*aka* “a round of applause” or “when the fan-fic writers have earned their own fangirl.”
just the other day, i was telling one of my mentors that i wish that i could find a writing group like queen toni’s sisterhood.
but as i scrolled tumblr, i was once again reminded that so many black women writers on this app are KILLING it & have been doing so for years! y’all already have a virtual writing group going.
maybe one day become a contributor rather than just a consumer. i’m way more comfy w/creative nonfiction and essays, but i’m still trying to be like you when i grow up.
good writing is good writing. and you amazing storytellers deserve your flowers!
Note: this is part 1 b/c i’ve read so many wonderful words on here that i can’t possibly remember it all in one fell swoop.
so, in no particular order:
@kumkaniudaku the adventures of chad and coco your writing is beautiful and the love b/t the characters feels almost tangible. the daddy-daughter love is especially heartwarming w/chad & his twin. and the whole “neighbor” series is the shit dreams are made of. you are just. everything! i laughed, i cried, i was on the edge of my seat. (i even created a playlist of the song recommendations LOL)
@sheabuttahwrites the fearlessness and candor of ever make her one of my favorite characters--ever. (pun intended LMAO) you wrote the hell out of “fine print.” the twists, turns and angst had me perched and clutching my imaginary pearls. and the humor in “first flow” is top notch (i don’t know how you knew witty banter is like, my favorite thing ever. but thanks, sis!)
@eerythingisshaka i told you how i feel about “wish granted” but i just loved that almost-love story. your dialogue made me laugh out loud @ so many points. and i didn’t want the story to end. i just need me one good trip to the right fountain! i’ma make pennies and nickels rain till i hit the right one. lol.
@ghostfacekill-monger everything i’ve read of yours has been immaculate. but cowboy stunna is that dude. and while nora (granny is the queen of shade and set ups! and dahlia was sooo sweet) and zipporah are lovely, bailey byrd is my boo. idc idc! “maggie & the ferocious beast” was such an unexpected treat. and whitney rose & m’baku make me swoon just thinking about them. i still have that playlist saved to my spotify.
@berberriescorner anyone who writes yahya fics is a friend in my head. but you also allow me to indulge in manny montana at his finest--RIO! your fics almost make having 50-11 kids w/the love of your life sound appealing. and y’all know me and my childfree household don’t play that. LOL!
there are so many other works i’ve come across i can’t name all the tumblr handles & blogs at one time.
please don’t feel any type of way if i haven’t shown you love yet. there are so many of you who influence and inspire me that this post is just the beginning.
*shout out to everyone old/weird enough to get the love jones reference.
“I gather up each sound you left behind and stretch them on our bed. Each night I breathe you and become high.”
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Pairing: Angel reyes x reader, Bishop losa x reader, Coco cruz x reader & Ez reyes x reader
A/n: PLEASE don’t ask me what goes through my mind, it’s a chaotic place in there. Here’s how the men would react to you sleep talking!
Warnings: Language
Angel
This man was scared as hell the first time he experienced you talking in your sleep. He was woken up by an arm slapping his chest, causing him to sit up straight immediately, wondering what was wrong.
“Are you awake, querida?” He asks, not quite sure whether or not you were still in dreamland.
“Why does it look like that?” You practically mumble, a slight frown visible on your face.
Angel’s eyes searched both the bed, and the room, but he couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary, so he turned to you again. “Why does what look like that?”
You let out a soft sigh, “your dick, it looks like a fruit roll-up”
He scoffs loudly, feeling both offended yet honored that you’d dream about his dick, even if it did look like a piece of candy.
“Explains why you can’t get enough of it,” Angel whispers while laying back down and dozing off.
Bishop
El presidente deals with so much shit on a daily basis, that this did not bother him one bit. In fact, he decided to just go along with it, since he was already awake.
“Babe, the zombies are coming! We have to go now!” Your words were slurred, but he didn’t miss the slight hint of panic in your voice.
Bishop chuckles softly, making sure he was careful enough not to wake you. “Let’s hurry then, shall we? Which one of the cats are we bringing with us, though?”
“Who cares,” you mutter, as you start to toss around, “they’ll fend for themselves.”
“Damn, that’s cold, sweetheart.” He says, not expecting you to leave behind what you refer to as your ‘fur babies’.
“We have jackets.”
