#mayansfx

[thegirlwhowritesfics]

Gino Vento

[garbinge]

Stranded

Angel Reyes & EZ Reyes & Platonic!Reader

From these April Prompts: “Stranded”

Summary: You go on a really bad date and call your besties to save you, but they end up taking the opportunity to roast you. 

A/N: First time doing a fic a day challenge!!! Let’s see how many I’ll end up doubling up on and posting some other day LOL. Enjoy the ride friends <3 

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Cursing, some light joking, I don’t think I’d classify it as angst. 

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc (Not sure how many individual Mayans fics i’ll have in the future but happy to add anyone to any potential future fics!)

You felt like the phone was mocking you at this point. By the third ring you knew he wasn’t going to answer but you still waited it through, not once but four times. Time was ticking, you didn’t have the luxury of waiting for him to pick up. Your date, your very shitty date was waiting a mere 20 feet away outside the bathroom at your empty table for you to come back. Yes, empty. You hadn’t even gotten to be served your drink order yet and you already knew this date was a dud. 

Maneuvering out of the bathroom window was an easy enough solution, one you would have easily relied on if you weren’t carless or in the middle of El Centro. El Centro, while close enough to Santo Padre by car was 10 miles of highway that you weren’t really looking forward to walking. You cursed yourself for not getting your car fixed this past weekend, leaving you in the hands of the random man you matched with on some stupid app tonight. Your options were bouncing back and forth in your head, you could start your trek home and keep calling in hopes of an answer, or you could just sit through what will probably be the worst date of your life. 

The second option seemed bearable, but after he was discussing his 5th conspiracy theory–and keep in mind you were only 20 minutes into the date, and his constant casual sexual joke that was definitely his way of hinting at bringing you home you couldn’t listen anymore. 

You thought 10 was still relatively early, especially for Angel Reyes. Him not answering could have been for a multitude of reasons but realistically you knew he was probably not the Reyes brother you should rely on. Shaking your head, you hung up after getting the voicemail again, tired of hearing the automated woman’s voice and called someone else. 

Two rings. That was all it took. 

“Hey, what’s up?” EZ’s voice was like a wave of relief washing over you. 

“Thank God.” You mumbled as your shoulders fell in solace. “I’m stranded.” The words you spoke left a lot to be imagined. 

“You okay?” His tone was tense. 

“I’m on this awful fuckin’ date and I’m in the bathroom of La Resaca Seafood Bar off Rt 8 with no car and no way home except with Mr. I’ve seen Bigfoot 30 times who wants to bring me to the Polynesian Lodge tonight.” 

EZ let out a chuckle before frowning his brow, “Polynesian Lodge?” 

“Motel.” Your one worded answer was all EZ needed to hear to let out another laugh. 

“Sounds romantic.” He was already grabbing the keys to his bike. 

“Ezekial Reyes. Your brother is already on my shit list. I called him 4 times to save me from this mess but no answer. Do not make me put you on my shit list too.” The desperation in your voice came through as you started to climb up on the toilet paper dispenser to get a better footing to escape through the window. 

“Well, that was your second mistake, you know I’m the more reliable Reyes.” The door to EZ’s trailer was closing and he was turning around to lock it as he stayed on the phone. 

“Wait” you paused, now standing on the dispenser that was secured into the wall of concrete. “What’s my first mistake?” 

The smile on EZ’s face would have earned him a smack upside the head if you were with him in person. “Going on a tinder date with the guy who uses a photoshopped picture of his head on Captain America’s body.” 

You were flabbergasted that he knew who you were out with, you didn’t think either of the Reyes boys listened to you when you talked about your matches on Tinder. But you should’ve known EZ would have put two and two together.

“I thought it was FUNNY, like a joke, I didn’t think he was serious about it.” You argued in your defense. “Also, there’s a whole theory out there that the nerdy guys are the ones to scoop up.” 

“So tell me about Bigfoot.” EZ was now on his bike, leaning back soaking in every moment of this. 

“EZ.” Your voice was firm. 

The laugh EZ let out was straight from his belly, he was enjoying this too much. 

“Yo E!” Angel’s voice could be heard from the background. 

“Is that Angel? Tell him he’s an asshole and he should check his phone.” At this point you were already one leg out of the window when you heard the bathroom door handle turn as the door opened.

In one ear, the one with the phone attached you heard EZ call out. “You’re an asshole and you should check your phone.”

In the other ear, the startled voice of your waitress rang. “Oh my god.” She stopped in her tracks, hand being raised to clamp her chest as the scene of you half dangling out of a window was the last thing she expected. 

“E, Seafood off Route 8, please hurry.” With that, you hung up and climbed down quickly to be face to face with your server. 

“That bad?” After taking in the situation she understood what was happening. 

“Very.” You nodded your head. “I need to stall for like 10 minutes before my ride gets here, do you think you could mention that I left my phone in here when you come back to take our order? That way I have a logical reason to escape through the bathroom window?” 

“Sure.” She nodded in acceptance as you smiled and thanked her before moving past her to the bathroom door. “The kitchen exit is right next to the bathroom door, just go through there.” The waitress turned to face you, giving you an easier out instead of the acrobatics. “No need to do whatever the fuck that was, again.” She pointed at the window and retreated into a stall. 

Meanwhile, as you suffered through the agony of 10 long minutes of this horrible date. EZ and Angel were coming to your rescue, sort of. 

