigarette on the firs escape, Frankie sitting between his legs, Angel resting her chin atop his head.  

“I hate that I won’t see you anymore, now that she’s gone,” she spoke, Angel making a noise in his throat.

“Don’t talk shit, Frances. If you want, I’ll still come see y’all when I can. You guys are my friends too now. I don’t forget shit like that.” He took a long drag on his cigarette, watching at the sun began to fill the sky. “She’d like it, too. If we kept in touch.”

“Yeah, she would,” she confirmed, smiling softly. “We’re the links to her, you know? What Keri left with each of us lives on within us all, so staying connected means we have little connections to her, too.”  

“That shit’s beautiful, bro.” He knew he wasn’t capable of articulating something like that, but it made sense to him all the same. He went for a shower soon after, getting dressed and heading over to Meryl and David’s place, the latter answering the door to him.  

“Hey man.” He pulled him into a hug, slapping his back softly. “How you doing?”

“Bad,” Angel confirmed, closing the front door behind him. “How about you guys?”

David waited until there were in the kitchen before replying, switching the coffee machine on and pulling two cups from the cupboard. “It still don’t feel real. Meryl is just... shit. Beyond devastated. She’s still in bed, but she didn’t sleep. Just crying endlessly.”  

“Yeah, I think I drifted off for like, a half hour. Frankie too. You’re right, it don’t feel real at all. Keep expecting her to just walk in like nothing is wrong.”  

David smiled, a soft laugh bursting from his nose. “And tell us about one of her calamities, spilling something or the like.”  

“Showing off on her snowboard and hurting herself,” Angel smiled, remembering carrying her after she’d done that very thing and sprained her ankle.  

David’s voice broke on a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I never had my own kids, and I didn’t feel like I needed to once I’d met Meryl. Here they were, this ready-made family. I always thought of her as mine. Ain’t fair at all. I can’t get my head around it. Feels like I’m in someone else’s nightmare.”

“Same,” Angel spoke, taking the coffee David handed to him with thanks. He turned back to the coffee machine, a sudden burst of sunlight from behind the clouds making something glint upon the windowsill. Picking it up, he held the thick, silver band Keri wore on her thumb, squeezing it in his palm before handing it over to Angel.

“Here.” He placed it into his hand, smiling with a nod. “I think she’d want you to have this.”  

Angel took it, pulling off the rings he wore on the fourth finger of his left hand, placing on the band and returning them atop it, his smile sad.  

“Fitting place,” David nodded, leaning back against the counter, watching him look down at his hand.

“I would have, you know. Would’ve asked her to marry me at some point.” Just then, David glanced with surprise over his shoulder, Angel feeling a soft hand upon his arm. Turning, he saw devastation personified.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyes softening. “I’m so sorry, Meryl.”  

She let herself be pulled into a hug, wrapping her arms around him, steeling herself not to break down again and cry all over her daughter’s boyfriend. “Thank you. I am too, for you. I know how much you loved her.” Pausing, she leaned to kiss his cheek, straightening up, wiping her eyes with her thumb. “Thank you for making her last month's so happy.”  

“It was an honour, getting to love your daughter. She was everything to me.”

Meryl nodded, her lip quivering. “I know, love. I know.”

Angel didn’t stay for long, David vowing to keep in touch with him over the funeral arrangements before he left, booking himself a flight and heading directly to the airport. All around, there were memories of her, remembering walking through with her either on his arrival or departure, the Starbucks where he’d made her laugh so much about her frappuccino, the places they’d stood holding one another tight, the spot where they’d first met.  

It stung his heart so hard that it almost took his breath away. He felt like he was moving through clay as he checked in and then sat and waited, buying a coffee while he waited the near two hours before his flight would depart, scrolling through his phone at the hundreds of pictures of her, of them.  

“I dunno what I’m meant to do without you, tiny.”  

And the truth was, he really didn’t. It was a pain he knew he would never truly recover from.

Epilogue

The entire charter of the Santo Padre Mayans MC roaring into the cul-de-sac was quite a thing to behold, all dressed in black, parking up behind the black limousines that would usher the family over to the funeral home. One by one, each man greeted the assembled family, offering his condolences, the few who knew her a little better speaking of his fondness for Keri, Meryl and David so very touched by their words.  

The sun shone brightly on that October morning, a warmth still lingering through the crisp, fall air, Angel watching as golden leaves shook themselves from the trees, a perfect one landing right in front of him upon the handlebars of his bike.  

“Yeah, baby. I know that’s you.” Placing it carefully in his pocket, he took a deep breath, feeling a hand press to his shoulder.  

“The family is ready, mijo,” Bishop told him, placing his helmet on. “You lead, though. She was your girl. It’s only right.”  

Clasping him in a tight hug, he felt the love from his brother swell through the cold nothingness that had become of his broken heart, the sound of bike engines roaring back into life filling the air, the procession slowly moving forward behind him. It still hurt, the grief cutting at him like a razor, nine days passed since his beloved Keri had taken her last machine assisted breath, since the last time he’d felt the warmth of her skin next to his.  

He felt glacial without the sunshine of her love, a freeze that likely wouldn’t ever thaw.

He was glad Meryl had chosen a closed casket, because he couldn’t bear to see her shuttered in death again. Kissing her goodbye at the hospital had all but killed his heart, Angel instead wanting his last memory of her to be of when he’d held her in his arms at the airport, her face so bright and excited as they’d spoken of their vacation. What he would have given to be preparing for it, the trip he’d cancelled four days ago when he’d finally been able to actually get out of bed and do something other than lie there, weighted down by the lonely blanket of grief.  

Once at the funeral home, they were met by a couple more of Keri’s friends, Angel touched at the sight of Rachel rushing into Gilly’s open arms, Bishop wrapping Frankie into a huge hug, Jaime too, telling her he wished he was meeting the girl he’d heard so much about under happier circumstances. “You’re right, she does look like a mermaid.” he spoke softly, Angel smiling when he remembered the moment he’d heard Frankie liken her to one, on that first morning in Provo, meeting Keri in the flesh for the first time the night before.  

What he’d give to go back, be on that pull-out bed with her, enjoying their first kisses all over again. The pain of never having that again burned through him, as he knew it always would. There would be no cease to his sorrow at losing her, his one true love.

Turning to him, Frankie and Jaime held out their hands, both flanking him either side as they walked into the funeral home, ready to say their last goodbye to the girl who meant so very much to each of them. He still couldn’t believe she was gone. The appearance of the white casket sealed it, though, Angel swallowing the lump in his throat, letting go of Frankie’s hand and wrapping a strong arm around her when she couldn’t keep the sob in, holding her tightly.

“Good morning, friends. We gather today to remember fondly the life of our darling Keri Jane Watkins, taken much too soon from everyone she loved so very much on the second of October, twenty eighteen. As I look around at a room so full, I certainly see how her kindness, brilliant spirit, and unrelenting zest for life touched so many, from her mother Meryl and stepfather David, who we give all of our love and light to at this time, to her beloved boyfriend Angel, whom she adored beyond measure. Her Aunt Bee and Uncle Sunni, her precious cousins, and not least, her treasured friends, Frankie, Jaime, Rachel, Ash and Aaron, the core group of her heart.”

The words used by the minister were a lovingly touching tribute, yet Angel couldn’t have remembered any of them if you’d paid him all the money in the world as he sat there, replaying every memory he had of his darling over and over in his head, thinking how tiny her casket looked, for someone who was so full of energy and life. He still couldn’t quite reconcile that she was really lying in there.  

“She isn’t, man,” Aaron told him afterwards, Angel voicing that thought to him as they congregated outside. “That’s just her body. The Keri we know and love, she’s dancing around through the skies, seeing every last part of the world she said she was gonna see. She’s up in the stars, man, laughing, soaring. Free. Her body will join her when her ashes have been scattered, too.”

Meryl, David and Angel had all agreed that Keri would have hated to be put into the ground, all deciding to cremate her and scatter her ashes up in the mountains, so she would blow free into the wind, and travel wherever it took her.  

Angel smiled, giving him a big hug, thanking him for such words. “She loved the hell outta you, you know.”

“I know,” he croaked, taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes. “I was so damned lucky to call that little calamity my friend.”

Lucky. That’s exactly what Angel had been, he realised, moving away to stand by himself, lighting up a cigarette. He was still lost in the fog of grief, so painfully lonely, he barely slept at night without her there, but he knew in his heart that he’d been the luckiest to call her his for the too short a time he’d had her. If he could hold onto anything, it was that.  

In the months, and eventually years that followed, he was never quite the same, his loved ones all noted, those in Santo Padre and Utah, whom he had stayed in touch with. He’d welcomed other women into his life, but only at arm's length, never with any permanence, more a means to an end whenever his libido dictated to him that he should.  

It never felt the same, though, and with each one that passed through his life, it only made him long for the one he could never be with again all the more. In the end, there were no more women, not wanting for them. Not for anyone but her. He’d spray her perfume onto his pillow, try and fool himself that she hadn’t really gone, abandoned in waking and dreams by his soulmate, hoping that wherever her spirit soared, she was happier than him.

He was simply lost without her, stumbling through what he thought was a living hell. That was, until hell came calling for him, for all of them, from the brothers who grew tired of the Santo Padre charter, literally battering down their gates to wage war upon them. He and his brothers put up a valiant fight from the safety of the clubhouse, he and EZ manning guns at the windows, his brother yelling every so often for Sharise to take cover, who wanted so badly to try and assist.

She hid behind the end of the bar, watching her husband and Angel firing all they could, until their rounds of ammo ran out, the brother’s exchanging looks, both then ducking the hail of gunfire that hit the front of the clubhouse. Angel, however, didn’t get out of the way in time.

Sharise watched his body drop to the floor, screaming in horror as she crawled out from her hiding place, scrambling to reach him, her knees and hands scuffed upon the floorboards. None of that mattered as she removed her top, pressing it to the wound in his chest.  

“Angel, I got you. Stay with me,” she spoke, pressing down, turning to look at him with wide, urgent eyes. When she watched him cough out a mouthful of blood, just as EZ skidded to a halt and dropped to his knees at his side, she knew, looking down again to see a second hole, right above his heart. If it hadn’t been broken entirely two years before, the bullet that had entered his chest certainly finished the job off.  

“Angel, you’re gonna be fine,” EZ spoke, knowing he was saying the words so he’d believe them more than anything, his beloved elder brother lying there dying, spluttering again. More blood.  

“It’s... okay,” he croaked, a cold swirl chilling his bones, feeling it begin to pull at him. “Love you.” His eyes flitted to Sharise, the pain in his chest feeling like a weight of fire. “You too. Gonna go find...”

