#mfy

the Thing...

He reached towards you, running a hand over your head and eliciting a sleepy sigh as you snuggled further into him.

It had been a while since Angel had woken up before you. Hell, it had been a while since you’d been able to get through a whole night next to each other without someone or something interrupting you. Things with the club had been crazy, each day bringing new decisions that could make or break the charter. You had been staying longer at the coffee shop after stepping up as manager, adjusting to your new responsibilities and trying to think of ways to keep the place from sinking alongside so many of the other businesses in Santo Padre.

It was unavoidable and you both understood that but still, Angel missed you. He couldn’t remember that last time you had just been able to enjoy each other’s company. An afternoon full of Angel making corny jokes, you rolling your eyes at all of them whilst trying to hold back your grin and it all turning into one big makeout session on the couch that made you both forget about all the other shit happening in your lives.

You were good at that, at making Angel see past the things there were clouding his head and his judgement. You were patient with him, waiting for him to be ready to share whatever had him twisted up. He would always be grateful for that. He would always be grateful for you.

You had given him a shot when he most definitely didn’t deserve it. The first day he had met you he’d been an absolute fucking mess. He had been trying to process EZ’s betrayal; both the lies about why he’d wanted to join the club and the fact that Angel needed to keep it a secret from his club brothers to protect his actual brother. Between that and his Pops keeping shit from him, though that hadn’t really surprised him, Angel had been going in circles to avoid dealing with things.

That day he’d been walking along the main street in town, not ready to go back to the club house and put in the effort to avoid the Prospect. He’d had to stick to one end of the street too, trying to stay as far away from the carniceria as possible to avoid his Pops. All of it was making him very tired. He remembered stepping into the coffee shop in the hopes of seeing unfamiliar faces that wouldn’t badger him about why he wasn’t talking to his brother.

He’d been in a couple of times before that day with the other guys but hadn’t ever really paid attention to who was behind the counter. That day, though, you had managed to pull him out of his head and he’d found himself wanting to make conversation for the first time in days. He’d flirted with you, pushing the boundaries of appropriateness as was his M.O. You had barely given him the time of day but there had been something, the tiniest sparkle in your eye, that suggested that maybe you wouldn't mind it if he kept coming around.

So he did.

Months went by and he found himself building a friendship with you. It started with more coffee-shop flirting and before Angel knew it, he was filing away stories to tell you, saving jokes he knew you would like and tales of all of the stupid shit his club brothers did on a regular basis. Eventually, he started turning up to share your lunch break. It wasn’t just time and laughter, either. Angel shared things with you that he hadn’t told anyone else and he found that he actually wanted to.

He hadn’t really had that before. He hadn’t had a person who would just hear the things he had to say; who would let him share and rant without pointing out his faults in whatever had occurred. That didn’t mean that you didn’t point out his own accountability, but you let him get his side of things out first. He didn’t feel like he was in second place when he was talking to you and he hadn’t realised how much he’d been craving that.

Angel had been venturing into the coffee shop for a couple of months when he finally asked you if you had ever been on a motorcycle. He’d made no secret of his connections to the M.C, even bringing Gilly and Coco with him a couple of times. When you told him that you’d only ever admired bikes from afar he made quick work of remedying that, taking you out for a ride on your first afternoon off from work. He could still remember how tightly you had held onto him. Your smile had been blinding when he asked if you enjoyed it.

Something shifted that day. Rides to nowhere in particular had become something you tried to do as often as you could. It helped you both to clear your heads and you always stopped halfway, using it as a chance to share things away from the prying eyes and ears of the town.

That first ride, though, Angel had shared so much. Somewhere along the line he’d learnt to trust you; to trust your friendship that felt like it was something more but back then he hadn’t been able to put a finger on what that was. You had started things off, telling him about your fights with the coffee shop manager which of course prompted an offer to knock heads for you. You had politely declined, as you would continue to do every time he offered to throw hands on your behalf  but you made clear that you appreciated it. In turn, Angel shared the reason that he had been avoiding EZ, or as much as he could without putting you in danger.

