With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I’ve ever written for, I’m aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March.
Prompt: pattern
Word Count: 500
A/N: the way this is reminding me that i have a multichap for this man that's almost done. i need to finish that soon so i can post it and get it out of my drafts lmfao. anyway! enjoy this in the meantime!
It had been so much easier to compartmentalize your relationship with Canche when he was only in Santo Padre for a night or two. The pattern of push and pull was almost fun in a way because it wasn’t a constant. There were no obligations, no worries.
But ever since the night the Yuma charter stormed the clubhouse, it seemed as though he’d taken up residency there. It was rare for you to walk in and not see him, when it used to be the exact opposite.
Even before everything that had happened, the most you and Canche would give each other in front of people were small smiles and knowing glances—the real exchanges always happening after hours and behind closed doors. But these days you couldn’t help but to wonder if he ever even realized you were there. He didn’t owe you anything—that was part of the deal. Still, you couldn’t help but to find it a little strange.
Your night was over even though there were still plenty of men lingering. Marcus had given you the okay to head home and you weren’t looking to argue about it. You slipped quietly out the side door to get to your car around back.
You were about to unlock your car when you heard footsteps coming up behind you. Assuming it was one of the men from Santo Padre, you spoke before turning around. “Alvarez said that I’m good to go, so do whatev—”
Canche cut your sentence short with a hand on your hip. He turned you around to face him and pinned you back against the driver’s door of your car. Despite his hand still resting on you, he left a sliver of space between you.
You let the back of your head rest against the window of your car. “Was starting to think you just didn’t recognize me anymore.”
“Part of me doesn’t.”
Your brows knit, tied together with confusion and frustration. “What the fuck’s that sup—”
“You thought it was going to be the same? After all the shit that went down?” His grip on your hip tightened. “Shit you didn’t bother telling me about?”
You put your hand between you. “You think they bothered to tell me about any of it?” You scoffed. “Not like you gave me the heads-up when your guys wanted to turn my clubhouse into fucking Swiss cheese.”
A smirk flickered across his face. “Your clubhouse?”
You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.” You paused. “What do you want, Canche?”
“We’re gonna be here for a while. It’d be nice to have someone around that I can stand,” his grip eased, “that I can trust.”
“I didn’t think trust really had anything to do with this.”
His lips curled up for a moment. “It didn’t. Maybe it should.”
You finally let your hand rest against the leather of his kutte. “Maybe.” You felt his tense muscles ease and you nodded towards your car. “C’mon, then.”
Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!
Gif credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨
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“Please, don't do that. Let me go”. With both hands raised to the man, you tried to push him away.
“No”. He just said with a naughty smile drawn on his lips, before grabbing your wrists to lift you up over his shoulder like a heavy bag, walking to the main room of the house.
“Let me go!” You shouted stirring over him, until you felt your body falling down over the mattress.
Sitting up on your forearms, you blow into a rebellious tuft of hair in the middle of your face, frowning. You couldn't barely breathe because of the efforts, watching the man crawling above the bed.
“I swear I'm gonna kill you”.
“Will you?” He asked, twisting his neck slightly, pouncing on you to tickle you on both sides.
“Canche, stop!” You screamed between laughs, trying to catch his hands while he made himself some space between your legs.
“C'mon, five minutes more, princesa de los Mayas”. The mexican surrounded you with his strong arms, resting his face on your stomach.
“My father is gonna kill us, if he finds out”.
“Just five minutes more”. He begged almost in a whisper, closing his eyes.
“I hate you”. You growled rolling your eyes, pretending that you didn't want to spend some time more together.
“I'm glad to know that it's something reciprocated”. The Mayan muttered, moving some inches until reaching your lips.
Tangling your legs with his and placing your hands on his head, you deepened the kiss, keeping the slow pace but welcoming his tongue inside your mouth. Every time you were this close, he had the same effect on you like the first time, bristling your skin and needing for more. You could assure that he was so in love with you, as you were with him. And you would like to shout it to the rooftops. But that wasn't an option. Not for the moment, at least.
“I know that… you can't call me”. You said caressing his neck with one of your hands, using your nails to made him some sweet tickles. “But… two weeks is too much. Maybe… I don't know… a text, to know that you're okay”.
“I will try, mi amor. I swear it”. He replied with a low tone of voice, accommodating his head on the pillow. “And when I come back, we will disappear for some days. We can go to the beach, if you want”.
“Sounds good, yeah”. You nodded assorted on the way of his lips moving, totally spellbound hearing his voice.
The man took back his hands to undone the clasp of the fine gold chain, with a small medal of the Virgen de Guadalupe. Silent, and very focused on his new task, he placed it around your neck. You knew how much he loved that necklace, being a gift from his mother who passed away some years ago. Giving it to you meant more than anyone could imagine, and you would swear you were about to cry if he hasn't kissed you again.
You have never been a believer, but you started to pray every night for him, to keep him safe and alive. It has been two long weeks, with a trip that started in Southern Cali to Stockton and Oakland, continuing to Portland. And after that, back to Santo Padre. One of the trips more dangerous of Mayans history, with a shipment of AK-47, even if they were accompanied by some SOA charters. But the day of their return has come and, with it, all your men. At least, you know it when you see through the front window of your car all the bikes parked there. The first you find is your father's. Next to it, Canche's.
