#mayans fx

You had always been a doodler.

Not an artist. You would never have called yourself that. You could not sit in front of a blank page and produce anything worth framing, but give you a receipt, the corner of a shopping list or a napkin beneath your drink and it would be covered before you realised you had picked up a pen.

Flowers when you were listening.

Stars when you were tired.

Tiny faces when you were bored.

And houses when you were waiting.

They were nearly always the same. A small, narrow house with a sloping roof, two windows and a front door beneath a porch light. Sometimes you added steps. Sometimes a crooked little path. Once, when Angel had been particularly late getting home, you had drawn so many tiny lines around the porch light that it looked more like a sun.

You had never thought much about it.

Your hand simply knew the shape.

That Sunday morning, the house appeared beside coffee and washing powder on the shopping list.

Angel sat beside you at the kitchen table, close enough that his knee rested against yours. He was supposed to be helping, but he had contributed exactly one item before becoming more interested in the toast cooling on your plate.

“You eating that?”

You glanced at the untouched piece. “I was planning to.”

“You’ve been planning to for ten minutes.”

“I’m writing the list.”

“You’re drawing.”

You looked down.

The pen had wandered away from the actual shopping and started forming the slope of a roof in the margin.

“I can do two things at once.”

“Yeah?” Angel reached for the toast. “Then you can make another piece while you draw.”

You caught his wrist before he could take it.

“That’s mine.”

“You don’t even want it.”

“I might.”

Angel looked at you, then at the toast. “You want half?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re bargaining with me over my own breakfast.”

“Trying to keep things fair.”

“You already ate yours.”

“Wasn’t enough.”

You tore the toast in half and placed one piece on his plate.

Angel smiled, leaned over and kissed your temple. “Love you.”

“You’re saying that because I fed you.”

“Still counts.”

His arm settled across the table while he ate, the inside of his forearm turned towards you. You returned to the little house, adding the two windows beneath the roof.

Angel watched the pen move for a moment.

“You always draw that one.”

You glanced at him. “What one?”

“The little house.”

“I draw other things.”

“Yeah, but you draw that one a lot.”

You looked back down at it. “I suppose I do.”

There was no room left beside the path, so you turned the sheet slightly and tried to squeeze the final line into the margin.

Angel’s arm was in the way.

Without thinking, you continued the line over the edge of the paper and onto his skin.

He looked down.

You stopped with the pen still touching his forearm.

“Sorry.”

Angel lifted an eyebrow. “You just draw on me?”

“You were in the way.”

“I’ve been sitting here the whole time.”

“And you still didn’t move.”

His mouth curved as you added another small line to his skin, extending the path a little farther.

Angel rested his chin in his hand. “You better not draw a dick.”

You laughed. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Sound disappointed.”

“You’ve given me the idea now.”

“I mean it.”

“It would only be small.”

Angel stared at you.

You smiled sweetly.

“House,” he said. “Finish the house.”

“You’re very demanding for someone stealing my breakfast.”

“I said I loved you.”

“That bought you half a piece of toast. It didn’t buy you artwork.”

He turned his arm and offered you the empty stretch of skin properly. “What else you want?”

The teasing was there, but so was the softness beneath it. The quiet invitation. Angel could have moved his arm at any point. Instead, he left it in your hands.

You shifted closer.

“Stay still.”

“Wasn’t moving.”

“You move constantly.”

“Not true.”

You looked at him.

Angel settled deeper into his chair and placed his other hand on your thigh beneath the table. “I’ll be good.”

“That’ll be a first.”

He squeezed your leg gently.

You lowered the pen to his skin.

Drawing on him was different from drawing on paper. The muscle beneath your palm shifted whenever his fingers moved against your thigh, and the ballpoint dragged slightly over the fine hair on his arm.

You began with the roof, keeping the lines small enough to fit the clear patch between his tattoos. The walls followed, then two narrow windows and a front door with a tiny round handle.

Angel remained still.

It was unusual enough that you glanced at him once to make sure he had not fallen asleep.

He was watching you.

Not the drawing.

You.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“Can’t look at my arm. Your head’s in the way.”

“You could look somewhere else.”

“I am.”

The warmth in his expression made your hand pause.

Angel’s thumb moved slowly over your thigh, and he gave you a small smile.

You lowered your attention to his arm before he could see how easily he had flustered you.

The house was good.

Not perfect. The roof leaned slightly to one side, and the windows were not quite the same size, but it looked intentional rather than messy. You shaded one side of the walls with a few thin strokes and added two steps beneath the door.

The porch light came last.

A tiny dark circle beside the door, surrounded by delicate lines that made it glow.

You lifted the pen.

“Done.”

Angel turned his wrist to examine it.

The little house looked almost delicate among the darker, heavier tattoos around it.

“What do you think?” you asked.

He studied it for a few seconds. “Looks good.”

“Just good?”

“Really good.”

“That sounded forced.”

Angel looked at you. “You want me to clap?”

“A little enthusiasm would be nice.”

He brought your hand to his mouth and kissed the side of your index finger, just beneath the faint smudge of ink.

“I like it,” he said.

The simple sincerity of it warmed you more than enthusiastic praise would have.

You smiled. “Thank you.”

Angel looked back at the drawing. “What’s the light for?”

“The porch light?”

“Yeah.”

You shrugged, picking up your coffee. “So whoever lives there can find their way home.”

He continued looking at it.

You took a sip, then added, “Or so they know someone’s waiting for them.”

Angel’s eyes lifted to yours.

The mood shifted so gently that you might have missed it if you had not been watching him. His hand remained around yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles.

