lady-writes-reyes

Blog for anything and everything Angel Reyes!!! Side blog to @lady-writes20! Requests are open!! 18+ blog!!

[angelslildevil]

Masterlist!!

Requests are open! I'm accepting anything for Angel Reyes! * = smut Angel Reyes: Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress* Study Night Boots Ghost Under the Stars Show Me... Dirty Dancing Butterfly Bullet Gun Show Water Fight Movie Date Deprived*

[withmyteeth]

Hi, hello, how goes it? I miss you and your drabbles. I've had a shit day month and it's only the 6th.

Can I request Angel with chase, essential, and cooperate, please?? Thank you 🖤

I’m sorry to hear that! Doesn’t sound like December is being kind to anyone right now. Hopefully this helps! Enjoy!

——————> 18+ only, Minors DNI <——————

“Please, just….cooperate with me for a little bit longer.”

Angel grunts, readjusting your weight. “Are you sure you need whatever is up there?”

“Angel, I told you —”

“It’s essential, yea, yea,” he huffs as you continue to dig around the attic, balancing on his shoulders, as you wave your arms to chase away the dust bunnies.

“Ah, got it!”

“Thank god,” he says, setting you down.

You turn to him, box in hand. “You're going to stick around, help me decorate the tree, right?”

He bends down, placing a kiss on your nose. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Submit - An Angel Reyes/Reader One Shot Story.

Some dom!Angel goodness for my babes! 

Words - 1,285

Warnings - Smut below the cut, sub/dom pairing. Minors DNI!

Keep reading

[lady-writes20]

From One Bike to Another (Part 10)

Click HERE for Part 9

A/N:: I am so very sorry it has taken me so long to get the next part up. I kinda stalled out on this story but started getting back into it. Hopefully, Part 11 doesn't take as long.

Pairings:: Angel Reyes x Reader x Chibs Telford Warnings:: swearing, confessions, angst, figuring out life, mentions of sexual assault

I sat beside Creeper and told him the things running through my head. My feelings and worries about Angel, the concerns about my safety. He sat quietly, listening to me express my concerns. I told him about Tara and her hand and Gemma and Clay, I told him every secret and whisper I heard in the Sons' clubhouse, the bullets that sprayed through the walls.

"It's worse than on the border," I sighed. He laughed at that. "I'm just...questioning every decision I have ever made. Leaving Santo Padre, going along with Angel's plan to transfer, staying with these guys. Clay fucking scared the shit outta me today. I got the impression he wants me gone. I may have been eavesdropping a little bit, called me out for it." I shook my head, turning to look up at him. "I'm so fucking glad you're here," I said, more like a whimper.

He reached out and grabbed my hand. As he held it, he said, "Now, it's my turn." I smiled and nodded, knowing he was going to tell me what to do. He always had the best advice and always knew the right words. "First of all, if Angel ever laid a finger on you, I would put him in the fucking ground, got it? So, you can take that off your mind because he would never do that, and if for some insane reason I can't even think of, it would be taken care of immediately."

"Thanks, Creep," I said with a smile. I knew he was right, I just needed to hear it from someone else.

"Second, this shit with the president," he scoffed. "He says something to you again, send him my way. I'll shut that shit down real quick." I nodded, looking down at my legs folded under me. "Why did you leave, mama?" he asked quietly.

"I...had to get out," I sighed, shaking my head.

"Did something happen? Did Angel do something? I'll fuckin-" I cut him off before he could finish his threat. Creeper was always very protective of me. Hank may have been like a big brother, but Creeper was my bodyguard.

"No, he didn't do anything," I said. "If I tell you what happened, you promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Of course," he nodded, shifting closer to me. I thought I was coping better, but the tears still filled my eyes just as easily. "What happened, babygirl?" he asked, running his hand down my arm.

Staring down at the faces on his arm, I focused on one. The woman on his left bicep, I told her what happened. When I told Chibs and then Angel, I couldn't look at them. I couldn't see the way their eyes would change how they looked at me. Ink embedded in skin wouldn't look at me differently.

"I was...um, I was...sexually assaulted," I stuttered. I cleared my throat, wiping my eyes. That was the easiest I had said it. Staring back at the woman with the strong cheekbones and skinny eyebrows, I saw no change. "One of the nights Angel wasn't home, one of Galindo's guys came for me." I saw Creeper shift, trying to comfort me, but I leaned back, not wanting to lose sight of the tattooed woman.

"I'm..." he started, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry." I looked up at him and saw his face, how shocked he was. "You didn't just leave, you ran," he breathed to himself. I nodded, wrapping my arms around my stomach. He looked at me with the same look he always saw me with. "You know I'm here for you, right?" he sighed, his normal serious and threatening tone out of the way. "You need to talk about shit, just get stuff off your chest, I'm always here. Okay, querida?"

I nodded, leaning forward. I pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you, Neron," I sighed. He wrapped his arms around me, letting them rest on the small of my back. My phone started ringing in my back pocket. I pulled it out and saw Angel's name. "Hello?" I answered, sitting back down on the bed.

"You're still awake," he chuckled. I wasn't sure if he was happy about that or not.

"Yeah, Creep and I are just...catching up, shooting the shit," I sighed. "What're you doing? How was the run?"

"Good, which was surprising. But, I just got home a few minutes ago," he said. "I have some pretty exciting news I just found out."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?" I asked. All I could hope the answer was that the house was getting packed and he was leaving in the morning. I saw Creeper's face drop and I knew my hope was going to get crushed.

"EZ's getting released. He's gonna prospect with the club. He asked if I would be his sponsor."

"Oh," was the only word I could say. I looked up at Creeper who was shaking his head and avoiding my eyes. Angel didn't just find out if Creeper knew this. I knew enough about the club. EZ would have to be voted in order to prospect. Creeper had to give his vote, which means, he knew.

"Yeah, it's going to be great," he chuckled. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"So is he prospecting up in...Oakland with you or...?" I asked, not sure if I wanted an answer. He didn't say anything. A few pain-staking moments went by. "Angel? Did I lose you?" I asked, knowing full well he was still there.

"No, I'm still here, baby," he answered. "That's the...the problem. He's prospecting in Santo Padre. He can't transfer, not until he's fully patched."

"What does that mean for you?" Before I heard the answer, I had tears in my eyes. Creeper reached out and grabbed my hand, bracing me for Angel's reply.

"I'm gonna stay down here, just for a little bit. Just get him settled. Bish said he would sponsor him so I could get up there to be with you."

"So how long is that?" I asked, tears streaming down my face.

"About a month," he answered.

I closed my eyes, letting a sharp stream of air out. "A month?" I exhaled, crying a little harder. There was no doubt he could hear me. Creeper squeezed my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles.

"I know, baby," he sighed. "That's why I asked Creep to go up there. He's gonna stay with you until we need him back down here."

I nodded, blinking away the tears. I should've known Angel was stalling coming back up here. I should've known better. It was clear as day what he was doing. He was avoiding me because he was waiting for things to be finalized. He lied to me.

"How are things in Charming?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Pretty bad," I answered, not wanting to go into detail.

"Fuck, everything okay? How's Chibs?" I heard him light a cigarette and take a deep inhale.

"Everything's fine," I said. "Chibs's fine." Letting go of Creeper's hand, I wiped the tears off my cheeks. "I, uh, I should go. It's pretty late."

"Put Creep on quick?" he asked. I nodded and handed him the phone. He stood up and walked to the other side of the room while he spoke to Angel.

"Yeah...okay...yeah, I vote yes...yeah...no," he said, turning back to look at me. "I mean, 'no'...Angel, you don't get it, dawg...no, you don't...yeah, okay." He walked back over to me, holding out the phone. I shook my head as I stared up at him. "She doesn't want to talk...no, I'm not doing that...okay."

He hung up the phone and handed it to me. "What was that about?" I asked, setting the phone beside me.

"Club shit," he sighed. "Trying to figure out a better way to move the H. Decided on a dress shop." I looked up at him, my eyebrows stitched together. "I know." Running his hand over his head, he sighed, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about his brother. He made me promise not to."

"I get it, Creep," I whispered. "He's never coming back up here, is he?" He shrugged, looking down at the floor, avoiding my eyes. "Tell me."

"I don't know what the fuck he's doing," he said. "He already got the okay to transfer charters. He helped us with the Vegas run when we really didn't need it. He told us he didn't want to work with the cartel anymore because-" He stopped himself and cleared his throat.

"Because of what?" I asked. He shook his head and stood up. "What did he say?" I looked up at him pleadingly.

"All he said was he didn't want to work with Galindo because of some personal shit," he sighed. "Makes a lot of fucking sense now." He sat down on the bed beside me. "I really am sorry about all this shit, babygirl. I know you'd rather have him here than me."

"I don't know if that's true, Creep," I sighed. I shook my head and turned towards him. "I don't know if that's true."

Angel walked out after our one and only fight. We had arguments, sure, who didn't? But this fight was explosive. His fist connected with the wall, leaving a hole in the sheetrock. He walked out before he could say or do anything else he regretted.

I told him I didn't like the women around the clubhouse hanging all over him. He started getting defensive and I asked him if there was someone else. That was when all of hell broke loose. He threw his phone at me, telling me to look through it. He was pissed that I would even ask him a question. He was angry that I didn't trust him.

Thirty minutes after he left to go to the clubhouse, Creeper and Hank were at the front door. My big, over-protective brothers. I was a mess and fell into Hank before they even walked in the door. Creeper saw the hole in the wall and grew angry, thinking Angel hurt me in the process.

There was a soft knock on the door. It pushed open with Chibs behind it. "Can I talk to ye?" he asked, looking at Creep. He looked at me and nodded over to him. He stood from the bed and walked over to Chibs.

I could hear Chibs's voice but I couldn't make out his words. Whatever they were, Creeper didn't like hearing. His eyes looked angry and his eyebrows scrunched together. He shook his head and looked back at me.

Chibs walked inside and sat down across the room in the single chair. "Love, you can' stay here any longer," he sighed. "I'm really sorry. I though' ye had more time but Clay, he's..."

"He doesn't want me here," I nodded. "It's fine. I get it." I stood up and started gathering my things, putting them back into my bags.

"Ye can stay the night," he said, standing up. "It's late."

"I got her, dawg," Creeper said. I didn't know if he was saying that in a reassuring way to Chibs or in a protective way against him. Either way, Chibs nodded and stepped out of the room. "I'll find out where the closest hotel is."

"Okay," I smiled. "Thanks, Creeps." He placed a kiss on my forehead as he pulled me into a stolen hug.

As he walked out, I felt like I was going to crumble again. I was tired of crying. I was tired of feeling this weak and this broken that anytime something happened I cried. Shaking it off, I sat down on the bed that had felt like home for so many days.

I didn't regret going with Chibs that night he towed my car. I needed him and the clubhouse more than he could ever know. I didn't regret leaving Santo Padre. The miles I put between us were enough for me to understand the fault lines. I didn't regret anything, except letting Angel leave. Because I trusted him and loved him and thought I could rely on him, I allowed him to walk through the doors, and with everything happening in the place I once called home, there was a chance I wouldn't see him again. He would have to choose: his brother and his club or me.

[withmyteeth]

For the three word drabbles!

Always, star and lick with Angel Reyes.

Thankyouplease :D

Thank you for this request! I'm SLOWLY getting back into writing, as I stared at these words for almost a day, like they were going to bite me. It's not my best, but also not my worst. Enjoy!

——————> 18+ only, Minors DNI &lt;——————

There’s not a single star in the sky, the darkness of the night providing you privacy as you sit on your knees between Angel’s sinfully long legs.

“God, we shoulda always been–,” you cut him off with a long lick from his balls to his tip, “Fuck, querida.”