He had just been so angry with Ezekiel. Angry that he had used him and his club brothers like that. Put them all at risk, whether or not the deal said nothing could touch the club. The fact that he’d done it at all was something that Angel struggled to see past at the time. You seemed to understand that, never questioning his feelings or trying to stick up for EZ. You had let him try to find his way through understanding what his brother did and why he needed to do it.

He remembered feeling so much lighter on the ride back, as though he’d dropped weights he’d been carrying around for months. Whether or not you agreed with him, just having someone to hear the words had made all the difference.

After he’d shared that with you your relationship had shifted again and Angel found himself stopping at the coffee shop to say goodbye before he left on runs. The first time he did it, you had placed a surprise kiss on his cheek. Slowly but surely, however, your goodbyes evolved into long hugs and lingering forehead kisses from Angel as both of you tried to fight whatever was brewing to keep your friendship intact.

Coco would later tell you that you were idiots and that Angel shouldn’t let a good thing get away because he was a chicken shit. It wasn’t until everything about his mothers death started to unravel that Angel really understood Coco’s advice, if it could be called that.

He had ridden around for a while when they had returned from Charming, trying to process the information and what they were supposed to do with it. He was sure that EZ would have a plan, Golden Boy that he was, but he was still trying to fit all the pieces together himself. Trying to file away everything he’d learnt about the hit and his Pop’s past. He didn’t even realise had been making his way to you for help with it until he turned onto your street.

He had been to your place a few times, for movie nights and that one time you’d convinced him to help you try and bake a cake. That had ended with more flour on the walls of your kitchen than in the cake but it quickly became one of Angel’s favourite memories. One that he pulled on whenever a run was tough and he needed a reminder of what he was coming home to.

That day you had not been home when he arrived but for some reason he couldn’t find it in himself to go to you at the coffee shop. Instead, he waited on the porch and that was exactly how you found him, sitting on your front steps and staring blankly out at the street. He could still remember how worried you had been as you pulled him into the house, pushing a beer into his hands to occupy him whilst you took a shower to wash away the day.

You were perceptive when it came to him, as always. That evening you had given him time, sitting on the couch on your return, forcing food into his hands before he finally started talking when he was ready.

He told you about his mothers death; about the guilt he still felt for getting EZ that gun and how much he hated that it was all still haunting his family. How much he wished he had just shot Happy then and there, fuck the conconsequences.

You had listened, patient as he fumbled his way around his anger and regrets to get the words out.

That was the first night he’d ended up in your bed, the very same bed that he was in now. It had just been sleep but he remembered it being one of the best sleeps he’d ever had, one that had wiped away years of exhaustion. If he asked you, you would probably say that was the start of your more-than-friends relationship.

The thought made him look down at you again, letting his fingers ghost over your cheek. That night he had also learnt that you were a clinger, needing to have some part of your body touching him in your slumber, be it your arm, leg or pinky toe. These days you practically slept on top of him but he didn’t mind. He liked having you close.

After that night you had quickly become his centre, his grounding amongst all the shit that was happening in his life. You moved from coffee shop girl to Angel’s girl in what felt like the blink of an eye, though the only real change seemed to be the kisses Angel had no trouble seeking out everytime he was near you, and the amount of time you seemed to spend out of your clothes whenever you were alone. Neither of you were complaining about that.

It hadn’t always been smooth sailing since then. Angel loved to act before he thought. You knew this, though, and gave him time to come back from it. The agreement you’d come to after your first big blow-up was that you would always talk things out eventually, whether it was hours or days later. It wasn’t a perfect system, and some of Angel’s bad habits still got on your last nerves but he tried his best. There had been a moment where he let his doubts and insecurities get the best of him. He got lost in his need to protect you from the chaos of the club, even if that included himself. He had almost walked away, but you hadn’t let him. You fought to get him to see that your relationship was worth the risk, that he was worth the risk. Yet another thing he was grateful for and one of the reasons he knew he was going to marry you one day. Sooner rather than later if he had his way.

