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myckicade · 3 years

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Prompt: OMG. Love the Taza imagine! If you're OK with that, would you be OK with a Bishop one? I'd love to see him jealous!

A/N: Uhm. Yeah. So. This is now a thing. This one is a little different, in more ways than one. (I have a feeling I’ll be doing a second part). I should warn about some ugly language in this one, just in case. I want to wish you a happy read, and to apologize, at the same time.

Title: Bottom of the Bottle

Teaser: Your world has gone on, as normal. You just haven’t included Bishop in it.

Two days.

It’s been two days, Bishop reminds himself. Two days since he’s heard from you. Two days since you left his bed, his home, his life. It’s dramatic as hell, and he knows so, but the bottom of his bottle is whispering ugly thoughts in his face.

(Y/n)’s cheating.

(Y/n)’s dead.

No, (y/n)’s definitely fucking another man.

Groaning, Bishop pulls the bottle away from his mouth, and scrubs his free hand over his face. “This is insane,” he growls, snatching his phone from his nightstand.

Two. Fucking. Days.

Opening up his recent calls, Bishop stares at the screen. He’s made fifteen calls, in the last forty-eight hours. Two to Taza. One to Marcus. The other twelve all have your name on them. All twelve, no answers. All twelve, unreturned voicemails. He scowls. He’s sent more text messages than that, even. Those haven’t been returned, yet, either.

Fuck, he has it so fucking bad.

You’re fine, he knows that much. He’s been by your apartment, more than once. The cat is fed, and content. Litter box has been changed. There are clothes all over your bedroom floor, coffee mugs on the kitchen counter. Mail hasn’t piled up. Your world has gone on, as normal.

You just haven’t included Bishop in it.

He doesn’t understand it. What went wrong? He can’t remember being that big a dick to you, before you left. He’d teased you about the smudge of mascara under your eyes, from the night before, but that was it. You’d given him a kiss, and one of your brightest smiles. There was no indication, not that Bishop can see, that you wouldn’t be coming back.

See you soon. That’s what you’d told him. See you soon.

Forgive him. He doesn’t consider fifty-four hours, and some change, to be soon.

Heaving a sigh, Bishop abandons his stare-off with his call records in favour of a swig of vodka. He can’t call, again, he just can’t. It’s getting pathetic. He’s getting pathetic. He can’t remember the last time he was like this, even before his divorce. Lovers come, and lovers go, in his life. That’s just a part of the life. But, you… God, you’re something else, entirely. You don’t intermingle with the Club, very often, but there’s no tension (that he’s aware of) over how he earns a living. It’s refreshing, he has to admit, both halves of his being playing so nicely, together. (It’s so damn close to harmony, he won’t look at it, too closely, for fear of disappointment). He can work the whole day away, and come home pissed off, and worn out, and ruin every damned plan you have for the night… And, somehow, you adapt. You. You. Bishop swears, there’s nothing you won’t alter. A nicely-set table becomes plates in front of the television. A night out drinking becomes shots at home, cards and conversation filling the spaces between. And, on those rare nights he’s too tired to pleasure you? He hasn’t heard a peep about it, by way of complaint. You just accept that he’s going to shower, and hit the hay, and that’s the end of it. Sometimes, Bishop feels like he takes advantage of your good nature.

Oh, good nature, hell, you’re a fucking Saint.

He really should have seen this coming, this all blowing up in his face.

Is that it, though? Has he really driven you away, by not paying attention to your needs? He hasn’t seen the signs. You’re such a damned sweetheart, there probably haven’t been any signs to miss, at all. You’ve just smiled, and smooched, and carried on as normal, until it got to be too much.

That’s it. He’s forced you away, and that’s why you’re ignoring him, and fucking another man.

A low roar forces its way from Bishop’s throat, and, a second later, glass is shattering against the bedroom wall. Shards are sticking up out of the carpet, vodka streaking down the wallpaper. Fuck, he hates that wallpaper. He can’t remember why he put it up, to begin with. He’s been asking you to pick a colour to paint over it with, any colour that isn’t white, and you’ve been finding it in yourself, each and every time, to remind him why he shouldn’t paint over wallpaper. Sometimes, he brings it up, just to make you laugh. Just to hear the explanation, on repeat. Now, he’s never going to hear it, again.

Fuck, he needs a fucking cigarette.

And, of fucking course, the pack is empty. Crumpling the paper in his hand, Bishop tosses it to the carpet, beside the growing vodka patch. He’s in no condition to be driving, a rarity, these days. (He won’t admit it, under pain of death, but he’s been drinking considerably less with you around, too). Probably why he’s two steps from sloshed, now. He should just stay home, yes, he should. There’s no need for cigarettes, not at this hour. He should keep himself calm, and go to bed. Wait for your call.

Standing to his feet, Bishop grabs his keys, and his wallet, and heads for the door. Without you around, what is he saving himself for?

Well… Okay, so, that’s decidedly not the convenience store.

Bishop stares at the apartment building – your apartment building – in something akin to wonder. He has no recollection of how he ended up here, parked in front of the entrance. It’s been twenty minutes, easily, that he’s been staring up at your living room window. The lamp beside the couch is on, the soft glow almost inviting to his impaired senses.

He really should go knock on the door.

He really should have stayed home, too.

So, you’re definitely home. Looking around at the parking lot, he doesn’t see your car. But, you never leave lights on, not on purpose. Whether you’re paranoid about fires, or worried about an expensive light bill, Bishop can only guess. Right now, he’s thankful. It gives him something to focus on, something to calm him… Something to entice him closer to your front door. Step by step, he tries to talk himself out of it. But, he can’t stand this, living this way, not knowing where you are, or what you’re doing, or who you’re doing, if it’s not him. It’s distracting, and he truly can’t afford to be distracted, not even by you, not like this. He has to go up, he just has to. He has to know, to figure this shit out, face-to-face.

Knock, knock, knock. Bishop finds himself comforted by the solid connection of your door against his knuckles. He could use his key, but it doesn’t feel right, not now. He could scare you, or piss you off, neither of which is on his list of desires. You’re a civil person, peaceful to a fault, so he might get away with it, sure, but… But…

This has to go right. He has to do this right. Whatever he did, or hasn’t done, Bishop’s confident he can fix it. You two have a good thing going. Sure, he’s got a few years on you, and there are gaps in understanding one another, every now and again. And, yeah, you’ve had a spat or two, in the last few months of your relationship. He’s always seen that as a sign of things getting comfortable, though, not a warning of bigger problems. Your arguments aren’t dire, anyway.

Who the fuck is ‘Nicki Minaj’, and why is she on my speaker system?

Why is your toilet paper on the roll, the wrong way?

How the hell can you be a Mets fan?

No, I’m serious. Who the fuck is ‘Nicki Minaj’?

That’s not enough for you to be screwing around on him, right?

As your door opens, and Bishop gets a good look at what’s been going on… Well, apparently, it’s enough.

“Who the fuck are you?” Bishop spits out, before the man at the door can even get out a greeting. Not exactly his nicest choice of words, but all Bishop can see is young, and tall, and handsome. If this motherfucker is a day over thirty, he’ll go vegan for a fucking year. Well-dressed, smells decent (he’s close enough to tell, okay?), without a frown line, or a speck of grey on him.

He’s not insecure. He’s not fucking insecure.

Handsome smiles, albeit a bit forced. “Oh, ah, hi! Are you looking for (y/n)?” He’s so polite, it stings. This kid – kid – is the poster child for Ivy League education, for all the right things in life. So clean-cut, his creases have creases. Meanwhile, here Bishop stands, in yesterday’s jeans, boots, kutte, and a wrinkled shirt he can’t swear is fresh.

He can’t stand this, either. As a result, in the blink of an eye, he has Handsome backed against a wall, hands fisted in his now-not-so-perfect shirt.

“Hey!” Handsome shouts, trying – and, failing – to shove Bishop off of him. Bishop can’t really fathom how, must be from sheer force of rage, probably fueled by his liquid indulgences. He can’t help it. His heart is in his throat, rhythm a little sketchy, at the thought that this is what you’ve chosen, over him? This? Some kid with a million-watt smile, and fucking Dockers? What fucking year is it, anyway?!

The idea forces an extra shove into the wall. Bishop hopes something cracks.

“What the fuck are you doing, here?” He hasn’t raised his voice, not a bit. If anything, it’s probably dropped an octave, settling into a low, dangerous growl. He’s two steps away from redecorating that perfect little face, just for the sheer joy of it, make it something you definitely won’t like, anymore.

That’s when he hears it.

“Obispo!”

It’s you. Even through the deluge of seething rage threatening to consume him, Bishop knows your voice. He looks over his shoulder, finding you standing in the still-open doorway. There’s a duffel bag slung over your shoulder, a bag of groceries in your other arm. You look surprised, but who wouldn’t be surprised to be caught, red-handed?

“What are you doing?” you ask, setting your bags down.

“I could ask you the same thing!” Bishop finally shouts, hands still twisted in your little boyfriend’s shirt. “Where the fuck have you been?”

Your confusion seems to be growing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He sneers. “You know what I’m talking about. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for two days!” Bishop points back to your unwanted visitor, ignoring the way his hand shakes. “You ignore me, to whore around with this prick?!”

“The fuck did you just say?” Bishop nearly has a coronary, as a second guy steps into the doorway, behind you. Where the hell did he come from? This one… He’s just as tall, but he definitely doesn’t miss a day at the gym. If Bishop tries to put this one against the wall, he’ll find himself pile-driven into the floor. His arms may be full of groceries, but the look on his face is threatening bodily harm, and worse.

Doesn’t stop Bishop’s mouth from running, though.

“Oh, wow,” he chokes out, forcing a laugh from somewhere that feels wrong, cut-up and bloodied and wrecked. He shifts his eyes from Muscles, to you. “You running a whole thing outta’ here? Taking ‘em, two at a time?”

Muscles puts his bags down, advancing on Bishop, who lets go of Handsome, and takes a step back. Muscles puts himself between Bishop, and everyone else. Defensive. Protective. And, does that ever fucking hurt. If this guy is so ready to go to bat for you, he’s known you a lot longer than two days.

How did he fucking miss this?

Again, Bishop’s eyes find yours, and the sight of your beautiful face completely destroys the bravado. He feels his shoulders droop, chest deflating, defeat slowly creeping in. He’s still angry, he’s still hurt, but the devastation, the thing he’s worked so hard to avoid having to feel, in his life, ever again, is beginning to win.

“How?” he asks, arms spreading out to either side of him. “How could you do this, (y/n)?” He shakes his head, slowly. It’s been so good, everything has been so damned good. He’s trusted you, all this time. How could he be so stupid? “No, you know what? I should’ve known.” His words are blending with his thoughts, a little mismatched, but he doesn’t much care. A finger is suddenly pointing your way. “You’re full of shit, just like every other cunt out there.”

Instantly, he knows he shouldn’t have said it. He can’t take it back, no matter how hard he prays on it. Your expression is one he’ll remember for the rest of his days, coming back to haunt him in his darkest moments. Hurt, betrayed… Heartbroken… Oh, but, your words. The quiet murmur that follows that look, voice teetering on the edge of tears, will put the final nail in his coffin.

“This… This is my cousin, Alexander…” You gesture to Muscles. “And, his husband, Curtis.” A nod to Handsome.

Those… Those names sound awfully familiar. A recent conversation, if memory serves. And, shit, as he thinks about it, you did mention them, didn’t you? Which means that, all this… The last two days, no calls, no texts… It means that you were-

Is it really possible for blood to ice over?

“We just got in from that music festival…”

Music festival. The one Bishop hadn’t wanted to go to. The one you’d had your heart set on. Who the hell went into the desert to listen to music? How the fuck did instruments even work, in that much heat? He remembers asking those questions, remembers telling you to go with whoever you wanted, but to leave him out of it. You… You’d laughed, thanked him for his permission. He’d found your snark so damned cute.

Now… God, now, there’s nothing he won’t do to get that wet shimmer out of your eyes.

He just can’t get a single word to come out of his fucking mouth.

Silence stretches on, uncomfortable, no one knowing what to say, what to do, and with good reason. As the tension reaches its peak, you clear your throat, gently. “Sit down, Obispo…” You instruct, quietly, before he can even try to offer anything. You’re already heading for the kitchen, not looking at anyone, any longer. “I’ll make everyone some coffee.” You want him sober up, and he knows it. Won’t let him drive back, so obviously drunk, even after what’s just transpired. A Saint, to the fucking end.

Fuck, what has he fucking done?

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#mayans m.c. fanfiction #mayans m.c.#Bishop x reader #Bishop x you #obispo bishop losa #anonymous request #fanfiction requests #ask box fic #Jealousy Thursday

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drabbles-mc · 4 years

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Closing Time

Obispo “Bishop” Losa x Reader

Warnings: language, violence, unwanted physical contact

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Thank you so much to @masterlistforimagines for trusting me with this prompt. I hope I gave you what you were looking for! Love some worked up, protective Bish ❤

Things were finally starting to calm down a little bit. The final rush of people had come and gone for the most part—there were just a couple stragglers, a few couples, and a small group of men left in the café. You had a little more than an hour before you had to close, so you couldn’t quite try prompting people to leave yet. Technically even if it was trickling past closing time you couldn’t really do anything, which was frustrating.

You and the other barista on shift with you were keeping yourselves busy. The more you cleaned up and put away now, the quicker you could take off once everyone left. Both of you thought that it wasn’t quite fair that your manager got to leave you there alone for the last chunk of the day, but there wasn’t much you could do besides roll your eyes as they left.

Your mind flashed back to the conversation you had had with Bishop a couple weeks ago when you had told him about how your manager had started leaving two staff on their own for the last part of the day. He had scoffed and shook his head.

“They shouldn’t be able to do that, Querida.”