Ezekiel
Slightly confused, but most of all intrigued. He was laying in bed, reading one of the books you had bought him, when he noticed the angry look on your face. He just watched you with a big grin, wondering what you’re dreaming about—not knowing he was about to find out.
“Ez, I’m serious”
Raising an eyebrow, he made sure to close his book before returning his attention to you again. “I’m still able to get in trouble while you’re sleeping?”
“It’s not my responsibility to look after the frogs, okay?” You explain to him, clearly irritated, “My pockets are too full.”
At this point Ez bursts out laughing, causing you to jerk awake. You stare up at him with wide eyes, not realizing what’s going on. “What is it?”
He takes a deep breath to collect himself, and shakes his head. Moving under the covers with you, he pulls you extra close to his body, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.
“We’ll talk about shared custody in the morning.”
Coco
He’s curled up behind you, his face nuzzled inside the crook of your neck. A little whine falls from your lips, and it’s enough to wake him.
“Don’t go to the party, they have spaghetti”
Coco takes a second to process the words that just left you, the sleepy state he was in making him ten times more confused. “What’s wrong with spaghetti?”
You didn’t answer so he assumed your little taking session was over, and he laid back down. He’s on the verge of falling asleep, before you scare the living shit out of him.
“BIG FAT HAM” you yell out, causing Coco to jump up, leading to him falling off the edge of the bed and onto the floor.
If you’d like to be added to my taglist, let me know! ✨
A|N: Although it’s looking like a rough start for my winter prompts this year…I’m still at it and I have to be if I’m inspired to before the energy runs out! Anyways…this may count as a drabble? I love writing fluff for EZ although that man is clearly on a dark path in this point in time. Regardless I instantly saw this one on the prompt list that I’m following and thought, “Ezekiel MFKIN Reyes!”
S/N: + GIF belongs to its rightful owner, I couldn’t exactly pinpoint who created it on google 💚 + touching on the problem of hair in the black community.
PROMPT: #17. “Have you seen my gloves? Seriously? Take them off the dog.”
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You were not off to a good start this morning.
This could be blamed on many aspects that occurred last night…the main one being binge-watching Abbott Elementary (and Sweet Life) was part of it but if anybody asked you, you’d deny it.
It was easy for you to sleep through your ten alarms but having a husband like Ezekiel Lorenzo Reyes, who enjoyed being up at the crack of ass! wouldn’t let you sleep through the fifth alarm.
He was the morning person in the marriage and you were the late-morning person, which is why you slightly thought about changing your hours. You had a successful hair salon business that you shared with your god-brother about half a hour outside of Santo Padre. The work was time-consuming but you enjoyed the idea of perfecting people’s crowns.
You happened to be one of the few accommodating hair stylists out there, having a gentle approach to the tender headed, coming in early and staying late for certain clients if needed. Being pretty fair you did not over-charge for hairstyles like these new hair stylists on the scene often did and took the time to perfect your craft. Doing hair started young for you; the love for hair and tending to your own was the beginning of a eye-opening journey once many salons made you feel demeaned  about your texture.
From begging your mom to not drag you to the salons at the age of six to learning what best works for your texture at ten was a whole new awakening for you. Your mother couldn’t do a thing with your hair and wanted it to be relaxed (just like her own) since she wouldn’t take the time or knew how to best manage it. The moment she relaxed your hair, your grandfather let her have it, shockingly. Normally most men stayed out of women’s business (if they knew what was good for them) especially when it came to hair. Your grandfather became a single father having to raise your mother all on his own, after your grandmother passed with kidney disease when your mother was fifteen.
You learned that your grandfather knew how to tend to your mother’s hair—this was something your mother did not want to share. He told you that he tried his best to encourage your mother to love what grew from her scalp just like his wife did. You’ve seen many pictures of your grandmother who always sported a gorgeous fro in every photo.
The photo you adored the most was a picture of her in her wedding dress, looking over her shoulder, light in her eyes, and a forget me not tucked into her fro.
It was beautiful how carefree she seemed, a smile always on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. That’s how you wanted to be, not only in life but with the hair on your head as well.
There were many times that you wished you got the chance to meet your grandmother. Both of your grandparents were also involved in the civil rights movement and your grandfather seemed to be the only person that didn’t mind sharing his story. You were thankful since it seemed like any conversation that you wanted to have was deemed as you talking back—words by your mother, which was a issue.