As though you had heard his thoughts Angel felt you move against him, your legs stretching under the sheets as you blinked away sleep. He slowly ran his hand along your spine, letting you know that he was awake.

“Angel?” Your voice was sleepy and soft, your words spoken against his skin.

“Mmm?”

“It’s early. Why are you awake?”

“Dunno. You looked too perfect to move, though, so I just hung out.”

“You should have woken me up.”

“Nah. When’s the last time you got to sleep in?” His finger brushed lightly over forehead before he moved to place a kiss there, his lips lingering against your skin.

You smiled at his touch, leaning into it before responding. “I… can’t remember.”

“Exactly. You’ve been working too fucking hard, mami. You deserve a break.”

“Six am isn’t exactly sleeping in.”

Angel grinned down at you, his body already responding to your movements under the sheets.

“True.’ His eyes widened as he kept his gaze on you, his tongue darting out to run over his lips before he spoke again. “Seeing as you’re already awake, though, there are other ways that we can make use of the time.”

Before you could respond Angel tightened his arm around you, rolling you both in one quick move so that you were on your back and he was hovering over you instead.

You let out a laugh with the movement, a grin taking over your face. “Seems like you already have something in mind.” His chain dangled between you, swinging back and forth, almost hypnotising. You couldn’t stop your sharp inhale as the cool metal grazed across your skin.

Angel just smirked, the glint in his eye giving away that he definitely had morning plans that involved you and nothing else. He leant forward, pecking at your lips, checking where you were at. When he felt you smile against him he stopped holding back, nipping and pulling at your lips until your toes curled under the sheets and you couldn’t hold in your low moans.

He pulled away eventually, giving you a chance to catch your breath as he moved to trace a line of hot, slow kisses up the side of your neck, reaching your ear and nipping at the skin there too.

You sighed into the feel of him, enjoying the heaviness of his body hovering above yours. You always felt safe when he did that, as though his body and its strength were going to keep away anything that dared to try and hurt you. Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him even closer to you.

“Angel Reyes, what are you doing to me?”

You felt him smile against your neck before he pulled away from it, still locked between your arms. “Loving you.”

You let out a soft laugh, leaving one hand wrapped around his neck whilst the other moved to cup his cheek. “Oh yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

“Fucking great, actually.”

“You sure?”

Angel’s eyes lit up at your words. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Y/n.” His voice was strong, as though he was willing you to believe him. You did.

No one loved quite like Angel Reyes did. He was a fierce protector, giving you as much of him as he could. He fumbled, sure, but it was usually because he thought something was the right thing to do; the thing that was best for both of you. He had quickly learnt that you deserved a say in what was best for you, too. Once you found that middle ground you had both realised that you could really enjoy doing life together.

You ran your thumb along his cheek, enjoying the feel of his stubble against your skin. There were so many things you enjoyed about him and things you enjoyed doing with him. He was sure about you, and you were sure about him too.

“Show me, Angel. Show me how sure you are.”

Angel inhaled sharply, never one to back down from a challenge. “Be careful what you wish for, Y/n.”

He didn’t waste any time, tugging your arms to gently push them up towards your head. He tugged at the old t-shirt that you’d worn to bed, helping you pull it off before doing the same to your underwear, pushing the material down to your knees before you used your foot to tug them all the way off.

Once you were free of clothes you turned your attention to him, pulling at the waistband of his briefs. Your movements were hurried but Angel slowed you down, gently grabbing hold of your wrists and bringing them to rest at your sides.

“Slow down, mami. Paciencía. I’m gonna take care of you first.”