Sharise sobbed, nodding, grasping his hand as she bent to kiss his head, stroking his hair lovingly with her blood-soaked hand. “I love you, too. You go find her. It’s okay, you’ll be with her soon.” She looked over at EZ, sobbing chokingly as they both clung onto him, their tear-filled eyes the last things Angel saw before the pain burned to absolutely nothing, the vacuum of death yanking him away, the endless black void pulling him under, until there was nothing at all.

The nothingness swirled around him, Angel feeling as if he was falling, endless darkness swathing him, his consciousness muddled, messy, a sharp thought occurring to him; what if he didn’t deserve to follow where she had gone? His entire body suddenly jolted, a yank that took him downwards, descending, the nothing giving way suddenly.  

He could hear the ocean.

Opening his eyes, he squinted slightly, everything so bright. Brilliant white surrounded him, the smell of saltwater and fresh linen filling his nose.  

The white room. He’d made it.  

Turning onto his side, he reached beneath the covers, her warmth right there next to him, where he’d craved it to be in the two long, lonely years without her. He pulled at the comforter, his heart mending itself in an instant to see those pretty hazel eyes looking back at him, her beautiful smile making her entire face glow.  

She looked exactly as she had the first time he’d ever seen her.  

Finally, he’d found her again.

Reaching for his face, Keri moved into the warmth of his arms, kissing him softly. “What was the last thing I told you?”  

He beamed at her, the love he felt no longer a painful echo of loss. “That you loved me,” he stated, fingers entwining in her hair.

“And to look after yourself, and what do you go and do? Get shot and join me a mere two years later.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”  

He laughed softly through his nose, kissing her again. “I wasn’t alive in those two years, mi amor. Only existing without you.”  

She stroked his face, nuzzling him. “So, you missed me then?”

He held up a tiny gap between his thumb and forefinger, her laugh sparkling in his ears. “Just this much.”  

Replicating, she mouthed the words back to him before he pulled her against him, turning onto his back, holding her tightly as they kissed. Death no longer mattered, and neither did leaving everything else behind. They’d found one another again, as they were always destined to. Their souls could rest now, there in the white room.

Forever.  

The End.

[narcolini]

for brothers - 3.5

angel reyes x oc: tatiana ‘pidge’ clarke, 1797 words

an extension to the previous part of the series

for day 30 of whumpril: holding hands & ‘don’t let go’

a/n: is this the cheapest trick in the narrative book? yes. did i want any old excuse to get them to that ending? yes. what can i say!! more importantly, oh my fucking god, fic 30 of the month. i DID IT!!!!!!!! we did it!! whumpril done and dusted <3<3 thanku to the @whumpril​ for running the event!!!

tagging: @cositapreciosa​ @drabbles-mc​ @darqchilddaydreamz​

She’s in the middle of it before she even knows what’s happening. Gunfire, sirens. Smoke in the air like something’s been burning, something plastic, toxic. She doesn’t recognise the man beside her, just that he’s wearing a kutte, carrying the patches. He won’t stay still long enough for her to see any writing that matters, any identification that would help. The two of them are crouched behind a wall, of sorts, a folded sheet of metal that she can’t distinguish. Is it a car? The roof of one? Painted red with a strip of sun-bleached white down the middle.

‘Tati!’

It’s comes from the right of her, loud and desperate, shouted by someone she can’t see. Can’t look for, either, because the bullets are whizzing overhead still. Clipping the metal and leaving jagged tears in their wake. She shrinks into the cover, arms up around her head. If she stays still for long enough, then surely it’ll pass, surely, it’ll all pass. Whoever wants her can make their own way here. Duck under the gunfire, and join her behind the safety of their makeshift shelter.

‘You coming or not?’ The man beside her asks, still unrecognisable, still more shape and spirit than anything real. Even when she tries, she can’t make out the lines of his face. It’s blurred like a memory might be, lost beneath years and years of absence.

‘No, what?’ She’s panting, near crying, and trying to talk through the mix of both. ‘Come where?’

He runs before clarifying, out from behind their shelter, into the fire and the noise and the smoke.

‘Oh God.’ She sinks down again, leaving him to the chaos. ‘Oh, fuck.’ Her fingers digs into her eyes, willing it away. He’s dead, that’s for sure. If not now, then soon. There’s too much going on for anyone to dive in and out of that unscathed.

‘Tati,’ it’s her name again, closer and clearer now, ‘you can’t stay here.’

‘But where do I go? I can’t run.’ She can’t move at all, besides pawing at her face, covering her eyes and ears. ‘What the fuck is going on?’

It’s Angel, suddenly. Angel in front of her, from nowhere, saying her name over and over. Untouched and unmarred. Like they’ve plucked him straight from the shower and set him down in front of her, in the middle of all this shit. He’s shaking her by the arms, rings pressing into her skin tighter than they ever have before.

‘We gotta go, okay?’ he says, and he’s trying to pull her up already, indifferent to her resistance. ‘We gotta run.’

‘Run?’

‘I can carry you.’

‘You can’t carry me and run at the same time,’ she snaps.

He frowns deeply, like a caricature. ‘Do you want to die, or not, Tatiana?’

She’s definitely crying now, shaking as each whelp of fear slips out of her. There’s a car on fire, roaring to the left of her, up in flames before she’d even noticed it was there. She can feel the heat, smell the gasoline. How it started doesn’t matter, how any of this began is so far beyond mattering.

‘Where’s EZ?’ she asks, flinching as the glass of its windshield cracks into pieces.

‘He’s already gone,’ Angel answers, ‘we gotta follow him.’

‘You’re not making any fucking sense.’

He’s just making it worse. Confusing her more and putting fear in place of answers.

He takes her hand, gripping it tightly, before pulling her up to her feet like she weighs nothing. Like she doesn’t have feet and legs at all; one minute, she’s on the floor, and the next, she’s up and running with him. Moving fast enough that she can’t see anything besides the stretch of his shoulders and the tattoos down the back of his arm. There isn’t even a ground beneath them, she thinks, no sound of footsteps against the blacktop. Just movement, progress. Smoke-filled wind through her hair.

He looks back at her, eyes wide with panic. ‘Don’t let go, alright? You keep hold of that shit.’

She’s nodding, wild with it. Her fingers so tight around his own that it hurts. That she feels the bones crunching.

‘Where’s EZ?’ she asks again, because she still can’t see him. She still can’t recognise a single face they pass.

‘He’s gone.’

‘Gone where?’

Angel turns, questioning her with just a look, dark and searching and frantic. He can’t understand her. She can’t understand him. Nothing about this makes any fucking sense. He won’t tell her, he won’t pause to let her catch up. ‘Pidge, I—’

He gets shot. Right in the shoulder and twisting away from her with the force of it, his fingers tugged from her own as he falls. She goes with him, knees to the ground she still doesn’t feel the impact of, to pat manically at the hole in his chest. It’s bigger than a baseball, somehow. Bigger than any fucking bullet wound should be. Clean through him, no blood, no bones. It doesn’t make sense. She can see the grass on the other side of him. Feel his heartbeat still—maybe, softly—though he isn’t responding. He isn’t even looking. His eyes are shut like he’s sleeping, expression blank and slipping away from her.

This is too strange, she realises, too bizarre and impossible to be real. She isn’t really here. She can’t be. Angel is frozen in place, hole-punch in his shoulder, and no-one survives that. No-one dies like that either, clean of blood and agony.

This didn’t happen, she tells herself, this isn’t happening—

It was a dream. It was just a fucking dream, and she’s sweating all the same, heart racing like she was really running with him, hands held and desperate to stay so. Her face is even wet—because she’s been crying too, in real time, leaking tears subconsciously.

She sits upright, blinking a few times until the dark of Angel’s living room settles into recognisable shapes. The TV, the easy lounger, the paintings on the walls that were definitely already there when he moved in. None of it was real. No violence, no fear. No clean cut hole through her ex’s shoulder.

Great. Being here is no different than being at home.

She kicks her legs out, straightening the blankets again. Maybe this is punishment for rejecting Angel’s offer and insisting she took the couch, not the bed, as he’d wanted her too. It made more sense, he’s taller. She fits where he wouldn’t. But the couch cushions are clearly cursed, stuffed with bad juju that’s got her subconscious on high alert, dial cranked on the crazy scale.

God, she can’t take many more nights of this.

Her phone lights the room when she unlocks it to check the time. It’s only three thirty. That’s another five hours—at least—until Angel wakes up, or won’t mind being woken up; another five hours of nightmares alone, in the grip of this God forsaken couch. She won’t do it. She can’t, honestly. Her heart’s still racing, still pounding against her chest, blood rushing in her ear drums. If her eyes close again, here, she’ll be right back there, in the smoke. Thrown straight into the dream that makes no sense.

He’ll have to follow through with his offer, then. Late or not.

She pulls herself up, quiet as she can, socks to the floorboards. This will be the first time since the break up. First time in his bed, first time sharing it with him again, in the dark, the quiet. It only took a sort of brother in law’s near-death to make it happen. A week of bad sleep and hopeless determination to not be affected by it, and here she is, padding into his room in the pitch black of night. Leaving all images of EZ and her stupid fucking dreams, on the couch behind her.

The door’s open, of course. He’d walked himself in and collapsed onto the bed once she’d declared herself ready for sleep. Once she’d finished disturbing his nightly routine, and accepted that talking could only go so far. She can’t even tell if he’s undressed, or changed, or gone to sleep in the clothes he was wearing already. He’s just a lump on the bed, barely visibly in the sparse moonlight.

She crawls on from the left, because it has the most space, though really he’s stretched out in the centre of it. One arm over his head, across the pillow. Legs straight and out like a starfish. If she was any bigger, or taller, she wouldn’t fit. He’s too used to sleeping alone now, too used to having the whole spread to unwind on.

At least she’s brought the blanket she’d been using with her, so they don’t have to share that. She doesn’t have to fight with his legs to push her own under the covers.

He stirs, obviously, as soon as she’s got enough of her weight onto the bed to shift the mattress. It pours him toward her, his side to her back.

‘Don’t say anything,’ she orders, whispering it sharply. Harder than she needs to, honestly, but her ego is starting to wound pre-emptively. If he mocks her about this, or says anything at all, she might not be able to endure it. She wouldn’t even quip back in return, too embarrassed to slip into their usual routine.

He groans in response, eyes shut still as he mumbles, ‘Not even opened my mouth.’

‘I’m just saying.’ She settles, sinking into the pillow, his elbow brushing the top of her head. ‘I don’t wanna hear a damn word.’

‘Whatever, Pidge,’ he says, making no effort to enunciate or separate the words. It’s just noise, but she recognises it, her nickname in his half-asleep voice. He’s in no position to argue. Too tired to make any remarks about her crawling into his bed and curling up beside him. ‘Bad dream?’ he asks, tagging it onto the end of a yawn.

