#nestor fanfic

[garbinge]

Commission Job

Nestor Oceteva x F!Galindo!Reader

Day 19 from these April Prompts: A Commission Job

Summary: Part 2 to Minimum Wage, but can be read as a standalone. After Miguel orders a hit on Nestor, he comes crashing at your doorstep. 

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Angsty af. Mentions of blood, killing, death, murder, all canon level thangggs ya know. 

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @narcolini @justreblogginfics​

Part 1​

You wished you ignored the doorbell and the persistent knocking. That was the lie you were telling yourself as the two parts of your brain argued against each other on what to do with the disheveled man at your doorstep. The part of you who had been living in this small town under a new name with no ties to your old life was fighting with the other part of your brain that hadn’t been functional in years… the Galindo in you. 

The initial shock of seeing Nestor bruised and bloody on your doorstep was gone in seconds. You didn’t ask questions, you just brought him inside and into the coat closet. 

“Wrong house!” You called out to the company you had over that was currently in the kitchen halfway through dinner as you shoved Nestor into the closet and shut the door. He didn’t say anything either, he just followed your suit. 

“You know, I’m not feeling so hot.” You made your way back to your kitchen bar and made a scrunched up face. “Getting up made me realize I’m feeling kind of blah.” You were easily falling into the lie, your Galindo traits rising back up from the ashes. 

Your date was making their way down the hallway, disappointment all over their face as they did whatever they could to change your mind. Little did they know that the half broken man in your closet was not going to make that happen. 

After your company left you moved immediately to the closet and opened the door to see Nestor sitting on the cubbies you had as storage. 

“You think you can make it to the bathroom? It’s upstairs.” You would ask questions later, but right now you were prioritizing. 

“Yea.” His voice was rough and more raspy than normal but it brought your heart up to your throat. Seeing him caused you to go into reaction mode but hearing him speak for the first time caused you to want to throw up. 

You brought your arm around his torso and his arm instinctually went around your shoulder as you trudged upstairs. Luckily, it wasn’t many steps before you were in the bathroom. It was obvious that he wasn’t putting all his weight on you but once he was seated on the closed lid toilet you could see his body collapsed in exhaustion. 

Black eye, deep scratch over his cheek bone, probably some broken ribs from the way he was limping. That was the bulk of the damage you were able to clock by looking at him. With a deep breath you opened the cabinets below the sink and pulled out the first aid kit. 

“I’m gonna need you to lift your shirt up.” 

Nestor obliged, it was then that you realized he wasn’t in his normal outfit of a button up and slacks but a t-shirt and jeans. You frowned but quickly moved to look at the bruising and cuts on his abdomen. 

“Great, more open wounds.” You mumbled as you bent down to clean up the dried blood around the cuts. You both sat in silence for a while as you cleaned up the cuts and gave Nestor a cold washcloth to hold against the bruising until you could go downstairs and grab an ice pack. 

“You need stitches.” You pointed to his face as you sat on the edge of your tub. “I don’t have the tools for that but I can give you a butterfly bandage.” Your voice was monotone as you spoke.

“That’s fine.” His voice still deep and raspy. 

With a nod you were leaning over him and grabbing the bandage from the kit and applying it to his face. His breath was hot against your face as you got close to adjust the open cut with the bandage. Quick to move back you looked back down at his ribs. 

“Let me get you an ice pack.” 

Before he could say anything you were up and out of the bathroom and picking up your pace down the stairs. It was an opportunity to truly ask yourself what the fuck was happening. It had been years since you saw Nestor. Suddenly everything was hitting you. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here? Who beat him up this bad? Why didn’t he go to Miguel? Did Miguel know where you were? 

It was overwhelming to say the least, you started to get angry but then you thought about Nestor’s helpless being upstairs and it disappeared instantly. The only way you knew you were going to get answers was to ask him, and if things were even remotely the same as they were years ago, you knew that wasn’t a guarantee either, but you had to try. 

As you walked back to the bathroom you saw Nestor struggling to stand up. 

“Woah, what are you–” Your feet moved quickly on the bathroom tile and before you could finish your statement he was collapsing into your arms taking the wind out of you. “C’mon, sit back down.” A large groan came from the both of you as you took on his full body weight now and attempted to place him back down on the toilet. The pain from his injuries and your shitty attempt to placing him carefully back down causing him to react in agony. 

“Take this.” The medicine cabinet was opening as you shuffled through your things and pulled out an old prescription of some pain medicine. You handed him two pills and filled up a dixie cup with water after he tossed them in his mouth. 

You stared down at him, your mind finding itself back in that same place it was downstairs. 

“I need something.” 

Those were the words you decided to lead with. Not what the fuck is happening. Not what the fuck is going on. No. You decided that you’d go into this the way you knew worked best with Nestor. Meeting him at his own place of comfort. It wasn’t fair, he came to your house, which was still unclear how, but he was the one barely able to stand in your bathroom right now so, sure, you’d give him a break. 

“Mikey has a hit out on me.” 

Now you were the one barely able to stand. You stabled yourself by gripping the bathroom counter. 

“Come again?” You frowned. It was shocking to hear Nestor so easily give up information and to hear THAT information was cause enough for you to feel like you were going to throw up. 

“Your brother hired someone to kill me. A commissioned job.” He said it again, this time more explanatory and it only made your stomach pit tighten more. 

“Wh– Uh– How?” You started to stutter, you weren’t able to take in that information. You prided yourself on your ability to take in all sorts of information, coming from the Galindo family where your father and brother lied and killed and manipulated, nothing came as a shock to you. For God’s sakes the braided man in front of you knocked on your door, that he shouldn’t have known about, bloodied and bruised and you brought him in with no words or question. But this? This was unexpected. 

“Your mom. She’s dead. He, uh, isn’t doing too good. He killed Paco. Right in front of me. In front of Marcus.” Nestor’s voice was rattled. It was how you knew that this wasn’t a normal situation, not that Nestor telling you your brother put a hit on him was normal but you were searching for anything right now. 

“Marcus?” You questioned completely ignoring the part about your mother, your voice just as rattled as his. 

“Consejero.” Nestor let out a deep breath as he remembered you had no idea about anything. 

“Nestor, what the fuck is going on.” The rattled tone changed to desperate and before he answered you heard a knock at your door. It was firm and loud, and it matched your heart beat. 

Nestor was standing up like none of his injuries existed, if you were thinking logically, you would have chalked it up to adrenaline but right now you just felt your whole life crashing down on you. 

So many thoughts in such little time. You didn’t ask for this. Nestor came to your doorstep and now you were dealing with the aftermath of that. You’d kill Miguel. Galindo habits die hard, but your will to protect yourself from them would go down harder. Nestor was quick to grab the gun from under the bathroom sink that he probably clocked earlier but like you said, Galindo habits die hard and he knew you probably had one stored in each room of the house. 

He was making his way down the stairs, way faster than when he arrived. He peaked through the peep hole and immediately his shoulders relaxed and he opened the door, quick to fall back on the steps. 

Now, there was a stoic tall man in a button up t-shirt and slacks standing in your foyer as Nestor laid collapsed on the bottom step and you at the very top staring down to both men. 

“Marcus.” Nestor pointed to Marcus in his way of introducing you. 

“I’d say nice to meet you but this is fucked.” You made your way down the stairs to grab the gun from Nestor and situate him in a better position. “I’ll be taking this for now.” You put the safety back on and placed the gun in your back waistband before picking Nestor up against the wall. “Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on and how the fuck you knew where I was?” It was essentially two questions, one was pointed at Marcus and one was pointed at Nestor. 

“I’m sorry to barge into your home like this.” Marcus said like it was the beginning to an explanation but just looked at Nestor to respond. 

“She knows.” Nestor breathed out the two words. 

Marcus nodded. “Well then, you know everything we do.” 

You raised your eyebrows and let out a laugh. “Respectfully, I think the fuck I don’t.” 

Marcus was glaring at Nestor again, not wanting to get anymore involved in this than he already was. 

“I knew where you were, found you a few months after you left. Never told Miguel.” Nestor’s eyes were closed as his chest raised and fell with his deep breaths. 

You were speechless which was Nestor’s invitation to keep talking. 

“I got attacked. Your brother, ordered the hit on me. He’s pissed about your mom.” 

Your mom. When Nestor mentioned it before it slipped out of your mind over the thought that your brother ordered a hit on his best friend. 

“She was murdered. Not sure by who but he blames us all. I got away, laid low, told Marcus to meet me here.”  

“How do I know you weren’t followed.” You snapped your head to look at Marcus who was still standing stoic in your entryway. 

“I wasn’t.” His voice was steady. You believed him, there wasn’t anything you could do if you didn’t but the way he was handling this right now was better than you expected from someone you’d never met. 

You sat in the silence for a minute, taking everything in before shaking it all off, letting the Galindo fall right back into place. 

“So what the fuck do we do now?” You looked straight at Marcus as you asked, knowing Nestor called him here for a reason and if he trusted him you should too. 

“We run.” His advice was chaotic but it was spoken so confidently that you didn’t have an ounce of doubt in you. Maybe it was because running was a life you knew about pretty well, it was comfortable. It was safe, ironically. “But for now, let’s get him to a couch, we’ll head out in a few hours.” 

You nodded in agreement as Marcus walked over to help you bring Nestor to your living room. Placing him on the couch you both stood over him. After a moment you looked over at Marcus and introduced yourself giving him your name. 

“Miguel’s sister.” You specified even more. Before the two of you could speak more, Nestor was mumbling under his breath. 

“What?” You placed your attention on him. 

“Before I showed up. Were you on a date?” Nestor grumbled, the pain medicine obviously kicking in. 

Embarrassed, you snapped your head towards Marcus who was quick to look away. 

“I’ll, uh.” Marcus pointed towards the kitchen and quickly made himself scarce leaving you and Nestor in the living room. 

“Not a very good one if this was the highlight of my night.” Your voice was annoyed but you spoke the truth. 

Nestor smiled at your response. It was a mix of pride and also relief. “Maybe, when this is all over, I can take you on a date.” 

His voice was slurring, it was another empty promise, you knew that, but you also knew that he meant it. 

“You should get some rest, Nes.” As your hand swayed next to him, he grabbed it. 

“Promise me that you’ll give me a chance.” 

You froze at his touch but then nodded. If he could give you an empty promise, you should be able to also. 

“I promise.”

Part 1​

#nestor x reader #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans fanfiction #mayans fanfic #nestor fanfic #nestor oceteva x galindo sister #galindo sister reader #galindo sister #galindo reader #marcus alvarez

[bullet-prooflove]

The Choice - Nestor Oceteva x Reader (feat: Miguel Galindo)

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @the-wandering-lunatic @multifandomloversworld @est1887 @genius2050 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @nessamc @lyly00 @oureternalbond  @lexondeck @weiwei0210 @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @trublu2u @@the-person-in-the-circle @thanossexual

Companion Piece to the Choices!Series

Nestor doesn’t expect company this late at night.

It’s a little past midnight and you’re already in bed, fast asleep. Despite the fact it’s been over eight months since your injury, you’re still recovering. You tire easily these days, he thinks it’s your body’s way of trying to get you to slow down, to settle, to take some time to find yourself. He smiles when he thinks about the languid kisses he’d stolen from your mouth as he undressed you, of your hands tangling in his hair as he plants kisses down the curve of your throat before he guides one of his t-shirts over your body.

You’re relaxed when he tucks the sheets around you, his palm smoothing the hair away from your face as his lips brush over your forehead. When you’re breathing evens out, he retreats to the kitchen, turning the music down low on the Alexa as he puts away the dishes.