“Is that why you draw it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You draw them when you’re waiting for me.”

It was not really a question.

You thought of the electricity bill on your lap the night he came home after midnight. The napkin you had filled while waiting at the clubhouse. The little house on the back of an envelope after he called to say he was running late.

“Sometimes,” you admitted.

Angel’s gaze dropped to the house on his arm.

You felt suddenly exposed by something you had never meant to reveal.

“It isn’t supposed to be sad,” you said. “I just like knowing you’re coming back.”

His fingers tightened around yours.

“I’m coming back.”

“I know.”

“You always leave the lamp on.”

You smiled. “You noticed?”

“I notice everything you do.”

“That is absolutely not true. You didn’t notice I changed the curtains for three days.”

Angel leaned closer. “I notice the important shit.”

You looked at him for a moment, at the familiar warmth in his brown eyes and the tenderness he so often tried to hide behind an easy grin.

Then you kissed him.

Angel’s hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you there as he kissed you slowly. There was no hurry in it. No need to turn it into anything more. Just his mouth warm against yours and his thumb resting beneath your ear.

When you drew back, his eyes stayed closed for another second.

“You smudged your house,” you whispered.

Angel opened one eye.

A faint black mark had transferred onto your wrist where it had brushed against his arm.

He glanced between the smudge and the drawing.

“Worth it.”

You smiled and kissed him again.

The house faded over the following few days.

Angel made no effort to scrub it away, but he did not perform any ridiculous one-armed showers either. He simply let it remain, faintening naturally as he went about his life.

On Monday, the path disappeared.

By Tuesday, one of the windows had blurred.

On Wednesday evening, you caught him studying what remained of the porch light while the two of you lay in bed.

“You want me to draw it again?” you asked.

Angel lowered his arm and wrapped it around your waist.

“Nah.”

“You don’t like it anymore?”

“I didn’t say that.”

You settled closer, your cheek against his chest. “I could make the roof straighter next time.”

“Then it wouldn’t be the same house.”

You looked up at him.

Angel kissed your forehead before you could answer, then tucked your head back beneath his chin.

By Friday, the drawing was gone.

Life carried on.

The shopping was bought. The washing powder was forgotten despite being at the top of the list, which meant Angel had to make another trip to the shop. He insisted this was your fault for distracting him with the drawing.

You spent an evening at the clubhouse, another half asleep on the couch, and most of Sunday trying to convince Angel that leaving his boots directly in front of the door was going to kill one of you.

There was nothing unusual about the days that followed.

No secretive phone calls.

No suspicious sleeves.

No questions about the house.

The drawing became another little moment tucked among hundreds of others. Sweet enough to remember, ordinary enough not to hold too tightly.

Almost two weeks later, you were in the kitchen putting away the last of the dishes when Angel came home.

You heard his motorcycle first, the familiar rumble cutting off outside. A minute later, his key turned in the lock.

You left the mug in the cupboard and stepped into the hall.

Angel had barely closed the door before you wrapped your arms around him.

He laughed softly, one hand settling at your waist.

“Miss me?”

“You were gone all day.”

“Didn’t answer the question.”

You leaned back enough to look at him. “Maybe.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t get too excited.”

Angel kissed you anyway.

He tasted faintly of coffee, and his beard scratched lightly against your chin as the kiss deepened. His hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer until your body fitted against his.

When you parted, you stayed there, your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

“How was your day?” you asked.

“Long.”

“You hungry?”

“Always.”

“I left food in the oven.”

Angel kissed your forehead. “You’re perfect.”

“I know.”

He smiled and followed you into the kitchen.

You turned towards the cupboard for a plate while Angel reached past you for the glass on the draining board.

The light caught something on his forearm.

At first, your mind did not understand what you were looking at.

A clear square of protective film covered the inside of his arm. Beneath it, the skin was slightly pink, and in the centre of that pinkness sat a small black house.

Your house.

You stopped moving.

Angel brought the glass down and glanced at you.

Your eyes stayed fixed on his arm.

The sloping roof.

The uneven windows.

The narrow door and two little steps.

The tiny porch light glowing beside it.

Every line had been copied exactly.

Even the roof that leaned slightly too far to the left.

“Angel.”

He placed the glass on the counter.

You took hold of his wrist carefully, drawing his arm closer.

The house sat in the same place you had drawn it at the kitchen table. Small and neat among his other tattoos, as though the empty space had been saved for it.

“You got it tattooed.”

Angel watched your face.

“Yeah.”

The word was so calm, so simple, that for a moment you could only stare at him.

“When?”

“Today.”

“That’s where you were?”

“For some of it.”

You looked back at the tattoo.

There had been no clue.

No strange behaviour for you to pick apart. No attempt to draw your attention to his arm. Angel had left that morning as usual and come home carrying a permanent version of something you had thought would wash away.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you.”

The emotion rose all at once.

Not enough to make you cry immediately, but enough to tighten your throat and make the little house blur at the edges.

“You kept it exactly the same.”

“Told him to.”

“The windows aren’t even.”

“I know.”

“And the roof is crooked.”

“I know that too.”

“The artist could have made it better.”

Angel’s expression softened.

“Didn’t want better.”

You lifted your eyes to his.

“I wanted yours,” he said.

That did it.

Your eyes filled before you could stop them.

Angel’s face changed immediately. “Hey.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re crying.”

“I know.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I love it.”

Relief flickered across his face, followed by a small smile.

You laughed shakily and wiped beneath one eye without releasing his wrist.

“I really love it,” you said. “I’m just trying to understand why you’d let someone permanently put my little doodle on you.”