You sit back on your heels. “You know, just because people can’t see us, doesn’t mean they can’t hear us.”

He purses his lips and throws his hands.  Just as he is about to say something, you swallow him deep in your throat, effectively stopping anything else he was about to say.

[withmyteeth]

Red Velvet: stitch 4

Mayans x SOA

CHAPTER LIST

SUMMARY: You have to explain to Bishop what you’ve been doing and why you’ve been doing it.

WARNINGS: 18+ only, prostitution mention, poverty mention, abuse mention, 1.9k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE: 😬

Your heart leaps into your throat, but you do your best to try to play it cool, not knowing exactly what Bishop knows. You continue to walk towards him until only his bike is separating you.

“Yea, ha,” you laugh nervously. You lean on the bike, slipping your shoes back on. It’s not like Bishop would have known to bring you a pair of flats. “Online dating can be tricky, I guess.”

“So tricky you need a burner phone?” He holds up the phone that was supposed to be in Angel’s possession.

“Fuck.”

“Fuck is right,” he says, dropping the phone and smashing it with his boot. He swings his leg over the bike, pushing it upright and firing it to life. You expect him to pull away, leave you standing outside the hotel to find your own way back, but he turns to you and says, “Get on the bike.”

You can practically feel the anger radiating off of him. You take a hesitant step towards him, wondering how you are going to navigate the foot pegs with these ridiculous heels when he barks, “Now.” You scramble on behind him, perching your toes on the narrow pegs. He raps the throttle, the bike tearing out of the parking lot into the night.

You are practically trembling behind him, knowing as soon as you stop, you are going to have to come clean and you don’t know what he is going to do about it. Buildings fly by you, Bishop taking his anger and frustrations out on the poor Harley as he takes the shortest path back to the club house.

By the time he glides to a stop in the dirt lot, you have to force yourself to relax enough to untangle yourself from him and dismount the bike, wobbling slightly in your heels. You lean against the support of the porch, slipping your shoes off as Bishop stomps up the steps, growling, “Inside.”

As silly as it is, tears start to form in your eyes. You’d never known your father, never had a strong, reliable, male role model in your life until you met Bishop. The fact that he is angry with you is eating away at your gut as you pad lightly up the steps, following him through the door of the clubhouse.

“Sit.”

You want to make a comment about him only using one word commands, but it dies on your lips as he storms behind the bar, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and stomping back to the table, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down.

You’d dropped your heels on the floor when you sat down, folding your hands and tucking them between your legs to hide the trembling. You keep your eyes trained on your hands, like a kid at the principal’s office who knows good and well why they are there.

Bishop chucks the cap on the table and you glance up to see him take a swig straight from the bottle, then wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips are pursed, jaw ticking in a way that you’ve only seen him do before someone ended up dead, and the first tear rolls down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. You don’t know what exactly you are apologizing for, or how much Bishop knows, but if he’s feeling anything like what you are feeling right now, you are sorry he is feeling it.

He looks over at you and you meet his eyes, trying to convey how sincere you are. You stare at each other for a moment before he reaches up, pushing the bottle of whiskey towards you.

Tension eases from your spine as you take the bottle, shocked you are able to pick it up without knocking it over from the tremble in your hands. You take a swig before setting it back on the table, sliding it back to Bishop. He picks it up, taking another deep swallow before joining his hands on the table in front of him. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but he continues to talk. “When I gave you a home here, it’s because I trusted you. You told me I could. Now not only are you throwing that trust back in my fucking face, you are using my own fucking men to do it?”

His voice got louder and louder until he was practically shouting the words at you, his fist slamming on the table when he was done. He takes a deep breath, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his mouth.

You cross your arms over your middle, curling in on yourself as he lights a cigarette. The lighter bangs on the table as he drops it, sucking on the cigarette, burning it halfway to the filter before billowing the smoke out his nose.

“If you were one of the guys, I’d pull your kutte,” he mutters.

So this was it. Your life with the MC is over. You open your mouth, trying to find the words to say thanks and sorry. Sorry for lying, sorry for letting him down, sorry for everything when he speaks again.

“This club is in too deep with too much shit to risk getting stung for illegal prostitution. I fucking told you if you wanted to keep doing that, I would set you up at Vicky’s but you looked me in the eye and fucking promised me you were done.” He smashes the cigarette in the ashtray, pulling out another one and lighting it.

You frown at him. “What did Angel tell you?”

He shakes his head. “Didn’t tell me anything. I knew something was going on with you and that fucking pack of dumbasses but I couldn’t pin down what it was exactly. Then he stormed out of here tonight and left that goddamned phone on the bar. Your message came through, figured it was time to find out what was fucking going on.”

He flicks the ash off the end of the cigarette, wiping his eyes with hand, dragging it down his face and over his mouth. “If I’d known those assholes convinced you to let them pimp you out, I’d fucking done something sooner.”

You start shaking your head. “No, Bish, that’s not —.”

“Don’t fucking defend them,” he yells, fist pounding on the table.

You grab your purse, unzipping it and spilling the cash and watch out onto the table. “It wasn’t their idea, it was mine,” you admit, as Bishop stares at the pile of cash. “And I’m not sleeping with anyone.” Which is a statement true in more ways than one. “I’m meeting men traveling through the Santo Padre area online, then after getting them drunk, I go back to their hotel room and rob them.”

Bishop stares at you, unblinking as the smoke drifts up from his cigarette.

“Okay,” you say, taking the money and sliding it back into your purse. “I understand how that sounds worse.” You sigh, closing your eyes. At this point, you may as well come clean, if anything to save the guys from an asswhooping.

“When you found me that night Bishop, I wasn’t even at the lowest point of my life unfortunately.” He’d found you beaten and bloody on the side of the road, your favorite red velvet dress ripped down the side. You laid it over you as you curled up in a ball, willing death to take you. You’d barely had the energy to lift your head when you heard the rumble of a motorcycle, but Bishop had seen you, the bright red material like a beacon in the headlight of the bike. He’d shed his kutte, covering you with the leather jacket he was wearing underneath. It was still warm when he laid it across you and sat in the grass with you until the van had showed up. He’d brought you back to the clubhouse, cleaned you up, gave you a place to call home and something you’d never had before: a family.

The jacket is still hanging in your closet upstairs. The first of pilfered clothing items from the men around you.

“I grew up in what can best be described as a shack. It was literally a one room, dirt floor,” you admit quietly. You hadn’t been very candid about your past, so Bishop is quiet, listening intently.

Once everyone learns how you earned your money back then, they assume they can fill in the blanks themselves, but it was worse. So much worse.

“At times, we were fighting the rats for food. Momma did what she could to support us, but when she fell sick, there was nothing left I could do.” You reach across the table, grabbing the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swallow, knowing you’re going to need it. “I didn’t know what it was, but I saw her struggling. Cancer, probably, looking back. But I watched my mother wither away to nothing before my eyes. Couldn’t afford a doctor.” Your breath hitches, but you refuse to let the tears fall. “I was holding her hand when she passed. I knew I couldn’t call anyone or they’d put me in the system. So I left her.”

Bishop is out of his chair and around the table before the last word leaves your mouth. He pulls you from your chair and into his arms, squeezing you tightly to his chest as you tremble. “I know it doesn’t excuse what I’ve been doing but, uh. I can’t go back to that.”

He holds you until you stop shaking, then he guides you to sit down in your chair as he crouches at your feet, holding your hands in his. “Sweetheart. I will never let that happen to you. You get that?”

You nod. And deep down you know that’s true. Bishop not only gave you a job but also a place to live. You doubt there was much he wouldn’t do for you, just like he would for any member of the club.

“If you were worried about money, why didn’t you fucking say something? I could have paid you more, given you some, anything but fucking this. Do you know how dangerous this is?”

You shrug. Other than a burning desire to earn your own money and secure your own future, you had no excuse as to why you were doing this.

“It stops. Tonight.” You nod. “Now go on up to bed, I need to have a chat with my guys.”

You stand, Bishop standing with you. You wrap your arms around his neck, breathing in the scent of him, letting the comfort wash over you. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” You pull back from the hug far enough to plant a kiss on his whiskered cheek. “Get some sleep.”

You turn away from him, walking to the door, but before you open it, you pause, turning back to him. “It really was all my idea, don’t go too hard on them.”

He just smiles, grabbing the whiskey bottle. “Good night, sweetheart.”

For just a moment, you think of sending Angel a warning text, but then you remember he’s the reason Bishop found out, so you shut your phone off before laying down, letting sleep take over.

PART 5 <- will be unlocked at 75 notes

**Also, just so you are aware for generating notes. Like = 1 note, reblog = 1 note, comment in the comment bubble = 2 notes (because I will always respond) so 1 person can generate 4 notes!

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[withmyteeth]

Red Velvet: stitch 3

Mayans x SOA

CHAPTER LIST

SUMMARY: You’re out with your next target when something just doesn’t feel right.

WARNINGS: 18+ only, drug mention, sex mention, insinuation of dubcon, 1.8k words.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is the scene that built the whole story! It was inspired by this fic from @itsjustmyfantasyroom

A week later, you were still feeling the effects of challenging Bishop to a night of drinking. The man had drank you under the table then through the floor. To rub it in further, he’d shown up early the next morning, slamming the clubhouse door, jolting you awake far earlier than you intended to be.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

You moaned, pushing yourself off the bar where you’d fallen asleep. “You’re evil.” Your eyes were open just enough to see the smirk on his face as he set down a steaming styrofoam cup. “Coffee?”

He shook his head. “Honey tea.” He slid it closer to you. “Drink this and head upstairs for some more sleep.”

You nodded, regretting it instantly as the world tilted and you started rolling off the bar. Luckily, Bishop was quick and caught you before you rolled completely off. He’d helped you sit up and down the contents of the cup before walking you to your door.

“Think you can handle the stairs?”

You laughed, throwing up your hand. “I got this.” You fell forward, hands landing against the stairs as you then clambered up them on all fours until you got to the door at the top, Bishop laughing the whole time. You might have still been a little drunk.

“Think you’re ready for tonight?” Angel asks.

You roll your shoulders, rocking your head side to side to stretch your neck out. “Yea, sure. I’ve got one on the line, ready when I am.”

This is a game to you. Finding men on dating apps who seem well off, chatting them up a bit, seeing what they have to offer before meeting them for a night of “passion” they won’t remember. You hadn’t lied to Bishop when you said you’d given up turning tricks, this is something entirely different. If sometimes the lines had to be blurred to get the job done, you did what you had to do. The only promise you’d ever made was to yourself to never be that poor again.

“Who’s got the phone tonight?” Instead of answering, Angel slips his hand into his pocket, pulling out the phone and showing it to you, then dropping it on the bar top with a loud clatter. You reach out, snatching it in your hand, eyes flicking to Bishop walking into Templo. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“Bish doesn’t know anything, calm down.” He grabs your hand across the bar, taking the phone back and slipping it back into his kutte.

“Do you have a problem?” Angel had been short with you all day and you had about had enough. “Because I will gladly call Coco to see if he’s open tonight.”

Angel drops his head then, his hands flat on the bar top. “No, no. I’m sorry, querida.” He folds his hands around his beer bottle that’s gone warm. “Just thought I had this thing going with a girl but I don’t know. It’s not working out like I planned.”

As much as Angel wants to appear like a big, tough biker, he is soft when it comes to women, falling hard and fast. He’s left behind a lot of broken hearts and had his own broken many times in the process.

“Hey.” You wrap your hands around his. “How about after you pick me up tonight, we pick up some snacks and stay up the rest of the night watching movies?” Also something people wouldn’t expect: Angel loved chick flicks.

He smiles softly, nodding. “Yea, okay.”