When there’s a knock at the door, his gaze strays to his gun, resting on the sideboard near the front door. His fingers wrap around the grip, the weight of it feeling like an old friend in his palm. It’s only when he peers through the peephole and sees Miguel standing there, that he sets the weapon back down.

Even dressed casually Miguel looks like he’s stepped off the cover of GQ. He’s wearing designer jeans and a leather jacket that Nestor knows cost more than most of the furniture in the apartment. His hair is artfully tamed into that cross cropped side parting of his. Comparatively Nestor is wearing the faded grey Method Man t-shirt that David gave to him before he died and black boxers shorts, his hair is a mass of loose curls falling across his shoulders like a mane.

“Mikey?” he questions, holding the door open. He opens his mouth to say something else but already Miguel is striding past him like he owns the place. For the briefest of moments Nestor regrets letting the other man sign the lease as a guarantor.

 “I need to talk to you.” Miguel states as he deposits himself on the couch, his arm coming to rest upon the back of it. “I…”

He trails off and Nestor follows his gaze to the jar of multicoloured paper flowers perched in the centre of the coffee table. He watches as Miguel’s brows furrow into a frown before he gestures at the origami roses.

“Where did you get those?”

Nestor knows he’s at a crossroads and he only sees one path because he remembered that time, right back in the very beginning. The one when you were sitting across from Miguel, your hands working almost by compulsion as you folded and plucked at the delicate petals of a napkin. He remembers being captivated by it, the grace of your movements, the elegance in the finished product. It was something you did to keep your hands busy; you had explained to Miguel at the time.  

He doesn’t get a chance to answer because the bedroom door is opening and you’re standing in the doorway, rubbing the back your hand across your blurry eyes as you say.

“Are you coming to bed my love?”

It feels like he’s been handed a gun with a bullet in the chamber and asked to play Russian Roulette. Miguel’s head snaps towards you, his mouth setting in a firm line as he registers your attire. One of Nestor’s t-shirts and a pair of black cotton panties.

“How long?” Miguel asks his gaze darting back to Nestor.

Nestor shrugs because honestly, he doesn’t know. Your relationship isn’t linear, it’s a series of moments where the two of you exist in the same space. He doesn’t keep track of it the way other people do. There’s no six-month anniversaries, or Valentine’s Day dinners. There’s just the two of you, together, making the most of the time you have.

“You must have some idea.” Miguel says forcefully.  “Months?”

Nestor shakes his head; he knows it’s been longer than that. He thinks it might have been over a couple of years since you buried that body in the desert together.

“Around two years.” He tells Miguel honestly.

Miguel laughs and it’s bitter, Nestor can practically taste the sourness on his tongue as Miguel rolls his eyes to the ceiling as if praying for strength.

“So, it’s serious then?” Miguel questions, his eyes surveying the rest of the room. Nestor can tell he’s cataloguing all of the small personal touches you’ve added. The Aztec style blanket thrown over his recliner from where you’d fallen asleep reading earlier, your book – a feminist retelling of the Medusa myth set on the side table. His gaze lands on the wild flowers, those pretty dried blooms with those vibrant pops of colour and his jaw tightens. “Because it looks like you’re fucking living together.”

“I’ll give the two of you some space.” You begin, pulling the hem of the t-shirt down to cover your panties.

“Oh no.” Miguel says, gesturing for you to step out of the bedroom and join the conversation. “Let’s get this all out in the open, I want to know more about my friend’s paramour.”

“Mikey, this isn’t about her…”

“Of course, it’s fucking about her.” Miguel snarls, jabbing his finger in your direction. “You’ve let a fucking assassin into your life, into your home. I feel I should be conducting a fucking intervention.”

“OK so I feel like I need to be wearing pants for this conversation.” You tell the two of them.  Miguel waves his hand, dismissing you from the room. It’s only the look that Nestor gives you, that prevents you from biting back at the other man.

Let me handle this.

You comply with his wishes before heading into the bedroom to dress. By the time you return, the tension in the room has increased tenfold. You’re fully dressed with your go bag slung over your shoulder. You’ve packed a couple of clothes and a sudoku book because from the looks of it, this is going to take all night and you think its better you’re not in the vicinity because you still want to kill Miguel for the position, he put you in all those months ago and the expression on his face right now is equally as murderous.

“I am going to go,” You tell the both of them as you remove your leather jacket from the coat stand and pull it on. “Let the two of you talk.”

“You should stay.” Miguel says, his gaze on yours as he leans back into the couch, seemingly completely at home in his surroundings. “I want to know how you infiltrated my fucking head of security.”

It’s the ‘head of security’ part that does it. Not friend, not brother, not the man whose been by his side since he was a fucking teenager. The sheer fucking audacity of Miguel Galindo astounds you.

“Are you even listening to yourself right now?” You snap at him, eyes blazing. “Infiltrate? He’s your fucking friend, treat him like one.”

A silence falls, your words hanging in the air as the two of you stare at one another. There’s a fury in this man, you can see it in the way his shoulders tense and those dark eyes fucking burn like coals as they bore into you. He forgets that you’ve met men far more dangerous than him, that they’ve had their fucking hands wrapped around your throat, that one tried to bury you alive in the desert once he was finished with you. You’ve lived your nightmares, surpassed your demons and you’ve come back from hell with a thirst for blood. Miguel Galindo may have done some nasty shit, but you’ve done worse.

It's the simple act of Nestor clearing his throat that diffuses your rage, it brings you back to the present, reminds you that this isn’t your fight. As much as you may hate Miguel, he’s an important part of Nestor’s life, you can’t just wipe him off the face of the earth no matter how much you may want to.

“Let me know where you land.” You say quietly to Nestor, your lips brushing his cheek before you close the door to the apartment quietly behind you.

He knows what you’re doing, you’re giving him an out. It shouldn’t have to be a choice, his lover or his friend but if it comes down to it you’re telling him you’ll bow out gracefully. If it needs to be one way or the other, you won’t fight him. It’s self-sacrificing bullshit, but it’s part of the reason he loves you. You’ve always had his best interests at heart.

“She’s right Mikey.” Nestor says finally as he sits on the edge of the recliner. “When’s the last time we actually talked?”

He watches the cogs turn in Miguel’s brain as he considers his words. He’s trying to pinpoint a time, a date, an event but it all comes back to the exact same thing. He doesn’t remember the last time he asked Nestor anything about his life.

“I guess we haven’t.” Miguel says, rubbing his palms over one another. “The last time we spoke about anything personal was Emily. We sat on the stairs at my house and you said ‘honesty buys honesty’. Do you still believe that?”

“I never lied to you Mikey.” Nestor tells him, raking a hand through his hair. “I just didn’t tell you.”

“A lie of omission is still a lie.” Miguel states accusingly.

Nestor shakes his head before inhaling deeply. He normally doesn’t have a problem keeping his temper but this shit right here, the hypocrisy of it…

It’s starting to piss him off.

“Then I guess it’s time for us to put a few things on the table.” Nestor says frankly as leans back in his chair. “You have questions, ask them.”

“Why?” Miguel shoots at him. “Why settle down now? Why with her? You’ve never wanted that before.”

Nestor sighs because that is to fucking far from the truth he isn’t even sure where to begin.

“It was never available to me before.” Nestor explains, his eyes meeting Miguel’s as he searches for the tiniest fragment of understanding. “You know how hard it is to maintain a relationship that’s built on secrets. You can’t let that person see that side of you, you can’t tell them what it is you really do. It tears you apart inside, it eats you up and eventually that relationship, it dies because there’s no trust.”

“You’re talking about me and Emily.” Miguel says, his gaze lowering to the wedding band on his finger as he rubs his thumb over the gleaming metal.

It’s then that Nestor loses his temper, because somehow, it’s happening again. Miguel is hearing what he wants to hear, twisting Nestor’s words to reflect on a situation in his life.

“No I’m talking about me.” He erupts, his voice raising as the frustration of what feels like decades surges through him. “About how I haven’t had a fucking relationship in years because it always ends the same way. Not everything is about you Miguel! You preach loyalty to your family, but I am your family and I have been nothing but loyal to you. I have killed for you, I have bled for you, I have protected the ones you love but there’s no space for me, not the way there used to be.”

“So what?” Miguel asked him, jabbing his finger at the jar of paper roses on the coffee table. “This is your way of proving a point?”

Nestor wants to scream, he can feel that urge brimming in his chest as he stares at the man he’s known for the majority of his life as if he’s never seen him before.

“The point is Miguel, that I found someone who makes me happy. Someone whose knows everything about me and accepts it, someone who loves me for me.”

“Who loves you?” Miguel laughs and the sound grates on every single one of Nestor’s nerves because it is so fucking dismissive. “What do the two of you even talk about? Top ten ways to torture someone? The type of knot to use when you’re staging a suicide. She doesn’t love you; she’s fucking using you!”

“Christ Mikey, it’s not fucking about you.” Nestor finds himself shouting. “You think we sit here and talk about the latest happenings in the Galindo Cartel? What you’ve been up to that day, who you’ve been seeing?  No we fucking don’t. We talk about books, about music, about life, about shitty normal things and the other crazy shit we get up to. You aren’t even a topic of conversation.”

Miguel looks at Nestor as if he’s slapped him, like he can’t comprehend that he’s not a factor in this relationship. Nestor hopes it fucking stings. He watches as Miguel leans forward, his hands clasped together as he speaks in a low authoritative tone.

“Nestor, I want you to be happy.” Miguel states. “Just not with a fucking woman, who can take a man apart like he’s a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop.”

“You’re not hearing me.” Nestor shakes his head vehemently.

“No, I am hearing you perfectly. You want to settle down, have the white picket fence and fuck out a bunch of babies that’s fine.” Miguel informs him, before using his palm to draw a line underneath the statement. “But this thing with her, I can’t have that. It’s too much of a distraction.”

“For you or for me?” Nestor asks cocking his head to one side. “You still have my loyalty Mikey, my relationship hadn’t effected my ability to do my job over the past two years and it won’t effect it now. You need to accept that this is happening, with or without your permission.”

He hears Miguel’s intake of breath, sees him recoiling because Nestor has just thrown down the gauntlet and he knows it’s the last thing that Miguel ever expected. He has never denied the other man anything but he won’t give up his shot at happiness, he’s not letting him dictate who he falls in love with. If it puts a target on his back so be it, the two of you can weather it. He’s done being the lap dog, the one that’s coerced into submission. He won’t let Miguel take you from him, not now, not ever.

Marcus’s words ring in his head, that warning from when he’s first found out about the two of you.

At some point you’re going to have to make a choice, Marcus had told him. And I pray for your sake you make the right one.

When it came to you there is no choice because he loves you with every single fibre of his being.

“Alright Nestor.” Miguel says as he raises to his feet, fixing the lapels of his leather jacket before he meets Nestor’s gaze. “You’re out. Effective immediately.”

Love Nestor? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor mayans #nestor oceteva #nestor #nestor oceteva fanfic #nestor oceteva fanfiction

[emocxnteddie]

Hi! I loved your platonic markiplier fic! I was wondering if you could make something similar but with Ethan? And reader is his trans brother who gets bullied and Ethan teaches the bullies a lesson? <3

!-! Brotherhood !-!

Pair; Crankgameplays/Ethan Nestor x FTM!Reader.[He/Him Pronouns]

Genre; Platonic fluff & angst-ish.

WARNINGS; Swearing, blood, violence, fighting, transphobia, homophobic slurs, bullying.[Let Me Know If More Is Needed.]

A/N - I decided to base this on an au where Ethan is in his last year of high school & M/N is in his second year of high school.