‘Too cold in the other room,’ she lies. ‘Go back to sleep.’

‘M’kay.’ He rolls after the humming agreement, putting his chest to the curve of her spine. ‘Night.’

Then he flops his arm over her waist, sleepy but intentional. A dead weight she can’t shift and feels no need to, really, though she might in any other circumstance. At least, she thinks she would, because that’s more than friendship, right? That’s more than the cards they’ve been dealt and agreed on. But if anything can keep the nightmares away, it’s that. Angel’s arm, warm and grounding, over the soft of her stomach.

She sighs. ‘Night, Angel.’

He doesn’t reply. He’s already asleep, blowing snores into the back of her neck.

[juicesgf]

Angel Reyes Masterlist!

* = smut

IMAGINES:

Coming soon..

Blurbs:

You Belong To Me. *

In another life?

The Prophecy

You’re not a burden.

The one where he lets you go.

[ravennaortiz]

Story #3 Angel/EZ

Summary: Part of the Three: The Magic Number Series. Reader x 2 of the Sons/Mayans. Purely smut. 18+

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the charged atmosphere or just the way your two best friends were looking at you. But you wanted both of them and you wanted them now.

You moved forward quickly and kissed Angel, your left hand finding EZ's chest. He looked surprised as you turned to him. He didn't protest when you pressed your lips to his.

Behind you Angel was already sliding off his leather and shirt. You pulled back from EZ, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust. When you found Angel's mouth again, you could hear EZ beginning to slip out of his clothes too. Angel's lips trailed down your neck as EZ slid the zipper of your dress down. His lips trailing down your spine behind it. Letting your dress puddle around your feet. Both men looked at you hungrily as you stood before them in only your heels.

 EZ pressed into your back, his teeth gently grazing your neck as his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs rolling overyour nipples. Angel claimed your mouth and then his lips trailed down your body. His hands sliding down your hips as he knelt in front of you. EZ steadied you as Angel drew one of your legs over his shoulder before his mouth slid to the apex of your thighs.

You threw your head back with a gasp as Angel's tongue found the spot that drove you wild. EZ tilted your chin and kissed you hard, swallowing the moan Angel drew from you. EZ tightened his arm around your waist as your legs trembled under Angel's ministrations. EZ's other hand massaged your breast and he pressed his hips into you letting you feel his erection pressed to your ass.

Between them, you was a writhing, whimpering mess. Angel sucked hard on your clit and you cried out as ecstasy overtook you. If EZ's arm hadn't been around your waist, you probably would have fallen. Your knees were still weak, unsteady as Angel kissed his way up your belly with a grin. When he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his lips.

"Couch." You managed to murmur between heated kisses.

You turned to face EZ, kissing him again before gently pushing him down onto the couch. You were trembling from pleasure and excitement as you climbed onto the couch on your hands and knees. Angel slid behind and into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You leaned forward and drew EZ into your mouth. His eyes rolled back and closed, hands sliding into your hair as you ran your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. Angel's hips found a rhythm that had you gasping for breath around EZ.

Soon Angel had you cumming again. You moaned loudly around EZ's cock. The vibration of your throat making him swear and buck his hips slightly. You swirled your tongue around him before taking him as deep as your throat would allow. His fingers fisted your hair tightly as he came in a hot rush down your throat. You swallowed him down and Angel's hips slowed as he moaned your name as he found his own release deep within you.

Return to Series MasterList

[garbinge]

Motion Sick

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pregnant. 

“Holy shit.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yea, baby’s first toy.” 

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Twenty Five.

Double update time today, besties! I kind of want to get the posting of this done with so I can have a break, also from noticing interest beginning to wane slightly. I totally get it, people are busy (I bloody know I am right now!) and we all have lives to lead outside of the fandom. But yeah, I guess that’s my fault in that it makes my insecurity rear its ugly head, making me question myself when I notice people quietening. I’m not seeking any empathy or anything like that, I’m just speaking from a place of honesty.

I know I need to improve, and I will. I’ll be taking a break from longer stories after this one to go away and do just that. @withmyteeth​ gave me some truly superb advice on where I needed to improve, so I’ve been taking that on board with writing. I’m feeling positive I’ll be able to come back better. 

Thanks to those of you who continue to engage, though. You’re very sweet and I appreciate you. You’re the ones I want to do better for, not just for myself! 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen  Twenty Twenty One  Twenty Two  Twenty Three  Twenty Four

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 2,380

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“What?”  

She truly hadn’t expected the decibels of his reply, especially not since he’d done so well in her being away for three months, but Keri’s revelation that she would only be home for eleven days before jetting off to Ireland for Luke’s sister’s wedding, well, it didn’t go down well with Angel. “You’ve only just got home!”

“Baby, I know, but it won’t be for long. Five days includes travel time,” she began, leaning back against the units in the kitchen. “I leave on Wednesday, Saoirse's wedding is on the Saturday, and I’ll be home the following Monday. It really isn’t a big thing.”

“But you only just arrived back, and now you want to go away again?”  

Oh, god. “I thought we’d dealt with this, Angel.” Her attempt to placate him was met with hostility, Angel throwing himself out of the chair at the kitchen table, stomping towards the door. “Come on, you’re being silly now. You always knew I’d travel with my work.”

“You’ll be with him again.”

Her brows furrowed. “Him?”  

“Yeah!” he yelled, pulling his phone out as he stuffed his feet into his boots. “This asshole!” Turning the screen of his phone, he showed her a picture she’d uploaded to her Instagram, a selfie she’d taken with Dolores, Roisin and Luke, three members of the band, Roisin and Luke kissing a cheek each, Dolores crouched beneath her chin, winking while bobbing her tongue out at the camera.

Keri couldn’t believe her ears. “You seriously have an issue with Luke? Roisin is kissing me, too, but you’re strangely quiet about her being an asshole! Then again, she doesn’t have a dick, does she?”

He was quiet then, reloading his retort, but Keri gave him no chance. His girlfriend was a mild-mannered sweetheart, but boy, if somebody put a match near her gas tank... Boom. Especially if they were casting aspersions. “Do you really think you have anything to worry about? Angel, we’re been together for eight months now, you know who I am. Do you really have me pegged as a cheater, or are you looking for an excuse to blow up just because you don’t want me going away again so soon?”

“I trust you, not him.”  

This wasn’t anything to do with Luke, and she knew it. This was his abandonment issue, rearing its ugly head, Keri realised, reaching for him. He pulled from her, though. “I gotta get to the yard.”

She shook her head in confusion. “You told me you had the day off?”

“Yeah? And you told me I mattered. Not enough for you to stick around long.” The slam of the door behind him vibrated the frame, Keri sighing, considering going after him. He likely needed to cool off, so she left it. In leaving it, though, she felt the agitation pouring through her veins, deciding to do something about it. Angel wasn’t a messy guy, but still, his house got the once over, everywhere smelling of polish, cleaning spray and fabric freshener once she was done, looking over at her suitcase.  

Clean clothes were a must.  

The laundromat was two blocks away from the weed shop, so with all of her dirty clothing items set on a hot wash, Keri trudged down in search of a friendly face, taking coffee and some doughnuts with her, too. She was greeted by all the warmth she needed, Sharise shrieking in surprise, rushing out behind the counter. She only just about had chance to place the items she carried down before receiving her beautiful friend in her arms, the girls embracing tightly.  

“I missed you so much!” she cried, holding Keri’s face in her hands, kissing her cheek.  

“I missed you too, lady,” she replied with warmth, rocking her in her arms, kissing her head as she pointed to the coffee and doughnuts. “Break time?”

“Let me just get these guys sorted and I’ll be right with you.” A half ounce of blueberry kush and an eighth of AK-47 later, and Sharise was free to join Keri in the back room, seating themselves in the former’s small office.  

“So, how is it being back?”  

Keri finished her mouthful of doughnut before replying. “I’m currently fighting the jetlag, still being on Australian time means my body thinks it should be asleep right now, but I’m doing what everyone says is best and just trying to keep busy, power through it. And it was going really well, until this morning when I revealed to Angel that I’m going over to Ireland again in eleven days' time to photograph a wedding. He blew up at me massively. I thought we’d gotten past that, with how well he’d handled it while I was away in Australia.”

She went on to detail the ins and outs of their argument, Sharise listening intently before weighing in. She knew she had to walk a fine line, what with Angel being her family but Keri also becoming a close friend. A little confliction rooted within her, but sipping her coffee, she chose honesty in the end. “Listen, he did handle it well, I was proud of him, but his sheen wasn’t quite as bright without you here. He missed you, he’s so in love with you and all he could do was count down the days until you came back to him.  

“However, that doesn’t mean he was right to explode at you, or accuse that Luke guy of anything nefarious, but like you say, he only likely did it to try and legitimise his abandonment issues, and not want to bring it back to those again. I think you did the right thing in letting him go cool off, because he’ll know he’s been an ass, but he won’t want to immediately admit to that. You’re right, too. You can’t put your life on hold for his comfort levels, so he’s gotta deal with it.”

Keri nodded, slumping in her seat a little. “I thought he already had, and that’s what kicks me in the guts most about it. He doesn’t need to feel so threatened by me not being around. I wish he’d settle and realise that just because there’ll be times when I’m physically far, my heart is always with him.”

“See, that’s the thing with Angel. He isn’t used to having a girlfriend with that kind of lifestyle. I mean, if he and Lucy had gone the distance, it would have been the same. She’ll likely have to do book tours once her cookbook comes out, she’s very ambitious just like you are, but for Angel, he almost can’t separate that. I think it’s because his own life has been so firmly rooted in Santo Padre. He likes the idea of having someone who’s always there for him, and the idea of them not being so frightens him, brings up everything about his mom’s death,” she explained, Keri nodding deeply.

“I know, and I do feel bad now for yelling at him. Underneath the veneer of big, bad outlaw wolf, he’s a little wounded cub, and I want to make that better for him, but he has to help himself, too. He can’t just explode and think I’ll change my mind because he’s being difficult. I won’t. I love him, he’s the absolute love of my life, but I won’t put that life on hold just to make him feel more secure.”  

It was a tough situation to be in and Sharise sympathised, advising that she should at least try and talk to him again once he returned home later, but that ultimately, she was right. It was Angel’s issue to deal with, not hers. After Keri left to go and pile her laundry into the dryer, Sharise quietly thought to herself that her brother-in-law truly did need to sort out his mess there, because Keri wasn’t the kind of girl who would placate him forever if he continually threw distrust at her, no matter how much she loved him.  