It was evident that there were deep-rooted problems with your mother that she wasn’t ready to address yet. You tried your hardest to be empathetic but also realized, thanks to your therapist, that it isn’t only your job to connect with your mother. You were healing from your own childhood trauma that she was part of and you didn’t hate her but distance was needed. Love shouldn’t be heavy, especially when it came to the woman that once held you in her womb.
And so you dealt with her verbal abuse as a kid until spending summers in Georgia with your grandfather gave you purpose. You had the idea with your grandfather at just eleven years old to cut your damaged hair off. Your grandfather did the honors of buzzing the rest off for you in the pink tile bathroom and the twinkle that appeared in your eye afterwards…matched his late wife’s.
That moment was kept a secret during your two month stay and you actually did some heads for the very first time for kids on the cul- de-sac. Your grandfather witnessed this with pride and even took you to a salon where you met a woman named Carlotta. She was welcoming and encouraging after learning that you worked on two kid’s heads that came to see her occasionally. Carlotta even let you work in the shop twice a week during your stay and once you started working on a few adults heads (a choice you did on your own after she was dealing with her own personal issues) at eleven years old? She told you had a gift and you knew your purpose.
Now you were running late to the shop, knowing you were pushing it by the time you were fumbling with your hair in the bathroom. The change in weather was making your hair dry and it was time that you did a hair mask soon. You knew your god-brother would give you a mouth-full if you didn’t take care of it before he did your first wig-install in two weeks.
Adding the right amount of oil to your hair and scalp, you combed, brushed, and decided to slick your hair into a Sade braid for the day, adding some elastics to sections of the braid to make it more fun. Once satisfied, you checked the time again as you got back into the bedroom, thankful that EZ made the bed for you and scrambled to grab your earmuffs and bag.
Your first appointment was at 8:45am and you already knew you were going to be somewhat late. Thankfully this appointment was a simple rod-set and wouldn’t take too much time to get your client done. Thudding down the steps of your bungalow, you heard your stomach rumbling and figured you’d just have to UberEATS breakfast to the shop.
Sitting on the bench, you shoved your feet into your trainers then reached for your black trench coat to place over your clothes for the workday.
“Hey. I know you’re not leaving without this.” Ez called out to you, most likely from the dining room.
Sending out a text to your god-brother, you slipped your bag onto your shoulder slightly jogging back to the dining room where your husband sat comfortably at the head of the table. Of course he looked amazing so early in the morning, snug long sleeve white-thermal shirt on, decorated with his tags and grey sweats on and his skin? We loved a moisturized king! He most likely got his pre-workout done already if he was having tea and oatmeal. Usually he only sat down for breakfast if he worked out already and didn’t need to be at the club until later that morning.
EZ looked up from his phone, his hand already held out your YETI which was filled with orange juice. “No coffee and heavy breakfast while you’re on the road. We both know how that doesn’t agree with your system. I already slipped a protein bar into your bag while you were in the shower and the real breakfast should be there by the time you get to the shop.”
“You’re a good man,” you cooed gripping Ez’s chin, his facial hair pricking your fingertips as you connected your lips.
Ez laughed into the kiss after a couple of pecks, “eh, depends who you ask mi amor.”
“I’m not asking anybody anything,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders, “I know my man.”
“Period, uh.” Ez slipped his hands beneath your trench coat to give your backside in your cozy sweats a nice squeeze.
Pointing at the man you said, “don’t ever do that again.”
Ez smiled up at you, “i promise I won’t. Have a good day sweetheart, let me know when you get there.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You kissed his lips again which made him lick his own.
“Mm, is that a brown sugar chapstick?”
“I have no idea. I just snatched whatever was in the night stand.” You breathed, stepping back from the man who simply nodded his head in understanding, “you heading to the club soon?”
“‘Round eleven or after. Gonna take Sally for a walk, nap and then head out,” EZ answered as he picked up his mug, “it’s your late day right?”
“Yes,” you sighed, “last client is coming in at five. Pray for me.”
“Always do.” Ez grinned, “I love when you do the braid by the way, allows me to see that prettiness in full.”
Having a good gulp of OJ you held out your hand to EZ, your wedding ring glistening in the dining room, which made him smile with fulfillment as he awaited your feedback, “keep treating me well and I might mess around and get pregnant with a real baby instead of a fur baby by new year’s.”