Angel looked down at the house.

For once, he did not answer with a joke.

“You said it meant somebody was waiting.”

You swallowed.

His thumb brushed gently across the back of your hand.

“I know I got the clubhouse,” he said. “Got my family. Always had somewhere I could show up.”

He paused, searching for words that did not come easily to him.

“But that ain’t the same thing as coming home.”

Your fingers tightened around his wrist.

Angel looked at you.

“You leave the light on for me,” he continued. “Don’t matter how late I am. Don’t matter what kind of day I’ve had. I know when I open that door, you’re gonna be here.”

“Angel…”

“You made that mean something good.”

He glanced at the little tattoo.

“Wanted to keep it.”

You touched the edge of the protective film with your thumb, careful not to press on the fresh ink.

“That’s why you got it?”

Angel shrugged faintly, but there was nothing casual in his eyes.

“It means home.”

The tears slipped free then.

You leaned forward and pressed a careful kiss to the skin beneath the tattoo.

Angel exhaled softly, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

You kissed the little porch light through the clear film before straightening.

“You know it doesn’t mean the apartment,” you said.

His hand slid down to the side of your neck. “I know.”

“It means us.”

“I know that too.”

There was no teasing in the words. No effort to make the moment smaller because it frightened him.

Only certainty.

You stepped into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek against his chest.

Angel held you tightly, one hand moving slowly over your back.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

You listened to his heartbeat beneath your ear and breathed in the familiar scent of leather, soap and the outside air that still clung to him.

The oven hummed behind you.

His abandoned glass sat empty on the counter.

Everything around you was painfully ordinary, which somehow made it mean even more.

This was what home had become.

Not a place untouched by fear or difficulty. Not something perfect.

It was Angel coming through the door at the end of the day.

It was his boots beside yours and his hand finding the small of your back whenever he passed.

It was making enough food for two without having to think about it.

It was knowing he would come back and making sure he knew you were waiting.

You pulled back just enough to look at him.

“I can’t believe you did this.”

Angel’s mouth curved. “Good surprise?”

“The best.”

He leaned down and kissed you softly.

“I love you,” he murmured against your mouth.

“I love you too.”

You kissed him again, your fingers slipping into his hair as his arm tightened around your waist.

When you finally drew apart, you looked down at the tattoo once more.

“It really is crooked.”

Angel gave you a warning look.

“I love that it’s crooked,” you assured him.

“Better.”

“And you kept the tiny smudge beside the step.”

“Said I wanted it exact.”

“You’re secretly very sentimental.”

“No, I ain’t.”

“You permanently tattooed my drawing on your body.”

Angel opened his mouth.

You raised a finger. “There is no argument you can make that will win this.”

He considered it, then nodded. “Fair.”

You smiled and pressed one last careful kiss to his forearm.

Angel watched you, affection softening every part of his face.

“You hungry?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

“I made enough for you.”

His fingers threaded through yours.

“Knew you would.”

You started towards the oven, but Angel kept hold of your hand and pulled you back for another kiss.

This one was deeper, though still unhurried, his palm warm against your waist.

When he released you, you were both smiling.

“You know,” you said, “I draw other things too.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Don’t get carried away.”

“I’m just saying there’s plenty of room left.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You haven’t even seen my flowers.”

“One tattoo.”

“My stars are pretty good.”

“One.”

“I could draw something on your shoulder.”

Angel pointed towards you with his newly tattooed arm. “You better not draw a dick.”

You laughed, and his expression softened into a grin.

“No promises.”

He pulled you against him again, pressing a kiss to your temple as you tucked yourself beneath his chin.

On his forearm, the little porch light remained.

A quiet promise in black ink.

Someone was waiting.

He was expected home.

—

“Hey baby, can I use your phone to call mine, I can’t find it,” (Name) asked, walking into the living room.

Coco was admittedly distracted by the Soccer game he was watching on TV that he just handed her his phone. Not that it would matter much he had nothing to hide…at least from her.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile.

“No problem, Ma,” Coco said.

Unaware of the storm that was coming his way.

It was only a minute later when the TV was unceremoniously blocked by his girlfriend looking at him with eyes full of fire. He looked at her confused. She never looked at him like that.

“What?” He asked.

“What is my name in your phone?” She asked.

“What?” Coco asked again, confusion lacing his voice.

“Johnny, what is my name in your phone?!” She demanded.

“Reina, you know that,” he said.

“Right, then who the fuck is in here under Mi Corazon, Johnny?” She asked crossing her arms over her chest.

Realization dawned on the Mayan’s face, “Wait, wait…Ma, it’s not what it looks like.” He began to stammer.

“Oh really? What is it then, cause to me it looks like you’re fucking around on me!” She snapped, covering her hurt with anger, but Coco could see it.

He never planned for her finding that other name in his phone.

“(Name), you’re Mi Corazon,” he tried to explain, “It’s nobody else but you! There’s not another woman in my phone!”

“Bullshit, I know what I saw, you have my number in there under Reina, since we got together, but now there’s another woman you were talking to this morning under Mi Corazon!”

Coco cursed, he didn’t know how to explain it without sounding like a jackass. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, I only talked to you this morning.” He said, doing his best to not raise his voice.

“Yeah, and someone else, obviously!” (Name) was not going to put up with anyone stepping out on her.

But Coco knew he wasn’t, he wouldn’t do that to her. She should know that. But…he also knew what this had to look like. He should have told her when he first put that contact in his phone. Now it almost felt like there was no explaining it.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you! It’s you! It’s your work number!” Coco said, his voice just barely elevated, hoping for her to finally listen to him.

