#marcus alvarez

[bullet-prooflove]

Stockton!Series Part Six: Times Are Changing - Nestor Oceteva x Reader (feat: Bishop Losa & Marcus Alvarez)

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @thanossexual @lexondeck @weiwei0210 @trublu2u @justreblogginfics @oklahomapeach @keyweegirlie @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @fanfic-n-tabulous @beardedbarba @adaydreamaway08 @librarian1002 @kishie8 @saltyunicorn079 @thebaileybugle @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @doggirlforever @beccabarba @legally-a-bastard @wnbweasley @skyesthebomb @msjava1972 @trublu2u @fleureeee @jp1019 @thiashazzywriting @jeybae @collegegirl83

Stockton!Series:

Part One: El Cuchillo - An incident in the clubhouse causes ramifcations for the entire club.

Part Two: Always - Nestor learns about what happened.

Part Three: In the Dark - You and Nestor wake up to find armed men in your house.

Part Four: Sierra - Marcus takes care of the men who tried to kill you.

Part Five: Maternal - Nestor and you take refuge at a familiar location.

It’s past midnight and Marcus sits alone in Templo. He’s taken the seat at the head of the table, his fingertips flicking through ‘The Good Book’, the one that Marcus had created when he founded the club all those years ago. Their history, their rules, their legacy, it’s all contained within these pages.

It’s been horrible couple of days, for him, for the MC, for his family, because that’s what you are to him, family. His daughter, born of fire and blood, the one that Ramos had tried to murder in her sleep, all over a grudge from something that happened when you were a child. Something you have no knowledge of, that’s he’s determined you’ll never have any knowledge of.

This book it plays a part in that.

As he reads it, he recognises the ramblings of the angry, violent man he used to be. The monster he calls it now, when he talks to Izzy.

He raises his head as Bishop enters through the stained-glass door. In each of his hands he holds a mug of coffee, the real stuff. Marcus would know that aromatic scent anywhere, it’s the same brand he keeps in his house. He sets one of the mugs in front of Marcus before he takes up residence in the V.P’s seat.

“Hell of a day.” Bishop says rubbing his hands over his weary features.

“Yea.” Marcus says as he picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip. “I’m just hoping they got the message otherwise things are about to get real fucked up.”

“Stockton was already fucked up. Things will change now Ramos is gone.” Bishop assures the other man. “Smokey’s tough, he’ll rein them in and the ones that don’t fall into line…I won’t shed any tears for them.”

Marcus shakes his head.

“I won’t either.”

There’s silence between the two of them for a moment, each man lost in his own thoughts. It shouldn’t have come down to this, they should have dealt with this problem long before Ramos had ever laid eyes on you.

“I haven’t seen that for a while.” Bishop utters, gesturing towards the book.

Marcus sighs heavily.

“Probably for good reason.” Marcus says before he turns the book towards Bishop.

The other man studies the words before shaking his head.

“It was a different time back then.” Bishop says, removing the cigarettes from inside of his kutte. He taps the box upon the table before removing one and placing it between his lips.

“We talk about women as if their property, something to be owned, to be traded when we get tired of them.” Marcus jabs his finger at the paper. “This book tells us their only good for sex or serving, it doesn’t talk about love or respect. Is it any wonder that charters like Stockton act the way they do when these are the values, we’ve instilled in them?”

Bishop lights up his cigarette, he takes a drag.

“The world is changing El Padrino. We have to adapt.” Bishop says as he taps the ash off the end of cigarette. “We care about our women here; we cherish them but other charters… It needs to be a message that goes out across the club. What happened the other day can’t be allowed to happen again, not to anyone. There needs to be repercussions for that type of shit.”

Marcus nods his agreement, his hands wrapping the mug.

“I’m proud of that you’ve done here primo, legitimising the MC, supporting the community.” He tells Bishop earnestly. “This charter’s become more than I could have dreamed of.”