Almost jumping out from your seat, you run like never before to the inside of the clubhouse. But the situation that welcomes you is chaotic. You open the door on time to watch Bishop tackling your boyfriend. A storm of hits and kicks is around everywhere, while the other Mayans stare at you almost frowning. You don't need to be a genius to know what is happening. Grabbing Ibarra's gun, being aware that no one is going to stop the fight, you point at the roof to fire it. The bullet impacting on it, calls everyone's attention. The two men on the floor are breathing violently, blood on their faces and angry gestures. Then, you point at them.
“The next one throwing a punch, juro por la Virgen that I'm gonna shot his brain off”.
The men separate from each other, standing up over their feet and shaking their clothes.
“How much time have you been together?” Your father asks, cleaning a brief red thread flowing from his bottom lip. His eyes are filled with rage.
“Why does it matter, dad?”
“Because I asked you for one last thing, and you shitted on it”.
“Do you think I made it on purpose? That I chose it?”
“You betrayed me. And you lied to me”.
“For God's sake… Ain't gonna talk about it in front of all these men”.
“We don't have anything else to talk about. You already took a decision”.
You just nod, one time. Stretching your arm to Ibarra, you give him back his gun.
“Doing the same shit that your mother did”.
His whisper doesn't go unnoticed to your ears, taking a step ahead when he's about to unlock himself inside the Templo.
“You pushed mom away, just like you are doing with me. If you are alone, if you are losing the only people who really love you, it's because of you, padre. Because of your jealousy, because of your inflexibility, because of your egocentrism complex”.
Bishop doesn't turn, but suddenly stops his heavy feet.
“(Y/N), don't talk to your father like that”. Canche says, frowning at you.
“Truth fucks you up, right?” You say raising your chin. “Love doesn't mean to hurt, dad. And sometimes I feel that you stab my chest. That you suffocate me. I feel alone the whole time, and you don't really know what it feels like, because I'm always by your side. But you weren't for me when I needed you the most. So don't blame me for choosing a man who cares about me, without asking anything back, over you”.
It has been the worst weeks of your life. You were sure that you were suddenly and inevitably falling into a dark depression, when you realized that you haven't gone out of Canche's house since you came. Mostly, you are tucked in his bed, grabbing the pillow as strongly as you can, wetting it with your tormented tears. A prospect was accompanying you all the time that your boyfriend was away from your side.
“How is the kid?”
Taza gets up from his chair, before Canche can leave the Templo. He turns around crossing his arms over his chest.
“Who asks?”
No one replies.
“She isn't happy, if you wanna know it”. His eyes are on Bishop's. “She cries most of the day. Hardly eats anything. And I can't remember how her laugh sounds”.
Your boyfriend is about to continue his steps, but he stops again.
“And I had to take her to the hospital some days ago, because she has a panic attack”.
“Maybe if you di—”.
“Don't you dare to add me in your equation, Bishop. This is your fault, not mine. I care about her. I love her. And I want to spend my life with her. I'm not trying to steal your daughter from you. I'm not asking her to leave you. I was even about to delegate my position as Presidente, and ask for a change of charter to be close to her. To come to Santo Padre, so she wouldn't have to leave her family”. His voice sounds firmly, blunt. “You are losing your daughter because of you, not because of me”.
Canche doesn't want to waste more time, having a road of one hour and a half to his house. The only thing he wants right now is come back, be with you, and try to comfort your pain somehow. So he doesn't notice that the crew follows him to the outside, in the meantime that he reaches his motorcycle.
His way back home feels like an eternity, parking in front of the porch, and almost jumping out from the top of it. The prospect is waiting close to the door, shrugging his shoulders to let him know that nothing has changed. You heard the door getting opened, turning your head over the pillow, watching him coming into the room. You would like to smile, as every time you see him, but it's like if your brain doesn't send the order to your lips. Lying down and embracing you over the mattress, filling your face with a bunch of kisses.
“I've missed you, mi vida”. He whispers onto your lips, before caressing them. “I took a day off, so I will be here with you the whole time”.
You can't help but sink your face under his chin, letting him hold you tightly. That's the only moment you feel somewhat better, knowing that he's not going to kick out your ass. Knowing that he loves you unconditionally.
“How was him?” You whisper.
“Fucked like you”. He just replies, kissing your head. “But I know that he's going to come today, you will see. I know it”.
He wasn't wrong. Actually, Canche is never wrong. You suddenly wake up because of the loud roar of an engine. It's coming closer, accentuating over others behind it. The bed is empty, and the room is almost in darkness. Rubbing your eyes with your knuckles, you get up from the mattress, guiding your steps to the living room as soon as you hear your boyfriend greeting your father. Sticking your head out the corner of the hallway, your eyes find him before anyone else there. He looks like shit. His beard is longer, scruffy. The two black marks under his eyes tell you that he hasn't slept much more than you.