M/N stood in the hallway of his high school, trying not to be seen. He had been relentlessly bullied for the past year for being trans. M/N hated it, always being called names.

M/N's older brother, Ethan was however always by his side. Though Ethan wasn't fully aware of everything, he didn't know his brother was bullied for being trans specifically.

Then one of M/N's classmates, a guy named Derek walked up to M/N along with Derek's minions. "Look! It's the faggot!" Derek laughed as he pushed M/N into the locker.

"Leave me alone, Derek," M/N muttered as he was pushed into the locker. He hated high school, all because of the bullying. Derek didn't stop, of course, he didn't. Derek just continued pushing M/N into the lockers, taunting him.

"C'mon, fag! Fight me! Fucking coward!" Derek laughed and M/N tried to push him off but it wasn't so easy. Then he saw a figure dash towards them, it was Ethan. He had gone to get something he'd forgotten in his classroom when he saw his younger brother being bullied by Derek & his group.

"Leave him alone, you piece of shit!" Ethan yelled as he pushed Derek to the ground. Derek stood up and glared at Ethan. "Why are you defending this homo freak!" Derek said in an angered tone. Ethan spaced out and just swung at Derek, hitting him in the face.

"That homo freak is my brother! So you keep his name out of your fucking mouth!" Ethan yelled as he kept punching Derek until he got enough of it, his fist being bloody and Derek's face being bloody. Derek ran off with his friends, yelling names.

Ethan looked at M/N and laughed. "Sorry, got a little carried away," Ethan said in an embarrassed tone and M/N just laughed along. "Thanks for protecting me, Ethan," M/N thanked his brother and Ethan just ruffled his hair.

"You're my brother, I couldn't let those punks treat you like that, I'm the only one allowed to tease you," Ethan said proudly as he heard teachers. "Oh fuck, gotta run! Catch you back home, bro!" Ethan said as he ran away, M/N just chuckled and nodded.

"Yeah, see you back home, brother."

#ethan nestor x reader #platonic #fluff #male reader #trans reader #trans male reader #ftm #x reader #x male reader #crankgameplays #crankgameplays x male reader #crankgameplays x reader #fanfic #sibling au #ethan nestor #ethan nestor x male reader #ethan nestor x male reader fluff #platonic fluff #male reader fluff

[imagininghim]

Drunk Dialling

A/N: I have heard the song Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan so much on Tik Tok lately. Everytime I hear it I picture Ez, so of course I had to make a story about it.

I hope you enjoy!

Like, comment, reblog!

~~ Flashback ~~

"Swear Ez, it's always the same with you!" She screamed at me, continuing to throw her clothes in a suitcase.

"Mi amour, please we can talk about this!" I said taking ahold of her wrist in attempt to stop her from packing.

"No! It's always the same with you! Club this, Angel that! When is it gonna be me?" She said pulling her wrist from my grasp. I stood there speechless, unsure of what to say. With a sigh, she threw the last of her clothes into the suitcase and zipped it up. "That's what I thought, goodbye Ezekiel." And with that, she picked up the suitcase and walked out the door.

I stayed there and watched her walk out, hoping I would wake up from this nightmare.

~~ End of flashback ~~

It was a regular Friday night at the club, we had been throwing another party. I was sitting at the bar alone, sipping on my fourth or fifth beer of the night when Angel approached me.

"When are you gonna stop sulking little bro? It's been a year, it's time to let her go." With a scoff, I picked up my beer and chugged the rest of it. Signalling the prospect to bring me another as Angel let out a sigh.

"I'm not sulking, I'm just not in a party kind of mood." I said simply.

"You're never in the mood for anything anymore. When are you gonna go back to being your old self again?" I scoffed back at him before taking my beer off the bar and making my way through the crowd. Hearing angel call my name, I ignored it and continued out through the door.

When I got outside, I took a seat on top of the stairs before chugging the rest of my beer and throwing away the empty bottle, the sound of glass shattering in the distance. I pulled my phone out of my jeans and began scrolling through my camera roll and looking at all the pictures of her and I.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear the door open and Angel come out.

"You wanna talk about it?" He said, taking the seat beside me on the steps. With a sigh, I slip my phone back into my pocket.

"I miss her." Staring straight ahead, I could feel Angel's eyes on me.

"I know you do, but you can't beat yourself up over it. It's been a year, it's time to move on! Fuck some other bitches and forget her!" I felt anger begin to boil up inside as I stood up and made my down the steps.

"You don't get it!" I snapped. With a sigh, Angel stood up and made his way down the steps and in front of me.

"What don't I get Ez? Huh?!" He snapped back poking at my chest. "It's been a year Ez, she's not coming back! You made your choice, it was her or the club and I know it hurts but you gotta let her fucking go. Ever since she left, all you've been doing is drowning your sorrows in a goddamn bottle instead of moving on!" Anger ran through my veins as I pushed against Angel.

"I can't! Why can't you get that?!" I screamed back at him. "It's not that fucking easy, I love her! Not a goddamn day goes by that I don't see her face, I look for her everywhere I go! I didn't even try to stop her." I felt tears begin forming in my eyes, "I jus- I just let her go, I let her walk out." Angel stared at me in silence. "Why did I let her go?"

"Come on, let's go back inside and forget this." I shook my head before walking past him and over to the steps.

"You go on without me." I said taking a seat. "I'll be in later." Without taking another look at Angel, I heard him let out a sigh before making his way up the steps and back into the club.

As the door closed shut, I pulled out my phone and went into my contacts. Hauling up her contact, I hovered my finger over her number, contemplating on making that call.

Letting the alcohol speak for me, I pressed down on the screen before pulling the phone up to my ear and hearing it ring.

ring... ring... ring... "Hey you reached (Y/N), leave a message and I'll call you back!"

"... Uh, hey... It's Ez... I just wanted to say... I miss you." And with that I hung up the phone. I rubbed my hand over my face, wondering if I was making a mistake leaving her a voicemail. Would she even listen to it? Or would she delete it and pretend I never called?

A million thought swirled around my head as I sat on the steps, the feeling of little wet droplets falling on my skin tore me away from my thoughts.

I let out a sigh, standing up and getting ready to head back into the club when I felt a vibration in my pocket.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)" Flashed across my screen. I slid my finger across the screen, answering the call and placing it against my ear.

"Ez... I miss you too..."

#love #imagine #ezekiel #ez #ezekiel reyes #angel #angel reyes #Spotify #angst #ez angst #mayans fandom #mayans fanfic #mayans imagine #mayans x reader #bishop losa #gilly lopez #nestor oceteva #mayans smut #mayans mc spoilers

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Come Undone - A Nestor Oceteva/Reader Short.

Just a lil’ bit of fluffiness for Nes! 

Words - 583

Warnings - None! 

“Are you okay?”

You shuffle onto your side, turning to look at him. “I’m sleepy.”

He snorts softly at this, reaching to stroke your face. “Oh, really? I could never tell.”

His sarcasm is always soft, never biting, unless he’s angry about something. With you, though, he has little cause to ever be vexed. Well, perhaps when you take much too long deciding on food, or where to go in order to get it in the first place. For a man whose whole life is steeped in bullets and bloodshed, Nestor is remarkably calm and controlled. He has to be, you suppose.  

“I believe the technical term is dick drunk.” Your words have him laughing quietly in an instant.

“That doesn’t sound very technical to me.” The proud smirk that lights up his face has enough wattage behind it to power an entire city. “I’ll take it, though.”  

“Well, why break the habit of a lifetime?” He frowns, pinching you. “Nes, no!”

“You know your sass won’t be tolerated, young lady.” Oh yes, how right he is. “Besides, you’ve only known me a few months. Give it time before you make such sweeping statements.”

You scoff, poking him in the chest. “Oh, I need more than four months, do I, to attest that you soak up compliments like a sponge without even a hint of modesty?”

“You just let me fuck your mouth until I came all over your face, and you’re mentioning modesty?” He snort laughs, shaking his head, rooting a finger into one of his braids and scratching his head.  

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh, waving your hand at his comment, sitting up a little. “Whatever.”  

“You’re cute, you know that?”

You beam, watching as he continues to scratch. “I try.” A moment of pause follows, your fingers curling around one of his braids, giving it a gentle shake. “You should just unbraid your hair if your head itches. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair loose, either. How long is it?”

“Long!” he exclaims with a soft snort. “You can unravel ‘em if you like?”

You like.  

Shifting up, you push his back gently, encouraging him to move and seat himself between your legs, Nestor stroking your calves as you unfasten the first one, placing the band down on the nightstand, your fingers unhooking each careful link. He's better at doing his hair than you are yours, you think, knowing that your own endeavours in attempting French braids were not executed quite as neatly. You work up to his scalp, the hair coming loose in your hands, a mountain of black waves becoming free, repeating the same on the other side.  

“Oh wow,” you exclaim softly, letting the curls tumble through your fingers. “You have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever encountered. Shit, what’s your conditioner bill like every month?”

He raises his eyebrows, leaning back against you. “Enough for me to consider buying shares in Aussie.” You knew you recognised the scent somewhere.  

“You should wear it down more often,” you comment, Nestor shaking his head.  

“Nah, it gets in the way.”

“Of what?”

He turns, pushing your legs wider apart, kissing you between your breasts. “Lots of things. One in particular.”  

Half an hour later, and you’re left wondering why he’d think that, as clutching handfuls of his beautiful mane while he goes down on you, from your perspective at least, is only an added bonus to anything sexual, rather than the hindrance he alluded it to be.  

#nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva fanfiction #nestor oceteva x female reader #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva x you #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfictio #mayans mc imagi #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

[lyculuscaelus]

Our Story (Fanfic)

Chapter 2 Odysseus and Nestor

I never told Telemachus that I’m not the man I once knew as myself anymore.

That Odysseus of Ithaca was lost somewhere on his way home. I am what remains.

And what remains is the strong man that he was, though a broken man already.

And this broken man no longer recognized his Ithaca, for he came home a foreigner.

And this broken man fears darkness, for it can only harbor a monster.

And this broken man is scared of unknown islands, fearful of the lurking strangers.

And this broken man is frightened by the ocean, now more than ever.

This broken man is what I am now, though still I hold myself together—just for Penelope’s and Telemachus’s sake.

But I no longer rejoice at the sight of an infant.

I no longer feel comfort in a bed made for two.

So has my wandering changed me. So will it change everyone who’s out for an adventure, for one can never remain the same afterwards.

So will I always remain foreign, here in my homeland.

Is that a good thing? I don’t know. But wandering brings nothing but pain, for it is not an adventure, but something far worse.

It’s tribulation. A punishment from Gods.

What’s an adventure, then, if not the one I’ve been through two years ago? Or, to put it simply, when does an adventure become tribulation?

I don’t know for sure. Adventures would certainly bring you good memories, while tribulation does not; Adventures help build friendships…while tribulation destroys them; Adventures are easier to been through than tribulation. If there’s any praise I would say about an adventure, it’s these.

But still, there are wounds that never truly heal, wounds you’ll receive when you take on an adventure.

And now Telemachus is longing for adventures...

“Venerable king of Ithaca, if I may ask, what is disturbing your mind with unease?”

Odysseus stirred back into reality. Through the cascading morning light across the room he can see Nestor walking towards him in a welcoming pace, steady and kingly, despite his old age. Nestor was a large person, fair-skinned, his white hair glittering in the bath of sunlight, three generations of vicissitudes carried within his broad chest. Odysseus couldn’t help but marvel at his healthy build.