“Good, now I’m going to go get ready. Keep that phone nearby and I’ll let you know where to get me.”

Four hours later, you are in the elevator with your date, heading to the top floor. As soon as the door slides closed, you grab the lapels of the guy’s dinner jacket - these tools always wore dinner jackets - and pull him into a searing kiss. It took him a moment to catch on to what was happening, his reaction slow from the alcohol at dinner and the drugs you slipped into his drink when he wasn’t looking, but when he did, his tongue jammed into your mouth, wet and probing. You roll your eyes, not breaking the kiss, letting his hands roam up and down your body as he enthusiastically attacks your mouth with his.

As you were hoping, the elevator stops before reaching the top floor, gliding to a halt as the doors slide open. You pull away from the attack on your mouth, looking appropriately demur as the other couple steps on the elevator. The guy, Harold, leans back against the wall with a smirk on his face, his hand still on your ass. “I’m gunna fuck you all night,” he slurs.

The woman in the elevator gasps, but the man with her chuckles, holding his fist out to your ‘date’. It takes him a couple tries but he finally manages to knock his fist against his before the door slides open again revealing the top floor. “Come on, Harold,” you say, grabbing his arm and leading him out of the elevator.

“Have fun tonight,” the guy in the elevator calls before the door slides closed. You roll your eyes. Men are pigs. This is why this was the only type of dating you did these days. After years of turning tricks, you found yourself barely even missing sex anymore and after you were taken in by the MC, you’d barely been alone long enough to ever be lonely.

“Which room?” You are practically carrying him at this point as he fumbles for his wallet in his jacket pocket, pulling out a room key. You would be surprised if he lasts more than ten minutes once you get him in the room.

You check the number on the key, guiding him to the correct door before swiping the keycard and pushing it open. You flick on the lights revealing a standard executive room. Harold had mentioned this was his last night in Calexico for business, which made him a perfect target. He’d be lucky to make checkout time tomorrow.

As soon as the door shuts, he’s lurching against you, pinning you against the wall, trying to press his lips to your again. “I’m going to freshen up a bit first.” It was different in the elevator, putting on a show in case Harold tried to report the robbery. You’d played the part of an appropriately love struck date, not able to wait to make it to the room. No one would suspect what you are really up to. “How about you wait for me on the bed?”

“You got it, sweet tits.”

You guide him to the king sized bed, letting him fall as you walk to the bathroom. Before you even shut the door, you can hear him snoring. Twisting the lock, you set your bag on the counter, pulling the burner phone from your purse, sending a quick message.

Calexico Fairfield. Be down in 15.

You check your reflection, fixing your smeared lipstick from Harold’s attack on your mouth. Kicking out of your heels, you moan at the feeling of the cool tile on your sore feet. No matter how much money you spend on them, heels are never comfortable. Blowing a kiss to yourself, you twist the lock, rejoining a snoring Harold.

You go about stripping him of his jacket and shoes, unbuckling his pants and tugging them down his legs, tossing them on his shoes. You grab his phone, lifting it up to see it asking for a fingerprint. “Thanks for making my job easier, Apple.” You used to have to wake them up to get their passcode but the fingerprint unlock was much easier.

You send yourself a message, thanking you for a night you’ll never forget before tucking it under a pillow. Grabbing your slim purse, you tug the small zipper on the side allowing it to expand to more than double its size. He has a Rolex you’ve had your eye on all night that you slip off his wrist, along with about three grand from his wallet. Once your purse is loaded, you strip Harold the rest of the way before running your nails down his chest, watching the red marks welt in their path.

Glancing at the clock, you see twenty minutes have passed since you sent your pick up text. Pulling the burner phone back out you send another text.

Confirmation?

So help you, if Angel blew you off again you would be furious. You glance at the door wondering if you should wait in the room or just head out and start walking. You sighed, looking down at your heels, your feet already aching at the thought of walking even a block in them, when the phone buzzes in your hand.

Here.

You frown at the screen, something feeling off, but Harold gives a particularly hard snort behind you, propelling you out the door. You hang the placard, your shoes swinging in your hand as you make your way to the elevator, typing on the phone one handed.

NE or SW?

You enter the elevator, pressing the lobby button as the feeling of uneasiness grows in your belly. Either Angel was toying with you or he’d pawned you off on Coco. Coco hadn’t actually been around enough to help recently that you wouldn’t put it past him to forget the protocols you had put in place.

When you step out of the elevator, the phone dings again.

SW

You hold the button, powering off the phone, slipping it back in your bag before turning and making your way towards the southwest exit of the hotel, your heels clacking against each other in the quietness of the hallway as they swing in your hand.

Pushing the door open, you step out into the night, the concrete cool on your feet, but the night is balmy, the promise of a storm hanging in the air. You pause, eyes darting to the side as the feeling of uneasiness explodes in your belly. You don’t see anything out of the ordinary, the hallway of the hotel visible through the glass door reveals no one is following. There’s no one in the few cars parked along the sidewalk, no one looking out the windows of their rooms, but you still can’t help the feeling of something being wrong.

You swallow, urging yourself to take another couple steps forward, knowing an armed man on a motorcycle is waiting for you just around the corner. When you round the corner, seeing the motorcycle you realize exactly what was causing your uneasiness.

The quiet.

Normally, when you’d stepped into the night you had the reassuring sound of a engine nearby, guiding you to your chariot. But the night is deathly quiet, which allows you to hear him perfectly clear when Bishop says, “Need a ride, sweetheart?”

PART 4 <- will be unlocked at 75 notes

**Also, just so you are aware for generating notes. Like = 1 note, reblog = 1 note, comment in the comment bubble = 2 notes (because I will always respond) so 1 person can generate 4 notes!

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TAGLIST: XX @mijagif @jenny885 @pbbwriter @thexhostess @the-writer-no-one-knows @whiterose38 @rebelwrites @paintballkid711 @happilysparklyunknown @a-winter-tale @sassymox @redpoodlern @newyorkrican922 @thegirlwhowritesfics @stillbreathin @orangehairchild @lmao-liz @flanagirl @delightfulheroshoeflap @winchestershiresauce @saltyunicorn079 @drabbles-mc @frattsparty @nessamc @mrnd93 XX @blkbutterfly816 @flacalatke @lexondeck @bruxasolta

[withmyteeth]

Red Velvet: stitch 2

Mayans x SOA

CHAPTER LIST

SUMMARY: Pressure from the Kings is coming down on the club. In a bid to help take their mind off it, you make a bet with Bishop.

WARNINGS: 18+ only, alcohol mention, 1.6k words.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is hands down the most people I’ve written at one time. Just lots and lots of people throughout this whole fic. I hope I did everyone justice!

You managed to get about five hours sleep after getting home, cleaned up and to bed. The alarm on your phone pulls you from a white sand beach in an unfamiliar location, the blaring a sharp contrast to the waves on the shore in your dream. Throwing your hand out, you smack the screen of the phone until it falls silent again. You stretch, kicking the blankets off the bed before they coax you back into their nest of koziness.

You had one hour until you had to be behind the bar. You could either get up and put together a look that will earn you some tips, or sleep in an extra thirty minutes. The draw of cash has you dragging yourself out of the comfort of the bed to the bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush as you set about getting yourself ready for a shift at the bar.

As you get ready, you wonder if Angel and EZ are back from whatever mission Bishop sent them on. It was better with EZ knowing what you were up to. He’s smart enough, he would have figured it out eventually anyway, but having an extra body around to help is always a bonus.

Time ticks away and before you know it, you have less than five minutes to be out the door and you don’t even have shoes on yet. Grabbing a pair of socks, you slip them on, hopping on one foot to the bottom of your closet, looking at your options. It has the potential to be a long night tonight, so you grab your trusty zip up boots, sliding them on.

Snatching your phone, you smack the light switch sending your apartment into darkness, before thundering down the stairs to the door at the bottom. You twist the knob, swinging the door out, seeing EZ and Angel sitting at the bar.

“You’re late,” Angel calls.

You shake your phone at him. “I think you mean right on time.”

You swing the door shut behind you, walking the short distance from the door to the behind the bar, reaching for two beers before popping the tops and setting them in front of the men.

“Everything go okay last night?”

You nod, leaning against the bar. “Yea, you guys?”

Angel sucks in through his teeth. “Could have been better.”

You stand up straight, your brow furrowing. “What’s going on?”

Before he can answer, the door from Templo slides open, Bishop, Taza, and Hank walking out. You grab a whiskey glass, pouring two fingers, neat, then two more beer bottles, setting them on the end of the bar. “Anything else?”

“Not right now, thanks, sweetheart,” Bishop says, swiping his glass off the bar as he walks by.

Both Hank and Taza grab their bottles, tipping them in thanks as they follow behind him to a table at the far side of the bar.

“That have something to do with last night?”

“Later,” Angel says.

EZ leans across the bar. “Just cause they’re old, doesn’t mean they don’t have ears like a fucking bat.”

“I heard that prospect,” Bishop calls across the bar.

EZ drops his head. “Sorry, prez.”

The other men don’t acknowledge the exchange, continuing their own conversation in hushed tones. You frown at the group of men. “Anything I need to keep an ear to the ground about?”

EZ looks at Angel who shakes his head. “Nah, I think it’s okay for now.”

The door opens again, this time bringing Coco and Gilly, who greet the older men at the table, but move to join you at the bar. “Hey guys, want a drink?”

“Thanks, ma,” Coco says as GIlly nods his head. You slide the cooler lid back for two more beers, noticing you're running low. “EZ, wanna put those muscles to use and help me restock?”

“Sure.” He slides off his stool, walking around behind the bar through the narrow doorway to the small stock room.

You follow him, leaning up against a stack of Budweiser. “What’s going on? Everyone is on edge, I can feel it, it’s making my skin crawl.” You shudder as chills run up your arms. Tensions are rising, but you don’t know why, which is making you uneasy.

EZ rubs at his face and for the first time tonight, you notice the dark circles under his eyes. He must have not made it to bed yet.

“Something’s stirring up the border. We aren’t sure exactly what it is yet, but it’s not looking good for the muling business. Galindo is on edge, breathing down our throats, wanting to keep the pipeline open, the other charters want us to push as much through as we can now so if something does happen, we won’t feel the hit as hard.” He sighs, shaking his head.

You frown, crossing your arms. “Yea, which is good for them, but you guys are the ones doing the work and putting your asses on the line, making everyone rich.”

EZ nods along with your statement. “The Kings are getting greedy and Santo Padre is starting to feel it.”

You chew on your lip. “What’s Galindo saying about all of this?”

“Since we aren’t sure where the pressure is coming from yet, he is trying to stay as clean as possible. Just wants us to get it done.”

“That arrogant son of a bitch,” you say, rolling your eyes. You’d only had the pleasure of meeting Miguel Galindo one time and you were not impressed. Behind his several thousand dollar suits, ridiculous sunglasses, and fancy loafers is a scared little boy trying to fill his daddy’s shoes. “So what’s the plan?”

EZ throws his hands up in the air as if to say, who knows? “I guess that’s what we are trying to figure out.”

You bite your lip, running over the options. Your number one choice is to tell Galindo to go fuck himself, but that’s never going to happen. The Galindo Cartel has it’s fingers generations deep in the Mayans, that relationship isn’t going anywhere. If the club keeps muling like normal, they run the risk of whatever is stirring up the border falling in their laps and everyone getting put away. Or they could double and triple their shipments now, getting as much across as they can in the hopes that the border cools down enough they can go back to their original schedules. But was holding on to all that coke really worth the risk?

“Don’t envy Bishop right now,” you finally decide. Grabbing a case of beer, you turn, heading back out to the bar.

“Thought you two were fucking back there,” Coco says, taking a drag off his cigarette. “What took so long, huh? I need another beer.”