“Ay, what’s with the name calling? and why do I have so many missed calls from Y/N?” Angel trekked over to EZ’s trailer from the clubhouse as he looked at his phone. 

EZ had hung up the phone before he waved it up in the air at Angel. “Just got off the phone with her, she’s stranded.” 

“Stranded? The fuck?” Angel perked up just like EZ had when you spoke those words to him. 

“Bad date. I’m gonna go pick her up if you wanna come. Think you were her first choice anyways.” EZ laughed as he placed his helmet over his head. 

Angel let out a chuckle, relaxing his shoulders from the tension. “I never answer my phone, don’t know why the fuck she’d call me.” Despite his lack of empathy, Angel was making his way over to his bike to follow EZ to save you from your date. 

As the two waited at the light that was mere seconds from the restaurant, Angel called over to EZ. 

“Yo!” Angel got EZ’s attention. “Was it that captain america guy? Didn’t we tell her he was a lame?” 

EZ couldn't help but smirk at Angel’s recollection of the night you three spent together just hanging at your place. If Angel remembered it, it was obvious you were only choosing to hear what you wanted that night. “Yea, you should tell her when we see her, I think she’ll appreciate the advice.” EZ set Angel up for disaster later, knowing it’d be pure entertainment for him. 

Back at that restaurant, you had just managed to make it to the entrance of the kitchen when you heard the rumbling of not one, but two motorcycles. “Oh thank God.” You mumbled as you burst through the kitchen swinging door and ran like you knew your way around. You pretty quickly found the exit doors and pushed through them, offering no explanation to the staff who was back there. Angel was the first bike you saw since he was closest to you. Immediately, you ran up to him but not without a few choice words. 

“Fuck you, Reyes!” You yelled out at him as you approached his bike. 

“Hey!” Both brothers yelled simultaneously, EZ leaned forward so you could see him a little further out past Angel. 

“You want to be stranded or you want a rescue?” Angel held out a helmet giving you the choice. 

Begrudgingly you grabbed it, putting it on over your head and quickly throwing your leg over the back of his bike and scooting closer to him as you got situated. 

“Thank you.” The words were mumbled, he laughed as you said them, knowing it was hard for you. The only reason you knew he laughed was because your hands had come across the front of his torso to grip onto him for the ride and you felt the shake of his stomach under his kutte. 

He took off immediately, knowing you were ready to go just by your hold on him. EZ wasn’t far behind at all. You pulled up to the same red light they had just been at previously, when Angel looked over his shoulder to talk to you. 

“You didn’t eat, right?”

You shook your head to answering knowing your voice would he drowned out by the engine. “You want Jack in the Box?” He was still looking over at you but his head nodded towards the fast food restaurant that was right in front of them. “My treat. To make it up to you or whatever.” His eyes rolled waiting for your answer. 

“Alright, yea, I’m fuckin’ starved.” You answered and looked over to EZ to point to the drive through sign to show him where you were headed. 

The group of you pulled in and ordered through the drive through since inside was closed, no one ever talks about the awkwardness of ordering drive through on a motorcycle, you had learned new ways to balance things and about compartments that you had no idea existed on the bike. The three of you parked the bikes and walked over to the front of the building. EZ was quick to throw his arm around you, drink in hand as it dangled over your right shoulder. 

“Rough night?” A grin grew on his face. 

“You’re the worst.” You pushed him off you and made your way over to the front parking space where the cement parking block served as your seat and your laps as your dinner table. 

“It ain’t no rescara seafood but I hope you like it.” Angel teased as he brought his drink to his lips. 

“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” Your head dropped forward in defeat. 

“I’m not sure why you decided to go out with Captain America wannabe.” Angel was now devouring into his food and said his last sentence as he had a mouthful of food. 

“Yea cause I surround myself with men who are catches.” Sarcasm dripped off uour voice and a frown filled your face as you watched him eat. 

EZ perked up waiting for the other shoe to drop, knowing it was seconds before you put two and two together. 

“and how the fuck did you kno—“ your head snapped to EZ who was sitting on the same cement block but to your left. “you fuckin’ told him!” 

Backfired. EZ quickly raised his hands in surrender. “I said nothing he just paid attention when you told us.” He shrugged. 

“You expect me to believe that?” Your frown deepened. 

Angel was now sporting the Reyes shit eating grin knowing he had gotten away with his comment. 

“Alright, seriously. What was so bad about the date?” Angel asked curiously. 

“What you wanna take notes for yourself?” You weren’t backing down off the defense. 

“I think he’s being genuine.” EZ spoke up with a shocking display of defense for his brother. 

“Sorry.” You apologized quickly to both of them and took a deep breath. “It was just weird. A lot of weird topics of conversation and he wanted to take me back to the Polynesian Lodge.” Angel looked at you confused and before he could ask you responded. “Motel.”

Angel nodded in understanding, finishing off his food and grabbing his drink as he rested his arms on his bent knees. 

“Thanks for picking me up, guys.” Your voice softened as you spoke to them. “I owe you.” Your head swiveled to look at both of them. 

“Look at this bozo.” Angel said as he nodded towards a man wearing a full 3 piece suit walking out of the convenience store next to the fast food building. 

“Oh my god.” You quickly hid your face as best as you could with your hand, not having much of an option as you were sitting in an open and empty lot. 

EZ glanced to the man and then to you, putting two and two together. The laugh that left his mouth was impossible to recreate, it was so genuine and loud that it caused the man to look over at the group of you. 

“Fuck he lookin’ at?” Angel made a face. 