“Oh bullshit!” (Name) glared.

“I’m serious!” Coco exclaimed, “When you got that dumb work phone I was on a run across the border, remember?” He explained, “So I just added it as a new contact cause I didn’t have to think more. I was just gonna fix it later…but it made sense to me to keep different…”

Coco wasn’t usually this calm in arguments. But he knew he was right. And he also knew how (Name) could get down on herself. He’d been trying to be a better man for her. But it was hard when he was being accused of something he would never do to her. Never in a million years.

And she had to know that. He would swear she did.

But having two different contacts for the same woman did sound silly.

“What on earth?” She exclaimed, “How on earth does that make any sense?! Is this some kind of joke?”

Coco rubbed the back of his neck. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this. He knew why it worked in his mind.

“It’s not a joke, check the number for it, Mi Corazon,” he said.

She opened the phone again, knowing his password by heart. Another reason he knew she shouldn’t doubt him. He wasn’t hiding shit from his woman. He wanted her to know that.

“Don’t call me that right now!” She grumbled as she scrolled through his contacts, muttering to herself.

Realization dawned on her as she recognized the number under the contact ‘Mi Corazon’ as her work cellphone. The one the clinic just gave everyone to be used at work while personal phones were in their lockers. She gave Coco the number as soon as she could just in case he needed to reach her while she was on the clock.

Emergencies happens.

She looked at him unamused. “Why on earth wouldn’t you just add this to my usual contact?!” She asked.

“I was going to…but like…you got in trouble that one time when your coworker overheard me telling you just what I planned to do to you when you got home…” he explained and she nodded, “I don’t talk like that when you call me from the work number, right?”

“No…” she began.

“That’s why! Cause when I see Mi Corazon, I know it’s your work phone and I shouldn’t talk dirty,” He said, watching the realization hit her, “If it was all under Reina I wouldn’t think to check what phone number it is and just talk like usual…”

(Name) took a deep breath, “Why didn’t you tell me right away?!” She asked, feeling both embarrassed and still irritated, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

“I forgot when I got back, and then it just kinda…I got used to it…” he said, reaching out for her, trying to comfort her, grinning softly.

(Name) pulled away from him and shook her head, "This isn't funny Johnny…” she said and walked off, trying to work out how she was feeling.

—

“She left before I got up today and didn’t even text me all morning…” Coco sighed, “I mean it made sense to me…honestly if she wasn’t so pissed off it’s kinda funny…”

“Dude…you’re a fucking dumbass” Gilly laughed, “You gotta tell a woman that shit…no wonder she thought you were fooling around on her.”

Angel agreed, shaking his head and chuckling. Coco groaned. He knew that Gilly was right. But still, it made sense to him to do it.

Before he could say anything else both Gilly and Angel got up and walked off. He looked at them confused before he heard a voice he was almost afraid he never would hear again.

“Johnny, can we talk?” (Name) asked.

Coco stood up quickly and nodded. Leading her out to the front porch of the Mayans Clubhouse. He didn’t want an audience if she was gonna dump him.

“Querida, I…” he began, only for her to cut him off.

“I’m sorry Johnny, I do believe you wouldn’t cheat…but that scared me, you have to understand that, another name in your phone…a pet name…fuck Johnny…I was going to leave you last night…cause I won’t be treated that way… you know that…” she explained.

“No, mi amor, this is on me, I should have told you…I don’t blame you for thinking that…” he said and reached for her, relieved she let him hold her again.

He didn’t realize how scared he would be of losing her. He hugged her tightly.

“Tell me when you do something like this next time, babe,” she mumbled.

“Of course, Mi Corazon,” he murmured and kissed the side of her head.

She pinched his side making him cry out and laugh, "Careful with that pet name for a while, Johnny,” she teased.

Coco just laughed and nodded, hugging her tighter. He knew they would laugh about this one day. Maybe that day would come sooner than he expected.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t think he’d be that big of an ass” stated Letty quietly as she sat next to you, eyes full of worry and a frown on her face. All she had wanted was to get you two back together and she feared she had ruined the chance especially after how poorly he had done when she had told him where you would be on your date earlier in the week. He had come home angrier than she had ever seen him. Punched a hole in his door then cried himself to sleep. The next morning he repaired the door and acted like nothing had happened.

“It’s okay. He’s hurt” you soothed as you pulled her in for a hug. “Under that hard ass exterior is just a guy who bleeds easy”. Letty nodded as she hugged you back. The two of you sat in silence for a bit until the doorbell rang.

“That should be the pizza.” Stated Letty as she got up and grabbed the couch Coco had thrown from the table and floor. “I’ll get it if you wanna get changed?”

You nodded as you pushed yourself off the couch. Grabbing your overnight bag from the floor and moving to the hall where the bedroom and bathroom were. Your lip trembled as a tear slipped down as you stood outside Cocos room. Normally you would change there….well normally you wouldn’t have an overnight bag to be honest. He had cleared out drawers for you, space in his closet, bathroom. He had opened up more than just his bed to you. The scent of him lingered and wrapped around you comfortingly as you took a step inside before quickly stepping back out and going into the bathroom across the hall.

You quickly changed into a tank top and a pair of shorts. Glancing in the mirror you frowned at your puffy and tear soaked face. Turning on the water you washed your face, giving yourself a few minutes to calm down. You still loved Coco and wanted nothing more than to erase what you had done. Your family had been wrong saying he wasn’t good enough, that he would hurt you in the end. You had wanted to tell him that when you got here but he had been so upset at the sight of you that he had stormed out after an argument with letty.