You set the case on the bar, leaning across it, cocking an eyebrow at Coco. “First of all, you know where to get another beer your-goddamn-self. And second of all, you know if I finally took one of you for a ride you wouldn’t last half that long.” EZ sets another case down beside you but you don’t take your eyes off of Coco, refusing to back down from the challenge.

You watch as he swallows, his eyes trailing from your face down to your chest before darting back up to your face again. “My bad.”

Gilly shoves his shoulder, laughing. “One of these days, man. She is going to put you on your skinny ass and we ain’t gunna lift a finger to stop her.”

You hold your fist out to GIlly who bumps it with his as Coco start’s spewing about ‘bros before hoes’. You laugh, opening the cardboard case, pulling out beer bottles and stacking them in the cooler as EZ returns to his seat at the bar.

“Pretty sure you’re the hoe in that equation, ‘mano,” Angel says, pointing at Coco, who gets even more defensive. You can’t help but laugh as Angel and Gilly continue to egg him on until he grabs his beer and cigarette and storms out the door.

“Serves him right,” Angel says, turning back to the bar. All of the men see you as a little sister, but it didn’t stop them from pushing a boundary every once in a while. It never failed however, that when one brother stepped out of line, the others were close by to put him back in his place. “Got anything on the schedule tonight?”

You make a face at Angel. “You know I don’t do back to backs.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Just checking, querida. Only want to make sure you’re taken care of,” he says with a wink. You roll your eyes at him. Always a flirt.

“So, if we don’t have anything else to do tonight, you know what that means?”

You look at Gilly. “Way ahead of you.” Grabbing shot glasses out, you line them up in front of the guys on the bar. “Someone gunna go get Coco off the porch?”

“I got him,” Angel says, smashing his cigarette in the ashtray. He turns, sliding off his chair and taking a few steps before hollering, “Coco. You done being a little bitch yet?”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, cause that’s the way to do that.” EZ laughs, watching as the door swings shut behind his brother. “Hey, you old folks up for some shots?”

You don’t miss the smirk on Bishop’s lips as he tips back the rest of his whiskey. “We’ve been drinking longer than some of you have been alive, sweetheart. You kids should remember that.”

You slam another shot glass on the bar, grabbing Bishop’s preferred bottle of whiskey, filling the glass to the top, knocking it back before setting it down and refilling it, pushing it towards him wearing your own smirk. “Prove it.”

PART 3 <- will be unlocked at 75 notes

**Also, just so you are aware for generating notes. Like = 1 note, reblog = 1 note, comment in the comment bubble = 2 notes (because I will always respond) so 1 person can generate 4 notes!

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TAGLIST: XX @mijagif @jenny885 @pbbwriter @thexhostess @the-writer-no-one-knows @whiterose38 @rebelwrites @paintballkid711 @happilysparklyunknown @a-winter-tale @sassymox @redpoodlern @newyorkrican922 @thegirlwhowritesfics @stillbreathin @orangehairchild @lmao-liz @flanagirl @delightfulheroshoeflap @winchestershiresauce @saltyunicorn079 @drabbles-mc @frattsparty @nessamc @mrnd93 XX @blkbutterfly816 @flacalatke @lexondeck @bruxasolta

[lexondeck]

I can't wait to see where this continues! @withmyteeth amazing, as always 😍🔥

[withmyteeth]

Red Velvet: stitch 1

Mayans x SOA

CHAPTER LIST

SUMMARY: Coco let’s you down, but Gilly steps in to take you to breakfast.

WARNINGS: 18+ only, insinuation of dubcon, mentions of drugs/drugging, theft, food mention, 1.9k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’m thrilled to start sharing this new piece! I pretty much wrote it two parts as writers block smacked me in the face in the middle. I set out to give some time to the underrepresented characters in the fandom. I hope you enjoy 💋

You perch on the end of the bed, typing out a message on the unfamiliar phone, hitting send. Your own phone beside you dings, alerting you that the message had come through.

Hey sexy, thanks for tonight, can’t wait to see you again.

“Oh, Steven, that is so sweet of you to say,” you coo, looking at the man passed out in the bed behind you. Slipping his phone back into the discarded pants on the floor, you look around the hotel room for anything you might leave behind.

The room is nice. You hadn’t been in this particular suite before. Everything is updated and modern, but still with a homey, island vibe. They didn’t shy away from color, with vibrant reds and yellows, but not enough to be ostentatious. The wet bar had a surprisingly expansive selection of little bottles which made your evening a little easier.

You look through the door enviously eyeing the Roman shower with the waterfall head. “Maybe next time, baby.”

Not bothering to put on your heels, you slip your bag over your shoulder, the expansion zipper letting it hold more than what you arrived with.

Flipping the lights off, you grab the ‘Do Not Disturb’ placard, hanging it on the door handle before it swings shut behind you. The carpet of the hallway is rough and scratchy under your bare feet as you swing your heels from your finger as you walk past the lines of doors. You press the button for the elevator, using the metallic reflection to check your appearance. The door dings at the same time as the phone tucked in the hidden side compartment of your purse.

You step into the elevator, pressing the ‘Lobby’ button before slipping the burner phone from its spot.

Outside, north entrance.

You send back confirmation, then hold the power button until the screen turns black before snapping it shut and tucking it away just as the elevator reaches the ground floor, the arrival sending flutters through your belly.

The lobby is empty, save for the kid behind the desk who has his nose buried in a textbook, a highlighter cap between his lips.

“See you next time, Mateo.”

He doesn’t even look up, continuing to highlight the page. “Good night, Fancy.”

You can’t help but smile at the nickname. You didn’t have the best upbringing. Leaving home when you were only sixteen, you managed to survive by turning tricks to put food on the table and a roof over your head. The first time you’d heard the old country song, you’d started referring to yourself as Fancy around strangers. It’d been years until you’d found someone worthy of your real name, but you’d finally found a home in an unexpected place.

Pushing the door open, you can hear the putter of an idling motorcycle. The concrete is chilly on your feet as you follow the sound around the corner to see the bike parked against the curb, a man in a Mayans kutte leaning against it, smoking a cigarette.

“Gilly? I thought Angel was on call tonight?”

He turns, dropping the cigarette, grinding it with the toe of his boot. “Bishop sent him and little brother over the border on business. Coco is trying to track down the kid again. You’re stuck with me, princesa.”

You grin, tucking your bag and shoes into the opened bag on the bike, pulling out the more comfortable flats and slipping them on. “Oh, Gilly, I’m never stuck with you.”

He chuckles, throwing a leg over the bike, standing it up right before flipping down the foot pegs so you can hop on behind him. “Where to, princesa?”

“Like you even have to ask.” If Gilly picked you up, you were guaranteed to have a bomb fucking breakfast before he dropped you off at home. The other guys didn’t appreciate food like you did. Angel and Coco are way too skinny and EZ is more worried about his muscles than a greasy meal with a side of carbs.

“Rosa’s it is,” he declares, shifting the bike into gear.

You holler in excitement, throwing your fist in the air as he speeds out of the parking lot into the night. Your skin quickly pimples with goosebumps, your attire not suited for night time riding but you know you’ll be warm and tucked into a booth soon enough.

Less than ten minutes later, you’re sliding into your usual spot in the back corner of the twenty four hour diner.

“The usual?”

“Extra bacon tonight, Marietta, please.” You smile at her, folding your arms on the table.

“Extra crispy?”

You nod, “You got it, babe.”

She smiles, shaking her head at you as she walks back to the counter, calling out the order through the open window to the kitchen. You’d been coming here since Rosa still ran the place. She stops in periodically to make sure her daughters aren’t letting anything slide, but you hadn’t seen her in awhile.

Marietta returns with your orange juice and Gilly’s coffee. “How’s mom?” he asks.

“On vacation, thankfully,” she says, setting the glasses down, along with some cups of ice water.

“I didn’t know she knew the word,” you say with a chuckle, grabbing your glass, downing half of it in one drink.

Marietta rolls her eyes. “You’re telling me, mija. Loaded her kicking and screaming, but she should be enjoying the beach by noon today.”

“Good for her.” Rosa had spent her life building this diner into the best breakfast place in Calexico. She deserved a break.

“Javi will have your food right out.”

“Thanks.” When she walks away, Gilly turns to you. “Successful night?”

You roll your eyes. “Isn’t it always?” He looks at you expectantly. “So impatient. Got about two in cash, a couple gift cards. He had a bottle of oxys, said the doctor prescribed this for his back,” you shrug.

He nods along. “Not bad.”

Luckily, he must have slipped one before you got back to the room, in preparation for the sure thing he thought he was getting but you managed to get him to down enough alcohol that he passed out before you cleared out his wallet. You’d stripped him of his pants and yanked his boxers down his legs and tossed the sheet over him. A couple ripped condom packets and the text you sent yourself? Steven had a party he'll never remember.

As promised, Marietta returns quickly, her tray heaped full with breakfast food. She sets down the plates of eggs, meats, pancakes, biscuits and toast, followed by various condiments. “Anything I forgot?”

You can’t help but moan at the sight of all the food and your stomach gurgles to life. You grab a biscuit, taking a bite, the butteriness exploding on your tongue. “If I die and this isn’t waiting for me in heaven, I’m coming back.”

She smiles, shaking her head. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She heads back behind the counter, continuing to wipe things down and get stocked for the morning crowd that will be filtering in soon.

You turn back to Gilly, taking another bite of biscuit. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite?”

His face scrunches up as a bit of food falls from your mouth. He grabs a napkin, shoving it in your face. “Yea, because I’m the only one who doesn‘t judge your table manners.” He laughs, watching as you shove the rest of the biscuit in your mouth.

“Ooo uv meh,” you say around your full cheeks.

“Just eat your breakfast, kid.” He’s a little more refined, using his utensils to eat, whereas you firmly believe food tastes better if you eat it with your fingers. Grabbing some bacon, you dip it in the yolk of your over-easy eggs. Once you’ve dipped the yolk away, you will slide the whites onto his plate and he will give you the cut around yolks from his to break over your hashbrowns. The two of you had breakfast down to a science.

When you’ve finally eaten your fill, the plates picked clean, you fall against the booth. “I’m exhausted.”

Marietta appears as if by magic. “Anything else?”

“God, no,” Gilly says, rubbing his stomach. “It was delicious as always, ma.”

You dig in your purse pulling out a hundred dollar bill that wasn’t there a few hours before. “Keep the change.”

She slips the bill into the front pocket of her apron then grabs all of the plates on the table, carrying them precariously across the restaurant until she disappears through the swing door. She doesn’t drop a thing.

“What’s the plan for today?” Gilly asks, drawing your attention.

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your belly. “First, I’m going to go home and sleep away this food baby, then I’m on bar duty tonight.”

He grimaces. “That sucks.”

“Part of being the pack stray,” you say with a shrug. “Gotta earn my keep.”

He pats the purse between you. “I think you do more than your fair share.”

“Yea, but that’s just us. The rest of them don’t know about this,” you say, circling your finger in the air. Sure, when you’d been taken in by the club after a rough night with a john, you’d said you’d give up turning tricks when they offered you a position at the clubhouse instead of Vicky’s. You’d rather the MC pay you than take a cut of your earnings. “We gotta talk to the others about being more careful, too. Angel almost gave us away in front of Bishop the other day.”

Gilly rolls his eyes. “No fucking way.”

“Oh, yea.” You slide out of the booth, Gilly following your lead and stepping out behind you. “Just straight up said something in front of him about texting him on the burner when I was done.”

“It’s that new girl, she’s got his head twisted up.” Gilly steps around in front of you, holding the door open as you step through into the night air. If anything, it had gotten chillier while you were eating.

“You got an extra sweatshirt, Gil?”