“And all it took was for me to pull my head out of my ass.” Bishop remarks before he takes another drag on the cigarette as he watches Marcus withdraw an A6 notebook from the interior pocket of his kutte. He pushes it towards the other man with his fingertips.

“This is what I’ve put together, a revised edition of the by-laws.” Marcus tells Bishop before he drains the rest of his coffee.

Bishop reviews the changes before tapping his fingertip upon the paper and raising his eyes to meet Marcus’s.

“We need to talk about Taza.”

Marcus clasps his hands together, his lips pursing into a grim line.

“We have to lead by example El Padrino,” Bishop tells him, his voice gruff as he stubs out his cigarette. “He has suffered for so long under the weight of this secret, putting the club before himself over and over again. I can’t help but wonder how many other Tazas are out there, how many other brothers are struggling with something just like this and what happens to the ones that aren’t as strong as him.”

Marcus knows what he’s talking about, the suicides that leave no notes, the members that are quietly taken care of for an infraction that can’t be discussed.

“We have to do better.” Bishop tells him, picking up the cigarette box and tapping it upon the surface of the table.  “Every single one of us deserves to love who we love and not be punished for it.”

“You’re right.” Marcus says finally, picking up his pen and adding the amendment. “I’ll get this drawn up and sent out to the other charters.”

Marcus raises to his feet, tucking the notebook back into his kutte. His hand comes to rest upon Bishop’s shoulder, clasping it tightly.

“You’ve been leading the way for a while now, primo. It’s time for the other charters to get in line and follow.”

Love Nestor? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #marcus alvarez #mayans mc #bishop losa #obispo losa #obispo bishop losa

[broiderie]

Curiosity...

Alright Mayans M.C. fans. Here's my question. Who do you think is the worst villain in the show? Which person just... pisses you off by coming on screen. I know mine. Just wondering how close I am with everyone else's ideas.

#mayans mc #che taza romero #hank loza #marcus alvarez #angel reyes #ez reyes #neron creeper vargas #creeper #johnny coco cruz #coco cruz #gilly lopez #gilly mayans #bishop losa #michael ariza #miguel galindo #mayans fx #mayans

[zahlibeth]

Sons of Anarchy 5x13

Nero Padilla and Marcus Alvarez

bonus Alvarez swagger

happy birthday @rewritetheending <3

#sons of anarchy #5x13 #sons of anarchy 5x13 #zahligif #nero padilla #marcus alvarez #in my sons of anarchy era #gifset #z

[maibeewrites]

handle your own when you become a man //

a Marcus Alvarez x female!OC fanfiction

summary:

Veronica could always defend herself, always keep a straight face.

Until one day, when she has to do something that makes even herself question, what was she made for.

part I Bigger dog

"Everybody, calm it!" said Jax for the fourth time with an angry expression. Everyone held everyone at gunpoint. The deal with the Mayans went south. The Sons were all in Mayan grounds, they were surrounded.

They came to convince Alvarez to let them sell a shipment of guns near Oakland. Needless to say, El Padrino wasn't too happy about them arming up his streets.

But the Irish were pushing hard on the Sons and they needed to find a buyer ASAP. The Niners didn't buy it. They were deep in shit. A street gang in Oakland was offering just enough money for them to cover the Kings and make some profit for themselves. It would been the perfect situation, only for them weren't on enemy territory.

"It is a one time deal. You get a percentage too." Jax added.

Alvarez laughed. "You white boy you tripping on some shit if you think I will let you sell here."

"At least can we talk through this without pointing the guns?" Veronica said quietly and gestured around with her free hand.

Alvarez shook his head, and signalled to his men to lower their guns.

"Thank you" nodded Jax. The mexican did the same.

"Please Marcus, if we weren't in this situation, we wouldn't ask you something like this. And have another offer." Jax gestured to Veronica to continue.