“Its HIM.” You gritted your teeth together and spoke low. You peaked to see him staring at you three. 

Angel was quick to change his face, his hand raising to cheers the man with his soda, EZ doing the same but with less enthusiasm and more of a neutral face. 

“Have a good night, man.” EZ spoke with a normal voice, it wasn’t what you wished happened but the situation was unique to say the least. But then Angel had to speak up. 

“You’ll get ‘em next time, Cap!!” 

With that you completely melted into the ground of the parking lot, wishing you could disappear from this stupid little area ofd route 8. 

“Next time, I’m walking home.” 

[venactricisfics]

Malibu Desert

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Civil War

Chapter List

The sharp scrape of Jess’s brush against the floor grated against my nerves, but I couldn’t bring myself to look. I knew what she was scrubbing away. The last remnants of Steve. The last proof that he had been sitting right there, laughing with us, breathing, before everything changed in an instant.

I should help her.

But I couldn’t make myself move.

The weight of the previous night pressed against my chest, and I sat frozen at the clubhouse bar, my fingertips drumming mindlessly against the worn wooden surface. EZ, Angel, and Gilly had left early, off handling club business—something to do with the Kings. I wasn’t in the loop, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be.

Beside me, Creeper and Hank’s conversation pulled me back into the present.

“Why the fuck would the youngster do it?” Creeper muttered, his voice rough with disbelief.

“I don’t know,” Hank responded, but there was something else beneath his words. Guilt. Regret. Maybe even shame.

Creeper shook his head, exhaling sharply. “He had everything he ever wanted, dawg. Fucking patch on his back. He ever given you a reason to think he would do some shit like that?”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. I’d seen the shift in Steve after they got back from Stockton. Something had changed in him. Something dark. Whatever he had done—whatever the club had praised him for—had broken him. He carried it like a weight too heavy to bear. And when that weight became unbearable, he had ended it. Right in front of us.

Creeper’s voice broke through my thoughts again. “What do you think happened?”

“I said I don’t fucking know,” Hank snapped, pushing up from the bar so quickly his chair scraped against the floor. He stormed outside, slamming the door behind him.

The bar fell silent again, except for the steady swish of Jess’s scrub brush, wiping away what was left of a man who had only wanted to belong.

“Mami, you doing alright?” Creeper asked, “You were right fucking there.” 

“I will be, it’s just a lot,” I told him, “maybe after whatever y’all have going on is done we can finally have some peace around here.” 

He snorted out a laugh, “Peace is fucking rare. But maybe we’ll find something close.” 

“Close will do,” I said and slipped behind the bar. “You want a drink while I’m back here?”

“I don’t drink, mami,” he reminded me. 

“Sorry, I forgot,” I said, “Being here doing all you do for the club doesn’t fuck with your sobriety?” 

“It gives me something to focus on,” he said. 

I nodded, grabbing a bottle of water instead. My hands still weren’t steady, but keeping them busy helped.

Creeper watched me, his dark eyes unreadable. “You sure you’re good?”

I exhaled, leaning against the back counter. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s just... one second he was there, and then—” I stopped myself, shaking my head. “I keep thinking about what I could’ve done if I’d noticed something sooner. If I’d said something.”

Creeper leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar. “You can’t carry that weight, mami. It ain’t yours to carry.”

I glanced down, tracing the rim of my glass with my finger. “I know that. Doesn’t stop me from feeling it.”

He sighed, nodding in understanding. “Shit like this, it never sits right. But you can’t let it eat you up. You keep moving, you keep breathing, and eventually, it don’t feel so heavy.”

I looked up at him, his words settling deep in my chest. “That how you do it? Keep moving?”

He gave a small smirk. “Something like that.” Then his expression turned serious. “You ever need to talk, I’m here. No bullshit.”

I offered him a small smile. “Thanks, Creeper.”

He nodded, tapping the bar before standing up. “I gotta go check in with Hank, make sure he ain’t out there losing his shit.”

I watched as he walked off, leaving me alone behind the bar. The clubhouse felt quieter than usual, like something vital had been stripped away. I sighed and turned back to wiping down the counter, pretending like that simple act could clean away the stain of last night.

“Querida,” Bishop’s voice pulled me out of my dark thoughts, “you don’t have to do that. You’re not one of the hang arounds.”

“I know, I just need to keep busy,” I said. 

“Come sit,” he said pulling out a chair, “fucking bar is clean enough anyway.” 

I nodded and slipped into the seat beside his. His hand on my thigh was comforting, like things would be normal again. And I could delude myself into pretending nothing had changed. That I hadn’t changed for a little while longer. 

Bishop studied me for a moment, his thumb tracing slow circles over my thigh. “You don’t gotta talk about it,” he said, voice low, “but you should let yourself feel it.”

I swallowed, keeping my gaze on the tabletop. “I don’t even know what I feel.”

He huffed out a small, knowing laugh. “That’s how it starts.”

I finally looked at him. The deep lines on his face were etched with experience, with pain. He knew this feeling. Maybe not this exact moment, but the weight of loss, the way it dug in and refused to let go.

“I just want it to go away,” I admitted.

Bishop’s hand squeezed my leg, grounding me. “It won’t. Not for a while. But it gets easier to carry.”

I exhaled and leaned back in the chair. “I hope so.”

We sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the clubhouse around us, conversations and laughter filtering in like nothing had happened. Like the world hadn’t shifted beneath my feet.

“Creeper’s right,” Bishop finally said. “This life doesn’t give us peace. But we take what we can get.”