“Let me check,” he says, opening the saddle bag on the opposite side of where you are tucking your purse. “Doesn’t look like it, princesa.” He shuts up the bag then slips off his kutte and sheds his own sweatshirt handing it over to you. “Here take my mine.”

You smile, taking it from his hand. “Thank you.” You slip it on as he swings his leg over the bike, tugging it up right and bringing it to life. You swing on behind him, tucking the extra sleeve of the sweatshirt around your hands as you wrap them around his waist.

“You’re giving that back, you know,” he throws over his shoulder as he kicks the bike in gear rolling out of the lot.

You throw your head back and laugh. “Possession is nine tenths of the law. Should have thought about that before you handed it over.”

These men never learn. You have a whole drawer of hoodies belonging to various club members at your place that you refused to return, yet they still keep giving them to you.

He raps the throttle quickly and you jerk forward, wrapping your arms around him tighter, laughing the whole time. You never thought you’d find a new family in the form of a motorcycle club, but you wouldn’t trade a single one of these men for anything in the world.

PART 2 <- will be unlocked at 75 notes

**Also, just so you are aware for generating notes. Like = 1 note, reblog = 1 note, comment in the comment bubble = 2 notes (because I will always respond) so 1 person can generate 4 notes!

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TAGLIST: XX @mijagif @jenny885 @pbbwriter @thexhostess @the-writer-no-one-knows @whiterose38 @rebelwrites @paintballkid711 @happilysparklyunknown @a-winter-tale @sassymox @redpoodlern @newyorkrican922 @thegirlwhowritesfics @stillbreathin @orangehairchild @lmao-liz @flanagirl @delightfulheroshoeflap @winchestershiresauce @saltyunicorn079 @drabbles-mc @frattsparty @nessamc @mrnd93 XX @lexondeck @blkbutterfly816

[angelslildevil]

💜💜💜

[withmyteeth]

Red Velvet

Mayans x SOA

CHAPTER LIST - 40k words

Stitch 1 | Stitch 2 | Stitch 3 | Stitch 4 | Stitch 5 | Stitch 6 | Stitch 7 | Stitch 8 | Stitch 9 | Stitch 10 | Stitch 11 | Stitch 12 | Stitch 13 | Stitch 14 | Stitch 15 | Stitch 16 | Stitch 17 | Stitch 18 | Stitch 19 | Stitch 20 | Stitch 21 | Stitch 22

COMING SOON!

SUMMARY: Added stress at the border makes you realize the risks you’ve been taking to avoid ending up how you were before the club aren’t worth it anymore.

The Kings push Santo Padre to their limits when Marcus shows up with information about a potential raid of the Galindo cartel, forcing the club out of town in the dead of the night. But when the Kings refuse to follow through, Bishop has to reach out to other charters to pick up the slack.

WARNINGS: 18+ only; cussing, drugs, sex, guns, blood, the usual, chapters will be tagged accordingly.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Welcome to another one, folks! I struggled getting this piece down into a summary, so all I can say is read along and see how it unfolds. As always, a thank you to my beta, @rebelwrites and A HUGE THANK YOU TO @lovebarefootblonde for the banner as I just word vomited at her and she made this beauty:

THIS STORY IS COMPLETED AND WRITTEN IN FULL. Chapters will be released as parts reach 75 notes, so interaction and feedback on each part is important!

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED IN THIS PIECE, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS BELOW.

[withmyteeth]

Chapter 1 is formatted and ready to post when this hits 75 notes!!

[andacrylikebreakingglass]

𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞.

--Angel follows you into the bathroom during a party. This is complete smut. I've also added a couple content warnings in the tags.

There’s a party going on when you and Angel reunite. He’s sitting with a bottle blonde perched on his legs like some exotic bird. She thinks she’s got status since she’s promising him pussy later. Like his dick is a throne that makes her a princess, but he’s not promising anything at all. The celebration’s for a brother who’s just returned after doing a bid, and he’s getting even more ass thrown his way. “California Love” bumps in the salvage yard through modified speakers while Angel’s fingers knead the woman’s skin in a way that made you cross your legs tight.

You’re more than familiar with the pressure of those fingers. Know the exact size and length. The way they curl and flex. Once everyone’s reciting Tupac’s verse, you make your way to the clubhouse to steal away inside the salvage yard restroom. You’re cooling your neck, using your purse as a clunky fan when someone knocks at the door.

“Someone’s in here,” you inform the person on the other side, but another knock sounds. Three slow raps rumble against the wood. You know it’s trouble before you even open the door, yet you still open the door. Trouble’s not something you’ve ever been good at keeping away from.

“You don’t need to be in here, crying over me,” he quips, wearing away at a toothpick between his teeth.

Everything about Angel is worn. From the overused denim jeans, faded at the knees to the cracked and dusty leather kutte. When he isn’t smirking, you can recognize the weary gaze settled into the corners of his eyes. You catch him staring at everything and nothing at times, weighed down by all the shit he’s done and the ghosts he’s made. And he was damn good at acting like he had no hang-ups. Got really good at drinking, smoking, and doing whatever the hell else made him feel good.

“I’ve never cried over a man,” you throw back much too eager. “Especially over no asshole like you.”

Angel smiles, knowing he’s got your number. You want to smack him when he begins to nod as if he’s figured out some great truth he’s unwilling to share. He flicks the toothpick to the floor. “The lady doth protest too much.”

“You’ve never read a single Shakespeare play in your life–hey!” you whisper sharply when he steps into the bathroom with you. You take a few steps back, standing on your toes and flattening your butt against the counter in the small space. Mild panic catches you by the throat, “The fuck are you doing? We shouldn’t be in here together.”

“Make up your mind,” he says, kissing his teeth. “You tell me to stop coming around, but you’re getting all pissy about some pass around?”

Your eyes make a slow roll, “You think I’m jealous because I went to the bathroom? The world doesn’t actually revolve around you.” He reaches up to palm the side of your face with his road-weathered hands. With his middle and forefinger, he drags at your bottom lip. You swat his hand away because any longer, and you were going to take his fingers into your throat.

He feigns injury, frowning as he shakes his hand. When the façade drops, he reminds you, “I’m not the one who broke this shit off.”

“Right, but you had no trouble movin’ on, though.” The jealously you swear you’re incapable of experiencing is leaching into your voice.

“That’s real cute comin’ from you, mama,” he says, squinting a little. His hand is back on you, palm flat against your bare chest. His touch leaves fire in its wake as he drags a heavy hand over your neck, easing off when he catches the thin fabric of your dress between his fingers. “You wear this for me?”

“Nope,” you say with no attempt to sound convincing.

You’d went out and dropped money you didn’t have on a new dress the moment you’d heard about this homecoming. It’s not incredibly practical to wear dresses to these types of things, especially not one this thin. And shit if it isn’t thin. You feel your nipples straining against the material and know he can see it, too. He smiles at this, then looks up at your face with his jaw set. Angel is pulling down the spaghetti straps until your breasts are bare.

“If someone comes in here–”

“Mm, like that doesn’t excite you,” he says, leaning in. You throw your head back, expecting to feel his lips on your hardened nipples, but he retreats a few paces. “Turn around.” You’re about to protest when his smile dissolves into a hard glare. “Don’t make me say it again.

Despite wanting to know where disobedience will get you, you follow orders. You face the mirror, and you can see him dipping to the floor in the mirror’s reflection. Between your dress rising over your ass and your underwear being pulled down to your ankles, your chest heaves with anticipatory breaths.

“All that talk, but I still got you drippin’,” he says. You’re about to toss a witty reply over your shoulder when you feel his tongue against your heat. There’s no room in the small space for foreplay. Yeah, Angel knows how to make himself feel good, but he’s even better at pulling pleasure from you.

More than pleasure, though, the feeling of his tongue heavy on your clit also gives you a peculiar sense of comfort. He grabs hold of your thighs, taking a firm grip of your flesh. His tongue makes a mess, licking a trail from your clit up your ass where he spends some time probing the puckered flesh before slipping back down to lap at your entrance. You arch your back a little– more. He pushes his tongue inside, and you gasp again, biting your lip. Gripping the sink for leverage, you put a little more curve in your back so you can rock back and forth. So you can fuck his tongue.

He's moaning between your legs. A yearning hum comes from deep in his chest as he runs his firm, lithe tongue inside before enclosing his mouth around your clit. Angel could do this all night, if given the chance. He enjoys eating you out almost as much as he enjoys fucking you. Almost. He stands tall in the next moment, snaking an arm up to your throat from behind. You twist your body uncomfortably for something that’s way too sloppy to be called a kiss. No tenderness. Just the two of you tasting the raw lust on each other’s tongues. His other hand pulls at his buttons and buckles as he sucks and bites at your bottom lip. He pulls away again, placing a forceful hand on the center of your back before easing your chest down onto the counter.

With your ass is in the air, he pushes himself in deep, greedily bottoming out on the first stroke. He manages to keep his voice to a restrained curse while your own moan rips through the space. It’s muffled by a Jadakiss song, but you know that was too damn loud. Encouraged by your voice, he finds a harsh rhythm, crushing your hips, stomach, and thighs into the countertop. It’s a pain you’ll feel in the morning, but right now, you’re drowning in your own desire. You revel in the stretch each time he sinks within you. He grasps a fistful of your dress, and you hear the fabric threatening to come apart.

“You’re ripping it–” Your lazy voice is clipped as he lifts your bent knee up onto the countertop. How deep he gets now…God, it’s like he’s punishing you.

One glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and you realize how pitiful you look. Jaw slack and eyes half-open. Your eyes meet in the mirror while he’s pushing into you. “I’m gonna make you feel me all night.”

You grip the unfinished undersides of the sink, mewling at Angel’s cruelty. You never want this penance to end, but he’s almost over the edge. You can tell by the change in rhythm and can see the hardness in his face soften. Your own pleasure approaches in fiery waves that erode your senses. Your cries sound like they’re outdoing the music with each forceful thrust Angel sends up and into your cunt. A little while longer…just a little bit slower, and you can get there with him.

With one hand gripping your waist, and the other clutching your breast, he fully sheathes himself again and again. “Sh-shit…”

The room drifts from around you just then. This angle lets him touch a place that brings tears to your eyes. A spot only Angel knows how to find. You’re a damn mess, whimpering and begging him to drive it out of you. Just when you’re on the precipice of shattering, his hips still. Just like that, your high is ripped from you, and you’re crashing back down to the room with lead tied to your limbs.

Angel spills inside you, grunting his release. The next moments happen like flashes of a dream. He pulls away from you, out of you, leaving you bent over, cold, and wanting.

It’s sluggish, the way you stand upright, wincing at the soreness settling in your bones. He’s moving at double the speed, fastening his belt in record time. You reach for the napkins at the edge of the sink, but he disapproves.

“Unh uh,” he shakes his head. “Pull ‘em up.” The realization comes a half-second later as he’s pulling your underwear back up. He wants you to go back out there like this. Marked up and tainted. “There you go, pouting again.” You catch the slight frown, but you’re too flustered to soften your face. “If you wanna get yours–” he holds you by the neck, pulling you in for another vulgar kiss. “–you got my number, huh?”

He’s on the other side of the door, and you give yourself exactly thirty seconds to snap the hell out of it. There’s no time to let frustration or a pesky thing like shame haunt you. You examine yourself in the mirror, pulling the straps back up over your shoulders and straightening the dress as best you can. If it’d been a little earlier in the night, a more sober eye could probably catch your swollen lips and the way your dress fits a bit looser in places where the stitches have popped. Just a few sprays of perfume from your purse are enough to conceal the smell of sex souring on your skin before you make your departure.

The party is still in full swing when you get back to the scrapyard. You feel like you’ve been gone all night, but it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes.