While Keri was sitting at the laundromat awaiting her clothes to dry, she sat and contemplated much the same, a realisation hitting her. This truly was the obelisk, but god, how she hoped it wouldn’t be a fatal disagreement. The saddest part was, though, that she realised only too clearly if Angel couldn’t get his head straight with the idea of her being away from him, it likely would be. She couldn’t handle it, him berating her because of his own insecurity, especially if he was only prepared to overcome it for short periods, before reverting once more to entertaining what her being away stirred within him.

It filled her with nothing but dread, knowing that if this continued, she would have no choice but to walk away from him. It was a bitter pill to swallow, for she loved him with her entire heart, but she saw no choice if he didn’t want to get better, or let in room for healthy growth where his insecurities were concerned.  

Tears prickled her eyes, Keri wiping them quickly, not wanting to draw attention to herself at the instant heartbreak that trying to imagine a life without Angel in it had stirred, reaching for her phone, seriously contemplating for a few moments whether she should contact Luke and tell him she couldn’t make it. She stopped, though, realising that if she did, Angel would know that an outburst would be all it took in the future in order for her to toe the line for the sake of his comfort.  

No matter how much she loved him and wanted to ease his insecurity, she couldn’t do that.  

She wouldn’t do that.  

He was a grown man of thirty-six, her a young woman of twenty-three. He needed to be the one who did better, without her placating him. After her clothes were dry, she loaded up the huge IKEA bag she’d bundled them into, heading home and ironing everything, placing them away in the wardrobe and drawers before fixing herself a late lunch. As much as she tried to stay awake, putting on a Netflix documentary she’d been waiting to have the time to sit down and enjoy in full, she ended up asleep on the sofa, not waking until 9pm.  

Angel still wasn’t home.  

Calling him, the phone rang out, so she sent him a message, asking when he’d be home. By eleven thirty, she could see he’d read it, but hadn’t replied. She tried calling again, the call being cut dead this time after three rings. So, he knew very well she wanted to talk to him, but this was how he was going to deal with it.  

‘Angel, please come home, or call me. We need to talk about this. Love you xx’ The message was read within minutes, but by 1am, he still had neither returned to her or replied.

“Well, this is on you if you’re choosing to behave this way.” The next thing she did was to call up her browser and book a ticket to Utah for the following day. If he wasn’t going to even try with her, then she’d just leave him to it for a while, go and spend some time with the people who she’d missed just as much as she had him, give him time to figure it all out. She didn’t want to spend any further time away, but the fact that she lay alone in bed all night without him returning didn’t give her a lot of options.  

It was 6am when he finally returned, looking worse for wear, his eyes violet with tiredness, his face sour. Especially when he saw her suitcase packed again by the front door. Hurt flashed his eyes as he turned to view her sitting on the couch while he pointed at the luggage. “Where you going?”

“Home,” she replied simply. “If your idea of us fixing this issue is to ignore me and stay out all night, then I’m not gonna stick around to be treated like that. You obviously want some time away from me, Angel, so I’m going to give you that. I don’t want to, I’ve missed you so much and all I want is for us to talk about this, but I think you’ve made your feelings clear there.”

His face darkened, sliding his kutte off and hanging it up, shrugging. “Fine.” The word slipped from his mouth like a biting frost, glaring at her before he walked to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. She could have cried, but she didn’t, following him into the bedroom to retrieve her bag and cell. “Keri just fucking leave me alone.”

“So that’s it, huh? From your perspective, this is how you want to leave things between us?”

He turned to her, his glare fixed in place. “You’re the one doing the leaving.”  

She was staunch in her reply, sighing, closing her eyes tightly for a moment in an attempt to gather herself. “And you’re the one giving me no choice by refusing to talk about it. Angel, I love you so much, but I’m not going to put my life on hold just to make you feel comfortable. You’re a grown man. You really, really need to resolve this within yourself. Me leaving you isn’t me abandoning you. I’m always coming back, because you’re worth coming back to. Because I want to come back to you. If you can’t figure that out or accept it, then I don’t know where we go from here.”

“Apparently you go home.”

“Yeah,” she scoffed bitterly. “Apparently I do.”  

Picking up her bag and cell, she left, her flight not due to depart for three hours, feeling like she had no choice but to leave early. She didn’t want to, every fibre and bone of her being wanted to go and cuddle up to him for an hour before she had to leave, but she couldn’t. He didn’t want her to, much preferring to stew in his own ridiculous handling of the situation.  

The tears she’d successfully managed to hold onto in the house came as soon as she pulled off and drove down the street, wondering truly if that was it for them.  

She hoped to god that it wasn’t.

[narcolini]

kiss and tell

angel reyes x gn!olvidado reader, 2369 words

for day 25 of whumpril: ‘we’re being watched’

a/n: this is in a world where adelita and angel never had a thing, because why not, AND who doesn’t love a fake date trope! muah (also love u élise, mi jefa)

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas​

You shouldn’t be here. You really shouldn’t be here. Of all your dubious moral mistakes, this might just be the worst one, right? Going behind Adelita’s back, to talk to a Mayan, of all people, who’s working with Galindo? Yeah, you’ve fucked it. You’ve really missed the mark with this one.

He isn’t even a close friend, really. A friend of a friend of a friend. Someone you bickered with in high school, an Angel totally undeserving of the name. Payaso copied your answers in more exams than you can count, and now he’s after them again, begging you for info you know you shouldn’t give. Well, you assume so. The text he’d sent hadn’t been specific, but what else could he want? 

You haven’t spoken to him in years, but, fuck, you’re here, aren’t you? You agreed to his suggestion and let him pick the meeting place. You’re walking toward him now, like you couldn’t be any fucking happier to ruin your shit, any more willing to disrupt what Los Olvidados have been organising for months. God, if anyone knew about this. If Adelita knew about this.

It isn’t worth imagining. Besides, you might not tell him anything at all, right? He might ask you for something you know nothing about. There’s still a chance of that, still time for fate to stand by your side.

Angel’s leaning against the tree closest to the park’s entrance, one tall beanpole in the sea of kids and moms pushing empty prams. He doesn’t blend in by any means. He didn’t even bother to take his kutte off.

‘Hey.’ He nods as you approach, only clocking you once you’re within talking distance anyway.

‘You wanna be any more obvious, man?’ you snap over him, looking past him, then over your shoulder. ‘May as well have brought the rest of your stupid club with you.’

‘Wow, relax.’ He looks like he wants to laugh. ‘Is it that serious? S’not like you got rules against socialising and shit.’

He’s wrong, of course, because that’s exactly what you do have. Especially when it comes to socialising with Galindo affiliated groups. ‘Can we move, please?’ you ask, ignoring the remark. ‘Away from the fucking Mom’s club.’

Then he does laugh, face crumpling like you’re certifiably insane, but he does stand straight from the tree he’s on. ‘You wanna walk?’

‘Sure.’ That’s better than this, at least. You watch him shove his hands into his pocket, before gesturing with his elbow for you to lead the way. Which you do, begrudgingly, traipsing further into the park with him beside you.

‘I can’t talk for long,’ you tell him, flicking him a look. Then it’s back behind you, over your shoulder, and to the right over the grass.

‘Damn,’ he’s watching you scan the surroundings, ‘you’re way less fun than you used to be.’

‘I didn't realise we ever had fun, Angel.’

He scoffs. ‘Really? Thought we were cool.’ He throws you a smile. ‘Homies.’

‘You stuck gum to my backpack and cheated off me relentlessly,’ you answer, not bitter, but bored instead. ‘Might’ve been fun for you, but.’

‘Okay,’ he laughs, ‘so I was a shitty kid. You really gonna hold that against me?’

‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ You pass a woman jogging, flashing her a smile just to see if she’ll return it—she does. ‘Would’ve blocked your number if I was holding it against you.’

He sucks a breath in, like he’s scratched his knee or some shit, wincing with it. ‘The fuck are they feeding you at those camps? Los Olvidados got a rule about being friendly now?’

‘Yeah,’ you nod, and you hate that you’re almost laughing with it, ‘that’s actually the whole thing, dumbass. We’re not trying to make friends.’

So why are you here then? Walking through a park, birds chirping like a fucking Disney movie, with Angel of all people. You were supposed to be making this quick. You shove your hands in your pockets like he has, pulling your hoody closed over your torso. No more chitchat.

‘So,’ you say, ‘can we get to the part where you beg me for information?’

You aren’t looking at him still, but flitting around again. There’s a dude on the bench you’re walking by, reading the newspaper. He doesn’t pay any attention to either of you. Doesn’t look up as Angel’s boot throws a stone in his direction.

‘Information? Nah.’ Angel shakes his head, the movement catching in your periphery. ‘You think that’s what I’m here for?’

You shrug. ‘Well, yeah. What else would you want?’

You’re on opposite sides, really. Hired hands or not, the Mayans are working for the man you and the rest of the group have fucked over, multiple times now. All you can offer him is information he shouldn’t have. Not that you will, of course, not that you will. But you at least want to hear what he’s dumb enough to ask for.

He’s slowed to a stop, for some reason. His brows are pinched together as he looks at you. ‘Y’know, I almost feel like saying fuck it and leaving you here.’

You turn, in front of him now, and shrug again. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘I’m here to help your ass not, fucking, beg you for information.’ He looks offended, actually. Genuinely offended. ‘I mean, come on, you really think I’m that stupid?’

Maybe, but you aren’t about to admit that to him. ‘Sorry,’ you stumble, ‘I don’t know. Guess I figured you had some allegiance to the dude paying you.’

He snorts. ‘Yeah, that’s not how this shit works.’

‘Okay,’ you prompt, ‘then what is it? Why am I here?’

For the first time, he chances a look behind like he does actually care, like he’s as nervous about this as you are. Well, almost. ‘Thought you guys might want to know Galindo’s planning to go ahead with another shipment,’ he says.

‘Oh.’ Your brows go up. ‘Damn. Fuck, that’s useful.’

‘Yeah,’ his voice goes thick with sarcasm, ‘I figured.’

Your gaze slips past him, looking for the man with the newspaper again. Only, he’s not there now, and has been replaced by another man, sitting with his arm over the back of the bench. He’s slouching, knees wide. Dressed in nothing but jeans and a garish shirt—which is weird, because it’s a cloudy day. Cold enough that you and Angel are both wearing two layers at least.

‘But why?’ You flick back to Angel. ‘Like, why help us?’

There’s something familiar about the man, about his very fucking familiar face. You can’t shake it. You can’t even focus on what Angel’s given you, the opportunity of another shipment to disrupt.

Angel sighs, oblivious to the mental file-o-fax you’re pawing through. ‘I know you think I’m a dick,’ he says, ‘but I do actually, y’know, care. About this shit.’ He gestures between the two of you. ‘The rebel shit, I’m with it.’ He pauses, you still aren’t paying attention. ‘And I fucking hate Galindo,’ he adds, souring. ‘Uptight fuck.’