Still hovering above you, Angel adjusted his position so that his knees were on either side of your hips. He moved one hand to rest on the mattress next to your head, fingers sprawled wide to help him balance whilst the other started to trace dangerous, tantalising lines down your chest. The movements halted at your belly button, fingers dancing against your skin and you frowned when they disappeared, only to be replaced with his mouth.

“Angel…”

Your voice was a breathy whisper, torn between enjoying the feel of his hot lips on your skin and the need for him to move past teasing and put his fingers to work.

“Yeah?”

“Please…”

You couldn’t stop your back from arching slightly as the tip of his tongue left a trail across your stomach, moving lower until he stopped just above your centre, the build up continuing as he shifted and started placing wet kisses along the inside of your legs.

‘Please what, querida?”

He spoke against your thighs, his hot breath drifting across your skin and tightening the coil you’d turned into as he worked you over. He knew your body so well; knew every scar and bump, every dip and crevice. He knew how to use them to make your toes curl and your muscles spasm gloriously. This morning, with the sun rising behind you and the rays landing above your head like a crown, he was putting everything he’d learnt to use.

Angel looked up, hoping to gauge how ready you were for him. As he did he got a glimpse of the pattern the sun created on the pillow behind you and he couldn’t stop the smile from crossing his face. It was appropriate. You were his queen. He’d waited for you to fill in the pieces he didn’t even know he was missing. He would never stop wondering how he managed to catch you but that also meant that he would never stop showing you how grateful he was that you stayed.

He pushed his body forward, lips landing at the corner of your mouth. His free hand gently squeezed your thigh, his fingers still ghosting dangerously close to your centre.

“You ready, mi reina?”

You let out a long, slow breath, lifting one of your hands to cup his cheek as you forced him to meet your gaze.