You shrugged, knowing he was right but also knowing that you couldn’t do anything to change it, “I know. I just don’t get how they can be there all day and then they decide the last two hours is too much?”

“What if something happens? What if you need them and they aren’t there?”

You hate that shrugging is the only response that you can think of, “I guess we have to call them back? Or the cops? Depends on the situation. I have no idea.”

“Call me before you call the cops,” his tone was serious.

You smiled, shaking your head, “Gonna roll up with the guys if someone is trying to rob us?”

“I won’t even need the guys,” he waited for you to meet his eyes, “I’m serious. Anything happens that doesn’t sit right with you, call me. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

“Yes sir,” you kissed him lightly on the lips to get the serious expression on his face to go away. It worked—you were rewarded with a smile as he pulled you closer to him.

You were snapped back to the present when you heard someone trying to get your attention so they could pay their check and leave. You cashed them out as quickly as you could without making it seem like you were trying to rush them out. You flashed them a smile and a wave as they left, immediately going to clean off their table so it would be one less thing to do later.

You felt someone staring at you. As you glanced around, you saw one of the men at the table of three was watching you intently, a smile on his face. You averted your eyes quickly, not wanting to feed into whatever he was playing at. You hoped if you ignored it enough, he’d get the hint and they would just leave without giving the two of you any trouble.

The other barista came walking out of the back room, a worried look on her face, “Hey, Y/N, can I ask you for a huge favor?”

“What’s up?”

“I just got off the phone with my mom. My brother got into some kind of shit, and I need to go pick him up from the station,” she sighed, “Would you be alright closing up? There’s only like forty minutes until we close anyway.”

“By myself?” your stomach was already in knots and that was when you had someone there with you, “If it’s only forty minutes can’t you just wait to go get him? He’s at the station he’s not going anywhere.”

“My mom sounded really freaked out.”

You made sure your voice was hushed, “I’m freaked out. I don’t wanna be alone with all these people. Not when they know I’m alone.”

“Almost everyone is gone. There’s only like five people left.”

You looked around and saw that she was right. There was one couple left and the table of three men.

“Please,” she snapped you out of your thoughts, “I’ll owe you big-time.”

You sighed, knowing you weren’t really going to be able to talk her out of leaving, “Yea, you will.”

She hugged you and said a quick goodbye before going and grabbing her purse and heading out the door. You sighed as it shut behind her, not looking forward to the rest of your time alone in the café. You stayed behind the counter, wanting to keep constant surveillance on everything that was happening around you. You didn’t like to think of yourself as a paranoid person, but this situation was playing out in a million different terrible ways in your mind.

You instinctively reached to your pocket to grab your phone. You wanted to call Bishop so badly, but nothing had even really happened, so you didn’t want to call him for what might turn out to be a perfectly easy closing shift. You took a deep breath to try and calm your nerves.

The last couple came up to you to pay their check. You smiled and thanked them as they tucked a few bills into the tip jar on the counter. With grins and “We’ll be back soon’s” they were out the door, leaving you alone with the three men who seemed to have no intention of getting up and leaving any time soon. Your hands were fidgeting and you tried to hide it behind the counter so they wouldn’t be able to see how nervous you were.

Normally you didn’t try to force people out, but it was twenty minutes away from closing time and it wasn’t like any of the men at the table had any intention of ordering more food or drinks. And, even if they wanted to, everything was shut down for the night. You had tried to make a not-so-subtle show of yourself shutting everything off to try and prompt other customers to leave. Most of them took the hint, but not these guys.

You took another deep breath as you got yourself psyched up enough to approach their table. It was in that moment that you regretted not letting Bishop teach you some very simple, but very effective, take-down and self-defense techniques. You made a mental note to take him up on that immediately when this was all over with.

You approached their table, clearing your throat, “Are you gentlemen paying together or separately?” you wanted to give them two options that both resulted in them paying up and leaving.

The man who had been staring at you earlier smiled at you, “Kicking us out already, sweetheart?”

The word sweetheart made your skin crawl. You tried your hardest to seem unfazed, “I didn’t say anything about kicking you out. I just asked how you gentlemen are planning to pay this evening, that’s all.”

“We aren’t ready yet,” another one of the men spoke up, his tone not coated in false kindness like the previous man’s had been.

You nodded, “I’ll give you a couple more minutes to decide, then.”

As you went to talk back behind the counter, the first man grabbed your forearm. It wasn’t hard, he wasn’t doing it to cause physical pain, but the touch of his hand felt like it was burning your skin. You yanked your arm quickly out of his grip, covering where his hand had been with your own like you were soothing a burn.

“Could you be a doll and get me a glass of water?” his smile made you want to punch his teeth in.

“Sure,” your jaw was clenched but you were trying to hide the trembling in your hands. You walked back behind the counter, grabbing a plastic cup and filling it with water and ice. You tried to take a deep breath so you could carry it back to the table without the men seeing that your hands were shaking. You couldn’t give them that kind of satisfaction.

You set the cup of water down without comment. When you turned to walk away, you felt the man’s hand graze along the small of your back, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Your bottom lip began to tremble as you stepped just into the back room. You could still see them but they couldn’t really see you. You took your phone out and immediately dialed Bishop.

He answered on the second ring, his voice as calm as ever, “Mi vida, done with work?”

“Um, I,” your voice was shaking and you couldn’t even force a sentence out.

“What’s wrong?” his tone shifted immediately shifted.

“You, you said…you said to call,” it was hard to organize your thoughts as you peered through the window at the table of men, “if something didn’t feel right. There’s these guys here and they won’t leave and I ju—”

He didn’t let you finish your thought, “I’m on my way. Be there in less than ten minutes, Y/N. Be safe.”

You let out a shaky sigh as you hung up and put the phone in your pocket. Bishop didn’t live very far from where you worked—that was how you two had ended up meeting in the first place. If he was riding fast, which you knew he would be, he could easily cut the time in half that it would take to get there. You prayed he would show up before anything else happened.

You entered back into the main expanse of the café, but stayed behind the counter. You wanted as much space as possible between you and those creeps. You looked at them out of the corner of your eye, afraid that direct eye contact would invite conversation, or worse, make them approach you.

A few minutes later, you heard the sound of Bishop’s bike as he rolled into the lot. You let out a breath that you had been holding for what felt like an eternity. Knowing that he was going to be walking inside in a moment, and that it was officially past closing time, you walked up to the table again to ask them to pay their checks.

“Together or separate, gentlemen?” you hated that you still felt pressured to be polite.

The same man reached out and touched your hand again, “Together sounds good to me,” he looked at the two men sitting with him, “Sound good to you boys?”

You were trying not to think about the tears that were stinging at the edges of your eyes as you pulled your hand back. You inhaled slowly through your nose, feeling a sob building up in your throat when you heard the chimes on the door as Bishop walked in, still wearing his kutte.

“It’s past closing time, buddy,” the man who had been silent up until that point spoke up.

Bishop’s face was expressionless and his tone was frigid, “I’m here by request.”

You felt like your feet were glued to the ground as you felt the three men staring at you, and Bishop staring at them. “Querida,” his eyes were still locked on the table of men but you could hear the small shift in his tone as he addressed you, “Come over here, please.”

The man who had been touching you all night scoffed, “Leave the lady alone. No one is getting hurt here. Why don’t you run along with your glorified bicycle, huh?”

Bishop was a lot of things, but insecure wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t one that was easily baited into doing volatile or stupid things. The man’s comment didn’t rile him up, but you knew that if you weren’t able to make yourself move within the next five seconds things were going to get ugly very quickly. But you were frozen.

Your eyes darted back and forth between all four men. Bishop could see it on your face that as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t force yourself to move. He stepped forward and went to wedge himself between you and the table of men. The man stood up and went to grab your arm again but Bishop quickly grabbed his arm, spun him around, and pinned him face-down onto the table. Bishop didn’t push you out of the way, but the commotion was enough to get you to force yourself to take a few steps back.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he wasn’t yelling, but he didn’t have to.

The other two men stood up immediately, ready to fight. The fact that none of them reached for weapons made both you and Bishop assume that they weren’t carrying any. For a moment you forgot that not every single person carried at least one firearm on themselves at all times—the club gave you a skewed view of things like that.

“Why don’t you just pay your check and get out,” Bishop was still pinning the one man down on the table, the and that wasn’t holding his arm was gripping the back of the man’s neck.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” the man spat out against the table.

Bishop pushed his face down harder, “Keep your fucking hands off of women.”

“What’s your problem?” his voice was muffled from the force Bishop was applying to keep him pinned against the table.

Bishop kept his grip as he lifted the man off the table and shoved him towards the other two towards the door. “Get out.”

One of the other men stepped forward, “At least let us pay the lady,” there was an evil smile on his face.

“Don’t come any closer,” Bishop was fully blocking your body with his, “if you all want to leave here with your hands fully intact.”

He stepped forward again, closing the gap between he and Bishop. You knew this wasn’t going to be pretty. The man cocked his arm back for an obvious right hook that Bishop was able to dodge. He countered but instead of punching, he shoved his hand into the man’s throat, hard, causing him to gasp and sputter as he tumbled backwards. While he was coughing, that’s when Bishop landed a punch clean to the man’s jaw. They should’ve been counting their lucky stars that Bishop didn’t wear rings on every finger like some of the other guys in the club. It still hurt, but it wouldn’t slice their faces up nearly as bad.

“If you aren’t gonna pay or apologize, then get the fuck out,” he stood there, watching the man he had just punched retreat slightly.

The only one left who hadn’t been accosted by Bishop in some way stepped forward. You were thankful that they weren’t smart enough to try and team up on him all at once. You wondered why they wouldn’t just leave but you knew that at this point it was no longer about you, it was purely about their egos.

“Just go home,” Bishop sounded over it.

“After you, old man.”

Bishop didn’t even wait for the man to advance. It happened so fast that you didn’t register exactly how it went down, but it somehow ended with Bishop pinning one of the man’s hands to the table as he took his gun out. Everyone’s eyes, including yours, went wide at the sight of Bishop’s gun. You wanted to believe he wasn’t going to fire it off where you worked but you couldn’t be certain. You felt like you were stuck watching everything happening around you.

“Bish…” your voice was soft.

Before you could say anything else, he brought the butt of his gun down hard on the man’s hand. There was a loud cracking sound and the man let out a yell. Bishop shoved him towards the door as he tucked the gun away again.

“I told you to leave if you wanted your fucking hands. Now get out.”

The three of them scampered out the door to lick their wounds somewhere far away. You were stuck in place, your whole body trembling. You hadn’t expected it to go that way. You hoped that he could just show up and his presence would be enough to get them to leave. You felt sorry for dragging him into such a mess.

“Did they hurt you?” his voice was soft—he sounded like a completely different Bishop than who he had just been not even a minute before.

You shook your head, needing a moment to force words out, “No. I, I’m so sorry, Obispo. I dragged you into this I didn’t mean—”

He wrapped you in a hug, pulling you tight up against his chest, “Don’t apologize. You never should’ve been here alone. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

You finally let the tears fall from your eyes after holding them in all night. There were a million emotions coursing through your body and you trembled as Bishop held you, gently running his fingers through your hair.

“You’re safe,” his voice was just above a whisper.

Your body had finally stopped shaking. You spoke up, your voice soft, “I love you.”

He kissed the top of you head, “I love you too,” he pulled back so he could look into your eyes, “Want to ride home with me?”

You nodded, “Please. As long as you don’t mind bringing me to work tomorrow?”

He shook his head, “Not at all. I’m gonna be here first thing in the morning,” he looped his arm around your shoulder and walked towards the door with you. He waited as you shut off the last of the lights and locked the doors, “Gonna talk to your fucking manager, too.”

You smiled for the first time all night, “Oh are you?”

“Yea. I’ll break their hands too if I have to.”

You laughed despite the tension that was still trying to leave your body, “I love you so much.”

“Mmm,” he pulled you close and kissed your temple as you made your way towards his bike, “I love you too.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #bishop losa #bishop x reader #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa x you #obispo losa #obispo losa x reader #bishop losa fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #drabblesmc #request

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breanime · 4 years

Note

What are the boys reaction to having a sassy baby girl

Billy Russo: He loves it. His baby girl always makes him laugh, and he loves that she can surprise him with the things she says. She had a lot personality since birth, and he loves seeing her grow and blossom. “Don’t call me a baby,” she demands one day, wearing only a diaper and Billy’s suit jacket, “I’m not a baby, I’m a big girl!” “You’re a big girl?” He laughs back. “You can’t even read yet.” “Yes I can,” she argues, opening a book upside down, “it says words!” Billy nods. He couldn’t argue with that.

Logan Delos: Logan often foregoes work, sits down, and interviews your daughter. “How old is Daddy?” He asks. “Seven!” ‘How old is Mommy?” “Four!” “How old are you?” “I’m your baby,” she giggles, rolling her eyes, “you know how old I am!” Logan laughs, leaning down and kissing her chubby little cheek. “You’re right, you’re right. Daddy knows how old you are,” he chuckles. She wraps her little arms around his neck for a hug. “Daddy, you pretty but you stupid!”

Jax Teller: Jax is so in love with his baby girl and her fierce little attitude. For Halloween, she said she wanted to be him. So now she was swaggering around in a mini-kutte with shades and a backwards hat on. “Lookin’ good, darlin’,” she says to Jax with that patented Teller smirk on her face. He’s laughing so hard, he’s crying. She goes over to you and says “want a ride, darlin’?” and then proceeds to walk around the clubhouse and flirt with everyone she saw. Yup--that’s definitely his kid.