As he sat down beside Odysseus by the feasting table, Nestor continued. “From your face I see the weariness of your soul. Those creases upon your forehead thick as dark clouds gathered by the thunder god, as if a storm is accumulating its strength, preparing for the destruction of many a warrior, who’re fighting for the brother-kings on the vast plain of Dardania; so are you now, preoccupied by your brooding, even though you have been emancipated from your hardships. Tell me then, O noble Odysseus, what sort of matter is troubling you?”

“Honorable Nestor, truly nothing can escape your sharp eyes,” Odysseus complimented as he glanced at the two servants delivering an amphora of wine to the table. “It’s my son, actually,” He sighed. “Telemachus has an adventurous heart. In his mind, it’s some kind of a grand adventure that was the reason I was delayed for 10 years. He didn’t even blame me for anything, saying that I’m always his childhood hero because my shrewdness is unmatched except by Athena, and I’ve taken an adventure he’s always dreamed of when he was younger.”

Halfheartedly, Odysseus took hold of a cup. “But that nostos,” he continued, clenching his other fist subconsciously. “Was never an adventure to me. It’s tribulation. I had faced peoples, gods, monsters, even goddesses. And I never desire any of this. All I wanted is to stay where I belong since the very beginning—when the Argives hadn’t come to my palace, and that goddamn Palamedes hadn’t messed with my son—hadn’t messed with me.”

Odysseus paused as the servants filled his cup with mellow wine. The wine glittered with the vibrancy of a fair morning, reflecting sunlight that danced in harmony with the winds, decorating the chamber with spots of light, sometimes revealing the outline of those swaying leaves through shadows, and drawing a sketch of them on the ceiling. Such a lovely sight, as on the day when I departed from Telemachus once again. “But then,” he continued. “How am I going to explain all this to Telemachus—these reasons that I couldn’t even organize the words myself?”

Nestor smiled, and grasped Odysseus’s right hand lightly. “Bear no such worry in your heart, my old friend. For Gods will deem what would be the best for each of us, and the Fates will see to it done.” He raised his golden cup to Odysseus, as if saluting to a past that was long gone—a past which they had once shared as comrades. “We all endure losses, some physical and some mental. Had the war not taken from us persons that were dear to us, things that we deemed valuable? Had the tribulation you’ve suffered not deprived you of your happiness, as right now? But just as a hard-won battle would compensate us for our fallen comrades with bountiful spoils, so will we gain strength from our suffering: From a myriad of battles rise the champions, through losses of friends vengeance is sought and justice restored. Such tribulation did bring you sorrow and pain, yet it also rendered you harsh, and with that comes your strength. Here, let’s drink it up, to the glorious past of ours, and the prosperous future of our sons'!”

Odysseus gladly drank to that, of course. Nestor does have a point here, though that’s not precisely what I need to hear. But of course, Nestor is just trying to be kind and nice here, and that’s his way of open arms. Odysseus thought, and cracked a grateful smile towards Nestor. “I see you haven’t changed a bit, my old friend,” Odysseus commented. “The wine tastes great, and my sorrow seems to have vanished for the moment, since your kind words have dissolved in such a nectareous flavor, and worked their way straight to my heart.”

“Well I have to admit, there’s one thing I’ve been wrong about you all along, my friend,” Nestor chuckled. “It seems that you haven’t lost that sense of humor on your way home, after all.”

“Anyway, how fare you in Pylos, honorable Nestor?” Odysseus finished the last sip, and attempted to start a new topic. As the servants filled their cups again, Nestor replied with a genuine smile. “Apparently the Gods have deemed my toils to be enough, thus we have spent the last eleven years in joy and happiness. My sons are growing up rapidly, and soon Peisistratus, the youngest son of mine, will get to take on his own journey, for he is always longing to see other places of the world, other people—quite a resemblance to your son Telemachus, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes…yes I guess,” why are we back here again? Odysseus quickly inhaled, trying to hide his fright with this sudden reprise of topics. “I mean, yeah. He and Telemachus do have a lot in common. And Tele always talks about his best friend in Pylos. There is something special about them, though. A bond, perhaps. Something tells me that they’re going to spend more time together in the future.”

“Interesting,” Nestor appeared to be thoughtful, while he gently massaged his white beard. “Interesting indeed. Have you told Telemachus about the new journey you’ve had a year ago?”

“Not really,” Odysseus replied quickly, still wondering what Nestor had in mind. “There’s…not much to talk about, anyway. I followed the prophecy to honor Poseidon with sacrifices, I got home safe and sound, and I never have to sail afar ever again. That’s already satisfying enough.”

“Then you’ve taken your son on a trip to other cities, which lasts for a whole year if I’ve heard it right. Sightseeing?”

“Indeed, sightseeing.” Odysseus was so confused right now.

“Hmm,” Nestor nodded pensively. “Have you been to Crete during this time?”

“Crete? Haven’t got a chance yet. But to be honest, I do miss Idomeneus. He, and Meriones. We used to have such fun together, even when we’re in the middle of a war.”

“Then I suppose you haven’t received the news that he has been exiled from his homeland, approximately 10 years ago?”

“What?” Odysseus gasped exaggeratedly. “I mean…what has he done to deserve such grim fate?”

Nestor looked distressed. “Some say that he has sacrificed his own son to Lord Poseidon, and some say that his wife was unfaithful to him, and had abandoned him as soon as he returned to Crete. But one thing is true: the reigning king of Crete at present is his foster son, Leucus, who’s as tyrannous as his real father—Talos the infamous bronze giant.”

“His son…Poseidon…Talos…” Odysseus was still trying to recover from his shock. Idomeneus exiled because he killed his own son? His throne taken by a foster son out of no reason? Somehow this thread reeks of deception and falsehood, I can smell it. “But what about Meriones?”

“He was kept by the king at Crete as a charioteer, even though it goes against his will to abandon his former king, who’s also a good friend of his.” Nestor sighed heavily, as if relating a tale from the distant past. His eyebrows furrowed with concentration, but a twitch of his lips gave away the impression that there’s more to this matter than meets the eye.

“Listen, Nestor, I’m sure that you and I have come up with the same conclusion, since you are equipped with the wisdom of three generations, and I my shrewdness unparalleled. This matter is not as simple as it seems. We both know Idomeneus well, and even the Gods could not play such a mischievous game this cruel and gruesome. The sequence of these events—death of his son, exile of a virtuous old king, rise of an evil new king—just seems too coincidental, that one could almost suspect,” Odysseus let the feelings uncoiled for a moment, and apparently Nestor had known what he was thinking at the exact moment already. “That it was Leucus who had murdered Idomeneus' son, outcast our dear Idomeneus, and usurped his throne.”

“My conclusion as well,” Nestor smiled with apparent appreciation. “Indeed great minds think alike. Nevertheless, this fact remains: Crete is now under the tyranny of a false king. The reduction in merchandise from Crete has stated it well, and gossips that travel afar have already proven our worst fear.”

“Wait, but that doesn’t necessarily discredit Leucus' rule, does it?”

“No it doesn’t. However, more and more fugitives from Crete are migrating to Argos, Mycenae, Sparta, along with other famous poleis. Moreover, it has been confirmed that the Cretans are raising a number of horses, forging countless weapons, constructing ships the scale of which cannot be measured within the scope of recovery. This has the peace-loving migrants told us truthfully, and may Zeus damn them if they all prove to be Sisyphus still-living.”

“Wait, but doesn’t that mean—”

“Yes I’m afraid so,” replied Nestor, dropping his voice. “It is rumored that Leucus is plotting a war.”

Odysseus couldn’t believe it. Crete, Now desiring for war after merely eleven years of peace? Who among the gods could’ve kindled their passion, to excite their lust for bloodshed, even when most of its people are still clinging to their hard-won peace?

But then again, one could never predict what is concealed in the mind of Gods, and neither should him. If the rumors are true indeed, then he must look for an answer through reason. For after all, isn’t this what it means to be a warrior of the mind?

“Well I suppose?” Odysseus was quick to come up with a theory, nonetheless. “After all the Cretans didn’t suffer so great in number during our latest conquest of Troy, and now that the population of other kingdoms is stretching thin, while Crete, being remote from the Mainland, hasn’t been affected by the decline in prosperity of other poleis to such an extent. I guess it’s not such a big surprise after all.”

“Young Odysseus, you have spoken well,” Nestor complimented on his analysis, while taking another drink from his golden cup. “And while it is true that most of the other kingdoms cannot afford to risk war against Crete, there still lurks a possibility, that we can take down this devious plot from within, before it ever starts to bring havoc to Panellas. Let us aim at the usurper—he would be nothing without his supporters. Let us help a new king to his throne, a new king who would be wiser and more peace-loving.”

“What?” Odysseus couldn’t have been more surprised. “Tell me, Nestor, is such audacious plan conceived by your own intelligence? Because if so, then you are perhaps more guileful than I think. Nevertheless, it is not appropriate for us to interfere with the politics of another kingdom, no matter how evil a conspiracy it is devising. Let us talk about the weather instead. For indeed it infuses us with happiness, even though such a topic we’re engaging right now isn’t quite fit for this sunny day.”

“You speak wisely, noble Odysseus,” Nestor remarked with certain appreciation. “But there is one more thing I’d like to add: no, this plan is not of my own counsel. Now, let us sing of the weather, the soothing wind that massages a forest of leaves, the glittering water that melts with the vast robe of sky, the sandy landscape that coats the champaign of Pylos. For none can resist such beautiful scenery, as if captured by the sight of a lovely maiden, so mesmerizing is the view of everything here…”

…

The chariot of Lord Helios slowly climbed to the zenith, leading traces of light bathing the vast plains of sandy Pylos. The gentle breath of Zephyrus rode its way straight to the distant mountains, laving the verdant forests with vapor and warmth. Sitting by the Ionian Sea, the city of Pylos was composing a song of laboring with everlasting conversations of city folks, and clatters of metal which rang though the web of streets, encompassing the grandiose palace of Nestor in the center.

Inside the palace, a conversation that had lasted for hours was now coming to an end, as the servants were preparing appetizing dishes for lunch. Roasted thighs of well-fed bulls and sheep were served, along with luscious fruits and flavorsome wine mixed with wheat. As they were waiting for all the princes and princesses to join them in feasting, the two kings spent their time sipping their wine silently, as they had already conversed for a whole long morning.

It was Nestor who broke the silence first. “So Odysseus, I have a trip in mind for both of us, and our sons. A trip you may find rather…interesting.”

“What kind of…trip?” Odysseus' tense eyebrows slowly creased.

“It’s not a long trip, really. And it’s an invitation to dinner, for the birthday of a certain prince, whose father you might find yourself very familiar with.” Nestor returned the golden cup to the plate held by his servant. “It’s a suggestion, though. Since you have not received the invitation—and I don’t suppose you will. But the strife must be dealt with between the two of you, for we must be fully prepared for what is to come if the Cretans are really devising disasters. You can come with me and my sons, bring prudent Telemachus along the way as well. You’ll be counted as my noble guests, whom I cannot hurry away for fear of the wrath of Zeus—protector of all outlanders, nor can I left in my own palace since Menelaus' latest lesson was far too great.”

“But where are we going exactly?” Odysseus pressed. Is Nestor stalling for the answer? But why? Is that supposed to be a place I wouldn’t be willing to go? But how can any place be worse, now that I’ve seen what Ogygia has in store? Just bring it on, my old pal!

“It may not please you to hear this…” Nestor seemed hesitant, but as he looked into that pair of fathomless yet sorrowful brown eyes of Odysseus, he decided to continue. “But this afternoon we’re leaving for Salamis.”

As if a peal of thunder suddenly cracked out of nowhere, shaking the ground with a shock and an ancient fear, Odysseus exclaimed loudly, quaked with fear of an old nightmare.