I glanced at him, searching for some kind of answer in his expression. “And what do we get?”

His lips curved into a wry smile. “Good question, querida.” He grabbed a bottle from the table, pouring himself a drink. “When you figure it out, let me know.”

I pulled a cigarette from his pack and stuffed it between my lips, leaning in as he flicked his lighter. 

“You don’t smoke,” he watched as I took a pull from the cigarette. 

“I’m picking up all kinds of bad habits,” I smiled weakly. 

Bishop studied me as I exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his expression unreadable. “That’s not the kind of shit you want to pick up, querida.”

I shrugged, rolling the cigarette between my fingers. “Maybe I just don’t care.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “That’s the problem.”

I let the silence settle between us, taking another drag. The burn in my lungs was a distraction, something sharp to focus on instead of the lingering weight pressing down on me.

Bishop tapped his fingers on the table, watching me like he was trying to figure out how much to say. “You ain’t gotta be okay right now. No one expects you to be.”

I exhaled, letting the smoke curl around us. “Then why does it feel like I have to be?”

He didn’t have an answer for that, just took the cigarette from my fingers and took a drag himself. “Because that’s how this shit works.”

I gave a humorless laugh. “Great system.”

Bishop smirked and flicked the ash in the ashtray. “Yeah, well… if you ever figure out a better one, let me know.”

“I’m working on it,” I told him. 

The clubhouse door swung open, EZ, Gilly, and Angel strolled in. I couldn’t stop my eyes from locking on Angel’s. I held it for a beat before forcing myself to focus on the other two. Whatever mission they were on was done. 

Bishop stood from his chair and gave him a clap on the shoulder, “Thank you.” 

“Any word?” EZ asked.

“They’re saying multiple casualties,” Taza answered.

“And the kid?” Angel asked. 

“Banged up but good,” Hank responded. 

“And Canche?” Bishop asked.

“Just talked to Solis,” Hank said, “Canche’s dead.” The guys shook each other’s hands. It was done. Bishop was the only King left standing.

“You earned it,” Ibarra told Bishop, “Took it with your own hands.” 

“You’ll get word to the other presidents?” Taza asked Ibarra. 

“I’ll call a meeting now,” he responded, “Get Tucson reinstated.” 

Creeper placed a tray of shots on the table in front of us. Bishop handed me one, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze and the rest of the guys picked up a shot. 

They raised our shots, Creeper raised his water bottle.

 “One King,” they said in unison. Then we downed our shots. 

The tequila burned its way down my throat, but I barely felt it. The weight of what had just been solidified in that toast settled over the room. Bishop was the last King standing. Everything had changed.

The guys clapped each other on the back, murmuring about the next steps, but my eyes found Angel’s again. He lingered, watching me like he wanted to say something. Maybe to explain, maybe to make me understand. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.

I set my shot glass down and pushed away from the table. “I need some air.”

Bishop’s hand brushed against mine, a silent question. I gave him a small shake of my head. I wasn’t unraveling, not yet.

Outside, the night air was thick with the scent of oil and cigarettes. The echoes of laughter and low voices spilled from the clubhouse, but out here, it was just me and the ghosts of the past twenty-four hours.

The door creaked behind me. Heavy footsteps.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” Angel said, his voice softer than before.

I exhaled slowly. “I think I can handle myself.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I know. That’s the problem.”

I turned to face him. “Why are you out here, Angel?”

He scratched at his jaw, hesitating. “I don’t know. Maybe I just... needed to see if you’re okay.”

I let out a tired laugh. “We both know I’m not.”

He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Me neither.”

I sat down on the clubhouse steps, staring out at the scrapyard bathed in the warmth of the afternoon sun. The quiet stretched between Angel and me as he lowered himself onto the step beside me. Neither of us spoke. There were things we wanted to say but couldn’t—words that lingered on the edges of our silence, too heavy to voice.

The metal creak of the awning made me glance up. EZ approached with a slow, measured gait, his kutte weighed down by more than just the patches sewn onto it. He lowered himself onto the step on my other side.

“Gaby’s going up north,” he muttered, his voice even but edged with something unreadable.

Angel gave a small nod, exhaling through his nose. “And you?”

EZ sighed, running a hand over his jaw. “I know I did a lot of damage after I got out.”

Something about the weight in his voice made me shift. This felt like a moment meant for the Reyes brothers alone, something deeper than the usual club business. I braced my hands against the step, ready to push myself up.

“Stay,” EZ said before I could move, his eyes catching mine. “I’ve got your secret. You can hold on to mine.”

I hesitated, then settled back into my spot, nodding.

EZ exhaled, rubbing his palms together as if trying to warm them but there was no chill in the air. “I’m the reason Potter got his claws into us. If I hadn’t opened that door—what happened to Adelita, your baby…” His voice tightened, thick with unspoken guilt.

Angel stiffened beside me. I wasn’t sure what kind of confession I was witnessing, but I’d hold on to it.

“All I want is to make it up to you,” EZ continued, his voice rough. “To the club. I’m hoping now I have. Being a Mayan has meant more to me than anything. But if I stay, all I see is more bodies. And if I go with Gaby, maybe there’s some hope?”

He looked at me first, then Angel. “Nails is your second chance. I’m afraid Gaby is my only chance.”

Angel sat in silence for a moment, the only sound between us the distant hum of motorcycles rolling down the road. Finally, he nodded. “I get it, man.” He let his gaze flicker to me before turning back to his brother. “You know, things we gotta do sometimes, they can be hard.” His voice softened, like he was talking to both of us. “But that’s just how it is.”