You look back to the bench. He’s scanning the park now, in a very non-casual, casual way. Like you were—like you are. He skims past you quickly, pretending he hasn’t just made fleeting eye contact with you, and then it clicks. Finally. Fuck. It’s not just some dude, it’s Tiago, one of the many meatheads in Galindo’s cartel. You’ve seen his face a million times, in black and white, pinned to the boards at camp. You recognise it now, because it’s obvious. Scar through his eyebrow, thick moustache, ugly fucking shirts.

He isn’t relaxing in the park, enjoying the breeze, he’s waiting for you, watching. He’s holding out on you spilling secrets you shouldn’t—or maybe it’s not that at all. Maybe he’s watching Angel instead, keeping track of Galindo’s assets. They’re trying to avoid another incident like the last, looking for the leak in the in the seal, the rat amongst the dogs. And Angel’s clueless to it, standing and waiting for your reply. His face clear as day for Tiago to watch.

‘Kiss me,’ you say, blurting it as quickly as you can.

‘Wha—why?’ Angel frowns, lips pulling down at the corners. ‘Kiss you?’

‘We’re being watched.’ You step forward. ‘Kiss me.’

He’s taking too long to process it. You can feel Tiago staring now, attempting to read your lips. The longer Angel stands there looking lost, the longer Tiago has to profile you, to paint you as a notable figure. To pin blame to the badges on Angel’s kutte.

You pull him in by the back of his neck, before any more damage can be done. Hide his face with your own, make this look like a date, a walk in the park between one Mayan and his crush. He doesn’t kiss you back, of course, it’s stationary lips against stationary lips. Is it convincing? You’ve no idea. You can’t pull back to check yet, not without making it look suspicious and desperately false.

He says your name, or tries to, against your mouth. When you don’t break away to let him say it properly, there’s a moment of pause, just a breath, and then he’s kissing you like he means it. His hands come up to your waist, his lips part. You turn, pulling him with you, until you’re angled away from Tiago, Angel’s back a firm wall in his vision. He’s either cottoned on, at last, and is trying to make this look like a real thing to avoid suspicion, or his testosterone has kicked in and accepted a kiss for a kiss. His body reacting the way it normally would.

For a second you enjoy it. But that’s beside the point.

‘Okay,’ you pull back, hands to his chest, and look over his shoulder, ‘I think that…’

Tiago’s turned away again, scrubbing a hand over his moustache and looking as awkward as anyone would after watching two people kiss.

‘The fuck was that about?’ Angel asks, out of breath but unable to shift the smugness from his face. ‘Who’s watching us?’

‘Fucking Galindo,’ you mutter, ignoring the slight thrum in your chest.

‘He’s here?’ He attempts to look behind, but you catch him before he can, hand to his cheek.

‘Don’t fucking do that.’ You drop it again, fidgeting back behind the shape of him. ‘You can’t look, but it’s Tiago.’

His brows flex together; he’s wondering how you know who he is, how you’re using the guy’s first name like you’re familiar, but now isn’t the time to go into it. Really, you know more about Galindo’s crew than he ever will. There’s no cap on information for you, it’s find out all you can, everything you can. For him, it’s only what Galindo allows them to know. The bare minimum to get them to do what he needs.

‘He probably thinks you’re the rat,’ you say, continuing when he laughs, an I am the rat, expression on his face. ‘It’s better he thinks this is a date. For you, I mean.’

The smirk isn’t shifting. He’s staring down at you like you’ve actually asked him out. ‘So you’re helping me now?’ he says. ‘Saving my ass from Galindo?’

‘Yes,’ you snap, ‘and the desire to keep doing it is running thin.’

‘Alright, God.’ Still smiling. He’s still smiling. ‘Tell me what to do then, Olvidado.’

You have half the mind to leave, abandon him like that kiss was the farewell, and let Tiago track him alone. Follow his stupid bike around town until he finds some other way to incriminate him. But you need him, actually. You genuinely fucking need him and what he has to say. Another shipment would give you another chance to dent Galindo’s organisation, to strip more money, and more power, from him, in the most frustrating way possible. It’s an opportunity too good to miss.

‘You see that café ?’ you ask, knowing it’s in his eye-line, over your head. ‘We’re gonna go there, like we’re on a nice fucking date, and you’re gonna tell me what you came to tell me.’

‘Alright.’

‘So,’ you gesture toward him, ‘make it look like you actually like me, or something.’

He rolls his eyes, head tilting with it, and you almost reach to snap it back down again, but then he gets it together. He takes your hand, the right one, bringing it up as he steps around to lay the same arm over your shoulder. It’s more than he needed to do, putting you by his side, with your joined hands sitting against your collarbone, but you can hardly complain about it now. Tiago could be watching still—you look, eyes over Angel’s forearm—he is still watching. Leaning forward on his knees now, like he’s deciding whether to follow or not.

‘You’re gonna have to be careful,’ you say, facing front again. ‘They clearly suspect you.’

He shakes his head. ‘Flaco’s paranoid, probably thinks all of us are out here spilling his secrets.’

‘Fine, be like that. But it’ll get you fucking killed, Angel.’

‘Says the rebel trying to take him down.’

He has you there, but the difference is Galindo, Tiago, doesn’t know you yet. Doesn’t even realise that you’re anyone worth knowing. Thankfully, hopefully, your quick thinking has planted ‘love interest’ across your face, and ‘dead end’ over Angel’s. There’s nothing innately suspicious about two people going for coffee, no matter how Tiago swings it.

‘Let’s just get this over with,’ you tell him, increasing your speed and pulling Angel along with you. ‘Before one of us ends up in the gutter.’

Angel laughs, nodding.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ he shrugs over you, ‘just that this is the weirdest fucking date of my life.’

‘It’s not a date.’

‘Fake date,’ he corrects. ‘Weirdest fake date of my life.’

‘And last one, too,’ you add, because if he ever texts you to meet up again, you’ll be leaving him on read. Information or not, it isn’t worth the hassle, he isn’t worth the hassle. You’d rather struggle to gather information for yourself, than go down with the Angel Reyes, traitor to Galindo, disaster of a ship.

[starrynite7114]

Hello lovelies!

Hope you are all doing well!

It’s been quite a while since I’ve been here. I check the blog every once in a while. I think I’ve said this before but I do plan on finishing the stories I have up, hopefully. I’ve been on a writer’s funk and I haven’t really been writing. Life is also crazy.

Would you all be interested on seeing updates for Roommates? Always you? snapshots?

Let me know!

☺️☺️☺️☺️

[drabbles-mc]

shit I accidently put this same thing in submissions my bad LMAO but what would Angel be like after a long run for the cartel?

Hope you don't mind me doing this as a bulleted hc list. Also it's soft and sappy because of who I am as a person. 💖

He's exhausted. The kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones.

Because even when a long run goes smoothly, it's still nothing but nonstop movement and stress. He doesn't get the chance to think about it or be tired while it's happening, but the second he gets back home, it all slams into him at once like a cruel freight train.

But he still reaches out. Sometimes it's a call, sometimes it's a text, it just depends on how much he's got left in him by the time he kicks off his boots and shrugs off his kutte.

Regardless of the hour, he knows that you'll show up sooner rather than later. That kind of consistency is the type of thing that ensures that he is always going to make it home. He's always going to make sure that he gets to see you again.

It's about a 50/50 split, whether or not he's still awake by the time you make it through the front door. It doesn't bother you either way, just glad to have him home.

He's always still in his jeans. Why he wouldn't change into a more comfortable pair of pants at the same time he ditches his shirt, you have no idea. Sometimes he's in his jeans and grabbing himself a beer from the fridge, other times he's sprawled out on his stomach across the entirety of the bed completely passed out.

He doesn't really feel like he's back home again until he feels your lips against his skin. It's one of the only things that can wake him up, even if it's just for a moment. A kiss pressed to his back, his cheek, his shoulder, doesn't matter. The small greeting relieves the last of the tension that his body holds.

If he's not asleep when you get there, it doesn't take long for it to happen once you are. It's not that he's not happy to see you, but it's impossible to feel anything but calm in your presence after spending so long on the road away from you.

He lets you play with his hair and his beard, too tired to fight you on it and really just thankful that he can feel you touching him again. He'll mumble out a couple slick, flirty comments, but he's always passed out before he can do anything about them, and it never fails to make you laugh.

The first night back is always quiet, just spent catching up on rest and feeling close to you. He never talks much regardless of whether the run went well or not. You don't talk much either, knowing there would be plenty of time to fill each other in on what's been going on for both of you. It's just about quiet, and calm, and closeness, and it works perfectly for both of you.

The next morning is more of the same, not a whole lot of talking from either one of you. Angel sleeps like shit when he's on a run, so the first night back in his own bed is a kind of rest that is unmatched. You don't always like admitting it, but you don't sleep all that well when he's gone either, so it's a reprieve for the both of you.

Morning is all about ignoring whatever responsibilities the world tries to put on him. His phone is shut off, and so is yours. He keeps the curtains drawn, only a sliver of light sneaking in over the top. It's all slow, lazy touches and long, soft kisses, reveling in the feeling of waking up next to you again.

The few days following him getting home from a run are just about trying to decompress. He's thankful to be able to get right back into the routine of being home, being with you, but it still takes a couple days for him to fully adjust to being back again.

The shift is gradual but noticeable. He starts talking more, asking more questions. His humor comes back and he falls back into the second-nature flirty and handsy behavior that you've come to know and adore from him. The exhaustion fades, and at the end of it all you're still there with him, which is all he ever really needs anyway.

[ravennaortiz]

❄️Christmas series 💬 Request 💋Smut 💜Fluff 🌵 Angst

Revenge 🌵 Angel and EZ seek vengeance on Happy.

Secret Santa ❄️💜

Naughty List ❄️💋

Sledding ❄️💜

Snowball ❄️💜

Will you let me take you out? 💬💜

Pretend

[valentinomonsieur]

Unusual Encounters Pt. 3!

"This is why I don't socialize."

Summary. Valentino and Angel wake up hungover, tired and sore from the party last night, Valentino shares some new information.

Words: 2333

Enjoy!

I woke up to the sound of the TV playing in the background, and someone moving dishes around in the kitchen. I slowly opened my eyes, adjusting to the brightness of the lights.

"Angel?" I questioned, still half asleep.

"Look who's finally awake. You sure are a lightweight huh?" I laughed at this statement. I moved my hair out of my face, gathering my bearings and sitting up.

I could smell food cooking, and the window was opened from what I could see. I got up, heading over to the kitchen to help him wash dishes.

"You know, in Ukraine you can drink as soon as you can reach the bar." His eyes widened. "So no, I wouldn't consider myself a lightweight by any means." I snickered at his expression, grabbing a dish and scrubbing it. He looked confused now.