So this was the part when she had to step in. She found herself in this situation because of a debt. She had to borrow once some money from SAMCRO, and they agreed that instead of fully paying it back in cash, she did something for them.

Her gig was a high end beauty store in the outskirts of Stockton. She imported MAC lipsticks and Uzis. Dior powders and metamphetamine. What was in season. That was her shit.

"If you let them sell this shipment now, I will pay you an allowance in the next three months, Papi. A percentage of sales. The higher the sales, the more money you get" said Veronica and crossed her arms. This was her deal with Jax, this is how she was gonna pay off the rest of her debt.

"What's your business have to do with this?" Alvarez asked.

"Oh, I'm just happy to help out my friends, you know. It's good for business you know if you have powerful relationships with powerful people" said Veronica with a smirk on her face.

Alvarez and her had already crossed ways in multiple occasions. Everybody in that area who dwelt in illegal businesses knew her. She immigrated from Eastern Europe when she was a minor. As an orphan, she quickly had to fend for herself in order to survive in this climate. She was the diva, a woman in power, who was not involved in porn or prostitution, but instead, in their trade. She was a curiosity nonetheless.

Plus Veronica was young and pretty. She had long dirty blonde hair, which she always wore wavy, and big blue eyes which stared so intensely into everyones' eyes. She was tall, almost the same height as Alvarez. She was athletic but very curvy at the right places, and slim where she needed to be. She was always told when she was a kid that she was "big boned". In the California sun, her skin was a bit more tan that originally, but still, she was a light shade of cream.

Overall, she looked beautiful. But her beauty was always overshadowed by who she was. She always wore combat boots, leather or cargo pants, utilitarian clothing, jackets, denim. She almost carried herself like a man sometimes, but she still had that feminine softness in her. The way she spoke, she was wise, determined and playful at the same time.

Of course she caught Marcus Alvarez's eye. It was always his fantasy to absolutely hatefuck the shit out of that smartass blanca. To make her cry and make her beg for it. He was curious, what else she could do with that pretty, pouty mouth besides playing tough.

"Jax, how much do you need this deal?" asked Alvarez.

"I think I aleardy layed it out for you. I need this" replied Jax with a stern voice. "Ask anything else, I give it to you"

Alvarez was thinking for a second.

"Alright. I let you sell it. You give my my 100 grand. And the percentage for her sales."

"Thank you, ese" Jax said and he couldn't hide his relief.

"There is one more thing, you." Alvarez said straight to Veronica.

The woman raised her brows.

"Me? Yes?"

"No, I mean I want you. For one night." Marcus looked her in the eyes.

Veronica got really confused at first, then it dawned on her.

"What?" The question left her lips so silently that even Jax could barely understand.

The air froze and everyone stared at her.

She rarely felt anxious. The feeling of anxiety was only familiar to her from memories. When she was in fifth grade, and in the winter, the boys would come and drag the most pretty and popular girls in the snow, kicking snow in their faces and ruining their clothes. She always hated that. Her stomach sank every time when recess came. How the boys cornered her and dragged her out in the snow.

But now, she felt the anxiety. A flash of cold washed over her.

"What?" she asked, but the question felt like it wasn't even aimed at Alvarez in particular. It was aimed at everyone. Did she really need to do this for the Sons?

"Chill out, ninita. You spend a night with me. A whole night" said Alvarez with a smirk on his face.

"You a funny man" Veronica said, and now her anxiety slowly turned to anger.

"Easy now" intervened Jax. He pulled Veronica to the side.

"Listen, I don't want this to be this way. But you have to say yes. As much as I know that this is wrong. Please" Jax looked at her with pleading eyes. "They will kill my family if we don't get a buyer" he spoke the last sentence almost as a whisper.

Veronica felt sorry for Jax, but at the same time wanted to laugh him and everyone in the face. What is she? What is she in the eyes of these men?

Really, a night with her?

It didn't take much thought to figure out what were Alvarez's intentions. She always could tell if someone wanted her.