Coco Cruz: “Daddy eats all the cereals!” was the first thing you heard when you got out of your car. Coco and your daughter were on the porch, facetiming with Letty, who was laughing her ass off at her baby sister’s antics. “Daddy eats all the cereals, and he can’t read!” She went on, her little voice making you smile. “Daddy has hair like a girl! Daddy only has two shirts! Daddy has drawings all over him!” You quickly join Letty, laughing as Coco sighs. “Why you gotta roast me, querida? Daddy has feelings, you know.” “Daddy has feelings!” She points at him, mocking him, and you have to take a breath, you’re laughing so hard.

Angel Reyes: Angel absolutely adores his sassy baby girl. He sat at the table with EZ, watching as she looked up at you, frowning, with her little hands on her hips. “No no,” you said, wagging your finger, “Daddy is mine!” “No no no,” your daughter interrupted, putting a hand up to silence you, “Daddy is mine! He’s my Daddy! You don’t even live here!” “What? Yes I do!” “No no no, you live outside!” Angel and EZ had tears in their eyes. “Go back outside Mommy!” Your daughter took your hand and led you to the door. “But come back before dinner!”

Miguel Galindo: Miguel sat in his chair at his desk with your daughter on his lap. “What are you two doing?” You asked as you walked in. Your baby was on the phone, babbling away. She put her chubby little hand over the speaker and said “I’m working, Mommy! I have to pay bills!” Miguel laughed, and you did too. “I’m very important,” she went on, “I’m very very busy and very important,” then she went back to her ‘call’, “I want answers NOW!” She demanded, and you raised an eyebrow at your husband. Your baby girl was a Galindo through and through.

Nick Amaro: “Ms. Maria,” your baby girl looked over at Zara’s mom, her eyes squinted as she was being held by her father, “why are you so mean?” You and Nick both stared over at your daughter, and Maria’s mouth dropped. Zara was unaffected. “I--I’m not mean,” Maria said back, eyes darting between you and Nick and your baby, “you think I’m mean, sweetheart?” “You yell at my Daddy on the phone a lot,” your daughter answers, tilting her head, “I think you need a nap.” Zara nods in agreement, her hand in Maria’s. “Baby, that’s--” you start, but Maria interrupts. “You know what, you’re right,” she sighs, looking over at Nick, “I’m sorry. I... I’ll work on that.” “Okay,” your baby says brightly, “start working now!”

Johnny Tuturro: Johnny absolutely loves how sassy and active your daughter is. “Daddy, this is gross,” she says, pushing her plate away. “What? Baby, that’s ghetto scramble! It’s good!” He says back while you laugh. “It’s gross,” she repeats, making a face, “Daddy, it’s too ghetto!” You and Johnny both laugh at that. “I don’t even know how to respond to that,” he confesses. “Only Mommy should cook,” your daughter adds, “She’s good ghetto. Daddy is bad ghetto.”

Rio: Rio spends as much time as he can with his kids, and he loves how smart your baby girl is. So when she’s on his lap, eating an ice cream cone at the park when Beth--pushy and impatient as always--walks up, he already knows his daughter ain’t going for it. “I called you five times,” Beth starts. “He has a wife!” Your daughter interrupts, glaring from over her ridiculously large cone. Beth freezes, and Rio chuckles. “She knows, mamas, it’s okay.” “My Mommy is the prettiest girl in the whole wide world--after me, right, Daddy?” Rio nods. “That’s right.” Beth clears her throat and forces herself to smile. “I know all about your Mommy, she’s very very pretty, but your Daddy and I are partners,” she looks over at Rio, “and it’s very rude not to call people back.” “You’re rude,” your baby quips, not missing a beat, “you just walked up and didn’t even say hi!” She looks up at Rio. “Daddy,” she reports, scandalized, “she didn’t say hi!” “I know, baby,” he says back, kissing her nose, “that’s not very nice is it,” he looks over at Beth, his eyes hard, his baby girl wearing a matching expression on her little face, “But she’s still learning. She’s gonna say ‘bye’ right now.” Your baby grins.

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

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! I hope you like this one, I feel like I could have written this forever, especially Rio’s, haha.

Everything Taglist: @sweetybuzz25 @mrsjaxtellerfan @rhabakoli @encounterthepast @realduckvader @justvnash @knowles-morgan @ateliefloresdaprimavera @evanlys19 @nyxxnoxx @carlaangel86 @luminex3 @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek @otomefromtheheart @lexxierave @amethyst09 @falsehopesndreams @a-dorky-book-keeper @witchygagirl @glimmerglittergirl @nich0lasmatthews @ben-c-group-therapy @felicity-x0 @amirra88 @yourfellowangel @vibranium-soul @xserenax-13 @woahitslucyylu @gemini0410 @ktiz90 @theoceanhathsolace @starrynite7114 @my-rosegold-soul @papa-geralt-of-cirilla

#Billy Russo x reader #logan delos x reader #jax teller x reader #coco cruz x reader #angel reyes x reader #miguel galindo x reader #nick amaro x reader #johnny tuturro x reader #rio x reader #bre's boys #bre's boys preferences

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

EZEKIEL ‘EZ’ REYES x READER ⨟ HEADCANON

Anon asked: There is not enough ez tho and you are great writer so can you write something about him falling in love with someone else after emily? headcannon or oneshot ?

Word Count: 1.6k

Author comments: This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @angels-reyes.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan @lady-pswrld @minnicelli ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

When you walked to their table and asked what could you do for them, EZ only thought “marry me”.

It's been six months since your father opened his cafeteria at Santo Padre, and the Mayans come every two or three days, except when they're traveling.

They're already your friends.

But, even if EZ is the cutest guy you have ever met, he acts kinda strange some moments. Mostly, when you two are alone.

“Morning, boy scout. Coffee?”

It's too early so the place is almost empty. The Reyes is sitting at his table, writing something in a small notebook that he hides as soon as he notices you.

“Uh?” He asks then nailing an elbow over the white wood, pretending you haven't seen anything.

“Coffee?”

“Su—Sure”. He nods clearing his throat, offering you one of the mugs on the table.

“Were you writing… poems?”

“Poems? Po—Poems? No. No, no, no”. He laughs nervous, shaking his head. “That... shit ain't my style. No. Definitely, no”.

“I like ‘that shit’”. You just say, wrapping your left forearm with your right fingers, after serving the drink.

He looks at you with parted lips, noticing that he's a complete idiot, trying to pretend he's a bad boy just because of the piece of leather he's wearing.

“Hey, mami! Damn! Te ves preciosa por la mañana”. (You look beautiful in the morning). Taza's voice calls your attention, behind you.

“Hey, Aztecas”.

“Uh, right to my heart, querida”. Bishop pretends that you hit him, turning to the guys coming to the table.

“Coffee, coffee, coffee!” Angel says leaving a kiss on your cheek. “Oh, sorry, guys. Have we interrupted your Disney moment?”

“If you say that because your brother looks like ‘Dopey’ from Snow White… yeah, we were having a Disney moment”.

EZ talked about you with the crew. They all were happy because he, finally, was forgetting Emily. And he also looked somewhat more focused. But he's too dumb to talk with you and the crew is always trying to help.

“It's too late, EZ can take you home”. Tranq says, looking through the big glass to notice the empty avenue.

“Yeah! Right, boy scout?” Coco palms his back harder than he should, causing him to almost choke on the beer.

“Fo—For sure. For sure”. He replies coughing, cleaning his mouth with a hand.

“Don' worry, my boyfriend is gonna pick me up”.

Angel spits his drink all over Gilly, when he hears your words.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” The oldest Reyes asks with a high-pitched and shrill voice, trying to recover himself.

“Angel, don' try to escape from the friend zone, it's annoyen' put you in once and again”. You point at him, raising both eyebrows. “I was just kiddin', relax... About my boyfriend, not about the friendzone''.

“Anyway. EZ will take you home”.

“Will you?” Turning to the Reyes, he nods with pursed lips. Well, you actually don't know if he's agreeing or denying, because of the moves of his head.

The whole ride you are preparing yourself for something to happen, but nothing. He just hugs you for a second, before leaving.

Because of the next two weeks listening to his little brother saying that he's going to ask you out, Angel ends up going crazy.

Someone is hitting the small bell on the counter, making you nervous, until you're able to turn around frowning. You find Angel sitting on a stool. Messy hair, eye bags and the same clothes than yesterday. Serving him a coffee, you rest your forearms against the marble edge.

“Rough night?”

“Yeah, like the last two weeks, querida”. He answers by opening his eyes too much with an annoyed and singing voice.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, by having a fucking date with my lil'bro”.

Wrinkling your nose, you lean back your head for a second. Confused like never before.

“You like him, dumbass. And since he took you home, he's the whole fucking damn time telling me he's gonna ask you out”. Bowing above the counter, he grabs your wrists resting his forehead on it, almost sobbing. “I fuckin' beg you, (Y/N). Go on a date with him”.

“Why doesn't he ask me?”

“'Cause he has never have a girlfri— Well, he had one, but that fuckin' bitch doesn' count”.

How was possible that a guy like EZ was single all the time. There is something fishy (...).

“But don' worry about sex. He's pretty goo— I mean, I don' know. Zero incest. But girls say so”. He says supporting his chin on the counter, smiling sideways. “I beg you. I'll do anything for you. Please. If I have to listen ‘I'm gonna ask (Y/N) out” again… Damn, preciosa, I swear to god I'm gonna be the fucking mexican Van Gogh”.

When Angel tells EZ that he has talked with you, he goes to the cafeteria like a bat out of hell. But you're not there. You asked for a day off. He thinks he fucked up things because of Angel's chat.

He has been trying to get your number at all cost to text you something. He doesn't know what. Maybe a ‘sorry, my brother is stupid’, maybe a ‘I would like to have a date with you’. But he can't get it.

The next morning he comes back to the cafeteria with the crew, but you're not working. And he feels somewhat disappointed. And Bishop already scolded Angel.

But then, EZ receives a call from the Romeros and Bros.

“Pretty girl asking for you, Ezekiel Reyes”.

He describes you getting up from his chair with his heart about to explode, under the Mayans look.

“Yeah, that's the pretty girl. She's waiting in the clubhouse”.

EZ rides his bike at full speed.

And he's about to have an accident. But it's Ezekiel Reyes. The golden boy. He can't have an accident. What do we say to the god of death? Not today, mijo.

EZ feels his legs trembling as he comes closer to the main door.

“He—Hey… Were you looking for me?”

“Why have you only had one girlfriend and ‘that bitch doesn' count’?”

The Reyes doesn't answer, turning around the bar in silence to grab a small glass, serve tequila on it and drink it in one gulp. After that, he holds your hand, pulling you to the closer sofa to sit with you.

“A man killed my mom. I chased him. I shot a cop by mistake. He died. I went six years to jail. I broke up with my girlfriend because she deserved someone better than me. Then... she aborted our baby, in some kind of revenge. But she still being around, even if I don' want her close, 'cause we work with his husband”.

You're freaking out, hiding it by a serious gesture with pursed lips, nodding for a second.

“I'm not the guy a father would want for her daughter. I should have told you one bit at a time, but I really fell in love with you, when you came to my table. A red lace with white dots tying your hair, the apple smell leaving a trail wherever you went, the smiley you write above every ‘i’ in our bills…”

Now you don't know if he's a psycho.

“Sorre', I remember shit. Photographic memory”.

Oh.

“I would really like to have a date with you, (Y/N)”.

“Were you writing a poem?”

“My mom used to read me every night, and I was studying Literature at college. I fuckin' love poetry”.

He finally gets the date. Tacos, dance, tequila and poems. The perfect one.

Angel sleeps like a baby that night.

Some months before, he introduces you to the club at a party, even if they already know you. But they're Mayans. They need parties like they need air to live.

For life issues, you meet Emily one day walking around Santo Padre, hanging out with Leti. She jeers about your relationship, until you break her nose and also one of your knuckles. Of course, you get arrested because she's Miguel Galindo's BITCH wife.

When EZ goes to pick you up, that BITCH woman is there, making a complaint against you accompanied by a man with braids and black sunglasses.

“Ezekiel”. She sobs, while you live the scene from the cell, rolling your eyes with a heavy snort.

The club has paid your bail, so you can go home after spending the night there. But you're not sure if you want to go home in case that, because of what you did, you're going to have trouble with your boyfriend. You don't want to lose him and maybe you should have thought better about it before hitting her.

The Reyes passes her away, straight to the cell being opened by a cop. And you're trembling, until the man puts his kutte on your shoulders, leaving a kiss on your temple.

“Let's go home, ex-con”. He jokes laughing, surrounding your neck with an arm, walking stuck to you.

EZ usually makes fun of you because of it, calling you “the mexicans Bonnie and Clyde”.

At the end, even if he doesn't have to prove it, he shows you everyday how much he loves you. And after two weeks you don't remember who the fuck is Emily Galindo.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc #mayans x reader #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader #ez reyes

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imagineredwood · 5 years

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Camila (OC)

Warnings: None that I can really think of

Word count: 3.4k

“Good morning, mami.”

Camila turned around and looked behind her to find EZ walking toward her, jeans hanging low on his hips, no shirt. She threw him a smile and turned her body to face him slightly. EZ looked her over, a new baby blue nightie on her body as she stood at the stove, hand folding up some scrambled eggs. He walked over to her and took her head in his hands, pressing a kiss to her right temple.

“Good morning, Corazon.”

She smiled into the kiss, still getting used to receiving affection from EZ and knowing that he was hers just as much as she was his. It was a breath of fresh air, belonging to him and consequently belonging within his life. That included both his blood family and the MC who had shown her nothing but love since she had been introduced to them. She was sure there was more to is than just guys that enjoyed riding and hanging out together but she also always gauged people on how they made her feel and so far, she had felt nothing but acceptance so that was exactly what she was going to give in return.

“I was thinking maybe you could swing by the clubhouse later on if you didn’t have any plans. Taza and Tranq were wanting to ask about maybe buying some vegetables from you.”

Camila smiled and nodded at EZ pointing to the seagrass basket that she always used in the garden to hold the harvest.