“You don’t get it,” EZ countered, his jaw tightening. He looked back toward the clubhouse, his expression unreadable. “The kutte’s not a bad fit. It fits too fucking well.”

Angel scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t get it? What don’t I get, EZ?”

“This isn’t hard for me,” EZ admitted, his voice low but steady. “What we did to the Vatos Malditos. Ramos. Shit today. I would have blown that fucking kid up.”

Angel tensed, shifting his weight. “But you didn’t.”

“But I would have if I had to,” EZ said, and there wasn’t a trace of hesitation in his voice. No regret. Just fact. “If that’s what the club needed. I’m good at this. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

Angel was quiet for a long moment, the weight of EZ’s words settling over us. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, almost hesitant. “What you said about Mom being proud of me…” He swallowed. “That meant a lot.” He exhaled sharply, forcing a smirk. “This club is my family. But I only have one real brother. Even when we were little kids, and I wanted to strangle your annoying, know-it-all ass, when we’re together, everything just feels… right.” His smirk faded. “If I looked across the table and didn’t see you there, I’d miss you. But I’d understand. ’Cause I don’t think this is what would’ve made Mom proud of you.”

EZ’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his expression unreadable. “I wasn’t her favorite, Angel.”

Angel scoffed. “Yeah, okay.”

“I wasn’t,” EZ repeated, his voice quieter this time. “All the poetry and books and shit… I think she was trying to keep me from becoming Pop.” He let out a small, humorless laugh. “You got Pop’s looks.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“But I got the other parts of Pop.” EZ’s voice held something heavier than before. “You definitely got Mom’s heart.”

The clubhouse door creaked open, breaking the moment. Gilly stepped outside, weaving past us with his usual easy stride.

“Where you going?” Angel asked, watching him.

“I got a thing,” Gilly answered vaguely, heading toward his bike.

A smirk tugged at my lips. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Gilly just chuckled, giving nothing away.

“You don’t have to be all weird about it,” Angel laughed. “We really don’t give a shit. Just trying to be polite.”

Gilly shook his head, grinning as he threw a leg over his bike and started it up.

EZ pushed himself to his feet. “I gotta pack.”

Angel let out a breath, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go have one last beer with Golden Boy.” He extended a hand to me, pulling me up from the step.

I let him.

And together, we walked back inside.

—---

I kept my word. I didn’t mention where EZ was going or that he wasn’t planning on coming back. But that didn’t make it any easier. I’d miss him. More than I wanted to admit.

My gaze swept across the room, taking in the familiar faces. These men—they were my family. And the thought of losing them terrified me. The club had already bled too much, lost too much. The air in the clubhouse was heavy, thick with the unspoken grief of the night before.

Bishop sat in Templo, waiting for news from the other presidents, his expression unreadable but weighted. A man carrying more than his fair share of ghosts. Angel and Nails sat across the room, exchanging looks that once would have cut me like a knife. The sting was duller now, but it was still there, an ache that would fade in time. It was what was best for Angel. He wanted to be a father more than anything—I just wondered how he’d reconcile that with being a husband.

The clubhouse was eerily quiet. The usual rowdy energy, the drunken laughter and shouting, had been replaced with something heavier. A lingering tension. The night before had left its mark. The blood, the choices made, the bodies that wouldn’t be coming back—it all hung in the air like a shadow we couldn’t shake.

The door swung open, cutting through the silence.

EZ walked in.

He looked around, his dark eyes scanning the room, taking us all in as if committing this moment to memory.

Angel stood, his usual smirk absent. He met EZ’s gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

“I’m sorry, bro,” Angel said.

For what, I wasn’t sure. Maybe for the years between them. Maybe for the way this all turned out. Maybe for the fact that, in the end, EZ was right. The kutte fit too well. 

EZ nodded then went back outside to his own solitude. 

The first gunshot made me jump. The crash of metal followed, echoing through the night. My heart pounded, my instincts screaming at me to move.

“Get down!” I shouted, ducking instinctively as another shot rang out.

Angel and Creeper bolted out the clubhouse door, and that’s when all hell broke loose.

Flaming bottles arced through the air, shattering against the pavement, sending bursts of fire licking toward the sky. Shadows moved over the walls—men climbing, charging, weapons drawn. And then I saw them.

Mayan kuttes.

A civil fucking war.

Angel and Creeper dragged EZ back through the clubhouse, his face twisted with rage and something else—something I didn’t have time to place.

“Just get down,” Creeper ordered frantically. “Stay away from the windows.”

The tension in the clubhouse was suffocating. Panic and instinct collided as the guys scrambled for the Templo, where the guns were locked up.

“They’re here!” Hank’s voice came from the other side of the stained-glass doors, raw with urgency.

“Who’s here?” Bishop demanded.

“Every fucking body,” Angel bit out.

“Get the fuck away from the window!” Hank barked.

I kept low, moving across the room, knocking over tables, kicking chairs aside—anything to create cover. The clubhouse wasn’t safe, but it was all we had. My eyes landed on Jess, her hands trembling as she pressed herself against the bar.

“Get behind it,” I told her, my voice low but firm.

Before she could respond, one of the Lodi guys hit the floor with a sickening thud. Blood oozed from the bullet wound in his chest, soaking into the wood beneath him.