“Salamis?!”

Nestor nodded in silence.

“The Salamis?” Odysseus repeated, still shuddering in disbelief. Is this some kind of trick Nestor is trying to play on me? First to interfere with Crete’s internal affairs, now this? “Ajax’s Salamis? Oh nonono, I don’t think so. The people would enjoy stoning me to death, for one. Besides, what would their prince, Eurysaces son of Ajax, have to say about me? This is completely out of the question. I’m not going.”

“Seriously, Odysseus? You have encountered a Cyclops, withstood the spells of that dangerous Circe, paid a visit to the Underworld in life, hearken to the song of the Sirens unaffected, passed between Scylla and Charybdis, survived the devastating storms wrought by Poseidon himself, then returned home to wreak vengeance on all of the suitors. And now you’re terrified of meeting a people, whose previous king was once a friend of yours before he succumbed to his own folly and paid the price for his unreasonable ire?” Nestor replied rhapsodically, his hands dancing in dramatic gestures. But he soon stopped as he seemed to notice something. “Besides, what would the prince of Ithaca, Telemachus son of Odysseus, have to say about it?” Nestor suddenly raised his voice, and one of his eyebrow, while casting a glance over Odysseus' shoulder. And as Odysseus turned around to trace the line of sight of Nestor—

“I say, father,” Telemachus answered with a smile, his god-like figure radiating a sense of confidence, accompanied by Peisistratus and other sons and daughters of Nestor. As they walked gleefully through the gate into the chamber, Telemachus continued. “Let us confront this guilt of yours, and together we will get rid of it once and for all.”

#greek mythology #odysseus #nestor #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writing #idomeneus #ajax #telemachus #epic the musical #It’s way longer than I expected #Seriously Nestor’s part is both the easiest and hardest part to write #Ody and Tele are gonna have a talk about the difference in their attitude towards adventures vs tribulation in chap.4 #It’s not only about Tele’s and Peisis’s and Eurysaces’s adventure #Ody will have his own arc too #But anyway it’s already long so I’ll stop ranting

[thegirlwhowritesfics]

Mastermind

NSFW 18+ - Not smutty but smut implied.

It was one of those rare days in Santo Padre where the cool air reminds you that there are four seasons, the scent of death lingers in the air. The leaves, the soil, the grass, all dying as autumn blows through town, everything tinged brown. The click of her boots echo through the empty park as she slides into the cold metal chair, placing her handbag carefully on the ground she pulls out a smaller bag emptying it on the chess board table. 

Her long fingers placing the pieces from their last meeting, satisfied with their placement she leans back, studying the board. Trying to predict his next move. She doesn’t have to wait long, as he slides into his seat, no acknowledgement of her as he slides his next move. 

A smirk dances across his lips as he watches her, her skin glowing, she’s always been brighter than anything in this town. He watches as she cocks an eyebrow studying the board. Her tongue darted out, licking her lower lip, before her teeth sank in. He wonders what it would be like to sink his teeth into her delicate lips, would she enjoy it, or would she shed a tear? He doesn’t know which option excites him more. 

She finally looks up, his hair is out of his normal braids, his curls cascading around his face, a hint of the wildness that sits just under his skin. Her eyes roam, taking in his wide shoulders and hard chest. His tattoos poking out of his shirt collar and his wrists, she lets her mind wander, wondering just how far down his ink goes. Her fingers hover over her next move, and without a second thought she captures two of his pieces. 

A soft laugh escapes his lips, as her eyes meet his dark ones, getting lost in the soft flecks of gold within. 

“One of these days I’m going to stop letting you win,” he murmurs. 

“You’ve never once let me win,” she retorts. 

“No?” he asks, cocking his eyebrow as he makes his next move. 

She gazes down at the board, thinking of her next move “why would you?” she asks. 

He leans back in his chair stretching his legs out, his jeans brushing up against her stockings, the heat from his body making him shiver. 

“Maybe I just want to get back in your good graces,” he smirks. 

“There are better ways to get back in my good graces” she states, making her move, her eyes studying his fingers, wondering what they would feel like against her bare skin, skimming across her ribs, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples between them. 

She can feel the intensity of his gaze, as she looks up meeting his eyes again. His tongue darts out, licking his lower lip, another shiver runs through her. 

“You could get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness to start with” she says, moving her final piece into place “Checkmate” she smirks as she packs up the pieces, as he leans back in his chair, smirking at her. 

She slides an envelope across the table as she stands, picking her handbag up and slings it over her shoulder. As she starts to walk away his hand snakes out grabbing her arm, she can feel his warmth through the thickness of her coat, his fingers setting her alight. 

She looks down at him as he smirks up at her “tell me when and where” he murmurs, his voice tinged with anticipation and desire. 

She reaches into her coat pocket pulling out the card she prepared earlier, dropping it into his lap, leaning down as she brushes her lips across his ear.

“Don’t be late,” she whispers, feeling the shiver run through him. 

Straightening up, she walks back out of the park, her heels echoing against the concrete, his eyes burning into her from behind. 

Once she’s out of sight he picks up the card she dropped, heavy paper, embossed with gold detailing only an address with a date and time, neatly typed. 

He smirks down at the card “checkmate” he mutters to himself as he collects the envelope off the table and heads out of the park himself. 

#mayans mc #mayansfx #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x oc #nestor oceteva x y/n #nestor oceteva x reader #mayans mc fanfic #fan fic #mayans mc fan fiction #i wrote this

[blubary]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARK!!!!

KISS HIM PLEASE HE DESERVES IT

#character birthdays #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARK #I LOVE YOU BABY #fanart #the devil in me fanart #digital art #my art #mark nestor #the devil in me #dark pictures the devil in me #dark pictures anthology the devil in me #MARK I LOVE YOU BABY #IM SO SORRY I COULDNT WRITE A FANFIC FOR YOU #SOBBING CRYING SULKING

[stumbling-towards-the-light]

That moment where you just give up and give Nestor Royce's branch of the family a hereditary position as knights of the Bloody Gate because they need to have a family seat to justify the political power you unwittingly gave them while also still letting Nestor treat the Moon Gate as a better seat to obtain so it makes sense why Littlefinger would bribe him with it.

#asoiaf #worldbuilding #vale #house royce #family seats #fanfic #the queen of the skies #i was under the impression the two bramches of house royce split like 100s of years before the main story #but i was confused why they didnt seem to have a family keep #also part of vale politics was that to choose ysilla royce over myranda royce would have an uproar #so had to justify that kind of power #petyr baelish #nestor royce

[blotomical]

A3: Narrow comforts of company [Genloss || alternate ending]

you can also read it on AO3

previous chapter

The trio deals with the aftermath of having massive amounts of adrenaline in their system for days on end. They try not to give in to doubt and despair as they give themselves time to rest.

Word count: 8k

[CWs in tags]

#tw death #tw body horror #tw other genloss typical things #genloss #generation loss #gl!ranboo #gl!charlie #gl!sneegsnag #gl!niki #slimecicle #ranboo #ranboolive #sneegsnag #ethan nestor #genloss fanfic #genloss fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #showfall media #astray!gl

[garbinge]

New Years Resolutions Pt. 1

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Day 14 from these April Prompts: “Finally completing a New Years resolution” 

Summary: Nestor’s next door neighbor is his complete opposite, but yet she’s his best friend. Just some end of the year reflections as life is about to change for the both of them. 

Word Count: 2.2k words

Warnings: Angst, mentions of fighting. 

A/N: This is pre cartel, pre navy Nestor <3 I did so much mindless research on the book I mentioned in this fic, that I should have just read it LOL. Enjoy this lightly angsty but cute fic for a pre-mercenary Nestor.

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini​

Part 2

The twinkle of string lights were shining through your window from your house and the street you lived on. It was the week in between holidays where everyone forgot what day it was, what they did for work, and lived in simple bliss of waking up everyday with no routine in site. 

You just closed the cover of the book. The red fist that filled the cover staring at you in the face. With your shoulders slumped you stared at the book, in awe of what you had just read, trying to take it all in. Your head turned to look out the window, seeing that across the street at the two level yellow painted house the window on the far top right had a faint light on. A smile filled your face and you kicked your blanket off and shuffled to find your shoes and a sweatshirt. Luckily despite the month being December, California barely got below 50 on a bad day. Extending your hand you grabbed the book and snuck out your room. It was something you had done plenty of times, luckily this week was the easiest week of the year to do it. Your parents loved to indulge in a holiday cocktail or 5 leading up to New Years, a perk of being off from work, which meant they were in the basement blasting music with other family members. This left the front door readily available for you to just wales out of. Now, with that in mind, you weren’t frivolous, you still checked your surroundings, peered around walls, tip-toed on the stairs, and slowly closed the front door just as extra precaution, wasn’t worth the risk. 

You crossed the street quickly and quietly, the sound of crickets and low hums of music being the only noises in the air. You made it to the front porch, not wasting any time to jump on the banister and balance yourself on the porch’s half wall until your hands could reach the slanted roof. First, you lightly tossed the paperback in your hand on the roof, then proceeded to position yourself to maneuver to the second floor. Hoisting yourself up, your right leg swung up, landing on the ladder of greenery that was used as privacy when relaxing in the outside entrance but was more commonly used as a means to lift yourself up to the roof. With ease, you made it up to the second floor and peered into the window. 

Nestor was laying on his bed which faced away from the window, headphones on full blast as he mindlessly flipped through his music collection. There was no chance he’d hear you tap on the window, so you waved your hands obnoxiously counting two full Mississippi seconds before giving up and just opening the window. Nestor didn’t jump or stir, he calmly took a headphone out and leaned up off the bed as he looked at you. That was one of your favorite things about Nestor, he didn’t scare easily. 

The sound of the music screaming through his headphones muffled as he cupped the ear bud in his hand and then eventually faded as he found his iPod and paused it. 

“You are never going to guess how it fucking ends.” The book was being tossed onto his bed as you paced back and forth in the open part of his room. 

Nestor glanced over at the book, becoming familiar again with it, he remembered you had given him a breakdown on Christmas of all that you had read so far. It was crazy he had followed along, Fight Club wasn’t exactly the easiest book to follow and add in your speed while explaining, it was a miracle he even knew what the title of it was.

“Isn’t the first rule about fight club not to talk about fight club?” He asked, sitting at the edge of the bed now. 

With a roll of your eyes and shake to your head, you pushed him over on the bed to sit next to him. “The fifth rule is one fight at a time, so you’re either going to have to fight me or fight your fuckin’ wack ass humor.” 

Nestor laughed, opening his mouth to say something else he probably found to be the most hilarious thing in the world until you cut him off. “Sixth rule, fights are bare knuckle.” You wound your fist back, there was no chance you’d actually hit him, and he knew this but he still surrendered by lifting his hands up, still not wiping the grin off his face. It was contagious, you smiled back at him and reached behind you for the book. 

“So, you gonna spoil the ending for me or what? I’m at the edge of my seat.” Nestor looked over at you. 

“Let me relish in this, it’s not just everyday I finish a New Year’s resolution, Nes.” This was book 12 out of your monthly journey of reading a novel a month. You had printed out a list from some shady site as Nestor called it, but you would have described it as niche. Nestor’s argument was that classic books weren’t categorized as niche, which the list had tons of classics, you just had a habit of not really paying attention to your internet surfing habits, or denying pop up ads, look it was enough that you were fulfilling a New Years Resolution, ok. 

Nestor took a deep breath and looked over at you impatiently. 

“Okay, okay.” You turned towards him on the bed so one leg was tucked under you while the other dangled off. 