“Please tempt me with a good time.” Ez mentioned, sending a wink your way, making you groan and throw your head back.
Stomping out you yelled, “Bye, Ezekiel!”
“See you later!” Ez chuckled to himself, turning his attention back to his phone once you were out of his sight.
Thankful to have not only a loving husband and a automatic starter, that you forgot to start before Ez called you into the dining room, you flinched as your hands rested on the steering wheel. Immediately your hands went to mess with the knobs to crank the heat up, shaking your head at the brawny man for messing with the temperature in the car.
He was warm blooded and you were always cold. It was a whole debate inside of the house but in the car, you did not comprise despite the increase of gas prices. You couldn’t stand being cold and EZ knew that.
Checking the time again on the dashboard, you searched your glove department for your gloves, then the console, the backseat pockets, and the side holders in the doors but couldn’t find them. Sighing you threw the driver’s side door open again, allowing the winter air to bite at your cheeks as you jogged around your car and back to your home.
You just knew your gloves had to be on the bench and you previously overlooked them. Unlocking the door, which took a little bit of a tussle thanks to the cold, you made a mental note (that you would probably forget during the day) that you or EZ needed to use the WD-40 so neither of you didn’t experience a broken key again this winter.
Zoning in on the bench in the entry way, your eyes scanned the object and then you crouched down to the cubbies, feeling around for the gloves just to not locate them.
“Ez,” you called out, “have you seen my gloves? The Prada ones?”
Lifting your head, you spotted EZ standing down the hallway, your eyes shifting to Sally, your pitbull who had her paws resting up on his thighs, “Seriously? Take them off Sally.”
EZ smiled sheepishly at you as Sally peered over at you in annoyance. It was evident that your girl was sick of his mess too. He was a typical dog dad, taking the girl everywhere he could when he had the car, if you weren’t in the passenger seat you can only guess who was and forcing her into costumes when it was clear she didn’t care to be dressed up. He simply liked bothering your teenage fur baby, that’s all.
“I thought you’d be gone already and wouldn’t mind letting Sally borrow them on our walk,” Ez told you, while you stepped forward and held out your hands for the item.
Sighing Ez took them off Sally’s paws, who dropped them back to the wood floor and sat, watching the exchange.
“You got lucky this time, girl.” Ez pointed at Sally who just blinked and looked over at you.
“I know, he’s a real pain in the ass and if I had the time, I’d beat him up for you.” You told Sally who wagged her tail in response.
Ez huffed as he leaned over, slapping the gloves into your outstretched hands, “I just wanted to have a trial run with her since,” He whispered to you, “I got her some mitts for Christmas to protect her paws for our daily jogs and walks.”
“She’s not gonna wear them,” you shoved your hands into the gloves, “you know Sally trots to her own drum. She might even think they’re chew toys; you saw what she did to those Halloween costumes two months ago.”
Ez stretched at his brow, “have a little faith please. Maybe her favorite holiday is Christmas and she’ll be on her best behavior. We haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Her favorite holiday is sleeping and chewing shit up, then acting like she didn’t do it. It requires minimum effort on her part.”
Sally growled a bit before barking.
“I think you struck a nerve,” Ez joked, “and you might want to keep those gloves in the car if you know what’s good for you.”
Fanning your gloved hands at the two you spun on your heels, “On that note, I’m outta here. love you two, be good.”
“We love you too but…no promises.” Ez murmured as he smiled at your retreating form that began closing the front door, now putting a leash on Sally and giving her a good pet.
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Continue along with my December anthology prompts here.
“Ez,” you called out, “have you seen my gloves? The Prada ones?”
Lifting your head, you spotted EZ standing down the hallway, your eyes shifting to Sally, your pitbull who had her paws resting up on his thighs, “Seriously? Take them off Sally.”
EZ smiled sheepishly at you as Sally peered over at you in annoyance. It was evident that your girl was sick of his mess too. He was a typical dog dad, taking the girl everywhere he could when he had the car, if you weren’t in the passenger seat you can only guess who was and forcing her into costumes when it was clear she didn’t care to be dressed up. He simply liked bothering your teenage fur baby, that’s all.
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Hiii it honestly feels like I’ve read all the jax fics on here 💀 I was wondering if you have any recommendations of other people who write or have written for jax !
Have an amazing day lovely !!
Hi!
Why, yes. Yes I do. I am so happy you asked.