“Fuck.” I dropped to my knees, pressing my hands against the wound, but I knew it was too late. He was already gone. I swallowed hard, reaching up to close his lifeless eyes.

The door slammed open again. Hank and EZ crawled inside from the roof, Hank gripping his leg—blood seeping through his jeans.

“I can help,” I said, grabbing what I hoped was a clean bar rag. I folded it and pressed it to the wound.

“Let me take a look.” My hands hovered over his knee, but it was bad. Shattered.

“There’s a fucking hundred of them,” EZ growled, his chest heaving. “And Canche. He’s not dead.”

Gunfire erupted outside, each shot hammering through my skull.

“Come on!” Creeper and EZ hoisted Hank up, moving him further into the clubhouse.

Screams filled the air—terror and pain, but I couldn’t focus on that. I couldn’t afford to.

“Cover the fucking windows!” Bishop shouted.

Angel and EZ flipped a couch on its side, blocking one. Jess and I lifted the long table, bracing it against another. The lights flickered, then cut out completely, plunging us into darkness. The fires outside burned hotter, casting shadows that danced along the walls.

“Get the flashlights from the gun case,” Bishop ordered.

I moved quickly, helping the other girls light candles to cut through the darkness. Every flicker of light revealed another layer of the chaos unfolding around us.

“We got a fucking problem,” Taza announced, his arms carrying far less than they should have.

“That’s it?” Bishop snapped, his frustration barely contained. “Where the fuck is the rest?”

No one had an answer.

“Stop,” EZ warned, catching Creeper’s arm as he fired blindly out the window.

Bishop exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, get out your fucking pieces.”

I reached behind the bar, grabbing my purse. My fingers curled around the cool metal of my handgun. I pulled it out, along with two extra clips, and set them on the pool table where they were counting what little ammo we had left.

Angel glanced at me but didn’t say a word.

“We’re gonna burn through this quick,” Bishop muttered.

“How about fire for fire?” Cielo suggested, pulling out half-empty bottles of liquor.

“That could work,” EZ said, already reaching for them. I hurried to help, ripping bar towels, stuffing them into the bottles—makeshift Molotovs, our last desperate line of defense.

“They have us, and they know it,” Taza murmured, taking a long pull from one of the bottles before handing it off.

“They don’t have shit,” EZ countered, fire burning behind his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“We’re gonna need extra hands,” Creeper said, his gaze scanning the room.

“I got you,” Angel stepped forward without hesitation.

I wanted to tell him not to go. The words caught in my throat. I didn’t want any of them to go. But if we didn’t make a stand, it was only a matter of time before they crashed through the door.

“No,” Nails choked out, her voice thick with fear.

Creeper looked at her, at the others. “Stay. Handle business.” Then he turned to the room, looking for more volunteers. No one moved.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, heading out.

Rosa lunged for the door after him, but Bishop grabbed her, shoving her back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped.

“She’s scared, motherfucker!” Nails shouted. “We all are.”

Bishop’s eyes met mine, then flickered to the others huddled in the dim light. “We’re gonna fucking be alright,” he said, voice steady.

I hoped like hell he was right.

Outside, flames lit up the yard as EZ tossed Molotovs over the walls. Screams of agony filled the night. The stench of burning flesh, gunpowder, and gasoline thickened the air.

The clubhouse door slammed open again. Creeper stumbled inside, a bloody fucking mess.

I barely knew where to start.

An explosion rocked the ground outside. I flinched. “What the fuck was that?”

“Stop wasting ammo,” Bishop barked. “Only shoot when you have to.”

Creeper was losing blood fast. I pressed my hand over the gash in his neck, my fingers already slick with it. “I need to cauterize this, or you’ll bleed out. I need fire and something metal.”

Wordlessly, Creeper pulled his knife and lighter from his pocket. I flicked the flame on, holding the blade over it until it glowed red-hot.

“I’m sorry—this is gonna fucking hurt.” I didn’t give him the chance to brace himself before pressing the heated metal to his wound. His body seized, a choked sound tearing from his throat. The smell of burning flesh hit me, but I didn’t let up until the bleeding stopped.

Across the room, EZ was working with the remaining Lodi guys, struggling to get the generator running.

“Hey—they’re getting closer!” Angel shouted.

“Let them come,” Bishop muttered.

With one final yank, the generator roared to life. The others moved fast, setting up floodlights in the windows. Blind them—that was the plan.

“On my count,” Bishop commanded. “One… two—”

Before he could finish, Rosa bolted for the door. “I’m not with them!” she screamed.

The gunfire didn’t care. A spray of bullets cut her down before she made it three steps.

“I fucking warned you,” Taza muttered. “I warned all of you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bishop snapped. “You’re the last motherfucker I want to hear from.”

“Everyone shut up,” EZ cut in, tilting his head. Silence. Then—the slow creak of footsteps overhead.

“They’re on the roof,” Angel said, voice low, tense.

Weapons raised, they aimed for the roof access door.

“Lights off,” Bishop ordered.

The sudden glare of a flashlight nearly blinded me.

“Get that fucking light out of my face,” Gilly growled as he climbed down from the roof.

“Do you know how close you just got to getting ventilated?” Bishop gritted out.

“Fucking Franco almost did,” Coco muttered, dropping in behind him.

“How’d you get past them?” EZ asked.

“Boy Scout’s trailer,” Gilly answered. “We hopped the wall and climbed up.”

“They’re almost to the steps,” I whispered, eyes locked on the window.

“Shit,” EZ muttered, turning back to the front of the clubhouse.