Walking is damn near unbearable. He’s careful not to leave any permanent marks, but that doesn’t mean his words don’t ring in your ears. Phantom touches are all over your body, and the worst of it? Angel’s slick is soaking into your panties. I’m gonna make you feel me all night.

You pull two beers from the cooler and pass by Angel with the bottle blonde on one of the picnic benches. She’s sewing a patch on his leather jacket, and you wonder how long until you can give him a proper congratulations for his new rank in the MC. You find your place on the arm of a beat-up chair that’s been dragged out for el presidente.

You offer the man beside you the other beer, and he accepts it before popping the top. He leans in, taking a break from shooting the shit to throw an arm around your waist.

“You good?” Obispo asks, stroking your arm with his cold thumb.

You nod, leaning in for a quick kiss.

While Obispo returns his attention back to the boys, you steal glances at Angel who appears to have been leering at you for some time now. His stare is intense, reminiscent of the way he’d been glowering at you in the mirror when he had you bent over.

“All good.”

[withmyteeth]

Drabble Masterlist 💋

3 word drabble prompts are:

OPEN

Submit 3 words and your character of choice and I’ll write you a 100 word story!

RULES

Must be following me.

Must be off anon.

Must submit as an ask.

1 per person, per day.

Must like, comment, and reblog submission or future requests will be denied.

If there is a line through the name, I am not currently writing for them.

**Reblogs and comments are encouraged!!**

ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAG LIST HERE

BISHOP LOSA

ANGEL REYES

EZ REYES

COCO CRUZ

CREEPER VARGAS

HANK LOZA

TAZA ROMERO

PROSPECT STEVE

MIGUEL GALINDO

NESTOR OCETEVA

JAX TELLER

CHIBS TELFORD

HAPPY LOWMAN

TIG TRAGER

JUICE ORTIZ

DAVID HALE

LYLA WINSTON

HERMAN KOZIK

************************

If you would like to use one of my drabbles for fic inspiration - I would be honored! Just please tag me and link the drabble!

[lady-writes20]

From One Bike to Another (Part 9)

Click HERE for Part 8

Pairings:: Angel Reyes x Reader x Chibs Telford Warnings:: swearing, slight Sons canon, sad and angsty times

Laying in bed, I waited anxiously for Angel's call. I was worried about him on the Vegas run. Something always seemed to go wrong on those longer runs. I was constantly pacing the living room while I waited for Angel to get home. As soon as my phone started ringing, I dove to answer it.

"Hello?" I answered, sitting up straight.

"Hola, querida," he sighed. A smile formed on my face, hearing the sound of his voice.

"Hi," I breathed. "How's the run?"

"It's okay. We're done driving for the night," he said. I could hear the guys in the background. "How'd you do looking at places?"

"Okay, I guess. I only looked at one place." Picking at the blanket, I sighed, "Do you think...you could maybe come back after the run?"

"What about our shit?" he asked.

I shrugged, "We can go back for it."

He didn't say anything for a minute, thinking over everything. "No, I'll just pack up everything and come back up." I groaned quietly, about to talk. "Listen, you're okay up there, querida. The Sons'll take care of you and help you get settled."

There was no changing his mind. He saw what he was doing as the right thing to do. For me, that wasn't the right thing. That never mattered to him. He wasn't mean to me about it like most people were. He just thought he was right.

"Okay," I sighed.

"Mi amor, I'll be back soon, okay?" he said.

"Okay." I laid back in bed and closed my eyes. "Just miss you is all."

"I know. I miss you too." For a moment, we enjoyed the silence coming from either end of the call. "The guys need me, I gotta go. I love you."

"I love you too, Angel," I said. As I hung up the phone, I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I didn't even realize I was crying.

I folded myself into the bed and shut the lamp off. Laying on my side, facing the part of the bed Angel was supposed to be in, I let the slow, hot tears roll down my cheeks until my eyes grew too heavy to keep open.

Sitting on Angel's lap in the corner of the room, I drank my beer as his lips grazed over my neck. I tried to hold a conversation with Hank and Creeper but Angel wouldn't let me. I kept laughing and leaning away from his lips and his hand as he tickled my side.

"I can't stand being around the two of you together," Hank chuckled lowly. "You're like children."

"So?" I shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that."

"I still don't understand what you see in him, mama," Creeper laughed.

"What the fuck?" Angel scoffed. "She sees a lot in me." He looked down at me to agree and I didn't say anything, just stared at him. "Right, baby?" I took a sip of my beer and looked away from him. "Babe?"

Hank, Creeper, and I laughed as Angel stared down at me. I set my beer bottle down and wrapped my arms around his neck. I kissed his cheek as he turned away from me.

"Querido..." I cooed with a chuckle. "I was joking!"

"It wasn't funny," he grumbled, pushing me off his lap and onto the booth. He walked over to the bar and grabbed another beer.

"Well, shit," I groaned. Hank scrunched his eyebrows as he looked at me. "Gonna have to make it up to him," I sighed, taking a sip of my beer.

"Why's that?" Creeper chuckled, turning back to me.

"He'll act all pissy," I said.

"Let him," Hank grunted. "If he of all people can't take a joke, that's his fault."

"Yeah, mama, let him get over it," he said.

"Easier said than done," I smirked, finishing my beer. "Gimme a minute." I stood up and walked over to Angel. He was still standing at the bar, drinking from his bottle angrily. "Baby?" I sighed, rubbing my hand over the Mayan symbol on his back. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"It's fine," he grumbled. He took a sip of his beer and set it back on the bar. As he spun it, he muttered, "You three always gang up on me."

"We're just teasing you, querido," I said with a smile, trying not to laugh at him.

"Well, that's not the kind of teasing I like." He turned and looked down at me. I could see the deep hurt on his face. I grabbed his hand, running my thumb over the Mayan symbol on the back.

"I know it's not," I sighed. "I'm sorry." I tugged his arm lightly and stepped towards the door. "Come on, baby." He smiled down at me and grabbed his beer. We walked out the door and outside, heading to the side of the clubhouse. I pushed him against the wall, hidden from the bright lights, and dropped to my knees.

Waking up to a text message from Angel was the worst thing in the world. He told me he was hitting the road with the rest of the guys and wouldn't be able to talk for a few hours. I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. With no motivation to get up, I closed my eyes again.

After a few hours, I got up and started walking down the hall. I could hear someone talking and I slowed down to listen. It was Tig and Clay. The closer I tiptoed, the better I could make out what they were saying.

"I'm the guy at your side steps between you and the shit that tries to kill you," Tig said. "I'm your right hand, Clay."

"What do you want? A pat on the back every time you climb on your Dyna?" Clay scoffed. "It don't work like that around here, pal."

"Oh," he sighed. I stood around the corner, covering my mouth as I listened in. "You know why you're losing this club? Do you? Ain't because of the drugs. It's 'cause you crawl in there and you shut those doors and you lock all of us out."

I heard one of them start walking away and then the door opened. After a few moments, I walked out to the kitchen and looked down at Clay. He was sipping his coffee, ignoring me. His face was littered with scratched and bruises.

"Morning," I sighed, stepping into the kitchen. He didn't respond to me, only nodded. I hadn't spoken to Clay since the first night I met everyone. He probably didn't even know I was still around. I poured a cup of coffee and stepped back out. Pointing at the chair beside him, I asked, "May I?" He shrugged and brought his mug to his lips.

"I'm about to head out," he sighed. Setting it down on the table, he twisted the coffee mug between his fingers. "How much longer you think you're going to be here?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't...I don't know," I answered. "Until I settle on a place to go." He nodded, slowly raising the mug up. "Is that...okay?" I asked, staring down at him. He nodded again as he stared down at the table. "If I'm in the way, I can, like...find a hotel or something."

"It's fine," he grunted. "Just stop listening in on conversations that you aren't supposed to be a part of." My eyes grew wide and I looked down, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Okay," I nodded. He stood up and walked to the door. "Clay," I called. He stopped, his shoulders dropping. "Thank you." He didn't say anything, just nodded, and walked out. "Al presidente no le gusto," I sighed, shaking my head.

Hours went by and I hadn't heard from Angel or any of the Sons. It was lonely in that big clubhouse by myself. Out of boredom, I started cleaning the clubhouse. I used to do that for the Mayans in Santo Padre.

Bishop walked in as I was sweeping the floor. His steps slowed as he looked over at me. He smiled and cleared his throat. "Hey, sweetheart," he smirked. "What're you doing here?" He walked a little closer, lighting a cigarette.

"Waiting for Angel to get done at the scrapyard," I answered, getting back to my sweeping. "This place could use a good cleaning."

"You think so?" he chuckled, sitting down at the bar. I turned back to him as I laughed. "Don't let me stop you, querida."

Bishop was always flirting with me, trying to see if I would go with him. It wasn't malicious, just curious. After his fight with Angel, he toned back a little, until we were in a room alone.

Clay wasn't like that. The few times he did look at me, I could see him eyeing me up or giving me looks. I couldn't tell if he didn't want me there or if he wanted to sleep with me. Either way, it was malicious.

Hours had gone by without a word from Angel. I was worried about him. It was his turn to avoid my phone calls and text messages. He had never done that before, even after all of our fights. He never ignored me.

Kozik had been killed that day. The Sons went out to help the Cartel. They all came back, dirty and covered in dirt, making my cleaning of the clubhouse pointless. All of them came back but Kozik. Tig held his kutte and laid it out on the bar, pouring a shot for his fallen brother. That sight made me pull out my phone and text Angel.

Baby are you okay?

The club slowly started filing out of the clubhouse. Juice was upset about Kozik's death. When they got back, he stomped around when he normally bounced. Chibs pulled him aside and talk to him in the bathroom. I watched him close the door, locking the two of them in there. Chibs came out first, sitting down beside me.

"Everything okay?" I asked, looking up at him. He shrugged and shook his head. "What can I do?" He shook his head and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, moving over to the couch beside the bar. He stared ahead, absentmindedly. I stood up and sat down next to him. I hadn't seen Chibs act like that.

Everyone had left. Tig sat at the bar, sipping a beer slowly. I rested my head on Chibs's shoulder, wishing I could make him feel better. Jax and Opie had left together and Clay went back to the dorm he was crashing in. Gemma kicked him out of the house, but I didn't know why. After the conversation that morning, I was afraid to ask.

"Who's that?" Tig asked, staring up at the monitor with the security feed. I stared up at the van driving down the lot. "You know them?" He looked over at Chibs and he shrugged.

"No idea," Chibs sighed. A smile grew on my face, recognizing the van. I passed my beer to Chibs and jumped up, running to the door. "Where ye goin'?" he called after me. I stood in the doorway, looking at the green van. Chibs and Tig followed, standing behind me.

The door opened and Creeper stepped out. He looked around the parking lot and over at Jax and Opie who were sitting on their bikes. I started running and he turned to me, smiling. I ran into the parking lot and towards him. I had never run so fast in my life. Leaping into his arms, I hugged him tightly. My legs coiled around his waist and my arms around his neck.

"Hey, babygirl," he chuckled, squeezing me. "Shit, I fucking missed you." I embraced him tighter, burying my face into his shoulder. I started crying quietly, overwhelmed with every emotion known. "You okay, princessa?" he chuckled.

"I missed you," I whispered, clutching onto him like a liferaft. I didn't realize how much I missed him until I saw him across the lot. "Why're you here? Who died?" I asked, leaning away from him. He still held me and laughed quietly.

"What, no one died," he smirked. I shook my head, stammering. "Angel asked me to come up. He had to go back to SP but he was worried about you."

"He did? Is he okay? I haven't heard from him," I sighed, pushing my hair behind my ear.