I’ve just been LOVING @bellaxgiornata fics (all of them, not just her Jax ones), and she writes Jax amazingly. Like spot on. She’s got a bunch of one shots and short series, and even some long series that I just adore. You will probably end up loving her writing to the point of reading her pieces about other people as well, like I did. 💝
@hunnamandhoney has some delicious Jax fics as well, and she is exceptionally good at writing the concept of YEARNING for something you can’t have, especially with her fics about reader being someone else’s old lady but clearly having a deep connection with Jax. She’s also got some amazing fics for Charlie’s other characters as well. 💖
My sweets who I miss so much @jaxtellerpls has some of the best steamy fics I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading. Always a treat seeing a new fic from her. 💝
There are many others who I’ve seen around, but haven’t yet gotten the chance to read their fics, but these are just my recommendations!! I hope this helped you out, and hopefully you’re able to find even more authors who write about Jax as you explore these accounts! I hope you love them as much as I do! 💞
This is so so sweet, OMG thank you!! 😭💖I absolutely appreciate all the kind words and you recommending my fics!! I still can't believe I got you hooked on Matt Murdock and reading FFTD now!!
I absolutely second everyone you've mentioned and want to quickly add some Jax x Reader and Jax x OC writers off the top of my head! I love seeing writers supporting writers!!
@secretlysamcro (WE MISS YOU 🫶🏻) @ravennaortiz @samcrosfaith @laur-kinsellaodonnell (also has a great Will Miller series!) @slowburnsins @brunettemarionette @jaxteller87 @menofletters-and-mayhem @rideandruin @hunnamsxual @persephone411 @etclouie @kendallroydefender @chloe-skywalker
I have absolutely missed some names and I apologize because I know there's a lot of lovely writers in the fandom!!
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Also while we're all talking about anti-racism, here's a helpful tip:
Performative self-flagellation over being white is not a substitute for doing serious introspection about the ways you have been complicit in or rewarded by a white-supremacist society, nor doing the work to dismantle white supremacy.
A white person chiming in to a conversation about racism to say "I'm sorry for being white" or "white people suck, I say this as a white person" is just a masturbatory way to try to assuage your own feelings of shame without actually doing anything. It doesn't make you look like "one of the good ones." It makes you look like someone who centers your own feelings about it.
Below you will find a list of all the fun projects that I have in store for the next year! This is a mix of series, oneshots and random tidbits. I have done my best to include a summary or brief snippet if able. As always feel free to reach out to chat!
Updated 6/13/2026
Ongoing Chapter Fics and Series!
Sunshine- Juice x Stormie OC Multi chapter fic
Long Live Cowgirls Series
The Nanny- Nova Morrow OC x Jax multi chapter fic
Tales of a Free Use Old Lady- Multi chapter fic, Tig x Reader his Old Lady
Hate Me Love Me Series
Best Friends Daughter Series- Kozik x Tigs Daughter
His Old Lady, His Lover- Reader Jax Old Lady x Chibs cucking Jax
Three: The Magic Number Series- Threesomes
Fruit Rollup Shenanigans
Our Hearts Still Beat-First part Drops Christmas Day 2025!
Queen of the Misfits
Slated for July 2026
The Collector Series- Tig
I Cant's Say No-Juice
Open Window-Juice
Sunscreen-Coco
Sunset- Halfsack
Yard Sale- Angel
Slated for August 2026
Annual Birthday Month Stories-
Masterlist!
Slated for September 2026
Spicetember Fics!