“Since you’ll be there with them before me, ask them what they want and let me know. I’ll bring it with me when I go over.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The two shared a kiss and EZ pulled away, letting her finish up with breakfast while he went and poured himself of a cup of coffee from the pot. Looking down at the counter, he saw a couple of scattered grounds of the coffee and he quietly began to laugh to himself, Camila hearing him anyway and looked over.

“What’s so funny?”

He laughed for a second more before pointing to the counter. Camila’s eyes locked on the black specks and laughed herself, shaking her head softly.

“Yeah, I had to clean it up this morning. Totally forgot I was even making coffee when we started,”

She trailed off and made a motion with her hand, EZ starting to smirk as he reached out to her.

“When we started what? Hmm?”

His hand reached up and he ran his index finger down her sternum between her breasts.

Camila laughed and pulled away from him, waving her finger.

“Let me finish up this breakfast. I’m not letting you go out to the clubhouse on an empty stomach.”

The air of lust evaporated and all that EZ could feel then was adoration, loving how nurturing she could be and how naturally it came to her to look after him. That tenderness was something he hasn’t experienced since his mother, since Emily. That warmth had become a thing of the past once Marisol had gotten killed and Emily had left. Facing life, he had accepted that those would simply be memories he would cling to, convinced he’d never get it again. Yet there he stood, in Camila’s kitchen as she made him breakfast after a long night of making love and treating him like a king. He hadn’t ever expected that he would be able to experience that again and now that he had, he wasn’t going to do anything to ruin it.

Taking his cup of coffee in his hand, he took a sip before putting it back down onto the counter.

“I’m gonna go finish getting dressed. I’ll be back down to eat in a minute.”

Camila nodded, blushing when he threw her a wink as he walked away. He disappeared into her bedroom, getting ready to head to the clubhouse for the day. Camila left the eggs alone to cook and then walked over to the toaster, peering in to check on the bread she was toasting. Opening the fridge, she pulled out the tub of butter, hearing EZ’s phone buzzing over on the table. She closed the fridge door and placed the tub of butter on the counter, grabbing plates from the drying rack to serve them on, hearing his phone still buzzing.

“Babe, your phone.”

Camila called out to EZ as she started to serve them, getting no response. She looked over at the phone, the screen lit up and vibrating on the wood of her table. She finished placing the scrambled eggs onto the plate and walked over to the table, looking down at the screen.

“Unknown.”

The call ended, the phone showing that there was one missed call and eventually a voicemail. Turning away from the phone as the toast popped up, she grabbed them and placed them onto the plates just as EZ came back out, dressed in the same close he had been wearing yesterday. He smiled as he saw her, and she pointed over to the phone and started to spread butter on the warm bread.

“Someone was calling you.”

EZ picked up the phone and looked at the screen, his smile fading slightly and his brows knitting for a moment. No one knew his number unless they got it from someone in the club. Or his P.O. He unlocked the phone and started listening to the voicemail as Camila placed their breakfast down onto the table. She poured them some orange juice as EZ finished listening to the voicemail, looking down at his phone and saving the number as new contact under ‘E.T.’ before locking his phone and putting it down.

“Everything ok?”

He smiled at Camila and nodded.

“Everything’s fine, baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow.”

Camila smiled as Tranq and Taza looked over the tomatoes and peppers she had brought them.

“How much for these, nena?”

Camila shook her head, her smile still ever present.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy you like them.”

Taza smiled but still shook his head, fishing into his kutte to pull out some cash before handing it over to her, closing her fingers around the bills.

“We would be paying if we went anywhere else. Take the money.”

She nodded and squeezed his hands thankfully.

“Anytime you guys want something else, just let me know. Or EZ. You could come over and pick the ones you want too. Just in case you want something different.”

The two older Mayans grinned at her, Tranq speaking now.

“We might just take you up on that, Camila.”

From El Templo, Bishop whistled, and the members turned to file into the room one by one. As Angel passed her, he pointed at her then at the couch.

“Wait up for us. Me, Gilly, and Coco are gonna go out for lunch,”

He leaned over to slap EZ in the shoulder softly.

“And we want you to go. The prospect can tag along too, I guess.”

EZ rolled his eyes as both his girl and his older brother laughed, Angel disappearing into the room as the door was slid closed behind them. Camila turned then to EZ and pointed towards the door.

“You don’t have to go in too? I can wait by myself if they need you.”

EZ laughed himself then with somewhat of a scoff thrown in.

“Nah. I’m not allowed.”

He reached up and pointed to the prospect patch on his chest.

“Remember?”

“Ahh. Right.”

They both shared a smile as Camila recalled what EZ had been talking about a couple of days ago when he had brought her a little more into the circle at Angel’s request.

‘At some point, she’s gonna wonder why you just dip out sometimes when you’re with her. You gotta tell her what that patch means so she doesn’t take it personal. You know how women can be.’

And so he’d had the conversation with her, explaining how by becoming a prospect, he’d damn near signed over his rights like if he was back in prison. When they called, he came. No matter the time, where he was, or what he was doing. She had nodded in understanding then, a look in her eyes that had made EZ nervous. Her words hadn’t helped.

‘The Club comes first.’

It hadn’t been a question. Merely a statement of what she was learning to be true. That she was important to him and he loved her, but when the club needed him, he was going to be there. There was no saying no. She could understand and respect that, the only condition she had given EZ at the end of that conversation had been that he didn’t make her look stupid.

‘Don’t lie to me, Ezekiel. I’m putting my trust in you. I’ll be there for you and with you. Anything that’s going on, just tell me. Even if you think I won’t want to hear it. I’ll hold you down. Just don’t make me look stupid.’

He had agreed, with his heart in his throat. He knew he had a lot of truth that he had hidden, not only from her but from everyone. He knew he wasn’t lying to her outright, but he was withholding the truth and that still made him feel guilty. He hadn’t dwelled on it though and he had ended the conversation with his lips on hers as they made out on her couch. Now they were here at the clubhouse, Camila looking around at the photos on the wall and the statue of La Virgen at the entrance. She walked up close, running her index finger over the hem of her dress tenderly, a soft smile on her face as she looked over the statue. EZ came up behind her and smiled at her reaction, reaching over to leave a kiss on the veil. Camila looked back at him and he turned her around to face him, hands glued to her hips as they always seemed to be.

“You’re coming with us for lunch, right?”

She nodded and smoothed her hands down the front of hit kutte, looking up at him.

“Of course. Unless you think it’s best if I don’t.”

The younger Reyes brother shook his head quickly, that signature smile on his face.

“I want you with me every second we have.”

Her giggle was soft, and she leaned forward to kiss his chest, a habit of hers EZ had picked up on.

“Then I’ll be there.”

They continued talking quietly together passing the time until the sound of the gavel slamming could be heard from inside, the Mayans slowly pouring out back into the main area. Angel smiled as he saw Camila and EZ, Coco and Gilly directly behind him who smiled at her too. Angel looked back at Bishop and motioned a thumbs up to the President who gave a smile and returned the signal.

“Enjoy your lunch. Be careful out there. Keep your head on a swivel.”

The members nodded and Bishop sent a friendly wink at Camila as the group walked out of the clubhouse, Angel holding the door open for everyone as they walked out. Letting the door close ones everyone was outside, Angel reached into his kutte and pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

“So. Where we going?”

The group deliberated as Angel lit up, Coco recommending a food truck a couple blocks away.

“You ever been there?”

Camila shook her head as Coco questioned her and he smiled as Angel made an exaggerated gasp.

“You haven’t eaten at Francisco’s truck yet?”

Camila shook her head once again and Angel did too, motioning for them to get moving.

“Nah, you gotta try it. Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“Pop knows we’re coming?”

EZ nodded as Angel questioned him, both pulling off their helmets and handing them on their handlebars.

“Yeah. He said he’s cleaning up the room in the back, mopping and shit. I told him we’d be by late.”

Angle nodded in response to his brother and then threw his arm over his shoulders as they walked up. Angel looked over his baby brother as they walked into the shop, his eyes squinting.

“Isn’t that the same outfit you had on yesterday?”

EZ looked back at Angel and then down at his clothes.

“Oh, uh. Yeah.”

Angel nodded and kept eyeing him, knowing the EZ was never one for poor hygiene.

“And you’re still wearing them because…”

EZ shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I stayed with Cam last night. I didn’t have any extra clothes.”

Angel nodded again, a smirk working onto his face.

“Huh. All this time you’ve been fucking, and you still haven’t brought an extra pair of clothes to her house?”

Angle scoffed and shook his head at his baby brother, pulling out a chair and sitting at the small table while they waited for Felipe.

“You gotta get it together, homie.”

It was EZ who scoffed this time, shaking his own head at Angel.

“It isn’t like that, not that it’s any of your business. Last night was the first time I stayed the full night with her.”

Angel was quiet now, his brows knitted.

“Really?”

“Really.”

The older Reyes brother nodded, staying silent for a couple of seconds as his eyes stayed glued to EZ.

“You love her.”

EZ looked up, eyes locking with Angel’s as he eventually nodded.

“Yeah. I do.”

Angel laughed quietly, messing with his beard.

“I know you do. I can see it in you, so can Coco. He read you like a book today. We can see how happy she makes you. You look at her like the sun shines out of her ass.”

The two laughed together quietly and Angel picked back up again.

“You’re good together. You went through a lot of shit in this last decade. Mom, jail…Emily.”

Angel paused toward the end, not wanting to elicit the wrong response. He knew how touchy EZ could be about the situation and everything that went down with her and he didn’t want to turn the conversation into a fight.

“You’ve been through a lot and I can see that Cam loves you. You take care of her, you gotta let her take care of you too. I know after Emily, you didn’t know if you were gonna get another shot at a family or whatever. I think maybe this is your chance.”

EZ kept his eyes on Angel’s as he spoke, knowing he was telling the truth, even if it was weird that it was coming from him. Angel stayed looking at him for a couple of seconds more before he smiled genuinely and slapped his hand on the tabletop, Felipe coming out from the back of the store.

“Now start leaving some clothes at her place so you don’t run around in the same shit.”

Felipe made his way to his two sons patting them both on the tops of their heads. He looked out the window and saw only their bikes.

“Y Camila?”

EZ shook his head, both brothers smiling as they saw even he was getting used to having her around.

“She went home, she was kinda tired. She spent the day with us for lunch and then at the clubhouse. She said she would drop by tomorrow morning, come and see you.”

Felipe nodded and gave a quick smile before motioning to the back door.

“Well, I’m ready to go. Just help me lock everything up and turn the lights off.”

The boys agreed and stood, helping their father close up shop before they headed home with him for a quick couple of beers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Felipe looked toward Camila and raised the plate of toast.

“Mantequilla?”

The brunette nodded and took another sip of her coffee, watching as Felipe grabbed the butter as well and walked over to where she sat.

He placed them both down onto the table in front of her, handing her the butter knife and then taking a seat beside her. She took the knife from his hand and began spreading the butter as Felipe spoke.

“I heard your garden had been blooming.”

She smiled and nodded, handing him back the knife and taking a bite out of her toast.

“Yeah. The sun was been out so much. It’s hot as hell but at least that’s one good thing about it. I brought some vegetables to the guys in the MC, figured they could come by one day, maybe pick some stuff out themselves. You should come by again too. Pick out whatever you want, stay for dinner again. Or maybe we could cook something up together. Like all of us, you, me, EZ and Angel. We call all cook together and make dinner.”

Felipe nodded and pursed his lips as he finished his piece of toast, wiping at his mouth with his napkin.

“Not a bad idea, mija. Just tell me when.”

Camila smiled and finished her piece of toast as well, both of them sharing a laugh as a blob of butter fell and hit the table. He handed her another napkin and she wiped it from the table, finishing off the coffee that was in her cup as well. She leaned back in her chair and patted her hands on her thighs.

“Bueno, I gotta get going. Mr. Salvatore let me come in later this morning. I’ll be back before I go home though, I need more chicken breasts.”

The older man nodded and stood, Camila standing with him.

“I’ll have it ready for you when you come.”

She grabbed her purse and took the two steps toward him, wrapping her arms around him.

“Thanks for the breakfast, Felipe. Cuidate.”

“Igual, nena.”

They released each other from their embrace and then pulled away, Camila walking toward the door and waving at Felipe on her way out. She squinted in the bright morning sun, bringing her hand up to shield her eyes as she walked down the block to the bookstore. She was 3 doors down when a man hopped out of the driver’s seat of a truck parked by the curb. She started walking towards her slowly and she looked up, giving a smile. As she got closer though, the sun wasn’t blinding her as much and her smile melted away, her eyes recognizing the man now.

“Camila,”

“Kevin.”

She kept walking at the same pace, KJ coming to stand at her side and walk with her.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

It was odd to her, not to ask how he was in return. She wasn’t used to not inquiring when people greeted her, but she remembered what EZ had told her. How he was just using EZ and trying to gain information. How he would use her. She remembered how uncomfortable and irritated Felipe had looked when he had gone into the shop that one time. How he made her promise she wouldn’t get caught up with him, how she wouldn’t let him suck her in. She didn’t want to be rude, but she trusted EZ and Felipe a hell of a lot more than she would ever trust this man and she abided by their warnings.

“Look, I can’t talk. I have to get to work.”

“I know, I know.”

He continued walking with her though, digging into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out a folded-up piece of paper.

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

“No.”

Camila kept walking, close to the door of the bookstore now and she reached for the handle, Kevin gently placing a hand on her forearm so as not to scare her.

“Look, just take a look at his picture real quick. That’s all I ask.”

With a huff, she relented, letting go of the handle and facing Kevin without an ounce of warmth in her face. Kevin lifted the printed picture to Camila, a blown-up image on the paper.

“Do you know who this is?”