"Yeah...he's okay," he nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "He said he'd call you at some point. Explain shit, I guess." I nodded slowly, turning to look at Chibs and Tig still standing in the doorway and Jax and Opie still on their bikes. "How's life with the reaper?" he asked, nodding to them.

"Chaotic?" I chuckled. "I've seen more bullets flying up here than anywhere back home. I feel bad, one of the guys was...killed today. They were doing shit for the cartel-" I stopped myself, realizing that wasn't my business to tell, even to Creeper.

"Shit," he sighed. "You okay?" I shrugged, looking down at the ground and his familiar Converse. He dropped a heavy hand onto my shoulder, rocking me a little. "You know if something happens to you, all of Hell's gonna break loose and every Mayan is going to bat for you?"

"Yeah, I know," I smiled. I gave him another hug, squeezing him. "I'm so happy you're here." He chuckled quietly, but it boomed in his chest. It felt like home in his embrace. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the guys."

I grabbed his hand and led the way. There was more pep in my step as we walked. Crossing the lot over to Jax and Opie, I smiled down at them. I felt bad parading Creeper around after his long drive, but I was too excited.

"Guys, this is Creeper," I introduced. "This is Jax and Opie." He reached out to shake their hands.

"Creeper?" Opie chuckled. "That's a fun name."

"Yeah, well, I didn't pick it," he laughed. "Thanks for taking care of our girl. She had us worried there."

"No problem, bro," Jax said. "We love having her here."

"I gotta take off," Opie sighed. "It was good to meet you, man."

"Yeah," Creeper nodded. We stepped to the side so Opie could pull out. A car pulled in the back entrance and the headlights shined on us. Jax stood up and walked over to the Cadilac. I realized it was Gemma. As she got out, I saw the bruises covering her face. "You know her?" Creeper asked. I nodded slowly, putting two and two together. Clay beat the shit out of her.

"Yeah, that's...that's Gemma. Jax's mom," I whispered. A shiver ran down my spine, seeing Jax hug his mother. "I'll introduce you to the other guys," I sighed quietly.

I led the way over to the door where Chibs and Tig still stood. I couldn't stop the thoughts of Gemma and Clay from running through my head. What happened to make them physically fight each other? Creeper's hand in between my shoulder blades brought me back.

"You okay, babygirl?" he asked quietly. "I've never seen you like this." I exhaled, stopping in my tracks. "Hey, what's going on?"

"I'll tell you later," I sighed. We continued the distance to Chibs and Tig. "This is Creeper," I smiled as best I could muster up. He reached out, shaking their hands as they told him their names.

I could feel myself spilling into a cloud of fog. Tig brushed past me and walked into the garage. I felt the air push against me as he walked. Not even Creeper talking to me could pull me out of my thoughts.

Would Angel ever hit me like that, the way Clay hit Gemma? Could he ever get so enraged that he beat me to a pulp? Would the guys, Mayans or Sons, stand around and do nothing about it?

I wanted to think he wouldn't. Deep down, I knew he wouldn't. But what if Clay was like that at the beginning of their relationship? The sweetest, most caring person in the world until he snapped. Could Angel snap?

"Wha's goin' on, love?" Chibs asked, grabbing my shoulder. I shook my head a little, pulling myself out of the fog. "Ye okay?"

"I...don't know," I breathed. I looked up at him and shrugged, letting my shoulders drop back down. "I think so."

"Ye could use a drink," he chuckled, turning back into the clubhouse. I followed him with Creeper close behind me. "Wha's yer poison, Creep'r?" he asked, stepping behind the bar.

"Water," he answered, stepping behind me as I sat down on the stool. Chibs looked back at him, his eyebrows twitching together. "Alcohol and I aren't good friends anymore," he said with a little laugh.

"Sorry, brother," he said, shaking his head. Creeper shrugged and waved him off. "How long ye been...sober?"

"Almost two years," he sighed. He sat down next to me and draped his arm over me. "Some days are better than others, but just...one day at a time, brother."

Tig came storming in and walked back to the dorms. "Where ye goin'?" Chibs called. He didn't respond and just kept walking. "Jesus Christ, it's always somethin'," he groaned.

A few minutes later, Tig came back out. His kutte no longer had his sergeant at arms patch. He picked up my beer, chugged half of it down, and walked out without saying a word to us. Chibs followed him out. He muttered that he wanted to know what happened before he left Creeper and me at the bar.

"So, what's going on?" he asked me, staring down with a curious look in his eye. "I know something's going on with you."

"Not here," I sighed. I stood up from the bar and led the way to the dorm room I had claimed. I pulled him into the room and closed the door behind me. "It's a long story."

[stilinski-ortiz-dolan]

[withmyteeth]

@drabbles-mc this is giving me vibes we were talking about the other day of the absolute chaos that would ensue with Angel as VP when Bishop is unhinged. Just his little pissface in the bottom, like he’s picking up what Bishop is putting down, even if he’s not able to say it out loud in front of the rest of the club.

I NEED the dynamic these two have.

[angelslildevil]

Angel Reyes for Vice President, 2022

[withmyteeth]

Butterflies in Leather: part 14

Mayans MC

CHAPTERLIST

Summary: You finally face your feelings for EZ

WARNINGS: 18+ only; smut; 1.4k

Author’s note: I hope you enjoyed this! Keep your eye out for my next one!

You were sitting on the couch in sweats, sipping tea from your favorite mug when EZ came out of the bathroom. He hadn’t said much on the way home, but the plan must have worked. When Coco came out of Templo, he’d wrapped you in a tight hug whispering his thanks before walking out with Creeper, thankfully on his way to rehab.

He walks into the room, all but collapsing next to you on the couch, his arm falling over your leg where it’s crossed with the other on the cushion. If you hadn’t had so much going on, you would have noticed it sooner. The way you guys were blurring the lines between friends and roommates to something more. Your little apartment finally feeling like a home as you shared it with EZ.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“I should be asking you that,” you say, setting your mug on the table beside the couch. “Templo sounded rough.”

EZ shakes his head. “Even after this morning, I can’t believe how much he fought us.” He lays his head on the back of the couch, turning to look at you. “I can’t believe you did it on your own.”

You laugh, patting his hand, noting how he turns it over, lacing his fingers with yours. “Not all addictions are the same, EZ.”

“Still. You’re pretty fucking badass.”

You can’t help but smile at his words. EZ had always been in your corner, never gave up on you, even after what you did. The thought makes you somber. “Did you think I abandoned you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nails said something today. She didn’t think much of it when she said it, but she said after I left you guys thought it was because I didn’t love you anymore.” You say the words barely above a whisper, afraid if you say them too loud, you’ll hear the truth in them.

EZ turns toward you on the couch, not letting your hand go. “Querida.” He waits until you meet his eyes. “Nothing you could do would make me think that. Just like nothing you could do would make me stop loving you. No one is going to hold the fact that you put yourself first against you.”

The tension finally eases from your spine. You slump against the couch, turning slightly so your position mirrors his. Slowly, so slowly, you reach your hand out, cupping his face in your hand. His eyes close when you make contact with his skin as his breathing stutters.

Lightly, you run your thumb along his plump bottom lip. “EZ.”

His eyes open, pupils blown so wide that you almost can’t see the brown of his eyes. “Yea?”

“I think I might be in love with you.”

It’s not what you were planning to say, but the words ring true. You couldn’t go another moment without letting this man know how you feel about him.

He blinks at you. “What?”

“I just —I didn’t.” You sigh, laughing lightly. “After this morning with Coco and what Nails said. I realized that I can’t just sit around and assume people know how I feel about them. Lots of things have been getting clearer and clearer to me recently. Most importantly, how I feel about you. EZ, you’ve been my rock for years. You were the one who saved me. I had to let you know, even if you don’t feel the same.”

Your heart beats loudly in your chest. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. But despite that, you feel lighter than you had in years, finally not being weighed down by your feelings, letting them out. The butterflies in your stomach were gone, replaced by your love for the man in front of you. You knew that no matter what EZ said, you feel better having told him.

His hand comes up to cup your face as his thumb strokes your cheek. “Do you think I'd have spent the last two months on that terrible pull out sofa if I didn’t love you, too?” You bark out a laugh, even as the tears come to your eyes. “I thought you only had eyes for my brother?”

“I thought so, too, but once I got sober, everything seemed so much clearer. But then I still carried that shame of how I left things with us. And then I wasn’t sure you’d want anything to do with me after I spent years hung up Angel.”

“You’re not the first girl that fell for Angel while wearing beer goggles.” He grins and you can’t help but laugh, until he leans forward pressing his lips to yours.

This kiss is so much different than your first. His lips work against yours until his tongue slips into your mouth and you eagerly meet it with your own. You only pull apart to breathe, even then only far enough to rest your foreheads against each other.

“I thought I’d lost you to Creeper.”

That had been your fear as well, but in a different way. That when he found you both after your night together, he’d pack his things and leave. Instead, he put you before himself, even when you knew it hurt him. You shake your head. “I’m yours, all yours.”

“Does this mean I don’t have to sleep in the spare room tonight?”

“I don’t care where we sleep, as long as it’s together,” you say earnestly.

He presses a kiss to your lips then pulls you forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. He stands, tugging you up with him, slipping his hands under your thighs as you wrap your legs around him. You don’t pull away as he takes the short trip down the hallway, kicking open the door to your room. He falls against the mattress, following you down but he puts his arm out to prevent you from getting crushed.

He pulls away from your mouth, trailing kisses down your neck.

“Too many clothes,” you whine, hooking your fingers in his shirt and pulling it over his head before doing the same to yours. His chest presses against yours, his lips finding yours again as you work at his belt. “Don’t even know why you put jeans back on,” you grumble.

“I was going to bed.” You can feel him smile against your lips, recalling the comment you’d made to him the night you burned down his trailer.

“Ezekiel Reyes, the only rule in this bedroom is no jeans in bed.”

“I can live with that,” he says, finally pausing his assault on your lips to help slip his pants down his legs. You use the opportunity to slide out of yours as well before he crawls back up your body.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Please,” you whisper, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He enters you in one swift movement and you feel like you are going to explode, the feelings inside you too much. He pauses, the muscles in his neck straining, until you start to whine underneath him, rocking your hips. “Move, please.”

He finally does, but it’s slow and so, so gentle. When he’s not kissing you, he’s watching your face, which you only know because you are watching his. Neither of you are in a hurry, rocking against each other, stoking the fire that’s been smoldering inside you for years until the flames lick at your skin.

“I’ve got you,” EZ says, and you let go, falling with the promise that he will catch you. And he’s there, arms open when you do, you doing the same for him.

You’re laying beside him, his arm under your head, a position you’d been in so many times before but now meant something completely different. “I think I am going to need you to carry me to bed more often,” you murmur.

“I’ve been doing it for years, why would I stop now?” You frown at him, unsure what he is talking about. “How do you think drunk you always ended up in bed instead of on the floor like the rest of us?”

You’d always thought that you managed to get yourself into bed at the end of the night, knowing how much more miserable you’d be if you didn’t, but all those times, it was EZ looking out for you, even then.

“EZ Reyes, have I told you how much I love you?”

He smiles, rolling over on top of you, pressing his lips to yours. “How about you show me again.”

THE END | RETURN TO MASTERLIST

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[angelslildevil]

I'm so sad it's over but that was the perfect way to end it!

[withmyteeth]

Butterflies in Leather: part 13

Mayans MC

CHAPTERLIST

Summary: With Bishop’s blessing, you go after Coco.

WARNINGS: 18+ only; drug abuse; potential character death; 1.2k

Author’s note: nothing’s every easy, is it?

You pull into Coco’s house, luckily finding his bike parked outside, but his car is gone.

“Doesn’t mean anything, Letty could have it,” you say, shutting off your own car.