“It was him the whole fuckin’ time!” You squealed. “Tyler was the Narrators alter ego!” You eagerly took the book and shook it against his chest in excitement. “And get this, Nes. Narrator shoots himself in the end right, and you think he’s dead but HE’S NOT!” Your hands went to your head as you recalled the words you just read. “But Tyler IS! It was crazy, you gotta read it.” 

“I feel like I have.” Nes chuckled. 

“Fuck.” Your head fell backwards. “I shouldn’t have ruined the ending, I’m an idiot. I was just so excited.” Rolling your head back forward, your shoulders slumped and you looked up at him through the top of your eyelids in defeat. 

He let out a laugh at that, “It’s fine. It’s not like I have much time to read it anyways.” He shrugged. 

Those words were like a strike to the gut. Sucker punch. Not fair. You had thought internally, but he was right. 5 days were left until Nestor left for boot camp. You dreaded thinking about it, you dreaded hearing about it, and most of all you dreaded that the days were flying by making it become reality all too quickly. 

While you felt all these things, you never let them show. Not wanting to ruin the time you had left with your best friend, you buried all the emotion down and kept a smile on your face. That was the thing about Nestor though, he knew. He knew you so well he could see right through the facade, but he let you have it. That’s what best friends were for, right? 

“You mean to tell me you can’t take a book with you to boot camp?” You fell backwards on the bed, and crawled next to him. Positioning your legs against the wall so your back could be on the bed with your head on his lap. 

Nestor thought about responding, but knew talking about leaving wasn’t how you wanted to spend the night. 

“What’s your resolution for next year?” Nestor laid back against his pillow, letting your head fully rest on his abdomen. 

“I have 5 more days to figure it out, don’t rush me, Oceteva.”

Your head shook as he let out a laugh and you couldn’t help but smile and look up at him. Taking a deep breath in, your gaze moved back to the ceiling. Your thoughts starting to consume you, wondering what the next year was going to look like for you. Resolutions aside, you were losing your best friend. There was a part of you that knew whatever happened to him at boot camp would change him as a person. Forget about active duty. The countdown was ticking in your head, 5 days, 120 hours, 7200 minutes left of your Nestor. 

“You know I’ll write you, right?” He said almost like he knew what was going on in your mind. 

“It won’t be the same.” Those words were the most you had said about him leaving after he announced it to you. 

“Even if I wasn’t going it wouldn’t be the same.” His hand came to rest closer to you but didn’t touch you. “You’re going to study abroad in 5 days. We would be writing each other letters regardless.” 

His tone was so full of rational and reasoning which wasn’t where your head was at. 

“But when I come back you’re not going to be here.” The croak in your voice was apparent and even though you tried really hard to mask it the crack caused a tear to break free. 

“I’ll be back in the summer for a week.” His voice changed from reasoning to desperate. The distress was coming from a place of trying to convince you everything was going to be alright. And maybe a little bit of trying to convince himself too. 

“I’ll see you for like a day. Between your mom, brother, and Mikey you’re going to be booked and busy.” You argued every point he made. 

“You know what. First rule about boot camp, no one talks about boot camp.” Frustrated he sat up and stared down at you, your eyes meeting his. 

“I like that rule very much.” You smiled. 

The rest of the night, the two of you hung out like you had millions of times before. Critiquing new music, hanging up magazine cut outs on Nestors wall, taking time to create more sharpie art over it to customize it. At one point Nestor had knocked out while you were on the computer, using limewire to download pirated music. You had realized it because normally he would argue until he won to get you away from the computer, not trusting a single second of you searching on the Java-scripted program in fear of you wrecking his PC.

Turning your head, you saw his eyes shut, and managed to get a glance at the time. 1:30AM. A sigh left your mouth, quiet enough that it wouldn’t wake him, although you knew once Nestor was asleep, he was knocked out, able to sleep through pretty much anything.

As you grabbed your book, you saw something at the edge of the bed. A duffel bag, partially packed with clothes, toiletries and other items he was taking with him to boot camp. You stared at it for a minute. Letting all your emotions bubble up for a short amount of time, you wouldn’t talk about it with him again, not until the day he was leaving, and you were pretty sure even then you wouldn’t mention it. You’d hug him goodbye and that would be that. Looking down in your hand you saw the book and without thinking your legs started to move. A pen was in your hands and the ball point was gliding across the inside cover. 

Rule 1: You do not talk about boot camp. 

Rule 2: You do not talk about boot camp. 

Rule 3: You must write to me as often as possible. 

Rule 4: You can not get another best friend. 

Rule 5: You must stay safe. 

Rule 6: If you have leave time, at least one day must be reserved for me. (i’ll gladly take more if you’re offering)

Rule 7: Phone calls are a MUST when possible. 

Rule 8: Once at boot camp you can talk about boot camp. 

Your tears fell onto the page leaving it to crinkle as it dried. Luckily, you had written your rules on the back of the front cover so the ink didn’t smudge. You carefully placed the book under what he had already packed in his duffel, taking one last deep inhale before shoving the emotions back down. You didn’t bother looking at Nestor before sneaking back out the window, knowing it would bubble up everything you just bottled in. Part of you knew you’d regret it. Sure you had 5 days left of seeing him, but now that meant only 5 more times of seeing his face. You weren’t in the position to give up stealing glances at his face. One that would indefinitely change, the Nestor that was sleeping in that bed right now would be different than the Nestor you’d even see tomorrow. The more and more he packed his bag, the more of him would be packed away. And yet, you did. You did give up stealing glances at his face, because you knew that with every glance, you would fall more in love with a man who he was never going to be again.

Part 2

#nestor x reader #nestor oceteva x reader #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans fanfic #nestor fanfic #nestor mayans

[bullet-prooflove]

Could you do "come on, baby, I can call your bluff" with Nestor?

You have a tell, you don't know you do but Nestor does. Everytime a lie or a mistruth slips out of you mouth, you toy with the stud in your left ear.

The first time he noticed it was when you told him the paper rose you left on his pillow wasn't a big deal. Just something you did randomly when waiting for the kettle to boil. He hasn't realised at the time it was your way of wooing him.

Now as he sits across drop you intently studying your features, he sees you reach up again, thumb skating over the silver star in your ear. He smiles and shakes his head, because you don't realise that you've just lost the game you're playing.

Two truths and a lie.

"Prague's the lie." He tells you. "You've never been to Prague."

"Fuck." You mutter, your hand pulling away from your ear. "How do you always know?"

He raises his eyebrows and gives you a smile. You find it both endearing and completely infuriating because this man knows you so well and he never let's you win.

"I suppose you want you're prize now." You mutter, shifting position on the couch to part your legs. He puts a cushion on the floor and sits between them, his back coming to rest against the sofa before you begin to undo his braids.

"You know I would have given you a head massage anyway if you'd asked." You say softly, your fingertips smoothing over his scalp, shaking out the remnants of the braids.

"Hm." The little noise in his throat vocalises his pleasure. "But it feels so much better earned."

#nestor oceteva fanfic #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor mayans #nestor #nestor oceteva fanfiction #nestor oceteva

[drabbles-mc]

Doctor Recommended

Nestor Oceteva & Erin Thomas

For Day 6 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: painkillers/bad coping mechanisms

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, mentions of pills

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: In a twist that is shocking to no one at all, I do have a bigger fic about these two sitting in my wip folder as we speak. It exists completely separate from this one-shot, but it does exist. Despite the fact that the two of them have never shared a single second of screentime, you can catch me constantly thinking about Nestor and Erin together anyway. No one can stop me. 😌

Mayans Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @yourwonkywriter @gemini0410 @mijagif @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @anditsmywholeheart @artemiseamoon @nessamc @crowfootwrites @beardburnsupersoldiers @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @justazzi @passionatewrites @darqchilddaydreamz @camelia35 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

The house was silent as Nestor made his way through to the kitchen. Despite the fact that the last forty-eight hours had gone horrendously, and that his right arm was now strapped down in a sling, he still was pulling his overnight watch at the Galindo house. Realistically, he didn’t know how much use he would be if something were to happen, but the house had yet to be ambushed in the dead of night so he figured it would be a relatively safe and easy shift.

For the few hours that he’d been there so far, everything had been quiet. Everyone was upstairs and, presumably, asleep. The house was as close to silent as it would ever be. Most of what he’d been doing was just patrolling and making sure that nothing looked like it was out of the ordinary.

Even though it’d been an uneventful night so far, it didn’t stop the shooting pain in his shoulder that was quickly starting to travel down his arm. The doctor had given him painkillers when he’d initially gotten checked out. The pain hadn’t been bad enough, in Nestor’s opinion, to warrant them yet. However, he also had no intention of spending the entire night in pain. So he made his way to the kitchen with the intention of finally taking a couple of the pills to at least take a bit of the edge off.

Erin was quietly making her way back to her room upstairs from the bathroom when she heard noises coming from downstairs. If it had been anyone else’s house, she would’ve assumed that it was nothing, but it wasn’t just anyone’s house. She didn’t pretend to know all the details of what Miguel got up to when he left the house, but she knew that things hadn’t been going well lately. After all, there was no other reason that the man would’ve called her and invited her to the house.

She was regretting all of that as she crept down the stairs and started making her way towards the noise. She knew that it was an ill-informed decision—it wasn’t like she had any weapons on her and she had no interest in getting into a brawl with an intruder, but it was too late now. She was too committed to the plan.

The closer she got to rounding the corner to get into the kitchen, the better she could make out some of the actual sounds. She heard someone grumbling but she couldn’t quite make out the words. Then she heard something clattering against the countertops. Her heart felt like it was starting to creep up into her throat as she tried to brace herself for rounding the corner.

She stepped into the kitchen with more speed and gusto than necessary, and with more than she thought she would be able to muster given the late hour. She was holding her breath, eyes wide as she looked around to see who was in the house and what was going on.

Her sudden appearance caught Nestor off-guard. The still-closed pill bottle in his hands slipped from his grasp and clattered against the counter again. He whipped around to face her, having to reach with his non-dominant hand for his gun, the motion much slower than it would’ve been if he actually had use of his right arm.

That turned out to be a good thing for both of them, though. In the time that it took for him to try and reach for his gun, he realized that it was only Erin, and the extra couple of seconds that she had on him because of her silent approach allowed her to see that it was only Nestor. As much as she hated that Miguel always seemed to have people wandering around the house at all hours, she was glad that he was at least supposed to be there.

“Fuck me,” she said, the words sounding more like a sigh of relief than anything else.

Nestor was struggling to re-holster his gun, eyes trained on that rather than Erin as he asked, “What are you doing up?”

She walked deeper into the kitchen, landing herself on the opposite side of the island from him. “I thought I heard someone breaking in to try and, I don’t know, kill everyone.” Even with her hushed voice, the sarcasm was impossible to miss.

He lifted his eyes and looked at her, eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of her in a ratty, over-sized t-shirt and pajama shorts. All he could think was that if he had been someone breaking in, Erin wouldn’t have posed much of a threat. “Planned on being the first to go?”

She laughed quietly and rolled her eyes. “Big talk coming from the guy who can’t pull his gun right now.” She leaned forward so that her forearms were braced against the countertop. “Why are you even here? Like, are you even useful right now?”

Nestor would’ve taken more time to be annoyed by her commentary if he hadn’t been so busy battling it out with the bottle of pills in his hand. “Useful enough,” he grumbled out.

An amused grin came over her lips as she watched him struggle. “Yea, I see that.”