Camila looked over the woman in the photo, the blonde hair and fancy handbag, the Versace heels, the elegance and sophistication in her aura. The picture was taken some ways away, her facial features not crystal clear, but Camila could recognize the woman vaguely. She had been into the bookstore two maybe three weeks prior and the more Camila looked at the picture, she could remember her also from a restaurant she and EZ had gone to when they had first started dating.

“I’ve seen her before.”

KJ nodded and brought the picture down folding it back up.

“Yeah, but do you know who she is?”

Camila shook her head then, her eyes watching him apprehensively as Kevin tucked the paper back into his pocket, looking back at her.

“That’s Emily Thomas.”

Tag list: @caramara3 @lostgirl219 @mrsjaxtellerfan @actuallyazriel @vannabanana1995 @unnecessarypineapplesstuff @thegreat-annamaria

#ez reyes #angel reyes #Felipe Reyes #Kevin Jimenez #Mayans MC #el destino #ezekiel reyes #mayans fx #mayans imagine #imagines

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inceptiverider · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2: Welcome to Westworld—

“What humans define as sane is a narrow range of behaviors. Most states of consciousness are insane.”

——

Westworld was like a city of dreams to Kaleb’s friends. For twenty-five grand a day you could do whatever you wanted to the hosts—fuck them, kill them, live a life with them completely free of all responsibilities. This was his first time at the park, and he was so uncomfortable that he could barely breathe. The kutte on his back was unnatural compared to the suit that he sported in his everyday life, but his friends told him he had to try the experience before he got married. His fiancée was everything this world wasn’t: polite and sophisticated. But above that, she was everything that he didn’t want. What he wanted was what she would give him, the life where he could waste twenty-five grand a day without batting an eye.

When he walked into the bar, he was sure that this was the only day he would spend in Santo Padre, the gang version of the park that most beginners started with. More tame than the others. But the moment she locked eyes with him, he knew he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

“How do they look like that?” Kaleb asked one of his friends, who just slapped him on the back and laughed.

“Don’t get lost in her, man. Remember what she is.”

It was hard to remember she was just a host in the park when she walked up to him, and he found himself drowning in her brown eyes. When she touched him, his length jerked in his jeans, making him have to readjust. Who was she? What was her name? He had to know it all.

Her eyes finally met his again, and that was when all hell broke loose. Someone decided to have a shootout, and he was sure he got shot. He felt the pain of the bullet, but in Westworld, the customers never got injured. Just the hosts. One hit her and she was in his arms, looking up at him with such devastation.

“Oh my God, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay,” he tried to reassure her, his fingers slipping into her brown locks while pulling her against him.

“Kaleb, Kaleb, she’s not real. Remember? She’s not real.” His friend, Brandon, was trying to pull her off of him, but he held on tight.

“She shouldn’t have to die like this!”

“She’s not real!”

Her pouty lips parted, like she wanted to say something. “What is it? Tell me. Please tell me.”

“Not real?” And with that, she was gone. Just like most of the hosts in the bar.

“Kaleb, let’s go. They’ll want to clean up this place.” He finally let his friends pull him away from her, wiping at his tear-stained features.

She might’ve not been a human, but something in her was real.

——

Kaleb returned to the bar solo the next night, not wanting shit from his friends for wanting to see her again. Everything was the same as before, hearing one of the hosts say the exact same words to a man the night before. “You’re new here, aren’t you? Let me show you a good time.”

He didn’t want a good time like the other customers did, he just wanted to talk to her. Blue eyes searched the room for her, not seeing her up at the stage yet. But it was earlier than it was the night before; she wouldn’t be there.

Finally, he spotted her at the bar, still in the same outfit from the night before. Her dark hair framed her face in loose curls, pouty lips twisted in a small frown at the fact that she almost dropped four shot glasses. He couldn’t help but laugh at that. She was so adorably clumsy. Not a born bartender at all.

He made his way up to the bar with a small smirk touching his lips, taking a seat next to an old man with what looked like a whisky on the rocks. Her brown eyes met his with a smile once she finished passing out the shots.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” Her delicate fingers ran through her locks, pushing the strands off to the side of her neck.

He cleared his now dry throat. “A beer... any type of beer.”

She laughed. Her laugh was so contagious. “Sure thing, any type of beer it is.”

He couldn’t help but stare at the way her ass peeked out of her underwear while she bent over to grab a bottle of Coors Light from the cooler, the fishnets digging into her cheeks.

“That’ll be three-fifty.” Her blunt teeth bit down at her bottom lip, making him want to kiss her. He fished out the cash from his wallet, handing her a ten dollar bill.

“Keep the change... what’s your name?”

Her smile was wide. It was beautiful... “Eve, and you are?”

“Kaleb. I’m Kaleb.”

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yourcroweater · 7 years

Photo

A Little Wicked - Part IV

Chibs x Vivi (oc)

Warnings:: swearing, drug use

You can find the other parts here.

Gifs aren’t mine.

I got a few asks from people as to who I pictured as Jean-Claude and the answer is Austin Butler in this pic right here.

After Jean-Claude and I had lunch, we went straight to my house so I could have a little breakdown while smoking weed. Yeah, yeah, I said no weed to my brother, but we were starting tomorrow. I really needed to unwind a little and the weed would help. I had to walk him through what being a crow eater meant, I explained to him about the club, leaving out the criminal part. He would find out soon enough just by living in Charming.

I also explained where Chibs and I stood.

“I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” I said, passing the joint to my brother after I finished telling him everything. “I’m not his old lady, or his girlfriend. He doesn’t owe me shit.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to run him over. That might’ve made him mad.” He pulled his bare feet under him on the couch as he took a drag on the joint.

“I had no right to be jealous. Or to almost run him over.” I added, making a face. “I don’t even know why I got that jealous.”

Jean-Claude laughed and I frowned at him.

“C’mon, Viv. You like the guy. Nobody gets that jealous and that mad if there’s no feelings there.”

“I’m not in love. He’s nice, he’s hot and he’s a good kisser. That’s the end of it.” I adjusted myself on my seat and cast a glance at my phone at the coffee table. I had turned it off when I got home ‘cause I didn’t feel like talking to anyone, except my brother.

It was the end of the day now and I was getting curious. Maybe I should turn it on, see if there was any messages or calls. What if Chibs had called me? Why would he? Turning the phone on would be a bad idea. What if there was no calls? No messages? That’d be worse.

“Bullshit.” Jean-Claude retorted, with an annoying smirk. “You get a dreamy face when you talk about him.”

“I do not.” I got up from my seat, refusing to look at my brother, the high from the weed finally settling itself, making everything hazy “I’m going take a long loooong bath. I need to relax.”

It was already dark out when I got out of the bathroom wrapped in a robe. I heard noises in the living room so I figured Jean-Claude would be there, probably fumbling with the TV. I made my way there while drying my hair with a towel.

“I’ve been rewatching Buffy on Netflix, you wanna watch with me? I’m on seas-” My voice died in my throat when I reached the living room.

I looked between the two men sitting on my couch, clenching my jaw.

Chibs stood up, placing his hands on his front pockets. I looked back at my brother but he pretended not to see my hard stare.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, suddenly mad again and cradling the towel in front of my chest so he wouldn’t see me ball my fists.

“Yer phone was off.” He explained. “I called Lyla, she gave me yer address.”

I kept quiet, not knowing what to say. The image of him grinning at Jarry kept coming up and tearing up my heart all over again. I should probably apologize for what I did, but I was afraid where that would lead to. If I was really falling for Chibs then I should just stay away. No apologies would be better.

Chibs crossed the living room to where I stood, just at the entrance of the hallway. He got very close to me, more than I would have liked considering I was mad at him. I couldn’t help but notice how good being close to him felt. His brows were pulled together and he had the worst puppy dog eyes ever, it was pulling on my heartstrings. I tried to focus on the ‘president’ flash on his kutte, or the rosary around his neck, even the dollar bill tattoo peeking out of the white wife beater he had beneath his leather jacket, just so I wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“I like ye, Vivi.” He said softly, tilting his head closer. I held my breath, telling myself to stop being a coward, and met his eyes. His brows did that little raise I liked. “I wasn’t lyin’ earlier. Ye can ask Jarry, if ye want. I’m not wi’ her anymore, it doesn’t work between us. She had some information for th’ club, thas why I was meeting her.”

“I thought the club was out of, uh, trouble.” I said lamely, remembering my brother was in the room. “No need to meet with a sheriff if the club’s alright.”

“Almost. Still figuring out some shite. Jarry’s been helping.”

I nodded, staring at the rosary around his neck again. I really wanted to believe him. He sounded sincere. But I didn’t want to believe him, it was safer that way. Even if I didn’t want to, I should apologize.

“I’m sorry for what I said. And for almost running you over.” I mumbled, meeting his eyes. “That was childish.”

“I misjudged how far ye would go. Shorter fuse than I expected.” Chibs shrugged, with a little smile. He reached and meddled with a few strands of my hair as he gazed at me. “Yer not just a crow eater to me, Vivi. I’m not gon’ tell ye to fall back wit yer legs open like ye said, unless ye want me to do that.” He added. “I thought abou’ ye th’ rest of night yesterday and today.” I lowered my head to try to hide the smile that appeared on my face. Hearing that felt good, mostly because I had done the exact same. Chibs’ hand raised my chin so I would look at him. “I don’t want ye to be jus’ anotha fuck, I’ve had enough of that. Yer fun and-” he shut his eyes as licked his lips “too sexy for my own good.” I chuckled suddenly and he opened his eyes, giving a little chuckle too. “What do ye say?”

“I…”

I thought about telling how I felt about him. I thought about leaning forward and kissing him. I wanted to kiss him, so much it felt kinda stupid. I wanted to go on stupid dates with him, I wanted to feel his hands on me, I wanted to hear him say my name in that sharp accent of his and speak to me in his scottish drawl about club shit I probably wouldn’t understand. I wanted to be with him and get to know every little thing about him.

Why did I like him so much? Why was he so nice to me? Why was he forgiving me after I almost ran him over? Men don’t forgive and forget. Pete didn’t. And just when I thought about Pete everything about being with Chibs seemed painful.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Was what I said, a knot forming on my throat made my voice hoarse. “I like you, Chibs, but I can’t.”

Chibs had been staring at my lips but looked up at my eyes when I said it. I managed to raise my gaze to his. We stared at each other and he dropped his hand away from my chin. He nodded very slowly and started to turn away.

“Ye don’t trust me?” He suddenly said, facing me again.

“I don’t know.” I answered, looking back at him.

I had trusted him enough to tell him about Pete and show him my scar -- none of which Lyla, who was my best friend, had seen or even heard about. All Lyla knew was that Pete had been abusive. Chibs had told me things he probably didn’t need to tell me, but he answered when I asked. He told me about being True IRA, about Jimmy O’Phelan giving him his cheek scars and stealing his family and about when he was just a prospect to the club.

But did I trust him enough not to hurt me? I didn’t think he would, but then again I didn’t think Pete would. I couldn’t go through something like that again, I didn’t even want to risk it.

“I get it, lass.” Chibs muttered, nodding his head.

I didn’t think he had gotten it. He stepped closer, placing one arm around my waist and I froze immediately, thinking he would kiss me. His other hand held me by the neck so he could lean in and plant a kiss on my forehead. His lips were warm against my skin, I could have melted into it. The hand he had around my waist found the scar on my back, beneath my robe, and I felt his fingers run through its length. I gave a dry swallow, realizing that maybe Chibs did understand why I couldn’t do this.

He pulled away, giving me a weak smile and turned towards the front door.

I clutched at my heart, holding back tears, as I watched him leave.

Jean-Claude shot up from his seat the moment the door closed behind Chibs and led me to the couch. He tried to hug me when we sat down but I gently pushed him away, knowing that if I let myself be cradled I would cry for the rest of the night.

“Are you okay?” My brother asked quietly.

I took a deep breath and shook my head.

“I will be.”

“Viv, I know the damage Pete did. He broke you, you’ve never been the same since him, but you need to learn to get past it.”

“Don’t go there.” I warned.

“Vivienne. Stop this. Look at me.” He shook my arm vehemently. I looked at him, seeing the determination on his face. “Viv, he came here to see you. To say he’s sorry. I talked to him while you were showering. He’s a decent guy from what I could gather, though I kinda am under the impression that he’s a criminal, which is really confusing to me because he’s cool.” He drew his blonde eyebrows together as he spoke. “My point is, I don’t think he’s gonna hurt you. I think he wants to be with you and that he wants to make you happy. You need to allow yourself to be happy.”

“I don’t want to listen to it, Claude.” I said, shaking my head and making the tears that had been pooling in my eyes fall. “I can’t listen to it right now. Please, leave it. Just watch Buffy with me like we used to when we were kids. I need to forget about all this for moment.”

“Breakfast of champions.” I said when I walked into the kitchen the next morning in my pajamas to see my brother sitting at the table with a lit cigarette between his long fingers and a cup of coffee resting in front of him.

“Absolutely.” He gave me a cheeky grin while smoke came out of his nostrils.

I frowned, getting a good look at him when I circled the kitchen table to go to the fridge. He had his long hair up in a bun. I was also seeing very long, lean and hairy legs because apparently my brother was wearing a robe. A flower stamp robe that he was too short for and stopped just above his mid thigh.

“What happened to your clothes?” I asked, getting out two eggs and a bag of buns from the fridge.

Jean-Claude looked down and took a sip from his coffee.

“I put them in the washing machine this morning. I slept in my clothes after our Buffy rewatch. By the way,” he said, putting down his coffee and waving a hand at me “I didn’t remember how much of a bitch Faith was, like wow. And oh, she’s totally in love with Buffy, in a mean and disturbed way.”

“I know right? They’re so gay.” I agreed as I cracked the two eggs in a frying pan I had left in the stove.

I left the eggs to fry and placed two slices of bread into the toaster. I sat across my brother to wait for them.