“Go!” Bishop shouted.

The floodlights snapped on, bathing the yard in blinding white. The Mayans seized the moment, opening fire. Bodies dropped, screams rang out—until the sharp, telltale clicks of empty magazines echoed through the clubhouse.

Out of ammo.

Gunfire and Rosa’s shrieks tore through the clubhouse, rattling my eardrums. I pressed against the wall, heart pounding, waiting for the next move.

“I’m out,” EZ called.

“Me too,” Gilly added.

“Bish, what’s the plan?” EZ asked.

Bishop sat on the edge of the pool table, cigarette between his fingers, staring at the chaos outside. He was trying to find a way out, but nothing was coming.

“What’s the fucking plan?” EZ asked again, more desperate this time.

“We die,” Taza muttered.

Bishop shot off the table, crossing the room in two strides. He pressed the barrel of his gun against Taza’s forehead. “You wanna know why we’re fucking here right now?! You wanna fucking know why?”

“Hey!” Angel cut in. “Will you two just fucking stop? I ain’t trying to die today.”

“Bishop.” My voice was softer, pleading.

He held his stance for a moment longer before lowering his pistol, his face carved in frustration and hopelessness.

“Pres…” Angel almost begged now. “What are we gonna do?”

Bishop exhaled. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Angel muttered, disbelief settling in.

“Fuck these motherfuckers,” Coco said suddenly. “This is our club. This is all we fucking got. And fuck any one of you who thinks we should give this shit up.”

Bishop’s gaze snapped to him, then to Gilly. “Where the fuck were you?” His voice was sharp, accusing. “Where the fuck were you both?”

Coco squared his shoulders. “It’s on me, Bish. I ain’t been around, and I gotta answer for that. My kid—she’s been fucking up. She got in some trouble. And yeah, I should’ve come to the club. I should’ve come to my brothers. But Gilly—he helped me. He helped save her.”

“Bro, you should’ve told us,” Angel said.

“It’s done now!” Coco snapped.

I watched them, knowing damn well this wasn’t just about Letty. Whatever Coco had gotten into, it was deeper than that. And judging by Gilly’s face, he knew it too. But now wasn’t the time.

“No, it ain’t fucking done,” Bishop shot back.

From the other side of the door, Canche’s voice rang out. “EZ! I fucking saw you, and now you’re gonna fucking die!”

“Mayans!” The chant started outside, growing louder.

We sat in silence, backs to the walls, out of bullets, out of options. I leaned against Bishop, his hand threading through my hair in quiet comfort.

“Bishop,” EZ muttered. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan is—fuck you,” Bishop said. “First motherfucker through that door? We shoot him in the face.”

“And the next one?” I asked.

“We shoot him too,” Bishop said. “And everyone after him.”

“We got enough ammo to take out maybe a dozen,” Gilly noted. “With the way you motherfuckers shoot, maybe five.”

“Shit, I won’t miss,” Coco said.

“What about the other fifty dudes out there?” Angel asked.

Bishop scoffed. “This is what you signed up for.”

EZ looked around, eyes landing on me, then Nails, then the other girls. “My brother’s about to have a kid,” he said.

“That engagement makes sense now,” Gilly muttered.

“Fuck you,” Angel shot back.

“Do we ask that kid to pay the price for our sins?” EZ asked.

Then, before any of us could stop him, EZ turned toward the door. “Canche!”

Angel’s head snapped to him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Canche! I’m coming out. I’m the one you want!” EZ shouted again.

“The fuck you are,” Angel growled.

“EZ, what are you doing?” I asked, my stomach twisting.

“I’m the one you want,” EZ called out. “But you gotta let everyone else go.”

Canche laughed. “You got no fucking leverage, motherfucker! I’ll kill you and everyone else inside.”

“There are innocent people in here!” EZ pushed.

“My son was innocent!” Canche roared back.

“So let me pay the price,” EZ said. “It was my idea. All of it. I pulled that trigger. We still have enough firepower to do damage, and we’re all brothers.” His voice wavered, but he stood firm. “Let my blood be the last.”

“EZ, don’t you go out that fucking door,” Angel pleaded, but Nails held him back.

EZ ignored him. “Canche! I’m coming out!” He crossed himself and stepped through the door.

Angel cursed under his breath before storming after him. Then Gilly. Then Coco. One by one, the others followed—Bishop, Creeper limping, Hank with the help of the Lodi guys.

They all stood together, facing the enemy.

Canche smirked. “Ain’t this fucking quaint?” He raised his rifle and cracked it against EZ’s face, sending him to the ground. The rest were shoved to their knees.

“You come at me?” Canche seethed. “At my fucking kid? My boy?”

I watched from the window, my chest tightening as he shoved a gun under Angel’s chin, another aimed at the back of Bishop’s head.

Then—

A gunshot rang out.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath catching in my throat. Tears burned down my cheeks, but I forced them open.

The rows of Mayans outside had parted.

Marcus Alvarez walked through them.

“What have you done?” His voice was calm, but the weight of it crushed the air. “You’re gonna point a gun at my fucking primo, ese? You gonna point a gun at me, motherfucker?” He didn’t wait for an answer, his fist connecting with the nearest man’s face, sending him to the dirt.

“What have you done, Canche?”

Canche’s jaw tensed. “Marcus… we didn’t start this.”

Alvarez turned, standing before Bishop now. His voice didn’t rise, but it hit like a bullet.