Nothing more was said between the two of them as Nestor continued to fiddle with the bright orange bottle of pills. Erin perched her chin in her hand as she watched him. She could’ve easily gone back to bed, but she knew that she wasn’t going to fall back to sleep anytime soon so there was no point. Instead, she kept herself camped out on the opposite side of the island, perfectly content while Nestor had growing frustration to pair with his intensifying pain.

Erin wouldn’t have had any problem popping the top off the bottle of pills for him, but she wanted him to ask for the help. She didn’t have any specific problem with Nestor that made her want to watch him struggle, but she knew that it really wouldn’t kill him to just ask for some assistance.

He could feel her eyes on him as his left hand wrapped around the bottle and tried to get the top off. As if being in pain wasn’t enough, now he had an audience to his temporary incompetence. He didn’t have to be looking at her to know that she was getting a kick out of it all, probably scheming up some smart remarks. He was no stranger at this point to being on the end of those, but the pain he was in made him a little less tolerant of it all.

A couple different times he tried to use the hand of his arm that was bound in the sling. Each time, though, he was reminded that everything in his arm and hand were connected because another jolt of pain would go through him when he attempted to put apply any kind of pressure with that hand.

Letting out a deep sigh, he fought the urge to just slam the plastic bottle against the countertop. His left hand was clamped down tightly over the lid, and even in the low lighting of the kitchen Erin could see the clench in his jaw as he tried not to throw the entire thing across the house.

His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath, ready to make another futile attempt at it all. Erin didn’t know how long the two of them had actually been standing there on either side of the island, but it was far too long for so little reward. The second he lifted the bottle off the countertop, Erin leaned over the island, nearly lifting her feet off the floor in the process of reaching, and snatched the bottle out of his hand.

“I can’t fuckin’ watch this anymore,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“I—”

“No you don’t,” she didn’t allow him to try and argue. It took her all of five seconds to get the lid off. She handed the bottle back over to him, keeping the lid to herself as she spun it on the counter like it was a coin she’d found along the way.

Her hand toyed idly with the cap to the bottle while she watched Nestor set the bottle down before turning around and stepping over towards the cupboards where all of the glasses and plates were kept. Reaching up, he pulled the door to one open and grabbed a glass tumbler for himself. Erin assumed that he was going to put it under the sink faucet and fill it with water. Instead, though, he set the glass down on the counter and reached for one of the bottles of whiskey intermingled among hers and Emily’s numerous bottles of wine.

That was a bottle that he was able to get the cap off of with no problem. Erin chuckled as she watched him pour a fairly generous amount of the liquor into the glass that he’d gotten. He screwed the cap back onto the bottle, sliding it back into place before moving the glass to the island where the open bottle of pills sat.

Everything felt like it took so many more steps than necessary when he only had use of one hand. He set the glass down and grabbed the pill bottle, shaking two out onto the counter before setting the bottle back down. He swiped the pills up and tossed them into his mouth, holding them there for a moment as he grabbed the glass of whiskey. He took a large sip to wash the pills down. Once that was done, he took another sip for good measure before setting the glass back down.

Erin was watching the entire thing, chuckling to herself as she did. “Yea,” she said when Nestor set the glass back down, “I think that’s exactly how the doctors recommend you take those.” She ignored Nestor’s lack of a response as she reached across the counter for the bottle again. Making a big show of turning the bottle in her hand and reading the label, she said, “Right here, actually. Make sure to take with copious amounts of alcohol.”

Nestor shook his head at her as he drummed his fingers on the outside of his glass. He knew her well enough to know that whether or not he gave her an argument about it, she was going to keep talking anyway. Every day he wondered how she and Emily came from the same family. He and his brother had been different, sure, but nothing like the two of them.

Erin half-expected Nestor to tell her to go back to bed. Or, at the very least, simply walk away from her and out of the kitchen. It wasn’t as though he was chatty with her under the best circumstances, let alone a night like this. But still, he hadn’t left, hadn’t tried to send her away.

“So, what happened, anyway?” she asked, her voice so much quieter than it usually was.

He was so caught off-guard by how genuine she sounded when she asked that he almost gave her the answer. He opened his mouth to tell her, but stopped himself. Instead, he just shook his head. “Nothing.”

Erin sighed, shaking her head as she fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Yea, last time I ended up popping painkillers with my arm strapped down it was also because of nothing.”

She waited for him to have some sort of response, something passive-aggressive and dismissive all at once. But he was silent. The two of them stayed across from each other, silently staring at each other and waiting for the other to have something to say. If history was evidence to anything, it was that Erin was going to have something to say first. However, it seemed like she was determined to get him to speak up for once.

He knew that getting into any of it with her was going to do more harm than good. There was nothing that she could do about it, no help that she could offer. And if she was already paranoid about whoever was in the house, telling her about the threats they were dealing with outside the house on a regular basis wasn’t going to help ease any of her unrest.

Instead of offering her anything substantial, he asked, “Can you put the cap back on that?”

She watched as he nodded towards the pill bottle that was sitting in front of her. Her knee-jerk reaction was to be petty and tell him to do it himself. He saw it in her eyes that she didn’t want to make things easy for him if he wasn’t going to offer her any kind of answers. But the harshness in her eyes only lasted for a moment before it softened slightly and she put the cap back on for him. Her concession to that was the most she’d ever seemed to be like Emily in the entire time that Nestor had known her.

“Next time you gotta open it, you’re on your own,” she said as she slid it across the counter to him.

A tiny smirk pulled at the one end of his mouth, but he didn’t say anything, instead giving a short nod of acknowledgment. He stood there waiting, assuming from her tone and her comment that she was going to go back to bed. Instead of leaving him to his own devices, Erin walked around to the other side of the island and grabbed her own glass. Nestor watched her intently, wondering what she was going to grab for herself. Much to his surprise, she reached for the same bottle that he had only a short while before.

She poured herself a smaller portion than Nestor had poured for himself. Once she put the cap back on, she stepped back to the island, her and Nestor now both on the same side. Setting her glass out of harm’s way, she hoisted herself up so that she was sitting on the edge of the counter, legs dangling over the edge of it. Nestor didn’t comment on it or try to move away from her. He watched as she grabbed her cup and took a sip, cringing slightly as it went down.

The silence between them was welcome, comfortable even. It wasn’t often that the two of them found themselves in each other’s company with no one else around. Typically wherever Nestor was, Miguel or Emily wasn’t far behind. There were a million questions that Erin wanted to ask since it was just the two of them for once, but she was smart enough to know that she wouldn’t get the answers to any of them.

“Future reference,” she finally broke the silence as she toyed with the glass in her hands, “the wine is way better.”

It was the first time Erin had ever heard Nestor let out anything reminiscent of a laugh or a chuckle. She chalked it up to the painkillers finally starting to kick in. He nodded in acknowledgment as he picked up his glass and brought it back to his lips, taking another sip without a word.

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday6 #painkillers #bad coping mechanisms #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva fanfic #nestor oceteva imagine #erin thomas #erin thomas fanfiction #nestor oceteva x erin thomas #erin thomas x nestor oceteva #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[qusok]

Jerin need more fics, so here I am. There's also a bit of Markate! Hehe.

It was a long, horrible night. So much stress, fear, panic and no place to rest. But hopefully, soon this night, this dread, would come to an end. The crew members were already at their finish line, at least that's what they called it, right near the lighthouse. They spent so much time and energy and finally reached it. Well, not all of them yet. Kate was still out in the woods somewhere after she was separated from the other girls, but she would make it. She is tough, she is smart, she knew the plan.

Speaking of the plan, the lighthouse was right here, it just needed to be turned on.

"Hey! Are you coming?" Jamie distracted her friend, who was totally absorbed in his thoughts, with a few pats on his shoulder. Mark didn't even notice that the others had already found a way inside. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." Mark didn't tear his eyes away from the woods, "I think maybe I should stay here to see Du'Met if he shows up? So we won't be caught off guard." Even though it sounded like a great and rational plan, Jamie knew it wasn't about Du'Met. Well, at least not completely about him. Obviously it was Kate, and Jamie couldn't blame her friend for that. She probably would have done the same if it was Erin.

"Okay, great idea. Maybe Charlie can stay with you? It would be safer together. Erin and I can turn on the lighthouse." There was no need to pressure Mark to tell the real reason. Well, of course Jamie would have teased him about it at any other moment, but definitely not today. She could do it later, if they get out of here alive. Jamie noticed Mark grinning a little at her last phrase, but decided not to ask because it might have been his turn to tease her if she did. Of course, Mark was happy for his friend getting together with a girl she had liked for so long.

"Yeah, good luck." Mark replied with the same grin, which was growing wider, subtly nudging Jamie with his elbow. Yeah, he probably implied a bit more than just the light.

The men stayed outside, and Jamie took Erin's hand to go to the entrance they found. This gesture was totally accidental, but no one complained, really. The path to the door was blocked by the fence. It was possible to get there, but it was just easier and faster to go through the hole Erin found.

Jamie went in first to make sure everything was safe. She wanted Erin to be okay. She needed it through the whole night, without exception.

After looking around a little, she gave Erin her hand so that she wouldn't fall. The landing was even softer, as Jamie literally caught the younger girl by her waist, making her blush and giggle. The moments when they were together (except for the moments of being immensely scared for each other's lives) during this night were like rays of light in the midst of impenetrable darkness. Everything would be so much worse without these glowing sparkles that they were for each other.

"Hey," Jamie broke the silence (that was always comfortable and never awkward) as they walked through the lighthouse, "I realized I never got to answer you," she continued after knowing that she had Erin's attention, "I think I do too. I think I love you too."

Jamie has never been the one to just open up like this, to be so sincere. That's why she couldn't look at Erin right now, but even without looking at her, the older girl knew that she was beaming like the most beautiful and warm sunshine in the world. Jamie would never regret saying that, ever.

"Or... something?" The older girl added with a chuckle, remembering Erin's confession so clearly, even after everything they had been through.

"I never thought there could be something good about this night," Erin sighed with a smile, taking Jamie's hand in hers again and intertwining their fingers.

After getting to the top of lighthouse, the girls were met by a console, which didn't seem particularly working. After trying to press the buttons, it became clear. No power. It had to be restored manually.

Erin followed Jamie outside to see where the power supply was. But, of course, they were separated from it by a huge gap with only narrow section of the floor. Jamie took a step towards this gap.

"Jamie, no." Erin grabbed the older girl's hand, preventing her from going any further, "You're not going through this."

"Well, then what should we do, genius?" Jamie raised an eyebrow. They had to launch the lighthouse, and there was no other way. However, Erin had other plans. She yanked Jamie back inside.

"Do you still have your screwdriver? We can just break the window and get out without falling and dying."

"God, Erin... You really are a genius," with Erin smiling at her, Jamie took her screwdriver (damn, she almost lost it earlier).

Fortunately, no one got hurt by the shreds when the window was crushed. After getting rid of the remaining glass parts on the window frame, Jamie crawled outside.

"See? Much safer," Erin was glad that after Jamie saved her so many times that night, she was able to really help her too. Of course, there was no competition or anything like that, she was just happy that her lover was safe. Well, at least safer than she could have been.

Turning the power on wasn't so safe though. The humid air electrified the top of the long-unused lighthouse. A small amount of electricity hit Jamie's hand directly, making her jump back. Erin's heart jumped, too. If not for the rickety fence, Jamie probably would have fallen. Erin couldn't help but got outside too to hold Jamie closer to her. She was so scared for the girl.

"Careful," the younger girl mumbled into Jamie's shoulder, while the latter patted her head and hugged her with her other arm.

"It's okay, I'm alive, we just have to go in and get this thing working." She didn't want Erin to be worried. They had already gone through a lot of horrible things, and now no one needed extra stress.