Canche moves his head in silence, indicating the crew to leave the house, so you would have some intimacy and time alone. Bishop takes a step ahead, trying to reach you, trying to say something. But he can't. Doubting, he walks a little closer. Slowly. Hoping that you don't turn him down. Raising a hand towards your left, he holds it to push you into his arms. Surrounding your body, he hugs you with that kind of love and warmth that only your father can transmit you. All the sadness and the pain has gone. The fear of losing him, inside your chest, isn't oppressing it anymore.
“I'm sorry”. He says in a whisper, tightening his grip around you.
“Me too…”
“You don't have to, because you were right. This is my fault, mi princesa”.
He pulls himself away from you, enough to find your reddened eyes, about to cry again.
“I know you have to leave the nest, but I'm not ready. And I will never be. But if you have to do it, I'm good knowing that Canche is by your side”.
Leaning, your father kisses your forehead, pressing his lips on it for some long seconds.
“Just let me take care of you tonight, please”.
You just nod in silence. You couldn't say ‘no’. You need him, you didn't know it could be this hard to live without him. It's not the same when he's on a trip, than when he's just away from you. Closing your arms around him, you hide your face on his chest, like you used to do when you were a child waking up from a nightmare.
“I will always love you, pa'. No matter who else is in my life. I will always love you more than anyone”.
“I know, princesa. I do. And I will always do it”.
Request: Holà ! Canche Want to asking his girlfriend to marriage. But others king says she's not a girl for him, she can't be Mayans Reina... But later she defend Mayans in front of a white old lady( typically a Karen 😂) who says some shit about Mayans. Défend just by using word I mean And Mayans are impressed cause they don't know this shy girl have this inside her. And they accept that Canche gonna marry her ?
BY ANON
Warnings: none.
Word count: about 700.
Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!
Gif credits: to me.
Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!
Once out of the club, you walk behind los Tres Reyes and their Vices, staying close to Canche and carrying your helmets in a forearm. It has been a long day of meetings, being a little suspicious that they didn't let you assist to the last. You are always by your boyfriend's side since some years ago, because of the work you do for Yuma charter. Immersed in your thoughts, you hear an old woman say a mean comment about you being the bitch of them all, sitting on the terrace of a bar. The Mayans ignore her, but you can't. Turning around, you raise an eyebrow.
“Remember when we asked for your opinion? Well, we neither. So, please, cancel our subscription to your bullshit”.
The woman and her friends gasp surprised and disgusted because of your reply, frowning at you.
“Someone should show you some manners”.
“Yeah, and someone should teach you that sometimes, it’s better to keep your mouth shut and give the impression that you’re stupid than open it and remove all doubt”. You answer with a huge smile, walking backwards and earning the laughs of the Mayans.
Having a seat behind Canche's back, on top of his bike, the Kings turns at him.
“Do you remember what we said?” Bishop asks, putting his helmet on. “Olvídalo”.
You can see your boyfriend drawing a fleeting smile on the corner of his lips, but he doesn't say a single word back. You don't ask, it's not the moment, but definitely you will do it at home.
This thing has been running your mind for the rest of the day, starting to be a little upset because of the silent treatment that your boyfriend has been giving you since you reached Yuma clubhouse. Finishing of placing the boxes of beers inside the warehouse, you lead your steps to the Templo. Canche is there, accompanied by Carlos and Dante. As soon as they notice your presence, waiting for it, the two men get up in silence to give you some intimacy. Closing the door behind your back, you maintain his gaze with yours, until sitting by his right side. But you don't know what to say, or what to ask. You're just worried because maybe you fucked up things with the club somehow.
“I'm sorry”. You mumble, lying back on your chair and curling a leg over it.
“Why?”
“Dunno… just… looks like I did something wrong, because of what Bishop said… because you haven't talked to me for hours”.
“You didn't, mi amor”. He chuckles, trying to relax the tension installed in your body. “We just… argued about some business”.
Again, you don't ask, assuming that he is referring to the meeting in which you weren't present.
“Okay”. You just say, about to stand up and leave the place.
But he stops you. Gently grabbing your wrist, he pulls you onto his lap. His lips press yours, tasting them with soft and slow moves in the meantime that his arms surround your waist. All your doubts suddenly disappear, placing your hands on his neck, turning yourself slightly.
“I told them that I want to marry you”. That whisper freezes your brain, giving you another kiss before continuing. “At first, they weren't agreeing. But seems like you impressed a los Reyes, with that… speech”.
Your vocal chords can't work. Your throat is dry. And your lips are parted, just trying to assimilate. One of your dreams is to marry him. Canche is the love of your life, you fell for him at first sight, and you keep falling for him every day a little more. Pouting at him, your eyes are getting filled with a bunch of tears.
“It wasn't the… way I wanted to do it, but… I would like to marry you, mi vida”.
Biting your bottom lip, you just can nod.
“I have the ring at home”. He mumbles, almost chuckling. “I will give it to you later”.
“Okay…” You can't help but laugh too.
“Anyway, I don't care about their opinion, I would marry you even if they don't accept it. I just want you to know it”.