“What have you done, primo?” He looked around, taking in the blood, the bodies, the wreckage. His voice dropped even lower. “This is my fucking club. You hear me? This is my fucking club.”

[ficnation]

Loss - Bishop Losa x Reader

Summary: You try your best to comfort Obispo after his friend's death.

Word count: 1,0k+

Pairing: Bishop Losa x Female! Reader

Warnings: spoilers for season 2, angsty

A/n: Just something short to get back into writing. Enjoy!

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐌.𝐂. 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Bishop knew you were smart, sometimes even too smart for your own good, and you could read people without effort. You had him all figured out just after your first meeting, which irritated him back then. He knew exactly what he was getting into, yet he still couldn’t let you walk away from him.

The moment he crossed the doorway, you were already staring at him with squinted eyes from your comfortable blanket nest on the couch. He didn’t even notice you were there until you spoke up.

“You’re upset,” you stated, closing the book you were reading. “What happened?” 

Bishop stopped in the corridor, his brows raised at your words, letting you know you saw right through him. 

“Jesus, woman, let me at least take my shoes off.” He scowled, challenging you to pry any further while unlacing his boots and putting them away.

“Hey, I’m very patient.” You ignored the unpleasant tone of his voice, sitting up and curling up your legs so you could rest your chin on your knees. You waited in silence so he could make his way toward you.

Bishop sat down beside you with a tired sigh, rubbing his temples. “Do we have to do this now? It’s late. You should be sleeping, cariña.”

It was well past midnight, and you would usually already be sprawled out on that couch, having fallen asleep while you waited for him to come home. Today it was different, though. You had a feeling that something terrible had happened, and it didn’t let you close your eyes even for a minute. So you spent the night reading books, waiting patiently for your husband to return so you could see with your own eyes that he was unharmed and well.

You watched him closely, your features softening into a half-smile at the term of endearment. You reached over to squeeze his hand reassuringly, and he let you, marveling at the feeling of your skin on his.

“Couldn’t really sleep without you next to me.”

Your words made Bishop finally look at you, his eyes staring into yours with recognition. He knew that feeling. He couldn’t fall asleep without you in bed beside him either. It just felt wrong when you weren’t there.

“I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t leave earlier,” Bishop mumbled out, raising your joined hands to leave a kiss on top of your palm. 

He knew he couldn’t always be there for you. Being the club’s president was time-consuming, more than he imagined. But it was everything to him, and you understood that and never made him feel bad about not having much time to spend with you. 

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” You propped your chin on his shoulder, covered by the club’s kutte. “Tell me what happened.”

Bishop ran his free hand through his hair, sighing yet again. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words. He never knew how to tell you about someone’s death, especially someone you had known and cared for.

“Hey, if you don’t want to, it’s okay too. But remember that you can tell me anything,” you assured, seeing the troubled expression on your husband’s face. 

Your thumb brushed against his knuckles, and you could feel him relax at your touch.

After several long moments, he took another deep breath and started talking cautiously, trying to suppress the anger bubbling deep inside of him. The anger at those stupid Vatos who took his friend away for good.

“We lost Riz today,” he said finally, cutting straight to the chase. 

Your eyes widened in shock. You didn’t expect it to be that serious before he told you that information. “I’m so sorry, baby,” you whispered. Your thumb brushed against his knuckles in a soothing motion.

Bishop closed his eyes, trying hard to push back the tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes. “Yeah. Me too.”

You knew Riz was a good guy and didn’t deserve to die so soon. None of the Mayans did; they were all genuinely good people, no matter how they shaped themselves to appear to others. They were like a family to you; you loved them wholeheartedly.

“What happened? Who did this?” The question was followed by a pause before you added quietly, “Are you going after them?” You held your breath as you waited for an answer, but you couldn’t help the tears that spilled down your cheeks.

Your thumb traced a few circles on the back of his hand. You could feel him shake lightly under your touch. It broke your heart to watch him in this state. It took him a minute or two before he found the strength to speak again.

“We will. The fuckers won’t know what hit them,” Bishop stated with certainty, wiping away the tears from his face with his arm. He never wanted to let anyone see him cry, yet you saw it more times than he wished you did. You were the one who taught him that it’s not a weakness to show emotions.

“Go to bed with me?” you proposed and got up from the couch, still holding his hand in yours. You didn’t comment on his decision. It wasn’t your place to say anything, especially since you didn’t have the whole picture, and it could’ve been pretty gruesome.

The man agreed wordlessly, letting you pull him to his feet and toward the door to your shared bedroom. You helped him take off his kutte, putting it on the backrest of one of the comfy chairs in the room, while Bishop got rid of his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers. 

You turned the lights off before looking at your husband, who had already crawled into the bed. He smiled weakly, beckoning you closer so you could cuddle up to him like always. You obliged quickly and snuggled up to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and holding him tight. Bishop kissed your forehead, making you look up at him. 

“I love you, mi rey,” you whispered as if anything louder could disturb the silence enveloping the room. You left a sweet kiss on his lips, giggling when he bit down lightly on your lower lip.

“Sleep well, mami.”

[suckthatskittlebiiitch]

Fuck Miguel is so sexy when he's talking business 😩 yesss daddy talk about yout lawyers!!!

[missbenedicte]

[youare-mysonshine]

Is the Mayans a good series to watch?

i think so! i’ll admit that it’s been a while since i’ve watched the show and i stopped watching after season 3, but i really enjoyed it. definitely give it a watch!

[boydholbrooksblog]

Manny montana

Mayansfx