Slated for October 2026
Lovers Dance- Juice
His Girl- Coco/Juice
Accidental Knotting-Bottles
Toy- Tig
Post- Rat/Juice/Half
Another Halloween in the Patch- Guero/Bottles
Mask=Juice
Slated for November 2026
The Great Cattening
Slated for December 2026
Dazzling Days
Slated for January 2027
Predator in Stilettoes
2027 Bingo Announcement!
2027 Bingo Tracker
Slated for February 2027-Love and Fluff Fics
1,2,3,4ever- Chibs
Take Two-Bishop
Can I Play-Juice
Love in the Scrapyard- Manny
Feelings Realized- Happy
Relaxing after a long day-Coco
Bad Wingmen
Slated for March 2027-Mayans March- Mayans Fics Only
Hate Me,Love Me- Coco's fic
Hate Me, Love Me- Gueros Story
My Brothers Best Friend- Bottles
Long Live Cowgirls- Gueros Story
Long live Cowgirls- Bottles Story
Long Live Cowgirls- Angels Story
Fruit Rollup Shenanigans- Gueros Story
Fruit Rollup Shenanigans- Bottles Story
Fruit Rollup Shenanigans - Angels Story
Fruit Rollup Shenanigans- Coco's Story
Dessert- Bottles/Guero
Confession- Bottles
Waiting for his Return- Bishop
Panty Fantasy- Bottles Chapter Fic
Slated for April 2027 Angsty/Dark Fics/Mind Fucks-
What I did to us-Juice
Revenge is Served- Opie
Rose on the Bed- Guero
The Devil You Know-Juice
Happy Never After- Happys
Bloody Birthday-Angel
Lost and Never Found-Chibs
Its Your Job- Jax
Slated for May 2027More than 1 May
Daddy's Friends- Guero/Bottles/Juice
Come on Gem- Tig/Halfsack/Gemma
Unprofessional- Happy/Juice
Three-Coco/Angel/guero
The Better Reyes- Angel/EZ
Better- Tig/Happy
Several 3 is the magic number fics
Slated for June 2027
Entry Granted Chapters
Slated for July 2027
Entry Granted Chapters
Slated for August 2027
Annual Bday Event
Slated for September 2027 Sons of September- Sons Fics Only
Hate Me, Love Me- Chibs Story
Hate Me, Love Me- Ratboys Story
Hate Me, Love Me- Halfsacks Story
Long Live Cowgirls- Happys Story
Long Live Cowgirls- Halfsacks Story
Long Live Cowgirls- Ratboys Story
Long Live Cowgirls- Chibs Story
Long Live Cowgirls- Opie Story
Long Live Cowgirls- Tigs Story
Fruit Rollup Shenanigans- Ratboys Story
Fruit Rollup Shenanigans- Halfsacks Story
Safety Lesson Gone Wrong- Halfsacks Story
All Off- Juice
My Daughters Friend- Tig
Arrow Removal- Juice
Enclosed- Juice
How I Got My Name- Ratboy
Slated for October 2027
Kinktober 2027-Werewolves of Nottingyew Forest
Slated for November 2027
Slated for December 2027
Mistletoe Diaries Series
Series Currently Being Worked On
Click on each Character below to go to their WIP Page
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Hello Loves and Welcome to the Masterlist of my OC Journal Entries!
This is a space to learn about each of my beloved OC's, find extra pieces from stories that I couldn't work in, background info etc!
How to use this list?
Clicking on the name of each OC will take you to their personal journal page with entries you can click on and read.
Clicking on Moodboard will take you to their main page which has their aesthetic moodboard, life details and links to stories of them or that they are in!
I just wanna make him happy. He deserves it. Enjoy!
Mayans MC belongs to Sutter, this fic and Bella belong to me but I belong to the brown-eyes of a certain Mr. Angel Reyes.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Damn it!”
Angel grumbled under his breath while moving his dresser to find the ring that fell behind it. Peeking behind it, the visible layer of thick dust there mocked his housekeeping efforts. Yanking on it again, he saw his ring but also spied the edge of a small, thin paperback book. Reaching for it with his fingertips, he drug it close enough to be able to pick it up, knowing what it was as soon as he got it in his hands. It was coated in dust so he blew on it rubbing it on his shirt, and fanning away the burst of dust particles he put in the air. Pulling out the white rectangle sticking out of it, he turned it over.
Standing still, he stared at the old image of himself in the photograph he had slipped between the book’s pages way back when - when it bothered him too much to look at it. It called him back to a different time, to years ago when his prospecting had just ended and the MC was doing so much work between Mexico and Oakland, that he had easily spent at least four days a week on the road. Oakland. Angel suffered through the business portions of every trip impatiently, knowing that once they arrived at whatever musty motel they were going to stay at, he could wash away the road grit and dive into the nightlife of the city. Angel loved where he was from but Oakland was a big fat melting pot of women, different languages and foods. Everything was different there, brighter and louder than his hometown of Santo Padre, he loved it...
And then he met her.
Angel heard her name when her group was introduced, but to him it wasn’t fitting - it didn’t carry any of the enchantment that he saw in her. He had watched her dancing, smiling, laughing and she was fluid and smooth like moving light. Beautiful. He put her given name aside and christened her anew. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear, and tried to hide her smile when he first called her Bella, drew him to her side. Her reaction made him forget all propriety and boldly he reached out to run his thumb down her jaw. Her lips parted in surprise and her eyes on him, wide and unblinking drew him in more.