Mayans Clubhouse

Coco sat in a dim corner of the clubhouse. Fingers tapping on the weathered table as he sipped his beer. His eyes focused on nothing as his mind ran through the last week. He sighed as he pulled his phone from his pocket and pulled up Lettys number. Quickly he shot her a text apologizing for being an ass. Shit was just too fresh for him to sit and eat with you and watch a movie. After hitting send his thumbs moved and scrolled to your contact information. He sat for a few minutes before sending a simple text- my bad- before he pocketed his phone and went back to his beer. His mind back on you and how much he needed you back. After his behavior this week though he doubted he had a chance. Tossing the rest of his beer into the trash he made his way out of the clubhouse and too his bike. A drive would help clear his mind before he headed home.

Coco’s House

Letty yawned and stood up stretching as she did so as the end credits on the movie you two had been watching rolled. “I’m heading to be, You staying up?” she inquired as she looked over to you.

“Yeah. Gonna play a game on my phone for a bit. Sleeping has been difficult lately” you replied with a smile before she nodded and cut the tv off before heading down the hall to her room. Standing up you cleaned the last bit of trash from dinner from the coffee table. Loading the dishwasher you started it before grabbing a glass of water. Grabbing your phone you scrolled for a bit before quietly getting up and making your way down the hall to Coco’s room. Quietly you turned the light on and shut the door behind you. Swallowing hard you made your way around the space you used to hold, fingers drifting over his clothes in the closet, bringing them to your nose and inhaling the safe scent of your ex.

Sitting on his side of the bed your eyes landed on his nightstand. Your hand moving to the side and the hidden door opening. Your eyes skimmed over the contents. Various polaroid’s of you and him during playtime. Flash drives that you knew held hours and hours of videos. Toys, the contract you two had  made up and the special chocolates he made for when you wanted to wake up and not remember him having used you. You sighed as your hands rummaged into the bag and pulled out two of the chocolates before shutting the cabinet door back. Standing up you unwrapped and popped one of the chocolates in your mouth figuring at least they would help you sleep.

Quietly you made your way back out to the couch. Feeling the warmth of the laced chocolate course through you. Grabbing your phone off the table you scrolled to Cocos contact and sent him a message. –Hey….could we talk tomorrow….clear the air?- You watched as the text bubbles popped up showing he was typing.

-Yeah-

You frowned as you opened up and ate the second chocolate. At least he was agreeing even if he didn’t say anything further you thought.

Later

It was quiet when Coco walked through the door. Hanging up his kutte as he slipped his boots off before making his way to his room. His eyes caught your sleeping form on the couch, curled up. His face softened some as he moved to grab a blanket from the stand you had got him when you first moved in. As he moved to drape the blanket over you his eyes caught sight of the wrappers on the coffee table. His heart raced as he realized they were the special ones. He swallowed hard as he considered his options even as his jeans felt tight as his cock hardened.

You two weren’t together anymore but the contract you two had made up had a section that explicitly stated no matter the relationship status if you ate the chocolates in his house you were fair game. Carefully he slipped a hand into your shorts closing his eyes as his fingertips hit wetness before he withdrew them. Fuck it he thought as he tossed the blanket to the back of the couch before lifting you up in his arms. You murmured but didn’t wake as he carried you to his room.

Once inside he tossed you too his bed before leaving and making his way down to Lettys room and pulling her door shut. Making his way back into his room he shut the door and flipped the latch before yanking his shirt off. Moving to the bed he grabbed your ankles and jerked you down so your ass was at the edge of the bed before grabbing the knife on his belt and cutting your shorts and panties off. Dropping to his knees he tossed your legs over his shoulders and inhaled your sweet scent before kissing and nipping at your inner thighs making you whimper in your sleep. He grinned against your skin as he nipped his way up your right thigh, tongue tracing the heart and arrow tattoo with his initials before reaching your hot wet center. Flattening his tongue he licked a strip all the way up to your clit before wrapping his mouth around the delicate bud and sucking as he used two fingers to pump into you slowly. Your let out a low moan as your soft walls clamped around him, a gush of fluid filling his mouth as he continued his worship of your body with his mouth and hands. Your whimpers and whines filling the room as he lost himself in you.

Finally he couldn’t take the throbbing of his cock any longer and he pulled himself from you as he worked his jeans and boxers off. Grabbing his cock he moaned as he pumped it a few times as he looked over your splayed body and glistening pussy. His thumb spreading precum across the head as he took a moment to consider looking for a condom. The two of you had stopped using them long ago since you were on the pill and he truthfully hadn’t been with anyone since you two broke up so he had not restocked.

Fuck it he thought as he got on the bed on top of you. His cock sliding through your wet folds as he kissed and sucked at your neck. He had always wanted to be a dad again anyway. If you were dumb enough to eat the chocolates you probably were off the pill. What happens happens he figured. Even if you didn’t get back together maybe you would be tied to him if you got pregnant tonight. Sitting up he grabbed his cock and lined up with your center before slowly thrusting forward. He bit his lip as he groaned, his eyes locked on where your bodies met. Your tight pussy slowly taking even thick, hard inch of him. Once he was settled deep inside he closed his eyes as he felt your flutter and clench around him. Placing his hands on your knees to keep you spread wide he started slowly thrusting in and out of you trying to draw this out as long as possible. Until finally he had his hands wrapped around your throat as he fucked you hard into his mattress, his cock shooting thick ropes of cum into your womb as you moaned and you’re back arched in your sleep. Panting he collapsed on top of you as his cock continued to twitch inside of you.