"Yo, I can clean my own kitchen thanks." He stated, flipping the eggs he had cooking and taking a sip of his water.

"Oh I know, but it doesn't really look like this place has been cleaned in a while. Plus, I know the whole biker thing cancels it out, but I like helping certain people." I said, putting emphasis on the word certain. "Then why help me?" he asked, a glint in his eyes I couldn't quite place.

"because you're my friend, plus, a Mayan just like myself." I grumbled, trying to shake the bit of drowsiness still left in my body.

He was talking, but, I wasn't listening. I was looking around his house. There were scattered alcohol bottles, a dirty carpet, and it reeked like rotten food. He was still talking, but I just dropped my dish back into the sink with a clank, grabbed a plastic garbage back out from under his sink and went over to pick up the many glass bottles scattered on almost every solid surface in the house.

"And like I sai- wh-..... what the fuck Hawk?" He gave me an irritated stare.

"Don't look at me like this place doesn't smell sour." I snapped, giving him a look like he had the audacity here. "I'm willing to help if you're up to it."

He thought about it for a second, then without saying anything, grabbed a trash bag and started picking stuff up. I clicked on a speaker and started playing some music.

Eventually we got into a rhythm, I'd clean up the empty bottles and leave the ones that still had alcohol in them to him to put back on a shelf. After a few hours of dusting, vacuuming, scrubbing, etc. His house was clean. And better yet, it smelled clean.

My phone rang.

It was Bishop. My heart dropped a bit, I was enjoying spending time with Angel. "Who's that? He asked. I put my finger over my lips and answered.

"Hey uncle, whatcha' need?" I asked, Angel gave me a quiet "ohhhhh," and listened in.

"Hey, I need you and Angel to come to the clubhouse. An emergency cartel shipment was just ordered by Galindo. Sorry to trouble you while you're moving in, but its urgent. We need all the men we can get. It's a shipment of 20 keys, so it's pretty risky. Get here fast."

"Okay, Love you."

"Love ya too, bye."

And he hung up.

"Shit." Angel muttered, we both put our Kuttes on, not having time to change. I followed him out to the clubhouse, still not knowing the way very well. A bunch of thoughts went through my head. How is this gonna play out? What if Angel gets hurt-? Wait. Why do I care if he gets hurt so much?

Shit.

Before I could answer my own questions, we were already pulling into the scrapyard. Bishop walked out as we parked.

"Emergency Templo. Now."

(A/N: sorry in advance for the amount of dialogue about to happen 😭)

Me and Angel glanced at each other. We went inside without a word, and the other guys were already at the table. I took a seat next to Angel under Bishop's orders, and so began my first Templo.

"So, the keys aren't the problem." Bishop started. "We have the keys we need. The problem, is that our last shipment got ambushed and we're shit outta luck with help from Galindo to get our heroin over the border. Don't suggest the underground tunnels, there's way too much to ship it that way. But chances are, we'll get ambushed again when trying to drive them to the location. Any ideas?"

"Fight back." I mumbled.

"The fuck did you just say?" Bishop demanded.

"I said, fight back. If this ambush is so unavoidable and we have no other options, then I think the answer is pretty simple. Prepare for the ambush, and come back at them with double the power. It's a risk, but it's not like we have a lot of options here."

Atlas, who sits directly across from me, cut a glance in my direction, then back to Bishop. I could tell he didn't expect me to do something like that.

Bishop paused. He looked like he was staring into my soul honestly. But I stood my ground. I mean, what the fuck else did we have to do? Not give him a shipment?

"..anything anyone wants to add?" Bishop finally asked.

Silence.

"Then it passes. We'll fight back against the ambush if it happens. If anyone gets hurt, I'm blaming you Hawk." He sternly nodded in my direction, I nodded back. "Fair enough."

He smacked his gavel down, and everyone got up.

"Damn Hawk, you for really went for it?" Atlas materialized beside me.

"You came out of nowhere- but yeah, is that a bad thing?" I asked, a bit worried if that was bad manners in America or something.

"Nah, but it shows you got some major balls." He laughed, so did Angel who was on my other side. I gave a nervous laugh, looking over and seeing nails scoping me out. Yep, the same girl I pulled off blondie. She looked at me, marched towards me, and slapped me. Ouch.

All of the guys went silent.

"Why are some of the girls in here telling me that you think I'm disgusting because I'm Taza's girl." God, this girl was seething.

Taza cut me a glance, shook my head.

Atlas was about to open his mouth to defend me, but I put my hand out over his chest. "This isn't your problem Atlas." he looked at me, examining my face. he then put his hands up and backed off. My attention turned back to Nails.

"Taza's practically my uncle, ese. Plus I was helping Angel clean his house all morning. Why and how would I have said that"

Then I saw her.

The same blonde bitch that was fighting Nails, watching the whole thing while drinking a beer.

"You. Blondie. Get the fuck over here." I demanded, she brought her drink with her and took her sweet ass time walking over.

"What do you want now?" She asked me. A fake innocence in her voice.

"Don't be fucking dumb, we all know you started this rumor because you're too pussy to say it about Angel and you don't know me." I laughed, taking her drink out of her hand and setting it on the table. "Get the fuck out of this clubhouse, you aren't even someone's girl." My thick Russian-Spanish accent popped out more than usual. The guys looked at Bishop, and he nodded.

She left, but not before taking the two drops left in her drink and trying to throw it at me.

The guys were laughing at something, then I just look to my right and see Atlas eyeing me like I was fucking crazy.

"What..?" I asked, he genuinely looked like he saw me grow a third eye.

"Nothing, I just thought you wasn't gonna react like that-" he started. "I for real thought you were- let me stop before I get hit."

I looked at him weird, but I didn't pay any mind to it. I'm kind of odd, and by my accent you can tell I'm foreign. So, a lot of people expect me to be quieter. They're dead wrong.

Bishop checked his watch. "We have 2 hours until we have to get this run done. Its 4pm right now."

All of the guys nodded, I went and sat down at one of the leather barstools. Nails strutted over to me. She sat down opposite to me, watching Taza and Coco play a pool game behind my left shoulder. Eventually she focused in on me, a look of sincerity in her eyes.

"Hey, sorry I slapped you. I just get heated when people talk about me like I'm a common whore. I really like Taza, so being treated like I'm one of these casual cumsluts pisses me off; Luckily the guys got that, but since you're knew I wasn't really surprised. My bad." She held out a hand, and I pulled her into a quick hug.

"Don't worry about it Querida; I would have reacted the same way." I was genuine when I said that, shit happens. I put my hand over hers, trying to be nice.

"You two want drinks?" Ez asked behind the bar. I grabbed my card out of my wallet and tapped it on the wooden table. He took it, going behind him and getting two shots ready for us.

Nails looked at me with a slight confusion. "By the way, where's your accent from? I know you jumper charters from somewhere outside of America but that's all I know."

Ez came out with the shots, setting them in front of us. We both grabbed one, clinked them together and threw them back.

"My accent is from two places. I was born in Ukraine and lived there for 19 years. Eventually I moved to Mexico because I couldn't see myself staying in Ukraine without any family. I patched in about 5 months into prospecting because I killed in battle, so I lived in Yucatán for 8 years until I moved here. Plus, the reason I'm around Atlas so much is because he was my sponsor when I was prospecting in Yucatan. Here I have more family and I can cross the border any time I like to see my family that's closer to the border, like in Mexicali or some shit. So, my accent is kind of weird."

"You lived in Yucatán?" I heard Angel say behind me. "I've heard it's beaches are really cool, what's it like?" He asked, I could almost laugh at how socially unaware this guy is.

"Yeah, they don't lie. The only thing annoying about it is shitty tourists acting like you're stupid. I LOVED fucking with the tourists."

Over the next two hours, I started talking with Nails and Angel about both of my old countries I lived in, the family, the club, the people, etc. Along with the occasional interruptions from Atlas talking about how different I was. Eventually we had to call a quits because we had to do this damn cartel run.

,"Alright everybody! On your bikes! Taza yelled, everyone got up, stopped whatever they were doing and filed out of the clubhouse. We still had to pick up the keys, but once we did that, the plan was ready. And the mess ups would be on my hands.

Mine.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Twenty One.

Huge thanks to everyone for their continued support :)

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen  Twenty

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 3,294 

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Hello, Keri, my love! I am so sorry, a thousand apologies for calling you on a Saturday morning when I know you’ve likely been out last night getting very, very drunk!”

Those warm tones of a mostly Indian accent, punctuated every so often with little American twangs, were the last she expected to hear at 10am that morning, getting out of bed and heading into the bathroom so as not to wake Angel.  

“Uncle Sunni!” she gushed excitedly, softly clicking the door shut and closing the toilet lid to take a seat.

“The one and only!” he chirped, Keri grinning widely. She swore, for every year that she’d known him, his accent had gotten stronger for returning to his parent’s homeland. “How are you, darling?”

“I’m really good! How are you and aunt Bee? And my cousins?”  

“We are all very well, thank you for asking. Saanvi has decided she is a Miley Cyrus girl now, so this is all we have playing in the house, Sita is doing well with her dance classes, and Sanjay is awful. Please come and take him away!” His joke about their youngest had her in soft fits, Sunni continuing. “Listen, I was calling to get a hold of my brother-in-law, is he around? I cannot get through to his cell, your mother’s neither,” he spoke, hoping that all was okay with the family.  

“Well, mom is in at work today doing some overtime, and I think David might be working on his truck. I don’t know, I’m not at home right now,” she revealed, finger combing her messy hair.  

“Ahh, I shall keep trying him, then. He is probably listening to that bloody god-awful Rainbow music. Since you’ve been gone? Since I wish you would go, more like!” he exclaimed, snorting with laughter.  

“That’s a classic!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, classic nothing!” Sunni yelled, his volume making her laugh. He always got louder by about twenty decibels whenever excited or trying to make a point. “That and his Boomtown Rats! I don’t like Monday’s? Nobody does, Bob Geldof! Bloody sit down and be quiet!”

She sat there in hysterics at his usual comic observations. Sunni was one of very few people who could legitimately make her cry laugh, her sides hurting. Usually from the hilarious banter he and Bee got into together, or the berating of her stepdad’s taste in music.  

“So where are you, then? You say you’re not at home, are you in work? Did I disturb? I am sorry if I’m getting you into trouble,” he then asked, courteous as always.  

“No, I quit my job recently. I needed more time at the weekends, plus with leaving college approaching and not wanting to have anything to tie me down so I can travel a little, I needed to do it soon anyway,” she began in explanation. “I’m at a hotel right now, my boyfriend is up visiting from Southern Cali.”

The noise of interest Sunni made had her in fits once more. “Oh! There is a new boyfriend on the scene! Have you been with him for long? Would I approve? What is he like?” She sat and gave him a brief outline of Angel to pacify his multiple questions, Sunni making little ‘umhm’ noises as she spoke.