“Let’s go outside a minute,” he said leaning down near her ear, unintentionally brushing his knuckles against her hand. His lips tipped up when she let her one of her fingers link with his.
After that, Angel’s nights in Oakland were spent in her small but modern and airy photography studio instead of stuffy, low rent motels with snoring roommates. He slept sprawled out on her low rise bed or curled up around her form and woke up smiling. They had been young, wild and absolutely unashamed of their attraction to each other. Every week that he returned to town they came together with the force of a collision and didn’t come up for air until one of them had to. They were uninhibited, hedonistic in her space but it was more than that. They were more than that. The exploration of bodies eventually lead to long talks, trust, connection. Angel wasn’t looking for what they made together but in finding it he tried to make it work until the club’s new demands outweighed his ability to get back to her. As the MC’s focus changed, Oakland saw less and less of him, until they both decided to call it. The regret in their final goodbye kiss left him bitter toward the entire city for years.
0.o.0.o.0
Bella.
Angel sat on the end of his bed fingering the edges of the photo. It was too late to shove it back into the old book or just slip it in a drawer - he was already inside of it…remembering. He could practically hear the rain that had battered her windows all that day. The darkened clouds and thunder had kept the MC from leaving Oakland that morning as scheduled. Marcus wanted everyone to stay put because riding on chrome in the wide, flat desert areas they had to travel to get home, was a death wish. Angel remembered that he had smiled wide at her over his shoulder hearing the ‘order’. Stripping off his cut, he jumped back into bed with her, joyous at discovering they had more time together.
They spent the day in bed letting the rain mold their mood into something lazy and playful. She lay in his arms showing him how to use one of her many handheld cameras, then sat at the foot of the bed posing for him. Just as he was about to take another photo of her. she jumped up.
“Angel, stay like that,” she had said with an excited look in her eyes, picking up an ancient camera from a display shelf. “Don’t move.”
To his embarrassment she began shooting him. Moving his position a little, then clicking away. Once she was finished, she disappeared into her small processing room. She had shooed him away from the tiny space many times before, so when she finally poked her head out to call him in, he was puzzled. Strolling inside the darkened room, Angel was confronted with the pungent smell of chemicals and her true talent. Standing behind her with his arm wrapped around her waist, he stared at the hanging prints of the images they had captured that day in astonishment.
“Look at this one,” she said handing it to him. Taking it from her, Angel was taken aback. While he recognized himself in it, having the bottom of his face partially covered by the camera and some of the upper portion cut from the frame entirely, made him look like a mystery yet to be revealed. She had given it a deep sepia finish that he couldn’t fully appreciate under the tinted lights but he knew the look was truer to their mood that day than color would have been. He was draped with a blanket and swathed in the shadows from the overcast gloom of the day. She chose not to lighten the picture, leaving the shadows on him deep and the background obscure. The effect emphasized muscle tone he didn’t even know he had. He couldn’t stop staring at this version of himself.
She watched his eyebrows knit together, curious and also pleased - he had never seen himself like this. Every choice she had made gave it a warm, soulful darkness.
“I look--,” Angel started to speak but faltered, embarrassed. He shook his head, smiling slightly, handing it back carefully by its edge. “That’s crazy.”
She understood his reaction, her clients had it all the time - especially men. Seeing themselves, their own beauty, captured and showcased this way always caught them off guard. “No,” she said quietly, hanging it back up. “it’s the way I see you.”
Moved by a feeling he didn’t understand, Angel held her face and kissed her like he never wanted to stop. Feeling thoroughly seen and surrounded by photos of their playtime, he expressed himself the only way he knew how. With booming rolls of thunder and crackles of lightning in lieu of music, he lifted her up and took her again against the cabinet door in the room where her creativity manifested hidden beauty.
0.o.0.o.0
Staring at his phone, Angel hovered his thumb over the screen. Letting his mind wander until her phone number started to come back to him in pieces. First came the area code, that was easy. Then the first three numbers that made a triangle on the keypad. And finally the correct order of the last four numbers, that shaped a square. After all this time I still do it…he thought. A triangle on top of a square, the way a child would draw a house - it was that way he had always remembered her phone number back then. Angel stroked down his mustache and beard with his hand smoothing over the beginnings of a smile thinking how EZ would have a field day with that bit of insight. Her number was a home.