She realized quickly her heart lay with another, so she told Liam, not wanting to hurt him, not wanting to break his heart. Liam was surprised when Harlow told him, only wanting to know when, who—she couldn’t tell him, not until she knew if he felt the same way. Her heart broke when she saw how sad her admission had made him, but she wouldn’t lead him on—that would only hurt him more in the long run, that was the last thing she wanted. If she told him now he had a chance to fall for one of the other suitors, any one of them would be a better match than she was. She had felt a spark at first, sure—but she never wanted to be queen, she knew that was a job she couldn’t handle no matter what Liam thought of her and her strength. Telling Liam she didn’t feel the same way, that she could never be what he wanted was the hardest thing Harlow had ever done, but now she had to have a talk with him. Harlow was terrified that he didn’t feel the same way, that their talks never meant what they did to her to him. She was full of trepidation when she thought of talking to him, she couldn’t take the heartbreak if he didn’t feel the same way. Harlow stopped spending extra time with Liam, allowing him to get to know the other suitors instead—yet she hadn’t talked to him yet. She’d rather return to New York at the end of the social season having never taken a chance than with her heart completely shattered when he didn’t return her feelings. Their moments continued, no longer the same has they had been—Liam still wanting to ensure she was okay, but realizing Harlow wasn’t the one for him. The moments becoming slightly awkward, at least to her, worried she would slip up and tell him how she felt and ruin everything before she could escape Cordonia and back to New York with her heart still intact. He was too perceptive, noticing her stolen glances and furtive looks. He was soon questioning her and Harlow wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep her feelings for him to herself. Harlow was strong, resilient—but she knew one thing she’d never overcome was a broken heart. Not at his hands, no she couldn’t let her heart be broken ever again. The last time she barely survived, she couldn’t let him break it too. The last time it took her too long to pull herself back together, she wouldn’t allow herself to be hurt ever again—no it was better to keep it inside, never letting him know. Soon enough the season would be over, Liam would pick his queen, someone who could make him happy and rule by his side. Just a few more short weeks and she could leave Cordonia and him behind. She just had to bide her time and soon it would be like they never met, but they did. He would still be on her mind and in her heart, it would be painful, but it was still the safer option. No, she couldn’t let him know how she felt, she just had to keep her head down and her feelings shoved deep down. Two weeks and Liam would announce who he picked to rule by his side as his queen. Two weeks, she just had to get through two weeks and she’d get to go home. She nearly made it, she was so close, and then he was at her door—she should have known better than to think she’d make it home free. His usual pristine look slightly disheveled, his sleek black hair looked as if he had been running his hands through it repeatedly. Harlow was as shocked by his appearance as she was by his unexpected presence, it wasn’t when he usually checked in with her. His breath gave off the slight smell of whiskey as he spoke. “Why did you turn Liam down? He said it was because you fell for someone else but you wouldn’t tell him who. You haven’t spent any time with anyone else, so I have to ask—is it me?” He asked, his grey eyes bore into her, his heart pounding in his chest. He roughly ran his hands through his raven locks. He was both terrified and anxious of the answer, hoping, praying that his suspicions weren’t wrong—unfounded. Harlow gaped at him, her caramel eyes wide with shock, was he actually hopeful she’d say yes, that it was him she fell for? Was he hoping to be the one that claimed her heart when she was supposed to be vying for the heart of Liam, the prince? He couldn’t have feelings for her too, could he? No, she was being stupid, reading way too much into his question, his words, the subtle changes in his face, his eyes. There was no way he felt the same way for her, yet she was now stuck, she had no choice but to answer—to tell him how she felt. She was so close to making it out without spilling her feelings, without having her heartbroken—now she had to tell him. Her brown eyes filled with tears, ready for him to tell her he didn’t feel the same way for her. “Yes.” She replied, her voice barely over a whisper. Her drew eyes towards the ground, she couldn’t look at him when he told her he didn’t feel the same. She couldn’t watch as her heart was broken once again. His hand cupped her chin, her breathing hitched as he slowly raised her face so she was looking at him. “Bastien?” She breathed, her question hanging in the air. The air hung thick around them, making it difficult for her to breathe. She felt like time had stopped as she awaited his response. Bastien’s face moved closer to hers, their breath mingled together, he was close enough she swore she could taste the whiskey on his breath. Harlow was stunned, she swallowed harshly trying to swallow the lump that formed in her throat to no avail. His lips claimed hers in a soft and sweet kiss, electricity spread through her veins at just the simple caress of his lips against hers. Her mind was racing as they broke apart, he felt the same—that kiss, she gently touched her lips. She stared at him unblinking, her mind a jumble of thoughts each one louder than the last. What did this mean? Where do they go from here? What did they do now that their feelings were revealed? Harlow grabbed his lapels, pulling his body tightly to hers, her lips crashing into his in a hard bruising kiss. Her skin felt like it was set ablaze by his touch, the feeling surprising her, but she needed more. She slid her hands up, wrapping her arms around his back, pulling him as close as she could, but still not close enough. Electrical impulses lighting up her body in ways she never imagined. Bastien broke the kiss, pulling away leaving Harlow stunned. Hadn’t he kissed her first, so why was he pushing her away now? Hot tears stung at her eyes when she realized she must have misunderstood, she internally chastised herself for believing he could ever feel the same way about her as she did him. She turned her head as she blinked back the tears, she wouldn’t allow him to see her fall apart, she had to keep some of her dignity intact. Bastien stopped her, his hand on her shoulder, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek, wiping away the few stray tears with his thumb. “Just not like this, I want to take you out first.” He stated, kissing her one last time before leaving, stopping her had been difficult, but it was the right thing to do. Harlow smiled softly as she nodded, not trusting her voice, she wiped the offending tears off her cheeks as she watched him walk off. She closed the door and leaned against it, he had feelings for her—that kiss, she touched her lips again. She could still feel the slight lingering feeling of his lips on hers. She sighed happily, wondering where their secret love went from here.

Made For You Masterlist

Masterlist