Next Morning

You blinked against the bright light filtering into the room. Head heavy and foggy as you tried to recall anything after the movie with Letty. She had went to bed and you had not been tired so had stayed up and had some of Cocos stash of candy.

With a start you bolted up. Eyes wide as you realized you were in his room, his bed and naked. Marks littered your skin and you could feel stickiness between your thighs. Surely not you thought as you swallowed hard as tears pricked at your lash line. Before you could do anything else the door flew open and your eyes met Cocos.

"Aye I need you to get dressed and beat it Mami. Me and the kid are going out for father daughter bonding" he stated as he looked you over with a grin.

"Why" you started as tears slipped down your cheeks.

Coco cut you off before you could say anything else." You knew the rules with those chocolates babe. If you didn't want it then you wouldn't have had them. Just cause you dumped me doesn't mean those rules don't exist anymore" he stated firmly though his eyes softened as the tears slipped down.

“I know…but im not on the pill” you stated quietly as you watched him move to the bed before wiping your tears away with his thumb.

Coco sighed as he wiped away your tears before moving to his dresser and grabbing his wallet. “Look we can do this a couple of ways.” He stated as he fished some cash out and held it up. “You can take this cash and go to the pharmacy and get Plan B and we never talk about this again,  you can leave and what happens happens or you can stay get yourself cleaned up and go to the store and have dinner for me and the kid done when we get home so we can forget this silly little breakup.” He finished as he watched you closely.

You swallowed hard as you thought over his words. You had wanted to get back together yes….but was this how you wanted it to be. “I want to stay, I love you Coco” you stated after a few minutes before getting up and moving to him.

“Love you too” murmured Coco as he pulled you in for a kiss before pulling away. “Get back on the bed and ass up for me real quick.” He stated as his hands moved to work his belt and jeans down. You nodded eagerly as you did what was asked.

“Keep quiet” he stated before notching his head at your entrance before slamming into you. You bit down into the sheets as he fucked you hard and fast before cumming in you. With a slap to your ass he pulled out and yanked his pants back up as you heard Letty call for him.

“Things are gonna be a bit different around here love. You only get to leave on your own once” stated Coco before he made his way out the door as you lay on his bed with his cum dripping down your thighs.

You guess the saying is true, men and women can’t be friends without one of them catching feelings. Unfortunately, this time it’s you who’s been bitten by the bug. You and Angel have been friends for so long it feels like he’s always been a part of your life. So much so that your family knows and welcomes him. You weren't always as close as you are now but in the past six months you’ve found yourself thinking about him more than usual. Stealing looks while he laughs, getting a little jealous when he flirts with the girls around the club and missing him more than you should when he goes on runs. Instead of leaning into it you've been trying to pull away and get a grip on ballooning emotions. In true Angel fashion he’s shown up anyways to complete a project you asked him to do since last month. You hand him a glass of fresh lemonade and he takes it wiping the sweat from his brow.

“I'm starting to think this friendship is unequal,” he huffs, taking another sip. You smile looking at the fruits of his manual labour. He’s built you two bookcases in the past hour. Aside from your need for a place to house your hobby, there's a benefit to having Angel performing the task in his wife-pleaser, slightly sweaty, muscles bulging as he lifts the heady wood, searching through piles of brackets, bolts and screws assembling them. His arms, his hands, his attention. Swallowing you look away from him trying to get a grip…

“You do the physical labour and I do the intellectual” you smile tapping the wood.

“Hmm, that’s how this works?” he asks looking up as he slides another shelf into place.

“Yup” you smile “Looks good”

“Where do You want them?” He asks standing. He’s substantially taller than you.

“Over there” you point. He moves them into place without struggle, looking down you find they're on wheels.

“You change your mind too much. I’m not gonna put my back out” he huffs in his angel way and you flip him off playfully.

“While my indecision marinates, my mom wants to know if you want to stay for dinner?” you ask.

“I thought we were going out to eat later?” he asks, raising a brow.

“You know how they are about home cooked meals versus spending money and eating out” you roll your eyes and he smiles.

“Why don’t we eat here then and hangout after?” He offers.

“Ok” you smile and repeats it mockingly in your exact tone. He’s missed you. You hadn't been around lately and it was grating on his nerves. He’d stay up late sometimes staring at the ceiling wondering if there was someone else you were spending your time with. He’d even woken up in cold sweats from nightmares of seeing you out with someone else.

You end up at Angels where you spend almost as much time as you do at your own home. It’s in desperate need of decoration and a feminine touch. He wouldn’t even have cookware and dishware if it weren't for you.

“Come on, the sick shit is about to start” he calls like a big kid from the couch. You smile relishing in the moments where he’s unguarded and animated. Where the smile overtakes the intimidating appearance of a large man with a muscular build and tattoos a part of a motorcycle club.

“Almost done” you shout, loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Y/N!” He shouts impatiently and you wash your hands quickly heading to see the action beginning. You sit beside him and he kisses the top of your head wrapping an arm around you. It’s a level of intimacy you don’t share with anyone else. You hold him back and he puts your legs over his. Your mom has said a thousand times that you’re too close to not be together. She thinks it’s a recipe for disaster and right about now you believe her. You don't know when you fell asleep but you wake up to Angel carrying you.

“It’s alright, I got you” he whispers, carrying you into his bed. You doze off again and feel him put a shirt over your tank before peeling off your leggings. You stir again when he comes back smelling like he just had a smoke. He heads to the bathroom. He gets into the bed gingerly considerate of your sleep. Sleepily you scoot over to his warm body and his arms find themselves around yours. You fall asleep in no time.