“I need to tell you something.” He announced, keeping his expression blank. “I didn’t want to tell you yesterday because of the thing with the scottish hottie and with you picking me up at the police station. But you need to know.”

A spine-chilling sense of foreboding settled into me just then. I was used to Jean-Claude blurting out bad news, like he did when our father died. At the very least, Jean-Claude would try to gloss over his fuck-ups, but he never ever would try to prepare me or anyone else to whatever it was he had to say. That’s why I knew it had to be bad.

“What is it?”

It couldn’t be Juliette. I met her three days ago for her birthday and she was fine. Jean-Claude wouldn’t make a scene if something had happened to our sister. We had no one else to worry about. Our mom split when we were teens and we figured she would turn up dead in a ditch somewhere, eventually. Maybe that was it. Maybe Cordelia Morris had finally drank herself to death.

“I met Pete two days ago.” He paused so I could chew on that. My heart skipped a beat, or two, maybe even three. It was enough to make me think I was dead. “I thought it had been, y’know, crazy destiny stuff that I would bump into him, but now I think he was following me. For more than a day, maybe. Anyway. He looked fine, strolling down the street like he’s not wanted for attempted murder.” Jean-Claude scoffed. “He stopped me on the street and asked me about you, how you were, where were you living, like it was the most normal thing ever. Un-fucking-believable. I didn’t tell him shit, he knew I wouldn’t, but he kept bugging me, y’know? I pulled out my phone, said I was gonna call the cops and he punched me in the stomach. He grabbed my phone and hopped into a passing bus. I called the cops from a convenience store, told them to be on the lookout for Pete but they didn’t get him.”

I lost all my strength to keep my body straight and sagged on my chair, allowing my feet to slide against the floor. The hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck stood up on its ends. I pictured going down Main Street on Charming and seeing Pete. What would I do? The man scared me so much I would probably freeze on the spot.

“Oh my god, oh my god. Oh no. No, no, no.” I said, unable to think straight or form coherent speech. “Shit. This is so bad.” I rubbed my face.

“Oh no, I was afraid you’d freak out.” He leaned forward and reached across the table to take my hand. He held my hand tight. “Calm down, I’m here. I’m here.”

I kept shaking my head, my eyes in a far off place. This couldn’t be happening. He had found me. Pete found me.

“You don’t understand. Jesus Christ, Claude. You could’ve led him straight to me.”

My brother gasped. He probably hadn’t thought about that.

“Fuck. I- I don’t think I did. No. There was no way he could know I was coming here. He thinks you’re still in Sacramento.”

That was most likely true. If Pete knew I was in Charming he wouldn’t be stalking my brother. He would be stalking me. He had probably been following Jean-Claude in the hopes of finding me too. I was starting to get to terms with the fact that Pete hadn’t found me when something occurred me.

“Pete stole your phone.” I managed to fix my stare on my brother. He must have seen something on my face, something that scared him, because he let go of my hand like he had been burned. “Yesterday I got a phone call before you called me to get you at the station. The call came from the Sacramento area code. There was no answer when I picked up.”

My brother and I stared at each other, the smell of burning eggs and bread reaching our nostrils. Neither of us moved. The cigarette my brother held on his hand had burned itself down, leaving a stick of ashes.

“You think Pete got your number from my phone.” He declared in a low voice.

“And he called me to check if it was the actual number.” I said, nodding. “He’s gonna figure it out, Claude. Pete’s always been damn smart. He wouldn’t have been able to hide from the cops for three years if he wasn’t smart. He’s gonna find a way to get to me. Hire a private detective or whatever to find out exactly where I am. And when he does, he’s coming after me.”

“What makes you so sure he’s coming after you?” Jean-Claude asked weakly.

“I know that man better than anyone else.” I said. “I was his little plaything for two years. He’ll want me back.” I commanded my numb limbs to move themselves and got up from my seat. “I need to go do something.”

He frowned, finally flicking off the ash from his cigarette. The ash fell to the floor, dirtying it up.

“Where are you going?”

I went to the stove and turned it off, then threw the charred up eggs in the trash.

I turned around and leaned against the kitchen counter, shutting my eyes tightly. I still wasn’t sure about it, but I knew I had to. It was why I signed up to be a crow eater. It would feel shitty, especially after what went down between Chibs and I last night. He would help me, I know he would. He wanted to kill Pete when I showed him my scar.

But asking his help would bring me closer to him. And I wasn’t sure I could handle that. I couldn’t ask any other member of Samcro without explaining everything to them and I was in no mood to go around opening up to people just so they help me. The police wasn’t going to protect me on a chance that my ex-husband was coming after me and I sure as hell didn’t want any protection coming from Jarry.

It was either heartache for being close to Chibs or actual physical ache for getting beaten by my ex.

“You were right about Chibs.” I answered, opening my eyes and looking straight at my brother. “He really is a criminal and he’s gonna get me a gun.”

@telford-ortiz-teller

@sam-samcro

@come-join-themurder

@grungedaddykinks

@soafanficluvr1

@i-am-the-luna

@jaaxtellerasf

#chibs telford #chibs imagine #soa imagine #soa fanfic #sons of anarchy #samcro #samcro imagine #lyla winston #vivi crane #a little wicked #tommy flanagan #samperv

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mrswinstonsnotebook · 7 years

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Attention Seeker - A Tig mini shot

I know I’ve had a quiet few days! So i thought I’d reward all you lovely, patient followers and readers out there! so, please Enjoy, even if it’s short!

Emily sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, piles of paper and opened envelopes surrounding her. She sighed loudly and glanced at her old man, who sat opposite her nose buried in a Harley magazine and a cup of coffee clutched in his hand. "Tig" she tried, holding out the particular bill that was getting to her. Tig made a noise in acknowledgement, but his eyes never lifted from the page in front of him. Emily rolled her eyes and tried getting through to him again. "Alex, you need to have a look at this.""I'm sure it's fine baby." Tig placated, turning another page. *** Emily tried to work through the small print of the bill for a little bit longer, but gave up with a sigh. She watched Tig for a little longer. With a smirk she got up from her chair and pulled her t shirt and bra off. "Tiggy . . ." She cooed, making her way over to her old man, pulling the magazine from his grasp. His eyes opened wide and he grinned reaching out to brush his fingers across the bare flesh of her abdomen. "Well, hello beautiful." He purred, and hooked his finger through her belt loop and pulled her into his lap. He turned her face towards him and captured her lips in a hot, hungry kiss. Emily inwardly grinned, feeling his hardness press into her thigh.

"So you want to pay attention to me now?" She whispered against his lips, tugging gently on the lapels of his kutte. Tig just growled and nipped at the skin of her throat. "Good." She pulled the letter out of her back pocket and pressed it into the palm of his hand. "You need to look at this, it's from Colleen."

He sighed and leant his head back, eyes closed and mouth set in a scowl. "You made it go away! Why would you do that?!" He gestured to his crotch. Emily smiled and kissed the top of his head silently. "Do I get a reward if I read this?" He asked her, with puppy dog eyes, knowing she couldn't deny that face anything. "Maybe."

Tig grumbled and turned his attention to the page. "Tease."

#tig trager #tig imagine #SonsofAnarchy #SOA #soa imagines #soa imagine

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checktbh · 2 years

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🤐🚥

#kodak black #walk #spin #super gremlin #kutt throat bill #ktb #broward #Florida #checktbh #quotes #sniper gang #jackboy #Spotify

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checktbh · 2 years

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📮👣

#kodak black #nardo wick #dj khaled #checktbh #quotes #tbh #quotesoftheday #broward #florida #miami #sniper gang #ktb #kutt throat bill #1800 #Golden Acres #God Did #Spotify

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checktbh · 2 years

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💯🔪

#kodak black #broward #florida #sniper gang #ktb #kutt throat bill #1800 #checktbh #rap quotes #deep quotes #quotes of the day #inspirational quotes #inspiration #rappers #grind quotes #success #goals #positive vibes #motivational goals

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

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OAKTOWN DOING ITS MAGIC

Marcus Álvarez x Filip “Chibs” Telford sister!Reader

Anon asked: Could I maybe ask for an Alvarez x reader were the reader is chibs sister and has a very fiery attitude and her and Alvarez are always at each other throats but theres something strong there and she will no problem wandering into Mayan territory much to her brothers warnings against it until it finally boils over with her and Alvarez and super fluffy and adorable and maybe smut? It's okay if not! Thank you so much for writing so wonderfully 💖

WARNINGS: NSFW, SMUT

Word Count: 2.9k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💖

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @trulysuccubus ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Stopping by a side of the road, you step out of your car placing the map above the hood, having a bite of the red licorice in the other hand. You could use Google to find the dog kennel, but you prefer to explore it by yourself. Oakland it's not that big to get lost, but you want to be sure about the way you have to follow. Pointing it with a pencil, you have to focus your attention in the sound of a motorbikes coming. Rolling your eyes with a heavy sigh, you throw the candy before keep the map in a pocket.

“Do you need help, mija?” Marcus' voice sounds funny, walking towards you and being followed by three Mayans, after parking their bikes.

“Do I look like a damsel in distress you must save?” Cross-armed, you raise an eyebrow.

“Well, you are a little far from home”.

“No kutte, no motorbi—”.

“You are still a member of Samcro. You should have made a courtesy call”.

“Do you think I'm a hot line for your pleasure, Álvarez?”

The man chuckles falsely, turning for a second to his men, before pointing your car with his gun. One shot straight to a wheel. And two bullets right to the trunk and a light. That hurts more than if he had shot you down. Your heart racing too fast. Your blood boiling. And your fist hitting his face without controlling yourself. The man doesn't move a single inch of his body, more than twisting his neck because of the punch. A wild tear running down your eye, while the other Mayans are pointing you.

“You crossed the line… and you're gonna regret it”. You spit every word, full of anger.

And Marcus knows that he already fucked up when he raise his gaze to yours, watching you cry. No one cries for a car, unless it means something important to you. He was having a rough morning and listening about your visit without a call, just make it worse. You two aren't enemies, neither friends. Mayans and Samcro have a good relationship, but the shit between you and the mexican it's kinda strange.

Taking off your phone from a pocket, you key Ratboy' number by heart, squatting next to your car and touring every hole with your fingertips while your cry takes away your breathe.

“Hey… Could you bri—bring the crane to Oakl—Oakland?” You sob, trying to control it.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just… I just…” Your cry get louder, and you can't help but resting your forehead against the trunk with a hand above it. “Don't tell Chibs, please… Just come. I am five miles from the entrance”.

“Ok, ok. Do you wan'me to call Álvarez? You shouldn' be alone there”.

“This… son of a bitch is already here”. You growl, hitting your head softly against the body car.

“Fuck… Give me an hour”.

Hanging up the call, knowing that the Mayans have their eyes on you and keeping the phone back to the pocket, you open the trunk to take a tweezers from the toolbox. Closing it and cursing with a strong scottish accent, you try to take off the bullets from it.

“Am sorre', athair… I'll fix it, I promise”. You mutter between some hard sobs and a knot installed inside your chest.

“Eh, I am so—”.

“Shutta' fuck up!” You shout at him, turning your body for a second. Even if he's trying to be gentle after what he did, you don't care.

When you finish your improvised task, you keep the bullets for Jax as a proof. Sitting inside the car, you decide to wait there instead of staying close to Alvarez, or you're going to end up hitting him again. And even if you asked Ratboy to come alone, you can't help but hit with both palms the steering wheel when you hear the roar of motorbikes riding closer. Stepping out of your almost dead car, you snort rubbing your eyes and cleaning the tears.

When Jax sees what happened, taking off the helmet, he raises both arms in silence looking at Marcus. Your brother runs to you, more worried about the fact of you being okay than because of the car. Chibs cups your face in his hands, leaving a kiss on your forehead before hug you.

“I'm sorry”. You just sob.

“Don' worre', lass”. He says placing an arm on your shoulders, before guiding you to both charters

“Man, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Jax looks furious facing Marcus.

“Bad morning. Knowing that a Sons' is at my territory, with n—”.

“Did you know why is she here? With no kutte, no bike, no protection?” The president interrupts him, pointing his chest once and again. “She works sometimes at the dog kennel, man”.

Marcus gives you a fleeting glance, snorting when he finds you being comforted by the older scottish. And his suspicions are confirmed by Jax's new words.

“Her father bought that car, ten years ago. Man, she loves it more than anything”. It's a whisper between them, making him see the gravity of the matter without relying on the fact that you could have been hurt.

“I'll take it to my workshop. I'm in charge, brother”.

“Don' ya' dare to touche't!” You shout full of anger then, trying to walk close to him, but being stopped by Chibs arms, and a Jax' hand raised to you on air.

“You better leave us take care of it, before I have to give her a gun to shoot your bike”. The Samcro's president shakes his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Send me the bill, alrai'?”

Jax nods, before letting them go passing you away with their motorbikes. The blonde man turns at you bitting is inner lip, as he pulls away his hair to his nape.

“We'll take you to the dog kennel, and then we'll go back to Charming, okay?” He says caressing your cheek softly, while you nod.

It's almost midnight in Charming. The town sleeps peacefully, while you continue trying to fix up the body of your car, after changing the flat tire. Finally, you have to use some putty to fill and cover both holes in it, having the perfect paint mix to finish the work. But when you're about to take the brush, the sound of a motorbike calls your attention, making you stand up on your feet to get out from the workshop. Rolling your eyes when they focus on the Mayans symbol, you turn again to go back to your main task. Yes, you feel some curiosity about what is he doing there, but you know you're not going to need to ask.

The heavy steps by the boots come closer to your ears, stopping a few meters away of your back, ignoring him completely. You've been a lot of hours trying to rebuild the holes, trying to find the perfect color by mixing the paint, and you're not in the mood to deal with Marcus. But this fact doesn't seems important for him, when he squats next to you and both dark eyes on your hands supporting the brush. Your fingers moving slowly almost like they were dancing a ballet. Hypnotizing him.