“It sounds like you are very happy with this man, early days or not! I would fetch your auntie for you to have your obligatory girl’s talk, but it is her turn currently trying to get Sanjay to bed, and he is being an absolute horror about it!” Her youngest cousin Sanjay had just turned two and was most definitely living up to the term terrible two’s. “Anyway, I might as well tell you why I was trying to call David, share with you our news. I have been accepted for a post at Utah Valley Speciality Hospital, so good news, darling. We are returning to America.”  

“Oh my god!” she screamed, suddenly clasping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, that’s amazing!” she then added much more quietly, drumming her feet softly against the tiled floor. “I can’t wait! When do you come back?”

“Not for another three months, just while we finish getting everything sorted at this end, selling the house, etcetera. We didn’t tell anybody, just in case it didn’t come through, but now that it has and there is also a chance that your aunt could have a job also opening up at the same hospital, now that Sanjay is of preschool age and she can return to work, we felt confident in sharing the news.” he explained, delighted at his niece’s reaction.  

They chatted for a short time longer before ending their call, Keri absolutely ecstatic to have some of her favourite family members returning. Tying her hair up, she brushed her teeth and took a quick shower, coming out to find Angel checking his phone.

“What was all the excitement for? I heard a squeal of ‘oh my god’,” he grumbled, still sounding half asleep as he placed his phone back down, a hand sliding into her towel to stroke her hip.  

“That was my uncle on the phone. He was trying to get a hold of my parents, but they’re not picking up. Anyway, he told me he and Bee are moving back over here, he’s got a job at a local hospital, so I’m over the moon that I’ll be able to see them regularly instead of once a year,” she shared.

“Yeah? That’s great, baby. I know you hated that they lived halfway around the world,” he replied brightly, just as his stomach began to growl. She raised an eyebrow, shaking her head as she leaned to kiss his abdomen. “I think I need feeding.”  

An hour later and they were sitting inside a small restaurant, hard wood surfaces, Edison light bulbs and plants strewn over the large shelves that flanked the black walls, Keri bouncing in her seat with excitement at one particular dish on the menu.

Angel looked over at her with a smile. “You just saw the peanut butter pancakes, didn’t you?”

“I did!” she squeaked. How well he knew her. Anything with peanut butter, and Keri was on it in an instant.  

Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it gently, thinking how adorable she was. “Y’all a hundred percent too cute, mamacita.” Her beamed smile made his heart skip a beat, sitting there feeling like he was the luckiest guy in the world. While the waited for their food, they sat and discussed her ever nearing departure from college, meaning that for the following three weeks they wouldn’t be able to meet with her workload going into overdrive in preparation to finish, but when she did, she had some plans.  

“I’m going to book going over to Galway, but not for as long as I originally wanted to. If you could come then that’d be great, I think Aaron and Rachel are down, Frankie too. Jaime won’t be because of work. So yeah, we’re planning on that to be for two weeks. Then I was thinking of driving down to Santo Padre, maybe basing myself there for a while, travelling around Cali. If you don’t mind, that is?”

He put on a thoughtful face, scratching his chin. “Hmm, do I mind having my beautiful, sexy, funny, amazing girlfriend around more often? Hmm, lemme think on that.” She began laughing softly through her nose, leaning over to kiss him. “Of course, I don’t mind.” Despite the joviality of his statement, he felt a pit in his stomach at hearing her plans to travel. He pushed it down, though, reasoning that she wanted to stay with him in her time between.

“Good, because you’re stuck with me now.” There was truly nobody he’d rather be stuck with. Their weekend went by in a blur, Keri holding him tightly before he departed, crying in his arms at how much she anticipated she was going to miss him. He hated leaving her behind whenever he had to go home again, but the buzz inside of knowing he’d get so much more time with her over the spring and summer alleviated the sadness of being separated from her.

While they were parted, he took his mind off it by putting in some serious time around the yard, taking on extra shifts, deciding to re-decorate his bedroom and make it look a little better than the mismatching bare essentials vibe, seeking some advice from a certain lady.

“You need a theme!” Sharise exclaimed, taking a cart from the front of the local homeware store, buzzing already. If Mrs Reyes thrived on anything, it was a decoration project.  

He viewed her with mild disgust, his nose crinkling. “A theme? Nope. I saw a picture online and I want that. Dark green walls, white ceiling. I got new furniture on the way, too. I just need things to make it look less empty.”

“Rug, lamps, artwork, candles,” Sharise began to list.

“No candles!”

“Yes, candles!” she stated emphatically. “Keri likes them, she told me which is her favourite. Black coconut by Yankee, and they sell them here.”  

He took a pause for a moment, his brow creasing. “Are you two making plans behind my back? Is this a little scheme you’ve cooked up to get some damned chick litter all up in my space?”

Sharise threw her head back, entertained at the chick litter term. “No! We were chatting the other night, she replied to one of my stories I put up with my candle collection all burning, and she mentioned she liked Yankee candles about as much as I do. Us girls talk about things like that, you know.”  

“Hmph.” His mutter was then followed by a speedy swerve around the cart, Sharise attempting to put some large cushions into it. ”No cushions! My couch is fine as it is!”

“These are for the bed,” she clarified, gently slapping his arms, grabbing two more that were slightly darker.  

“I got pillows, I don’t need ‘em!”

“They’ll finish the bed nicely, add a little depth of comfort.”

His face was a picture of confusion. “They add... what?”

“And when you’re having sex, you can pop a couple underneath your lady and they’ll tilt her hips in a way that means you get to hit a whole other host of different angles.”

He nodded, gesturing to the previously frowned upon items. “Alright, they can stay.” She grinned, tossing her braids over her shoulder as they continued, smug that she knew exactly what to say in order to get around his protests. He was, as she expected, still difficult, though.

“Sharise! Put it back,” he ordered, pointing as she wrestled with a giant, white sheepskin rug from the rolls gathered at the back of the store.

“You’re going for bare floorboards, right?”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am.”

“Then you need a nice rug to tie the room together!”

Depth of comfort and tying the room together. Her chosen language was completely lost on him. “But then I gotta vacuum the damned thing!” His complaint was accompanied by a little show of drama, folding his arms over the cart handle, resting his head down and regretting his decision to involve his sister-in-law.

“No, because the fleece is too long, it’ll get caught in the rollers. You just go shake it outside, et voila! Done.” Into the cart it went, Angel muttering in mild despair. Fluffy rugs. Was this what his life had become?  

The rest of the store was browsed rapidly, Angel actually being able to make his own choices, loading up on photo frames he planned to put some of Keri’s photographs into after he’d had them blown up, a set of white plaster skulls that looked remarkably like the real thing, Sharise adding bits and pieces as she went for both him and herself. The large, black and grey vase with black birch twigs was not one of his choices, but he allowed it. Begrudgingly.  

“So, you seem to be very content with Keri, then, with this talk of her coming to stay for a while,” Sharise observed, finishing the large mouthful of Cuban sandwich she’d just taken at a bar she’d driven them to, telling Angel she’d at least buy him lunch in apology for terrorising him in the home décor stakes.

He smiled, thinking of her. “I really am, she’s cool. Can’t wait to have her come kinda live with me, even though I think it’ll only be temporary.”

She noticed he sounded a little dejected by that. “Because of her travelling? You two are so sillily in love with one another, I can see her making Santo Padre her base when she isn’t, you know. I know it’s still early days, but you two fit together so well.”

He scratched the back of his neck, his brow furrowing. “I sometimes wonder if I’m the one who’ll be temporary. She’s so ambitious, and young still, too. Makes me wonder if we’ll last.”  

“Well, just see how it goes, but don’t write off a future with her just because she has ambitions!” she gently suggested, reaching to squeeze his hand. “She doesn’t have to be around you all the time to be in a committed relationship with you.”

He snorted softly, looking uncomfortable, clamming up as she predicted he would. She would press, though. She’d heard of this before. “I did wonder, when you’d have your wobble.” His frown prompted her to continue. “Lucy told me, that back when you guys got together, you had a little bit of a freak out over whether she’d meet anyone else, and I suppose that’s rearing its ugly head again, with talk of Keri going off travelling around. You think she’s going to meet someone you assume to be better, don’t you?”  

He grunted.  

“Angel,” she spoke softly, reaching to stroke his face, tilting his head up. “You need to start putting to bed these feelings that you aren’t good enough. You are. Did Lucy find anyone else? Nope. So, there’s no saying Keri is going to. She’s crazy about you, for heaven’s sake! And I know what you’re gonna say, that other women in the past have only seen you as a short-term fling, but my love, that’s because it’s all you’ve offered to them, whether consciously or not.”  

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right," he finally admitted, realising that it was his self-sabotage coming back to haunt him. As soon as he fell in love, it was only a matter of time before it came bubbling up to the surface, his fears of loss, of not being good enough.  

He’d been pushing it down into his darkest depths for the last two weeks, ever since they’d confessed their love. It had been festering a little closer to the surface since her talk of travelling over breakfast the last time he’d seen her, though. The little pit in his stomach he’d felt? It had predictably taken root, no matter how much he didn’t want it to.  

Looking over at Sharise, he felt his little padlocked gate begin to strain. If there was one woman he always opened up to, it was her. “I don’t want to wreck it all, but I’m kinda scared I will. I can’t just be happy. My fucking brain has to freak out and cause drama. Which I usually then fuckin’ thrive on.”  

It suddenly clicked with Sharise, the sprucing up of his home. He wanted to hopefully make Keri feel as if it was hers, too. He wanted to find more ways to entice her return, hence doing away with the bachelor pad look, albeit with slight reluctance. Oh, he was too adorable, in such a beautifully, partially broken way. From what Keri had told her in exchanges messages, chatting online in order to get to know each other more, he had no reason to feel insecure. Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. People were rarely so simple.  

“Angel, the only way you’re going to wreck it is by listening to that toxic little voice in the back of your head instead of Keri. Have faith. She came into your life for a reason. There’s no way that dreaming of her before you even met her is anything less than destiny. Believe in it. You were doing great until you let the panic creep in.” Taking another bite of her sandwich, she winked, Angel determined to take her advice on board.  

It didn’t help that he was only a week into a three-week separation from her, but he did work hard to keep Sharise’s advice in mind. As if the universe had heard his doubts, he received a notification one night, painting well into the small hours after returning from dealing with club affairs, wiping his hand on a spare piece of cloth as he crawled over the painting sheets to grab his phone. Keri had tagged him in an Instagram post.  

‘I don’t even know how one man can be so amazing. He’s the sexiest, the funniest, the loveliest, the best. I miss you, gorgeous. Can’t wait until this is us again.’