She always put people into four categories: the ones with mutual attraction, even if it was platonic, the ones with no attraction, and the ones who either were attracted to her, but she wasn't to them, and the ones with the opposite.

Marcus Alvarez was in the first category. She found the man good-looking, but this didn't help the situation, that he demanded a night with her, so he could use her as he will. No one does this to her. No one touches her without her consent.

And now she had to give consent. The Mayans were snickering, the Sons stared at them and at their leader with rage. But they had to stay quiet, she was doing this for them.

"Okay. Tell me where to go and when." said Veronica finally, completely defeated.

"Just be ready tonight by 9. I will pick you up at your house" said Alvarez "now go, get the fuck out of my crib."

Jax ushered the Sons out. Veronica only looked straight ahead, pretending to not see the concerned stares.

"Oh, and wear a dress, look pretty" added Alvarez as he turned his back on Veronica.

#marcus alvarez #marcus alvarez x reader #marcus alvarez x y/n #marcus alvarez headcanon #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy #mayans fanfic #mayans mc

[drabbles-mc]

Get Some Rest

Marcus Alvarez x F!Reader

For Day 2 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: stress/insomnia/"get some rest"

Warnings: 18+, language, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of scars

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I personally think it's a crime and a travesty that there aren't more Marcus Alvarez fics out there. So I'm creating the content I want to see.

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

You weren’t quite sure what it was that pulled you from your sleep. Opening your eyes, you were met with a room that was almost completely pitch black. The faintest hint of light was bleeding in through the curtains that covered the bedroom window. The streetlamp outside didn’t throw much light to begin with, so there was barely a shadow of a difference.

All you were able to see were the outlines of things, different shades of black. Even so, you could still feel that something was off. You couldn’t see his face to be sure, but you had the feeling that Marcus was awake in the bed beside you. His breathing was even, and he was lying perfectly still, but you could feel a certain type of energy radiating off of him. You never really saw him sleeping these days. You were always falling asleep before him, and he was always waking up before you. In that moment, though, you were wondering if he ever actually fell asleep at all.

“Marcus?” your voice was so quiet it almost didn’t even qualify as a whisper.

The swiftness of his response reinforced your concern that he had yet to fall asleep. “Mhm?” he mumbled softly.

You rolled onto your side so that you were facing him. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t make out the details of his face, or him yours. You still looked at him and even though you wouldn’t quite prove it, you knew that he was looking at you too.

“It’s late,” you said gently, reaching forward and resting one hand on his chest. “You should get some sleep.”

“I will,” he reassured you, and you could hear the faint rustling of his pillowcase that let you know he was nodding his head to reinforce his point.

You traced your thumb along the skin just below his collarbone, the space left exposed by the tank top that he’d worn to bed. “You should get some sleep tonight,” you emphasized your point.

It got a tired chuckle out of him as he brought his hand up and interlocked his fingers with yours. “I will,” he repeated, “I promise.”

Part of you wanted to turn the light on so that you could see his face, try to gauge what he was thinking. It was so hard to read him when you couldn’t really look into his eyes. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?” you asked, your voice still soft with worry.

He knew that you were going to worry about him no matter what, but he didn’t want to make it worse if he could help it. He sighed as he traced his thumb along the ring that was wrapped around your finger. “Here and there.”

“Marcus���” your voice trailed off.

“I know, I know.” He closed the distance between you and gently kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a few extra moments as he said, “It’s gonna get better soon.”

You let out a quiet sigh and leaned into him a little more, causing his lips to press against your forehead again. “For your sake, baby, I hope you’re right.”

He let out something akin to a hum as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body up against his. “We both know it’s gonna take more than a couple of late nights to put me out, huh?”

You rolled your eyes at him even though he couldn’t see it. “Don’t think you need to be pushing your luck, though.”

His hand slowly traced up and down your back. “What would I do if I wasn’t doing that?”

“Getting a full night’s rest, for starters,” you quipped back with no hesitation.