“I actually think he sold it,” EZ says.

“What?” Creeper says. “He didn’t say anything about that.”

“There’s not a lot of ‘63 Chevy’s around here and I saw Hector driving one just like it a few weeks back.”

Creeper sighs, pushing the door open. “Then it’s worse than we thought,” he says, climbing out onto the driveway.

You and EZ follow him up the front walk to the porch, waiting as he bangs on the door. When he doesn’t answer, you step to the side, trying to see anything through the curtains. You finally find an angle that lets you see inside and your stomach drops. “Break the door down.”

“Is he in there?” Creeper cups his hands, yelling, “Coco, let us in.”

“EZ, break the door down,” you say quietly, eyes still glued to the gap in the curtains.

He doesn’t hesitate, pushing Creeper to the side, before cocking his leg up, landing a kick beside the door knob. Splinters appear on the frame but the door doesn’t open. He lands another kick as Creeper hits it with his shoulder and it springs free, landing with a bang against something behind the door. Both men rush into the house, you right behind them.

Coco is sprawled on the couch, various paraphernalia scattered on the low table in front of him. He’s pale. Paler than a living body should be, with a white foam at the corner of his mouth. The scream starts low in your throat and you manage to cover your mouth before it fills the room.

EZ grabs Coco by the shoulders, shaking him while screaming his name. Creeper pulls something out his pocket, a zippered leather case and opens it revealing syringes. He slips the cap off one, jamming it in Coco’s thigh through his jeans, pushing the plunger until the contents are gone.

“What was that?” EZ asks.

“Naloxone.” He pulls the needle out, tossing it on the table with the others. “I’ve been carrying it for a while now, worried this might happen.”

You open your mouth to ask what it is when gurgles come from Coco’s mouth. He lurches forward and Creeper yells “Get back!” in enough time that you don’t get vomit on your shoes.

“Clean him up, get him in the car,” you say, stepping back out the door as your stomach rolls. Even in your party days, you were never able to stomach other people throwing up.

You wait until you hear the shower start before you go back into the house, quickly walking past the front room to Coco’s bedroom. You’d been here once or twice before, the room usually immaculate, but this was a sty. Clothes and food wrappers are thrown everywhere, not a clean surface in sight.

Sighing, you spot a bag and grab it, throwing as many changes of clothes in it as you can fit. You find a half torn notebook and marker in the mess. You perch on the edge of the stained mattress trying not to wonder what it’s stained with as you pen a note to Letty about what’s happening with Coco as well as leaving your number in case she needs anything.

You wade back through the mess of the room out into the kitchen and leave the note on the fridge. You’d have to come back and start cleaning the place, he couldn’t come back to this and by the looks of it, Letty was either staying somewhere else or not stepping up.

“Ready?”

You turn and see a wet Coco hanging between EZ and Creeper.

“Where we going?” Coco asks weakly.

“Templo, Bishop wants to see you,” you say.

Coco groans, “There goes my spot in the club. Been good knowing you guys.”

You can’t stop yourself. Walking forward, you slap Coco across the face. “These men are your brothers and they just saved your life. Show them some respect.”

He doesn’t fight you as you load him into the car or when the guys drag him into Templo. You plop on a stool at the bar, your head falling in your hands, exhaustion evident in your body from the stressful outing.

A hand lands on your shoulder. “You okay?”

You turn on your stool into EZ, slipping your hands around his waist. “Thank you,” you say quietly. “For everything, ever.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Anything for you. You know that.” He wraps his arms around you, squeezing you to his chest, reinforcing the words he’s said. Ez has always been there for you, helping you, even when you didn’t realize it. “I gotta…”

“I know,” you say, sitting back and releasing him. “I’m gunna hang around and wait if that’s okay?”

He nods. “Yea, I’ll see you in a bit.”

You watch him walk into Templo, the other men already waiting. If you knew Bishop, it didn’t matter how long it took, no one was leaving that room until Coco agreed to rehab.

“What’s going on?”

You turn back to the bar to see the worried look on Nails face. “Coco.”

“Is everything okay?”

“We found him OD’d this morning. Creeper was able to save him, but we had a plan before that. Bishop agreed to use club money to send Coco to rehab but the guys have to vote on it. And Coco isn’t leaving Templo until he agrees.”

She bites her lip, looking towards the door. “Is he losing his kutte?” You shake your head and she sighs in relief. “Thank god.”

“As long as he sees it through and stays clean, no one outside this building knows.” It really ended up being the best offer he was going to get. You hoped after the close call this morning that it wouldn’t take too long for him to agree.

“You really do love these guys, don’t you?”

You look up at her with a quizzical look on your face. “Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

“Just something the guys had said about when you took off. I told Angel he should have just come and said something to you, but you know how stubborn he is,” she says with a shrug, like she didn’t just shatter your heart.

“They thought I left because I didn’t love them?” Your voice cracks on the question.

“You know how guys are.” She’s so dismissive that you wonder if she really does know the guys as well as you thought. Love and trust is the root of the club. There’s no way they would do what they do if there wasn’t an undercurrent of love.

She continues about her business behind the bar, but you are lost in your thoughts, wondering what the guys really think of you and if they think you abandoned them. Coco said as much when you were sitting together at this very bar. You’d just thought he was attacking you to attack you. You didn’t know the hurt ran deeper than that.

The voices raise in the other room, something smashes against the wall, but no one comes out. You really hope everyone is on board.

Seeing as Templo isn’t going to end as soon as you thought, you let your mind drift to one man in particular behind the door and how you can show him how you really feel.

PART 14 <- unlocks at 75 notes.

**Also, just so you are aware for generating notes. Like = 1 note, reblog = 1 note, comment in the comment bubble = 2 notes (because I will always respond) so 1 person can generate 4 notes!

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[withmyteeth]

Butterflies in Leather: part 12

Mayans MC

CHAPTERLIST

Summary: A visit to Templo reminds you why you got sober.

WARNINGS: 18+ only; drinking; nudity; physical violence; 1.3k words

Author’s note: @bruxasolta how the fuck you figured this out is beyond me, because I didn’t know until I wrote it 🤣

“Well?”

Bishop takes another drag off his smoke before smashing it in the ashtray and immediately lighting another. “You know what’s at risk if another charter finds out.”

“They won’t,” EZ assures him. Bishop’s eyes flick between the three of you as you sit around the Templo table. You’d only been in here one time before, just over a year ago. It is a room used only for the members of the club when dealing with club business. It’s also where you realized you were out of control.

As Creeper explains the plan to Bishop, you finally let your mind wander back to that night, after a year of repression.

It seemed like any other party, the guys had gotten out of Templo, you had the prospect piss drunk and were halfway there yourself. You had shots lined on the bar, heckling the men to get on your level as soon as they crossed through the threshold. Bishop had rolled his eyes, but took his shot as you cheered. You threw one arm around EZ and one around Angel demanding that they find Coco and start a game of pool.

They each slipped an arm around you and carried you across the bar as you knew they would. You’d played two rounds of pool, downing drinks with every ball sunk when someone had come up and slipped her arm around Angel, whispering something in his ear that caused him to drop his pool stick and follow her away from the table.

You, EZ, and Coco hollered at him, but the only acknowledgement you got was a middle finger as the leggy blonde dragged him to the open area of the bar and started dancing, Angel’s hands glued to her hips.

“Fuck him, let’s get another drink,” Coco said.

Fire burned in your belly at the audacity of the girl to just drag him from your game of pool. Now she was standing in the middle of the clubhouse, grinding her body against his, an obvious display of her promise of what she could do when they got behind closed doors. The song on the jukebox changed to something you recognize and you got what your alcohol fueled ire confirmed was a fantastic idea. You’d put a hand on EZ’s shoulder, climbing from your stool to the bar top. You’d worn your favorite little black dress that night. The stretchy material hugged your body from just below your ass to just above your chest, the thin spaghetti straps over your shoulders the only thing holding it in place.

You started moving your hips in tune with the beat, grinding on air as the men gathered around the bar, hooting and hollering, cheering you on. You glanced over your shoulder at Angel but he still hasn’t taken his eyes off the girl in his arms, even with the commotion you were causing at the bar. The fire in your belly exploded, igniting every nerve ending in your body, your frustration taking over. Tonight was the night you would get his attention.

Tucking your fingers under the edge of your dress, you tugged it up your hips and over your body before tossing it into the crowd, now dancing on the bar in only your shoes and thong, your breasts on display to everyone in the bar, including the men you would have referred to has brothers.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around your legs and you feel yourself falling into the crowd, only to be caught on a shoulder that can only belong to EZ Reyes. You braced yourself against his back, watching his long strides eat up the floor. He stepped down into a dark room and slid a door shut, setting you down without turning on the lights. Even in the darkness you recognized it as the forbidden room of the clubhouse.

Your feet no more than hit the ground and he was yelling at you. “What the fuck was that about?”

The world was spinning, but you smiled, grabbing the sides of his face, smashing your lips against his in a sloppy kiss, ignoring how his body stills underneath you. Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, trying to strip it from him but his hands grabbed yours, stopping you.

“Come on, EZ, don’t tell me you hadn’t thought of it.” You didn’t wait for his answer, trying to pry your hands from his. “Don’t you wanna fuck me? Make me scream so loud they can hear us?”

“You’re just trying to get back at Angel,” he’d said. And of course, he was right, but it didn’t stop you from trying to convince him otherwise. You’d taken his hands, bringing them to your bare chest, but he pulled them away once he realized what you were doing, pulling his own shirt off.

“Fucking finally.” You grab his belt buckle, but suddenly the dark room got darker as his shirt slid over your head, trapping your arms at your side. “What the fuck, EZ, you’re supposed to be fucking me senseless, not dressing me.”

“I’m not having sex with you while you think of him.”

The rejection stung, tears springing to your eyes, which only pissed you off more. “Fuck you, EZ Reyes.” You slipped your arms through the sleeves, turning toward the door. He grabbed your arm to stop you. You didn’t know what his reasoning was going to be, and you didn’t wait to hear it, instead swinging a fist at his face, catching him off guard and knocking him to the floor.

Even in the haze of the alcohol and the anger, shame boiled deep inside you as you looked back at EZ on the floor as you’d stormed out of Templo and out of the clubhouse, choosing to walk home in EZ’s shirt instead of going to the trailer like normal. You’d get your car later.

That same shame of how you treated one of your closest friends was what had you at your first AA meeting the very next day.

“Y/N?”

“Uh, yea?” You look up at the three men, their eyes trained on you. “Sorry, yea. I know it needs to go to a vote, but I really don’t know what else we can do. It seems like the best option.” You shrug. You, Creeper, and EZ had spent most of the week trying to come up with the best way to help Coco, but in the end, you knew it was something bigger than the three of you.

“Okay,” Bishop says with a heavy sigh. “Someone track him down and get him here. I’ll let everyone else know what needs to happen.”

You nod, getting up from the table, following Creeper and EZ to the door as Bishop pulls out his phone, presumably to call Taza and Hank to fill them in.

“Anyone know where to start?” Even with you and Creeper trying to keep tabs on him the last month, you still hadn’t been able to figure out where he was most of the time.

“Let’s start at his place,” EZ says. “Seems the most obvious.”

You nod, agreeing. “But let’s all take my car. I don’t want him to try and bolt if he hears your bikes.”

“That’s fair,” Creeper agrees.

They follow you out to the lot to your car, EZ taking the front seat and Creeper sliding in behind him. You take a deep breath, starting the car and putting your hands on the steering wheel.

EZ places his hand on your thigh. “It’s going to be okay. We are going to help him.”

You smile, shifting the car into the drive, then cover his hand with yours. “I know.”

PART 13 <- unlocked at 75 notes

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[angelslildevil]

It's happeningggggg!!!!