"Okay, there we go," Jamie pressed a button on the finally powered console, turning on the light. Soon it became impossible to look at it, so the girl turned away, covering Erin's eyes with her hands. There was something so soft and intimate about this gesture that made the younger girl smile widely. It almost felt like for a moment all the horrors could be forgotten, leaving Erin with only a feeling of joy and Jamie's warm hands. Erin couldn't help herself, so she pulled one of Jamie's hands away for a moment to find her face, and kissed her, bolder that the first time. Jamie was surprised, but definitely enjoyed the kiss. Well, it can hardly be called a kiss, because both of them were smiling too much.

At this moment, they knew. They have to get out of here. Together.

#supermassive games #the devil in me #tdpa #the dark pictures #erin keenan #jamie tiergan #tdim #mark nestor #kate wilder #jerin #jerin fanfic #jamie x erin #erin x jamie #markate #(just a little bit) #the devil in me fanfic #the dark pictures fanfic

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Beg Me - A Nestor Oceteva/Reader Smut Drabble.

So, I’ve never written for this dude before, but I know a few of you will be interested for me to do so, so here you are!

Words - 385

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

The slick sound of his fingers rotating within the heat of your needy core fills the air with lewdness, your sighs longing, his hand clutched at your neck as he stares down at you, his eyes like two dark, onyx shards, lips upturning into a smirk.  

“Please, Nestor,” you breathe, your thighs juddering, a little mewl of delight tumbling from your parted lips as his thumb begins to rub a slick circle over your clit, tight and precise, his mouth peppering kisses along your jaw. “I need your cock.”  

He eyes you curiously, his head tilting a little, his long mane of wild, beautiful curls falling like a curtain over your bare flesh. “I know you do, little doe. You gotta tell me the words I wanna hear first, though.”

You know he won’t relent, he will grant no clemency until you submit entirely, his enjoyment at keeping you hanging on the silk threads of anticipation, primed to snap at any moment, far too great for him to show you any mercy. He is not that man, but he is fair. Eventually.  

You wail at the feel of his fingertips massaging sparks through your walls, his grip around your throat tightening and relaxing, the weight of him pushing you down, making you his. As if you would be anyone else’s.  

“Who do you belong to?”

“You.”

He blinks slowly, nodding. “Yes, you do. All mine, to do with as I please, and fuck, baby. How I want to pin you down and remind you of that, treat you good, fuck this wet little pussy the way you love me to, but I won’t. Not until I hear it.”

The feeling of his fingers moving in an undulating wave, his thumb stroking sugar drenched embers over thousands of nerve endings has you shaking, whining, dying for more, his gaze intent as he watches you descend into the mindlessness he chases you into, grinning at your stupefaction.  

“Please,” you pant, your body arching against his, Nestor pushing you down with the weight of his broad chest, his cock hard against your hip. “I’m begging you. Please fuck me.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, removing his fingers and finally, replacing them for the thick heat of his cock. “That’s my good girl. All you had to do was beg me.”

A/N - Please, be good to your author and reblog if you enjoyed this. Don’t want to reblog because it doesn’t match the aesthetic of your blog? That’s fine. Leaving a little comment of appreciation goes a long way!

#nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva fanfiction #nestor oceteva x female reader #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva smut #nestor oceteva fanfic #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva fic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc smut #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

[bookfanfic]

Letter from 1914 (world war 1 - imagine scenario)

Summary: Felix is a 25 year old, German soldier from 1914. He's never done anything in his life, for his mom to be proud of. And since his dad died (9 years ago), his mom have treated him even worse. He has an 11 year old sister (Lily), and a 32 year old aunt, Elise. When the war comes up it's super obvious for Heidi (Felix's mom) to send him to the war "to have something to be proud of for once". Little did he know that he would meet the love of his life during his time there.

About 1700 words.

Author's note: I had a school assignment where we were supposed to write like we were any person from 1914, from their POV, and I thought it would be fun to post it here. Btw, it is a gay couple in the story fyi (I can write both gay and straight couples so you know).

Hope you like it <33

Hello, Aunt Elise.

It's me, Felix. The war isn't like we thought at all.

You know Mother Heidi wanted me to participate in the war so badly, so she could finally have something to be proud of. And since it was obvious to everyone we would win.

But it wasn't that simple...

We are at war on both the Eastern and Western fronts now, which is where I am right now (The western front to avoid any confusion).

War is not what we thought it was.

It's bloody and cold. And I nearly died once. But a French man saved me.

His name is Nestor and he is only a year older than me.

He has dark hair and a mixture of blue and gray eyes. He could have chosen not to save me, since he could have received huge punishment for it.

When he bumped into that soldier who was about to shoot me.

The trenches were cold. Especially now during the winter.

It's so sad that everyone has to be here during Christmas. Think of all the families waiting for their father, or brother, or husband to come home again.

But anyway.

This Christmas was not as bloody as the rest of the war.

We in the German army started singing Christmas carols.

And despite the cold.

The bloody, silent cold. It felt like home in Germany for a moment.

After a while the French- and Englishmen started singing along.

It was a man from each camp who met up in the middle, between the trenches, and decided that we should have peace. At least during the Christmas night.

We all gathered in the middle after a while, and some people even played soccer. But not me though. I've never been much for soccer, as you know.

And then I met him again.

Nestor.

He also sat on the sidelines, while the others played soccer. And I sat next to him.

It was a little awkward at first. Because I didn't know how to thank him, or because of all the fine details in his face that I couldn't notice from such a distance before and that made me a little nervous now, I couldn't say.

I saw more detail now up close.

His hair was dark, like a crow's feathers. And his eyes, like two storms out at sea.

He seemed so brave and mature in the way he watched everyone during the soccer game. As if he had been through a lot, even though he's lived barely a year longer than myself.

But he also looked a little lost. As if confused. Or perhaps miserable.

He was also quite thin. From the slender shoulders to his slim stomach, and legs. It didn't look like he was sick, but..

It just felt like it wasn't enough, in a way.

When I realized that I had been staring at his figure a second longer than I should have, I cleared my throat and looked at the ground.

I was a little ashamed. But he didn't seem to notice. Or care maybe.

We talked for a while and he was actually very nice.

He told me about his family. About being an only child, and all the pressure that came with it.

After he finished talking, I told him about mine.

He felt oddly relatable though he's in the opposite family situation compared to me.

But it felt like he understood.

All the pressure that came with this particular war. What would happen if we didn't win? And what would happen if we did?

I got a strange feeling of nausea when we talked about who would win the war.

What if we won, and he died? Or vice versa?

The thoughts were too much at that moment, so I chose to push them away for the time being.

As the soccer game was coming to an end, Nestor looked much happier.

I told him some of your infamous jokes, and he loved them.

His laugh sounded so genuine. So inviting and warm, despite the cold night that surrounded us.

There was something about him that felt different.

Like home. But different from back in Germany. Like another kind of home. A kind I never knew existed before.

Like he filled a void in me I didn't even know I had. A void I didn't know needed to be filled. (please don't do me dirty here)

When the soccer game was over, everyone gathered in the middle of the field again, including me and Nestor.

I met some of Nestor's friends. He had to translate, though, since his friends and I didn't fully understand each other. But it went well.

Then we saw a cat pass by.

It was apparently a cat that had been in the trenches. The other German soldiers had named it "Felix" because they thought it looked like me (the same green eyes and blonde hair). But those in the French army had named it Nestor because apparently he was the one who found the cat in their trench.

Neither I nor Nestor thought it had to be named after ourselves. Nor that it had to be such a big deal.

We were a little embarrassed by their quarrel, to be honest.

So in the end Nestor and I decided to name the cat Felix as it's first name, and Nestor as it's last name. I actually wanted Nestor's name before mine since it sounded much more proper than mine. But Nestor insisted, and I couldn't deny that.

Besides, he looked so pleased after we decided the order of the names.

And he smiled that smile that spread a warm, slightly tickling feeling in my stomach.

The Christmas celebrations eventually ended and everyone would go back to their trenches.

I could see large masses of soldiers disappearing in three different directions, heading back to their camp. I looked at the German camp, and then at the French. But couldn't find Nestor.

I was afraid that I wouldn't have the time to say goodbye before the war would begin again. But then I found him.

He was standing a few meters away, and I got that feeling in my stomach again.

There he was, his head looking in every direction in a matter of seconds. Almost as if he was lookinh for something.

I walked up to him before he could notice me, and gave his back a hug. He was taller than me so my arms were under his.

He made a surprised squeak as he turned around to stare at me.

At first he was a little confused, but it only tool a few seconds before he looked more comfortable and hugged back. He was so warm. A contrast to the winter air.

I told him how much he mean to me and how happy I am that I have met him. Despite the short time we spent together, it felt like we'd known each other our entire lives. And everything about him just felt…

Right.

He was quiet for a while. And I don't know if it was a trick from the night, or if his usually pale cheeks got a little color. But the red shade suited him. It complimented his features.

And then. He closed the distance between us, his lips on mine.

They were soft and gentle. It felt like he kissed me for an eternity, until the second it ended.

When he backed up a little, the red color had traveled all the way to his ears.

Almost as if he had been slapped hard across the face. Or as if his cheeks got so cold because of the temperature, and that that would be the reason for his cheeks to turn into this hue of dark red.

But it wasn't.

I knew that. Because his cheeks were warm.

He said he hopes we win the war and that he hopes I'll be fine when I get back home afterwards.

He hugged me one last time, extra tight. And that was when I realized how strong he actually was, though he was pretty skinny.

He almost crushed me. But it felt good in a way.

Like a proper "goodbye", unlike the one I got from my mother when I left. The look she gave me. The disgusted look. And at the same time a warning that if I screw this up, it's over for me.

He then hurried to his friends in the French camp, and I felt the warmth disappear with him as he left.

When I went back to the trenches that night, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

How he hugged me. Kissed me.

And how I would never get to experience that warmth again.

A week later, when the war was on again, I saw Nestor. But it wasn't the same warm and tickling feeling that I had experienced before, that now filled my body.

Now it was pure panic.

I made eye contact with him for a few seconds. But then he was shot by someone from the German army.

He looked into my eyes as he fell dead to the ground.

I couldn't help the tears that flooded my eyes, down my cheeks the second his eyes closed.

His soft cheeks against the hard, dirty ground.

I hid my head behind the path of the trenches and wept as I had never done before.

It hurts so bad.

And not like a wound that goes away after a while. Not like the wounds mother gave me every time she got ashamed of me.

This was something much deeper, and that hurt a thousand times more.

This was an indescribable pain.

The reason I'm now writing to you Elise is because I don't know if I'll live another month, another week, or even another day here.

You're the one who's been there for me the most during my time in Germany after father died. And the one who understands me.

I don't want to die without you knowing what happened. And I want you to be able to explain all of this to Lily one day if I don't come back.

I wish for you to say hello to Mother and Lily, and for you to tell them that I love them.

So much. And that I always did.

Even though she hasn't treated me very well, I will never stop loving Mother Heidi.

Nor you.

Thank you for always being there when I needed you. Take good care of yourself and the rest of the family.

Be well, much love

// Felix

Author's note: This is my first story and I hope you all like it. Idk if it's good or not. I tried to have some facts in it like the peace during Christmas and the cat, but idk.

Lmk if you'd like it from Nestor's POV or if you want me to write it as if they are living it, and not as it was written now (like a letter).

Thanks <33

#fanfiction #stories #ww1 #WW1 #romance #lgbtq #gay #mlm #man loving man #felix x nestor #nestor x felix #fanfic #first post #i tried #lmk if you'd like this story as nestor's pov or not like a letter #hope you like <3