———-

It’s been awhile since you've  been woken up to morning wood. Angel's dream must be a good one. You smile sliding away from the active appendage and head into the bathroom. Evidence of your proximity is all over. You have a section in his bathroom. When you lift the face wash you smile because it’s lighter than usual. He’s been using it too. You find the dishwasher emptied  and start on breakfast. Angel comes in half an hour later looking like a daydream, with bedroom hair and sleepy eyes.

“Smells good” He mutters.

“I tried” you admit putting a plate in front of him. 

“What are you up to today?” He asks.

“Putting my books away”

“Those things are filthy” He jokes, eating the bacon with his hands like a caveman.

“Whatever” you roll your eyes and he smiles all the way to his eyes very amused.

“Aww she’s blushing” he teases.

“Shut up” you laugh sitting with your own plate.

“What’s up, you’ve been a little distant. Work or mama stressing you out?” He asks attentively. There’s no hiding from him.

“Maybe both”

“You don’t need the job. I told you you can manage the bar” he offers in a bid to keep you close.

“I didn’t go to school to manage the bar.”

“So what, you're gonna be like this for longer?” He asks.

“Explain how I’m being?” you ask suspiciously.

“Not in the moment.” He says “In your head and not letting me in” he says.

“We’ll I'm working through some things”

“What?” he panics internally.

“Personal things” you shrug casually looking into your plate.

“Come on!” He laughs. “We’re practically one person” he snaps, tossing his fork into the plate and sitting back.

“I’m getting my period, who knows it may just pass” you lie.

He deadpans, “You don’t think I know you get your period at the beginning or end of the month. You just lied” he says and you laugh shocked at his attentiveness.

“Angel!” you laugh shocked but he’s not amused.

“You’re seeing someone aren’t you? One of those sissy pretty boys you know I won’t approve of” he says making you smile.

“No, I’m not” you affirm and he relaxes a touch.

“Not a pretty boy?” He raises a brow.

“I'm not seeing anyone” you tell him honestly but it doesn't settle him.

“Y/N, you can tell me so I can look into him. You’ve only been here once this week” he says and you sit on his lap. It's what made Angel different from the rest of the guys you'd been friendly with. He wasn’t trying to control you, he'd be right by your side when the shit got sticky. He’d let you live and he’d clean up all the mess without judgement.

“I’m not seeing anyone, there’s no one you need to kill. I’ve just been trying to get my shit together” you explain and he holds you close.

“You can get your shit together here. There’s enough space for the both of us.”

“What happens when you decide to go steady with one of the barfly’s?” you ask leaning into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Not gonna happen” He laughs holding you close.

“Remind me to take you back to the gym. Gotta get you better at boxing in case one of these creeps you don't want to tell me about gets out of hand.” he says. He runs his thumb over your knuckles. You feel compelled to tell him the full truth. You get up and pour yourself some water.

“You’re doing it again, wait did one of the guys say or do something?” He stands.

“No, the guys are well, they're great in their own special way…” you shrug, turning your back to him.

“Y/N, you’re killing me here” Angel snaps.

“Angel, don’t feel weird about this okay?”

“No promises” he huffs, leaning forward attentively.

“I’ve been having, I don’t know…” you trail, having never been here before.

“Y/N spit it out” Angel says worriedly.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what us together would be like” You admit. He stills for a while before he finally blinks and his posture relaxes. When he finally takes a breath he places a hand on his heart. His eyes close and he shakes his head in amusement.

“Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again” he warns with a smile. It throws you for a loop. 

“I’m here thinking you’re hurt or sick or in danger” Angel snaps.

“I’m not sure I’m not” you joke and he smiles coming over.

“Way better than those books” he says standing in front of you closing the space between the both of you and running his hands down your shoulders to hold both of your hands.

“Huh?” you ask looking up at him.

“Us together, it would be way better than those books” he smiles. Your cheeks burn before you smile back. “It’s about time hermosa” he smiles leaning down and placing a kiss on your lips. It’s the first and hopefully the first of many.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“It means I’ve been waiting for you to come around for awhile now” he says candidly.

“Since when?” you laugh shocked.

“Since the pool party” he says and that was nearly a year ago.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask.

“Showing you was better” he says and you think of all the ways our connection has evolved this year. You stand against the counter and he closes the space between you again. He kisses you harder this time. You make out like teenagers and it sends my heart racing. You’re breathless when it ends and you rest your head on his chest. He rubs circles onto your back.

“I just knew you were a good kisser,” he mumbles.

“I need to sort my room out, we can pick this back up later” you tell him wanting more but needing some time to process your excitement and all the new info.

“Why? You don’t need those books anymore” he says, appealing to every one of your senses.

“They aren’t all about sex Angel, just the few you happened to pick up” you reason and he shakes his head knowing it's another half truth.

“You into that shit? The guy getting a little rough and being dominant?” He asks playfully, grabbing you by the neck. He’s never been rough before and your smile answers the question. 

His eyes close in appreciation and excitement. “Shit” he smiles, coming in for another kiss. This one is soft in spite of your acceptance or his rougher side. It’s perfect though.

“You can tell me what you’re into when I’m done” you smile pushing him away determined not to walk into your home freshly fucked after a night out. After all the waiting you and Angel need more than a few hours, all day and all night.

“I’m a simple man,” he says in surrender. “Pretty sure I’ll like anything you do to me” he says, making you laugh.

“Walk me out” you tell him like you would any other time. He gets the door of your car for you as usual but when he hugs you he takes a handful of ass.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he says, validating your feelings.