He smiled at viewing the image, one Keri had taken in the hotel room on the bed as she’d sat astride him, her hand reached out cupping his cheek, Angel smiling up at her as the sun shone in through the window and bathed him in bright light. He remembered just how happy he’d felt, when she’d taken it, his heart fluttering at the memory, scrolling to his call list and tapping her name.  

“Hey, you free to talk?”

“I am, I have a few spare minutes,” she replied, waiting for her coffee to pour, prepared to work right on through until the morning and then sleep for a few hours before she started again. “How are you? I hate that tomorrow is Saturday and I won’t have you here. Sucks.”

He was surprised to hear she was still up doing her work, since she’d mentioned earlier when they’d messaged that she’d be spending the entire day doing such. “You got some serious dedication there, for it to be 1am and you’re still working. As for me, yeah, I’m alright. Missing you like fuck, though.”  

She made a soft noise in her throat, picking up her large mug of coffee (a two-pod creation) and turning the machine off. “I miss you too! Two weeks and I’ll be free, though, get to come and spend ten days with you before Galway. Did you ask Bish, if you can swing that kind of time away?”

“I did,” he sighed, “and I can’t. I could come for a week, but he can’t lose me for two.”

She was bright in her reply, all optimism. “Well, that’s better than nothing! Come out with us for the week, then head home. How about that? I’d rather at least have you there for a short time rather than not at all. These places I want to travel to, having you there by my side would mean so much. I know it’s corny, but the whole making memories thing is important, you know?”

Her words made him smile, the more rational side of him seeing clearly how stupid his self-doubt was. He knew he wouldn’t likely overcome it immediately, but what she told him had helped. “Yeah, querida, I know. I love you.”

“And I love you too. Listen, I have to hit the laptop again, but I’ll call you tomorrow, after I’ve had some sleep. Night, gorgeous.”

“Night baby.” Ending the call, he looked around at the half-painted walls. They weren’t the only work in progress.  

[narcolini]

coping mechanisms

angel reyes x gn!reader (& bonus coco), angst, 1683 words

no warnings, just men being dumb and fighty

for day 21 of whumpril: ‘it’s just a scratch’

tagging: @drabbles-mc @cositapreciosa @hausofmamadas​ (let me know if u wanna be tagged for angel fics)

Angel’s been like this since EZ’s arrest. Desperate for distraction. He’d been bothering the guys at first, tagging along on every job he could, calling round for drinks when they didn’t want guests. You could only keep him busy for so long too, because you always had to go to work eventually. No matter how much of yourself you gave in the time in between, it wasn’t enough. He was driving himself mad with it, really, the pursuit of an occupied mind. When no-one was there to help, he drank instead, but his wallet complained as much as his head did on that one.

And then he’d started fixing up his bike.

New parts, new paint. He stays out all day, polishing it, tweaking it. Riding out until it’s dirty and doing it all over again.

He’s at it now, in the lot, down on one knee to add shine to the front wheel arch. You’re watching him from the porch of the clubhouse, forearms on the wooden railing. You try to be a part of what helps. Offer him every escape you can think of: movies, dinner, sex. But he just goes right back to the bike afterwards. It’s the only thing that keeps his mind from running away with him. The repetition, you suppose, the little tasks, over and over again. He can’t think about EZ’s sentencing while he’s doing it. It’s just polish, and detailing, and the instant gratification of doing something practical with his hands.

There’s no waiting for someone else’s decision with the bike, the control is all his.

‘You want a beer, Ange?’ you shout.

His head shakes from across the yard. ‘Nah, you’re good.’

You’d expected as much, but offering a drink every now and then is all you can do when he’s like this. You were trying to be patient. Supportive.

‘I wanna go eat soon,’ you tell him, which he nods to. ‘In like thirty minutes?’

‘Yeah, sure.’

He hasn’t looked up from the bike once, is just raising his voice so it carries instead.

You sigh, relaxing into the support in front of you. EZ’s trial can’t come soon enough. You need your boyfriend back. Need a decision, a sentence, so he can stop avoiding what’s coming and deal with it instead. The longer he goes like this, the harder it’ll be when it happens and EZ goes in for good. He won’t even talk about it. Acts like he doesn’t have a brother at all, and if you bring it up, then, well. It’s worse than letting him spending hours and hours waxing the leather of his seat cushion.

There’s another bike pulling up now, Coco on his own, rolling into the space beside Angel’s. You can see right away that he’s got the angle wrong, probably from squinting into the sun. He goes wonky, then straightens, too close to where Angel’s working. You can’t be sure, but it almost looks like he’s made contact. Bike to bike.

‘Ey, ey, yo!’ Angel’s standing, tossing his cloth onto the seat. ‘Watch your fucking bars, homie.’

Coco’s engine cuts off. ‘Relax, bro,’ he says, craning to look between the two machines. He pushes his own bike back, walking it with his boots, before kicking down his stand. ‘It ain’t that serious.’

But Angel’s bent again, inspecting the paintwork of his own. ‘You fucked up my bike,’ he snaps, finger swiping along the mark he’s found.

‘What?’ Coco dismounts, hair swinging as he walks to stand beside him. When he’s there, looking at what Angel’s looking at, he laughs. ‘C’mon bro, that shit’s barely visible.’ He pushes Angel’s shoulder dismissively, grinning like they’re in on a joke. ‘The fuck is wrong with you?’

But Angel isn’t laughing. ‘The fuck is wrong with you?’ he snaps back, shoving Coco harder than he had done in the first place, away from him and into the handlebars of his own bike.

You straighten. Even from here you can see that they aren’t joking, can recognise the tension stretching between your boyfriend’s shoulder blades. He’s pissed, and he means it.

Coco laughs again as you take to the stairs, path set toward them. He’s not cocky with it now, but nervous, laughing from the shock of Angel’s reaction. ‘Yo, chill,’ he says, ‘it’s not that deep, Angel.’

‘Me chill?’ Angel’s hand flies out, gesturing to the bike. ‘You’re out here damaging my shit cause you can’t fucking ride, asshole.’

You’re a step away now, close enough to exchange a look with Coco, a what the fuck is going on, look. He’s got a right to be annoyed, sure, but this? This is beyond rationale. You and Coco both know that, but only one of you is patient enough to realise it’s not really Coco he has an issue with. Or the bike. It’s not really that at all.

Coco scoffs, righting himself, and setting his kutte straight over his chest. ‘You need to get a life, homie,’ he says, making your stomach sink. He shouldn’t take this route. He shouldn’t say anything at all.

‘Let’s bring it down a notch, yeah?’ You stop in front of them, looking between the two.

‘Ever since EZ was arrested this is all you fucking care about,’ Coco continues, ‘it’s fucking sad, man.’

Angel tuts, face tilting to the ground for a minute. You can see his jaw working, can imagine his molars clenching and unclenching.

‘He’s done for, bro, making your bike all nice and shit isn’t gonna—’

Angel swings at him, too clumsy to make contact with his fist—Coco flinching back in just the right moment—but his elbow catches his nose on the way back, and then it’s happening so fast that you lose track. Coco rushes him, taking them both back into Angel’s bike, swearing and grunting and grappling like children. Like boys in the mud of the school yard.

‘Fucking stop!’ you shout, hooking a hand around Coco’s shoulder because he’s closest, and yanking him as hard as you can.

It isn’t easy, and you’re ashamed to admit that you might’ve pulled his hair, just slightly, to get him to release, but eventually he lets you, and you drag him away from the stupid fucking fight.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you guys?’ you pant, pushing Coco behind you. When you turn to throw the question at Angel, he bumps into you, all momentum. He hadn’t realised that you’d gotten in between them yet. ‘Hey.’ You shove him back, two palms to his chest. ‘You’re acting like children.’

‘He started on me, man,’ Coco whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘You gave me a fucking nose bleed, asshole.’

Angel’s panting, chest lifting up and down wildly. ‘Yeah. Eye for an eye, fuckwad.’

You tut. ‘Angel.’ He’s embarrassing you. You’re actually itching under the skin with it.

Coco’s shaking his head, looking at the red on his hands, before putting them back to slow the flow of it. ‘You’re fucking crazy, homie,’ he says, tracking backwards toward clubhouse. ‘Stay the fuck away from me.’

‘Likewise, bro,’ Angel quips back, saying it over your head, all attitude and childish bitterness.

‘Will you fucking act like an adult, Angel?’ You’re staring at him, eyes wide and disbelieving. ‘It’s just a scratch. An accident.’ You’re close enough to see the mark for what it is now, and honestly, it’ll probably buff out. It’s probably just a streak of rubber over anything else. ‘Are you even seeing yourself right now?’

He scoffs, turning away from you to grab the cloth from his seat. ‘I don’t need shit from you too, y’know.’

‘You threw a punch over a scratch, Angel!’

He sours, grumbling, ‘You heard what he said about EZ.’

Yeah, the truth. He said what everyone else, besides Angel, has already accepted. ‘Really?’ you ask, head shaking. ‘You’re gonna lash out at literally everyone that talks about it?’

You watch him run the cloth through his hands, once, twice, waiting for a reply that never comes. You expected him to have a moment of realisation, to meet his stubbornness head on and accept that it isn’t fucking working. For him, for anyone. But he just stands there, waiting for you to leave.

‘You know what, Angel?’

‘What?’ His head twitches toward you, too sharp for your liking. It just adds fuel to the simmer.

‘I have been so patient, and understanding, letting you do your fucking…’ You wave toward his bike, toward him. His avoidance. ‘But you really need to sort your shit, and fast,’ you tell him. He needs to act like the older brother for once.

His head goes back, with a sigh bigger than he has any right to. ‘He scratched my fucking—’

‘The bike is not the fucking point, is it?’ you snap, cutting him off before he can complain any further. ‘You’re going to have to deal with this, okay, I know it sucks, but you can’t just keep yourself busy and never address the giant fucking elephant in the room.’

He’ll go crazy. You will too. Like a stone tied around your middle, thrown off the bridge with him.

‘EZ is likely to go down.’ Your voice catches, forcing you to swallow. ‘For a serious amount of time, and you need to deal with that, Ange.’

No more distractions, no more snapping at everyone that mentions it. Just him, and the real fucking reality that he’s trying to avoid. Your stare at him, waiting still. He says nothing. He can’t even bring himself to match your gaze.

But that’s fine. If that’s how he wants to be, then fine. You aren’t going to helicopter over his neuroticism anymore. You huff, turning on the balls of your feet.

‘What, you not even gonna let me defend myself?’ he scoffs, trying to sound arrogant and failing, too delayed to have any real impact. He’s only saying it now because it looks like you’ve won. 

‘No,’ you reply, eyes set on the door of the clubhouse. ‘I’m going to see if you broke his fucking nose.’