“I've brought you a truce and an apology”. He says with a low tone, not wanting to make you lose your focus. “Fifty thousands and a ‘sorry for being a pendejo’”.

“I have no price”. You reply back in a whisper, joking on him because it looks like a secret.

“It's not for you, but the dog kennel in Oaktown”. He's almost smiling, taking off from the pocket inside of the kutte a brown and improvised envelope. A bulky one.

You leave your task in the background, turning at him with both eyebrows raised.

“I have no excuse. And I'm so sorry because of what I did to your father's car”.

His words sound sincere, licking his low lip at the same time he moves his hand somewhat up making a clear gesture. Rolling your eyes, you take it standing up and leaving the brush inside the paint pot to grab the money. Your feet guide your body to the office, leaning towards the safe-box, so you can keep it inside. Once the box is closed, turning over your sneakers you find Marcus resting his left shoulder against the door frame, trying to hide that he was looking at you totally spellbound.

You're challenging him, maintaining his eyes with yours, crossing both arms on the chest covered by part of the jumpsuit. You know exactly what he wants to do, because you want it too, but you still mad at him. You two always have had that strange kind of connection like if you don't want to admit the attraction, not being only a physical game. Something stops you to be push into the other, and you don't really know why.

“You're no' a cat, and I'm no' a mouse”.

“I know”. He just replies, walking closer and taking off his kutte, to leave it on a chair. “How much are we gonna play this... stupid game?”

“I don't know, te'me, chicano”.

He chuckles, licking his lower lip and putting his gaze away for some seconds, somewhere on the white wall. You know how much he hates that name, but you love to tease him, even if you're trying not to keep in mind what he did to your car.

“Take off the jumpsuit”.

“'Am almost naked under it”.

“And the problem is...?

Drawing a naughty smile on the corner of your lips, you grab the middle of it, unzipping it so slow that he's starting to get desperate. Looking at you as if you were a piece of art, only available to his whim. When the cloth is already opened, you slide the fabric down by your legs, jumping a little from it. Marcus is enjoying the views, taking the advantage of placing a hand on your lower back, while the other travels to your nape. Your lips almost touching his, tasting that mix of cigars and mexican toast beer on them when the tip of your tongue tours them.

Your back finds the wall faster than you could think, catching you against his body, devouring your mouth hungry and anxious. Your fingers pulling up the black shirt he's wearing to throw it above the desk. His big hands taking off yours, before falling on the waistband of your panties. Uttering a soft growl full of pleasure, he walks away from you some steps, looking you from top to bottom as a hungry wolf admiring his prey.

“You like it, uh?”

“You don't know how much”.

His voice is deep, rough, hoarse, bristling your skin as soon as he catches you again on his arms slapping your ass when he turns you facing the wall. You need more. Marcus too. And the sound of the belt getting undone and his jeans being unzipped make your legs tremble. Without expecting he pushes his middle finger into you, checking how wet you are because of him, making you moan as your fingers get closed in two cuffs supported on the wall.

“You like it, mami?”

He whispers right in your ear fingering you faster and deeper, almost moving up your hips. Feeling every move as if it was the first, touching your soul with his warm breath on your neck, leaving some smooth kisses there and confusing you about the fact of his hand pushing you too angry while his lips are so gently.

“Fuck, yes…” You gasp resting your forehead between your hands, with closed eyes.

“You want me to fuck you, pequeña?”

“Yes, please, please, please, Marcus”. You beg uncontrollably once and again.

“You want my cock hitting your tight pussy ah?”

“Fuck… please…”

“You're gonna have it, mi reina”.

Pulling out the wetted finger and turning you to face him again, the Mayan puts a hand on your throat, sliding the other into your mouth. And you lick it, tasting your own flavor under his attentive black eyes burning in all the desire he has been containing. His lips crash on yours, kissing you filthy, and getting inside your mouth his tongue to find yours while his free hand throws down to the floor every thing is on the desk. You let him do with you whatever he wants, placing your chest on the table and spreading your legs to both sides ready for him. Teasing you with his needed glans rubbing your clit, you snort disappointed, hearing some laughs behind your back.

“You don't know how much I want you”.

“Fuckin' prove it”. You say desperate.

And you got it. Without expecting it, his cock pounds you so hard that your body moves somewhat forward above the desk, making you close your eyes with a heavy moan stuck in your throat and his hands nailed on your hips. Marcus moving fast, thrusting himself to you until his abdomen crashes against your ass. The dirty sound your wetness utters being hitted is like a sweet melody for your brain, feeling the pleasure running through your body, getting mixed between the gasps and the pleadings. Seems like he knows what you like, slapping harder your ass with one of his hands. The slight pain provokes you a wave of heat, asking for more.

It's been almost one year since you two met, containing the desire you were feeling for each other. The necessity for being close, alone, together. Enjoying your more animal instincts. Marcus tangles his fingers on your pony-tail, curving your back until his teeth bite your neck, licking and sucking it, wanting to mark his territory. His free arm surrounding your abdomen, thrusting you deeper reaching your g-spot as you cry out his name once and again, drying your throat, breaking your voice every time he nails his hard dick inside you with no mercy, with no wait. He loves every inch of your body. He loves every single thing he knows about you. He always wanted to show you since he met you, and know he's doing it in the most delicious way possible; fucking you as hard as you beg him.

“Mi amor, estás tan estrechita… You're driving me insane”. (My love, you're so tight).

“Cum inside me, please”. Twisting your neck enough to split it into his lips, he bites yours drowning there a soft moan.

“Of course, mi reina… This pussy is only mine, you hear me, ah?”

“Fuck, Marcus… Only yours”.

By your pulse you know how close your body is to explode because of the ecstasy, and the Mayan knows too.

“Turn, mi amor. I want to see your face”. He demands, pulling out himself, making you sob feeling the emptiness between your legs. “Sit on the desk”.

You don't need more words, doing it without complains. An arm surrounding your body, your legs on his shoulders and his free hand nailed around your throat. Then, you can see for first time his cock. Huge, wetted, needy for being inside you again. And it feels more delighted when he starts to fuck you again, in that position that makes you touch the sky with the fingertips.

His gaze maintaining yours at all times, seeing who you squirm under his grip because of the pleasure and his dick pounding you with the only mission of making you cum. Leaning towards you, Marcus kiss you again, looking for your tongue to fight it out of your mouths and leaving a small trail of saliva on air, before devour your mouth so hungry it makes race your heart.

“I'm… I'm so fuckin' clos', papi”.

Your voice is somewhat hoarse, with your knees almost touching your chest with every deep thrust into you and your legs shaking a little.

“Come on, mi reina… Cum for your papi”. He asks you with his lips on yours.

And it doesn't takes you more seconds after a lash of heat running down your spin. You cry out his name twice before you run out of air, feeling the orgasm wrapping your whole anatomy with the dirty sound of your wetted pussy being hitted without non stop. And Marcus filling you with his seed, exhausting, pounding you until he's satisfied. Your legs hurts a little when he puts them down, surrounding his waist. You push him totally inside you, with your bodies colliding, while he lies on your chest trying to recover himself. His lower abdomen pressing your crotch, finding your lips somewhat tired, but enjoying the warm of your cums getting mixed.

“It feels so good, mi reina”.

He whispers pinching your nipples, stealing you some gasps against his clavicle traveling your mouth by his neck leaving some kisses on it.

“Don' move, papi… I wan' you to fuck me again”.

He chuckles, nodding with his chin.

“Whatever you want, I'll give it to you”.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #marcus alvarez imagine #marcus alvarez x reader #marcus alvarez

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imagineredwood · 5 years

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Camila (OC)

Warnings: None

Word count: 2.4k

***I know y’all been wanting EZ x Cam smut. I promise I will deliver 😂Soon. We gotta shake some shit up first though.***

“Where are we going?”

Camila questioned EZ once more with a smile, her hand holding onto his as they walked. He grinned and looked over at her, leaning down for a kiss as he relented.

“I’m taking you for ice cream.”

Once her lips were off his, she smiled again and squeezed his hand.

“Do you remember my favorite flavor?”

EZ looked down at her with an incredulous look, pointing at his forehead with his index finger.

“Do I remember? I remember everything.”

Camila nodded and looked forward again, walking along the sidewalk with him.

“I forgot about that.”

They walked quietly then, not speaking again until they were in the parlor, EZ stepping up to the counter as the middle-aged redheaded woman smiled.

“What can I get you two lovebirds?”

EZ pointed over at Camila with his thumb.

“She’ll have strawberry on a cake cone, rainbow sprinkles.”

The woman nodded as she looked at Camila and then looked back at EZ.

“And what can I get for you, cutie?”

EZ looked over the board for a moment more, his hand griping at the hair on his chin before he looked back down at her.

“Rocky road in a cup.”

“You got it.”

The woman turned around and began making up the orders, EZ turning to find Camila looking at the various posters on the wall, Elvis and Marilyn Monroe plastered everywhere. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, hands against her tummy as he rested his chin on her shoulder. She relaxed into his grip and tilted her head slightly, her temple resting against his.

“Thanks for taking me out again, Ezekiel.”

EZ hugged her tighter and pressed his cheek into hers, giving a sigh.

“I wish I could do it more often. Shit with the club takes my attention away from you.”

Camila shook her head at that, turning in his arms.

“You were with the club before you were with me. If they need you, they need you.”

EZ looked down at her silently, wondering how with all of the bad shit he had done in his life, from killing an innocent man to taking a deal with the DEA to betraying both his brother and club and getting his father caught up in the mix, he had managed to get someone that was so patient and when it came to him and his life. He reached up and placed his hand on her cheek, his thumb running over her plump and pink bottom lip, pulling it down slightly before letting it pop back into place. There was the sound of someone clearing their throat and they both jumped slightly, pulling away from each other to find the woman standing with both the cone and cup of ice cream in her hands, a smirk on her face.

“Nothing like young love.”

EZ took the ice cream from her with a bashful smile and turned back to Camila, both walking to the corner of the empty ice cream parlor, sitting in the vintage chairs.

EZ waited for Camila to sit down before he handed her the ice cream and sat down himself. They sat and talked and ate, laughing and telling each other about their week freely. She told him about the shipment of new releases she had gotten at the bookstore and he told her about the 12 round game of rock paper scissors Angel and Coco had played about who was going to have to pay for the pizza they ordered last night for dinner. They talked amongst themselves, their ice cream long gone and the clock hands slowly ticking as they simply enjoyed each other’s company.

Soon enough, Camila looked down at her watch and placed her hands on the tops of her thighs.

“We better get going. We’ve been here for an hour now.”

The two stood and pushed their chairs in, EZ throwing a ten-dollar bill on the counter as they walked out. The woman waved at them as they left and EZ held the door open for Camila to step out. He followed behind her and took her hand in his as they started to walk back to the carniceria. Along the way, EZ’s observant nature noticed a car parked along the street and he narrowed his eyes, trying to see who it was that was sitting in the driver’s seat. He didn’t have to wait long though as Kevin stepped out, closing the door behind him and then strolling over, EZ’s jaw tensing. His grip on Camila tightened involuntarily and he pushed her to walk a little faster, his hand now on the small of her back. She looked up at him confused before she noticed Kevin, a look of frustration flashing across her face along with what looked to EZ like anger.

“Everything’s fine. Just go inside with Pop.”

The two made it to the front door of the carniceria before KJ did and Camila walked in, EZ staying right outside of the door, arms crossed in front of him. Inside, Felipe was already standing with a hand on Camila’s shoulder and she couldn’t tell if he was doing it to offer her comfort or to keep her inside. She looked on as EZ and Kevin spoke, a growing tension clearly visible in EZ’s shoulders the longer the conversation went on.

“He doesn’t quit does he.”

Felipe shook his head quietly, turning to Camila and gently pulling her to sit down as the two men walked inside. EZ was clearly pissed when he turned toward Camila, but he willed his jaw to loosen some before he spoke to her.

“I think you should head out. I’ll see you later.”

Camila’s eyebrows furrowed as she listened to his words. He was short and there wasn’t the same warmth that his voice usually held when he spoke to her. She knew he was angry, she could read it on him like it was written across his forehead, but she didn’t get why his brevity would be directed at her, or why she would need to leave so that he could talk to the man that everyone apparently should be avoiding. It didn’t make sense to her, but she left it alone, nodding and not saying anything for the time being. She took a step to the right and walked past EZ, his eyes flashing towards her once before looking back at Kevin. Felipe followed her out to the door, and she turned back toward him momentarily, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Felipe took the opportunity to speak to her, knowing that only she would be able to hear.

“Everything is fine, mija. No te preocupes.”

Camila nodded and pushed a smile before walking out of the shop entirely and making her way to her car. She wasn’t sure what was going on and she had a feeling that she wouldn’t be finding out the truth anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of a bike let her know that EZ was there way before he actually pulled into her driveway. She pulled the yellow blanket off her lap and stood from the couch, walking up to the front door, taking a glance at the clock on the stove. It was now 11:30 PM, nearly 3 hours after she had left the carniceria to let EZ talk. If she was being honest, she had started to think that perhaps he had just forgotten he said he would see her later. Pulling open her front door, she saw him pull the key from the bike and hop off, hanging the helmet from the handlebar.

He looked up to see her standing at the door, arms crossed as she leaned against the frame. He started walking up the driveway and now looking at her attire, he took in the sight of her. Boy shorts that showed more leg than he had seen from her before, a tank top and house slippers, her hair pulled into a messy bun at the top of her head. Tendrils of dark hair hung down around her ears and at the nape of her neck. Her eyes looked heavy and he pulled out his phone to check the time, wincing when he saw how much time had gotten away from him. He slipped his phone back into his kutte and jogged up the last few steps to where she stood, a soft and apologetic smile coming to his face.