Knowing it was Sunday and the likelihood of anyone answering was slim, Angel pressed send anyway. He stood up needing to pace a bit as it rang. By the fourth ring, he almost pressed the end button but something in him had to see if he had actually gotten the number correct.
“Thank you calling Precision Studios. How I can help you?”
The surprise of it being a person instead of a voicemail greeting, gave him a jolt. The silk of her voice was so familiar, he practically curled into the phone. His mouth opened but he couldn't think of a greeting that would cover the amount of time that had passed.
She spoke away from the mouthpiece to the chaos in her background, "Quiet, please.”
"Sorry, ma."
Ma? She has a kid. Should he be counting the years since they had last been together? Angel's brain flashed an image of her swollen with pregnancy. She must have been beautiful, he thought.
"Bella?" His name for her, the name he had owned her with, left his lips without regard for if she had a husband to go with that child. He heard shuffling and the background of voices got louder.
"Boys! Shut it!"
There's more than one. Angel smiled at her sass despite the fact that his chest did a little clutch at the thought of her having an entire family while the single life had his feet trapped in cement for all these years.
"I'm so sorry. How can I help you?"
"Bella.” The silence on her end forced him to say something more. “Yeah, uh...it's An--."
He barely got his name out when her drawn out gasp filled his ear. "Hoooooly shit." Her laugh was exactly as he remembered. "Angel?!"
Her quick recognition was a surprise to him, stripping away the many years that had put creases on his brow and streaks of silver in his beard. The excitement in her voice came across the line warming him to his toes and his smile grew, widening into a grin. “Yeah…ah, it’s me.”
“Hold on,” her words rushed out, nervous. “Can you? Just hold on a sec?”
“Yeah…no problem.” Now that she had said a few more words, he couldn’t believe that she sounded the same and he wondered if he did to her. Waiting, he sat back down on the side of the bed, wiping his suddenly sweaty, hands on his jeans. On the other end, all sound in the background cut off as she squirreled herself away someplace private.
"Angel Ignacio Reyes….my god.” He could feel the affection in her tone doing things to him, he couldn’t understand. “I…wow. How are you doing? I mean…how are you supposed to answer that, right?” Her breath left her chest in a chuckle that felt like a hug. “But yeah…how are you?"
I should have made this call a long time ago. Angel closed his eyes for moment letting the feeling of reconnection wash over him. With a lazy smile, he listened to her while leaning back on his bed to lay down, tucking his arm under his head. Bella. All thoughts of the ring he had dropped behind the dresser were forgotten for the woman responsible for the photograph laying next to him on the bed.
As per usual, this is beautifully written. The remembrance of love long gone just does it for me.
And. the image you used? Idk where you found it, but it makes me think of a more refined version of the gifs of him rolling around in bed:
Though I guess Angel did a lot of bed hopping and rolling. Lmafao! Always worth reposting! because WHAT!?
This writing, though?
He couldn’t stop staring at this version of himself.
She watched his eyebrows knit together, curious and also pleased - he had never seen himself like this. Every choice she had made gave it a warm, soulful darkness.
“I look--,” Angel started to speak but faltered, embarrassed. He shook his head, smiling slightly, handing it back carefully by its edge. “That’s crazy.”
She understood his reaction, her clients had it all the time - especially men. Seeing themselves, their own beauty, captured and showcased this way always caught them off guard. “No,” she said quietly, hanging it back up. “it’s the way I see you.”
And this:
After all this time I still do it…he thought. A triangle on top of a square, the way a child would draw a house - it was that way he had always remembered her phone number back then… Her number was a home.
This sentence/ paragraph:
“...while the single life had his feet trapped in cement for all these years.”
Makes me think of "cold feet" and also the old trope about how folks would weigh a body down with cement blocks. I find that really intriguing because single men, especially, often talk about being married as being "tied down" to the point where wives were once called "old ball & chain."
This is just an interesting viewpoint to read from someone we'd assume thinks "single" = "free." (except for his propensity to impregnate every woman in a 5-mile radius, it seems! that man was going to have him a family come hell or high water!🤣)
Finally, I remember enjoying the Issa Rae movie of the same name so that made this doubly sweet.