“Make it a habit” you whisper, kissing his cheek. Angel steps back, closing the door with a full heart and a stiffy.

“Plan to” he smiles knowing there's absolutely no way he's gonna be able to keep his hands off of you. Not even after he's touched every inch of your skin and given you every inch of him. Not after you become a Reyes or after you have a little one making your stomach swell. Not after your home is filled with children and he has to sneak into the bathroom for some alone time in the shower. Not when his hair is more salt than pepper, not when his hands are too weathered to ride his bike anymore. 

Not ever.

*

She wouldn't have believed that in one year, in 365 days, her life had done a complete 180. Just a year ago, she stood inside her flower shop, completely unaware that the customer that contributed to her business's success the most, was the secret admirer that'd come from the shadows to introduce himself as Miguel Galindo.

It wasn't everyday that the city's most notorious businessman, equal parts handsome and nefarious, would find solace in her small flower boutique on the outskirts of the city. Hell, it wasn't everyday that a man as intentional as him was in her space.

It started small. From orders every few weeks that he said were "flowers for his mother's home," which she supported and inwardly awed at. Then, they translated to something bigger--carefully selected variations of flowers that would arrive to the same place they were purchased from, with her name on the tag.

She should not have been floored. Men did grand gestures all the time with no true intention behind it. Temporary consistency to get in her pants was not a foreign concept. Miguel wasn't like the other men, though. He was...mature. Grown. Sexy. Intentional. She could go on and on, but her lips would knot from the speed in which she'd ramble.

What started as simple flirting transitioned to date nights every week, where he arrived to her home with a carefully curated bouquet in his hands. "For you, cariño." Her cheeks touched her eyes as she examined the flowers. Tulips. Multicolored tulips.

"These are beautiful, Miguel, thank you," she inhaled deeply. "How'd you pick them this time?" She took his awaiting hand and followed toward their vehicle for the evening. Miguel shrugged a shoulder and smiled smugly. "I noticed you have a thing for wearing pink, yellow, and white in one outfit. Like today."

Her eyes fell to her outfit. A pink shirt, yellow cardigan over her shoulders, white jeans, and pink sandals. How'd he come to know her like the back of his hand in just six months was beyond her. She smiled, stood on her toes, and pecked his cheek. "Such good attention to detail, darling. Thank you."

She didn't expect an engagement that night. They'd only been dating for five months. She wished her frontal cortex had caught up with the way her heart forced her brain to instruct her lips to say, "Yes." But it didn't. She started the day as someone's girlfriend and ended it as a fiancee'.

The wedding was four months later. It was small, as she preferred, and held in the backyard of a house that purchased with the intent to turn it into a home. Just them, before their loved ones and before God, grateful for an unexpected union.

"Hi," she whispered and squeezed his hands as they stood at the alter. "I'm excited to marry you."

Miguel smiled back. "Me too. Gracias a Dios, para ti."

Within three months of their nuptials, they were staring at a line of positive pregnancy tests, warped with excitement and nerves. She dropped her hand from her mouth and turned in his lap. "We're gonna be parents, Miguel."

If only words in the dictionary, either English or Spanish, could describe the love in his eyes when he looked at her, he'd use them. But there were never enough. Never enough words to emphasize how stunning she was as her belly grew bigger, as her face glowed, and as her body changed to accommodate the life she brought into world on a rainy April morning. The family of two had grown into a family of three with the arrival of a baby boy with the rich complexion of his mother, and the glowing brown eyes of his father.

"You are...incredible," Miguel whispered in her ear as he glanced at their son, who had his tiny hand wrapped around his father's finger. "Thank you."

Their anniversary came fast. It was another day in the flower shop, save her days were often much shorter since becoming a mother. Just as she prepared to leave for the day, she was stopped by one of her employees carrying a bouquet toward her with a small smile. "For you before you go."

"I'm up." You grunted at the alarm clock, your hand flailing out and tapping the nightstand in search of the offending item.

Bishop was already stirring alongside of you; his arm had been wrapped around your naked waist. He untangled himself from you as he heard your valiant struggle to shut off the clock. He reached across you, his nude skin caressing yours as he smacked the alarm clock off.

"Got it." he uttered; his voice rough from sleep.

His muscular form settled over his yours, his mouth covered your own, brushing over your lips with the softest of kisses.

"Good morning." You whispered against his mouth as your hands roamed along the defined curvature of his back.

"Hm, let me see what I can do to make it better..." he teased as lips sought out that sensitive spot underneath the curve of your jaw.

His mouth felt so good against your skin, you could feel the heat rolling over your flesh as he began to harden against your inner thigh. God, you were already wet at the prospect of him making love to you. It wouldn't take more than a simple movement. His palms were already ghosting over your breasts, your nipples to stiffening.

This was perfect right now, he was perfect...

The chiming of the doorbell cut through the air as you let out a needy moan. Bishop's entire body sagged as he let out a frustrated growl at the intrusion. He wanted to ignore that sound more than anything in the universe right now.

Bishop shuffled out of bed like a petulant child, yanking on his clothes as he muttered under his breath. His grey sweatpants managed to cover the evidence of his arousal. He cast a glance at you over his left shoulder as the doorbell chimed once more.

You looked like a goddess tangled up in the white sheets. You’d drawn them up to cover your breasts in order to give yourself some modesty.

"Don't move." he ordered you, that wicked glint in his eyes. "And do not start without me."

"I make no promises." You informed him with a sultry pout, your hand disappearing beneath the sheets.

"Fuck it." he murmured, before stripping off his sweatpants and climbing back into bed. "This is far more important."

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