“Sorry, querida. I didn’t realize what time it was.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, noticing immediately that she wasn’t as receptive as she normally was. Pulling away, he looked at her, her hand coming to rest on his cheek.

“Are you ok?”

He saw her searching his eyes and he knew there was a lot hidden behind that question.

She knew. She knew that there was something she didn’t know, something that he wasn’t telling her, and she wanted to know if there was a problem. Even still she didn’t ask, didn’t question, didn’t demand answers. Not yet at least. She just wanted to know that he was alright and that in itself made him feel a little better about the night’s events.

“I’m fine, Cam. I promise.”

Her eyes stayed trained on his and he had to look away briefly, the feeling of her trying to read him almost palpable. After a moment, she pulled her hand away and stepped back, opening the door to let him into her home.

It looked different now at this time. Most of the lights were off except the ones in the kitchen and hallway, candles burning in random parts of the living room, a light yellow blanket strewn across the couch where he was sure she was probably laying half asleep before he pulled up. EZ stepped further into the house and waited for her as she turned to lock the door behind him. When she faced him again, he grabbed onto her hand and pulled her towards her own couch to sit with him. She didn’t take much convincing, following him and sitting down beside him, hand resting gently on his thigh.

“Your dad ok?”

EZ nodded and tossed an arm around her, reminiscent of how they had been the last time they sat together on the couch like this. She cuddled into him further and blew out a breath, closing her eyes. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to ask, but she didn’t want to make him feel as if she didn’t know how to mind her business. Her ability to read people had always been one of her most important qualities because no matter how hard people tried to hide, she could always tell if there were secrets hiding in their eyes and in time, all things come to light. The couple sat there quietly for a bit before Camila spoke.

“I know we’re still pretty new, still figuring each other out, trying to navigate each other’s lives, but I just want to make sure everything is ok, Ezekiel. You don’t have to tell me the details.”

She left it at that, affirming EZ’s suspicions from earlier. She was completely aware that something wasn’t right, that there was trouble brewing, and EZ thought back to his father’s words.

‘She’s not the type of woman to push and be nosey, but she isn’t the type to sit around in the dark either.’

He was right, as per usual, and EZ swallowed.

“The whole thing is…a mess. It’s a mess that I don’t want you caught up in. It’s my mess. My problem, not yours. You’re one of the first positive things I’ve had happen to me in a while. I want to keep it that way.”

He wasn’t being direct, he was, in fact, being impossibly vague and yet, Camila understood then that whatever the issue was, it was bigger than just them. It was complicated and serious and something that had the potential to disrupt the balance if she were to find out and more so if it were to come out. Camila could see that now and she nodded, pulling away from EZ to grab her yellow blanket again and cuddle back into his side, wrapping the two of them up in the plush fabric.

~~~~~~~~~~

Camila looked up from the paperwork in front of her when the bell attached to the library door jingled as someone was coming in. She saw a blonde woman standing there, blue eyes and designer clothes as she walked into the bookstore, a man with dark braids walking in behind her. They both exuded an expensive air and Camila stood from her chair, drawing the attention of both new customers.

“Good morning. Is there anything I can help you find?”

The man in the back didn’t pay much attention to her, simply scanning around the store, his head always on the swivel, observing everything. The woman however was focused on Camila, an unreadable look on her face before she gave a smile and pointed over to the café side.

“Are they closed?”

Camila shook her head, motioning to the nearly empty store.

“No, they’re open, they’re just in the back getting everything ready for the day.”

Camila walked over and called out to the baristas over the counter, the two young women that worked the mornings stepping out and smiling at the woman, beginning to take her order. Walking back to the bookstore desk, Camila noticed the man still hadn’t moved, still standing in that same spot where he had been. She looked away before she could catch his attention and sat back down in the chair, continuing with her inventory list. Once the blonde woman was finished with her order, she went and sat at a table to wait, looking over at Camila once more. Camila could feel her eyes on her and stayed looking down as she tried to remember where she had seen the woman before. She looked slightly familiar and Camila couldn’t figure out how or from where. She sat there looking down at the list pretending to read, but her eyes were in the same spot, her wracking her memory to try and remember where she may have seen the woman from. Coming up blank, she left it alone, figuring it must’ve not have been from anything important. She zoned out on her surroundings then, focusing on the tallies on the paper and making sure the serial numbers matched, not paying much mind when she heard the barista call out the order of a caramel macchiato for Emily.

#Mayans MC #el destino #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #mayans imagine #mayans fx #EZ x Camila #Felipe Reyes

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buckyscrystalqueen · 7 years

Text

Southern Strip Tease

Pairings: Chibs x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, one night stand, stripper reader.

Word Count: 2,019

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘This ain’t my room.’ You thought to yourself as your eyes looked around the unfamiliar room. ‘This also ain’t my arm.’ You though as you looked down at the dead weight that was draped across your stomach. You looked over at the man that belonged to the arm and pursed your lips. ‘Not bad.’ You wanted to kick yourself for being a one night stand but from what you could remember it was totally worth it. Though typically, you didn’t spend the night.

‘This is why I can’t have nice things.’ As gently as you could to not awake your bed mate, you lifted up his arm and scooted off the bed; laying it back down gently behind you. You scrambled to collect your clothes but paused when your eyes landed on the giant Reaper patch on the back of a leather kutte.

“Shit.” You whispered as you quietly threw your clothes on in an attempt to get out the door quickly undetected.

“Leavin' so soon?” You turned back around and looked at the stunning man laying in bed with a smile. You were just reminded why he was able to convince you to stay; you had a soft spot for that Scottish accent. Any accent, really other than the southern one you heard from your own mouth every day.

“Does that hurt you’re feelings, love?” Chibs chuckled, despite the fact that you were mocking his pet name of choice for the night, as he sat up in bed.

“Not’a t’all, baby.” You rolled your eyes as you grabbed your bag.

“See ya ‘round.” You opened the door to a long hallway and almost ran into another man with curly black hair.

“You got a set of lungs on ya, girl.” He said as he continued down the hall with a laugh. You groaned as you followed him out into the SAMCRO club house. A few guys who were sitting around the room began to slow clap as you walked through the room.

“Mind your own biscuits.” You snapped as you headed for the door.

“Listen to that accent; Chibs got lucky with that one.” One of the guys said. You groaned as you pushed open the door, hissing at the bright sunlight and practically running to your Jeep.

“I’m never listenin’ to Lyla again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fancy seein’ ye ‘ere, love.” You looked over the counter at the all too familiar voice from a few hours before and smiled.

“Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Found me faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.” Chibs laughed as you stood up from behind the counter of the tiny diner you waitressed at on the out skirts of Charming.

“Well there’s somethin’ you don’t ‘ere every day.” You shrugged as he took a seat at the bar.

“I’m from the south, sugar. I got sayin’s like the day is long. What can I get ya?”

“Coffee, black.” You nodded and grabbed a mug from behind the counter with one hand and the coffee pot with the other. “Ye ran out rather quickly this mornin’.” You nodded as you poured his coffee with a smile.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree if you thought I was the kinda girl to stick around after a night with Jack.”

“Not even if I wanted ta get ta know ya more.” You smiled and shook your head.

“Darlin’ there ain’t much to get to know. I’m from Tennessee and work two jobs to pay my bills. My life is busier than a one legged cat in a sandbox.” He chuckled as he took a sip of coffee.

“What if I could help ye with that?” You smiled as you looked around the dead restaurant.

“You ain’t even know me.”

“Aye, but I would really like ta get ta know ye.” You shrugged as you leaned back against the counter.

“You can try. I ain’t gunna make it easy on ya.” He laughed as he downed the last of his coffee.

“What’s yer other job?” You licked your bottom lip and shrugged as he tossed a twenty on the counter.

“Guess you’ll just have ta figure it out.” He smirked as he turned around and headed out the door.

“That a dare?” He called out and you laughed.

“It’s a double dare.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, (Y/N)… cute guy out front, requesting you personally. By your real name.” You looked over at your co-worker Shannon, who everyone at your job knew as Sandy and your brow furrowed.

“Who is it?” She shrugged as she headed out of your room.

“I put him in two.” You nodded as your stomach twisted into knots. No one here knew your real name; every one of your regulars at the strip club knew you as Scarlett. With one last look in the mirror, you got up and headed down the back hall to room two.

‘Please don’t be someone creepy…’ You thought as you pushed open the door. Your worried face dropped almost instantly as you saw Chibs.

“Well I’ll be damned. Took ya a while.” He laughed as he leaned back against the couch seat.

“Lyla didn’t want to give up yer other job. Took a lot of bribing and some good, ol’fashion back door sleuthing.” You laughed as you stepped into the room.

“Told ya I wasn’t fixin to make it easy. Called her the minute you left the diner.” He tilted his head toward you as you stepped up on the platform.

“None of that, love. I came ta get ta know ya.” You cocked your eyebrow as you spun lazily around the pole.

“What part of ‘not makin’ that easy’ did you miss?” You smiled as you rested your back against the pole. Teasingly, you slid down it slowly and sexually. You watched him swallow hard as he shifted ever so slightly in his spot and his eyes wandered down your body.

“Aye, yer doin’ a damn good job at that.” You giggled as you dragged your fingers up the inside of your thigh.

“And I plan on keepin’ it up…” You dragged your fingers up your body and unsnapped the snap between your breasts. “So… what did ya wanna know?” You stood back up slowly, letting your top fall off your body. Chibs let out a low moan as he watched you drag your fingertips across your breast.

“E-everythin’.” You smiled as he palmed at his crotched and shifted in his seat once again. His cock was already straining against his jeans and you let out a breathy moan as you remembered how amazing it felt buried inside you.

“Like I said… ain’t much to know.” You spun around the back of the pole and grabbed it with one hand. Very slowly you leaned back into a back bend. “I’m just a simple southern girl.” You ran your hand down your stomach and down over your panties. You let your eyes close for a second and your mouth fell open as you ran your palm over your wet core. With a knowing smirk, you opened your eyes as he groaned again and you pulled yourself up-right.

“Has ta be more’n that, love.” You shook your head as you grabbed the pole with both hands. You swung your body upside down and grabbed the pole with the back of your knee.

“Nope. Ain’t much else.” You looked at him as you put your hands on the ground below your head and arched your back away from the metal. You held yourself up in a handstand for a moment as you let your legs fall into a split. You used all of your strength to lower yourself back down, giving him a full view of your wet panties.

“Jesus Christ.” He grabbed you around the waist and lifted you off the platform and onto his lap. You quickly spun around; throwing one leg over his head to straddle him, and grabbed his wrists to stop him.

“Nuh uh… no touching. There are rules here.” You laced your fingers with his and held them above his head as you got up on your knees still straddling him. “Thought you wanted to get to know me anyways, sweetheart.” He groaned as you slowly ground your hips against his. His eyes rolled back in his head as you pressed your bare chest against his.

“Love… yer killin’ me.” You leaned forward as lightly rubbed your cheek against his. You dragged the tip of your tongue against the shell of his ear and he gripped your hands tightly in his.

“That’s my job.” He shook his head and pulled his hands out of yours.

“Not anymore. Yer mine.” He gripped your hips tight as he crashed his lips to yours. Your gasp was lost in his mouth as his tongue battled yours for dominance. Your hands tangled in his hair and you pulled, drawing a groan from the back of his throat.

“Make me yours then.” He chuckled darkly as he pulled your hips against him; his own thrusting up to meet yours.

“Oh, lass. I plan on it.” He dropped his hand to his zipper and he pulled his impressive length out. You moaned as he reached down and ripped your panties out of the way.

“Chibs…” You gasped as he teased your folds with his cock. He shook his head where he was kissing your throat.

“Filip.” You nodded as you sat up; needing to feel him inside of you.

“Filip… please.” He lined himself up and you immediately sunk down; taking him completely and letting him stretch you out perfectly.

“Fuck, yer so tight.” You grabbed the back of his kutte in your fists as you rolled your hips slowly.

“God, you’re perfect.” You crashed your lips to his as he grabbed your hips; dragging you down his length. You had to force yourself to stay quiet; reminding yourself that you were technically in public. Sweat began to bead on your skin as you rolled faster and harder on his cock; the button on his jeans rubbing your clit deliciously with every pass. He moved his hands so one was on your lower back and one was on your shoulder as he stood up and laid you down on the couch.

“Yer mine.” He demanded as he began a bruising pace; chasing his orgasm as he rested his forehead against yours. He gripped your hip tight and you nodded as your coil tightened; your walls clenching around him. “Say it!” He growled.

“I’m yours!” You shouted as you flew over the edge; arching your back into his chest as stars danced in the white light behind your eyelids. His hand tangled in your hair as he thrust into you twice more and came; painting your walls with his release. He groaned into your neck as you clung to him, panting as you rode out your high on his now lazy thrusts. You ran your fingers through his hair, tracing a scar on the back of his head as he gently kissed your neck and shoulder. Once he caught his breath, he leaned back slightly and gave you a chaste kiss.

“Go get dressed, love. I’ll take care of ye now.” You nodded as he got up and tucked himself away. You picked up your top off the platform and looked down at the destroyed panties that hung at your hips.

“Had to rip ‘em, didn’t ya.” He laughed and shrugged as he took off his kutte.

“Not my fault yer so damn irresistible.” He unzipped his brown leather jacket and took it off. He held it up to you to put on. You put your top on the couch next to him, turned around and slid your arms through the sleeves. With a smile, you zipped it up and shrugged as you looked down; it came down to mid thigh.

“That’ll work too.” He smiled as he stood up and kissed the tip of your nose.

“Let them know ye aren’t coming back. I won’t have my girl strippin’ for anyone but me.”

#Chibs x Reader #Southern Strip Tease

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