Your quick reply got a small chuckle out of him. He shook his head but neither of you said anything else for a few minutes. You focused on the slow, methodical way his hand roamed up and down your back. Meanwhile, Marcus couldn’t help but notice the way that your fingertips seemed to be seeking out all of his scars. Sometimes he wondered if you even knew that you were doing it, or if it was just that second-nature to you now. He knew that getting rest wasn’t the only thing on your mind when you thought about what his life, what your life together, would look like when things calmed down.

It was a matter of when, even though some days it felt more like if. He tried to keep reminding you of that, tried to keep reminding himself, too.

Another minute went by and then you felt him pulling away from you. You reached out to stop him, but then you realized that he was reaching for the lamp on his side of the bed. The distinct sound of the chain for the light filled the room, and then his side of the bed was covered in a soft, warm light.

With the light behind him, part of Marcus’s face was still cast in shadow. But you could still see the exhaustion in his face, the stress in his brows.

You were going to ask him what was wrong, but he beat you to the punch. “Talk to me.”

You exhaled through your nose, a short, crude version of a laugh—it was all your body could muster given the circumstances. Shaking your head, you said, “I worry about you.”

He nodded as he got himself into a more upright position. He moved so that his back was against the headboard, blanket still draped over his lap. Holding out one arm, he wordlessly asked you to come lay against him. So you did, situating yourself so that you were laying with your head against him, your arm draped over his middle.

He watched as you settled and got comfortable. “You always worry.”

You hummed in agreement, your eyes focused on your hand that was entwined with his. “You always give me reasons to.”

He chuckled quietly. Your tone wasn’t accusatory—it hardly ever was. It was half the reason the two of you could talk like this.

“What’s different this time, hm?” he asked.

You shrugged against him as you toyed with his wedding band. “I don’t know. Nothing, really.” You paused and looked up at him. “Is something different?”

He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “It’s always the same shit.”

That got a more honest laugh out of you because you knew he was right. It was quiet between you again for a moment before you asked, “You ever think, sometimes, that we’re getting too old for the same shit?”

Much to your surprise, there was no hesitation in his response as he nodded. “Sometimes.” He moved his hand so that it was going up and down your back again. “But I’ve been thinking that for—”

“A long fuckin’ time,” you both said simultaneously. Both of you chuckled after the fact, too.

“That’s true,” you conceded.

He could hear the slight shift in your voice. “What are you thinking, huh?”

You pulled yourself a little tighter to him. “I’m thinking I’m going to start putting melatonin in your drink at dinner if you don’t start getting some sleep.”

He chuckled, leaning and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s gonna get better. Always does.”

You bit back a yawn. “I know. But it’s my job to worry anyway.”

He could feel the way you were starting to melt against him, sleep coming easy for you in a way it never had for him. “I know.”

“I love you,” you mumbled against the fabric of his shirt.

His hand stopped moving as he said, “I love you too.”

Seemingly unperturbed by the warm light coming from the lamp, it wasn’t long until you had fallen back to sleep. Your arm was still slung across Marcus’s stomach, his still wrapped around you. He was no closer to falling asleep than he had been before, but at least now he had you to look at.

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday2 #stress #insomnia #get some rest #marcus alvarez #mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfiction #soa #sons of anarchy #marcus alvarez x you #marcus alvarez x reader #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[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

[thegirlwhowritesfics]

I’ve never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss

#mayans mc #mayansfx #mayans #nestor oceteva #creeper vargas #marcus alvarez #Gino vento #joseph raymond lucero #emilio rivera #dailymayans #dailygino #daily Mayans #daily Gino

[cloveroctobers]

RIO/MANNY x black! READER / Summer Prompts !

A/N: y’all seem to like domestic Rio/manny from me and I’m here to deliver with some mess on the side ofc! This was supposed to be out before the fourth but…I was too lazy and unmotivated to write lol but reading some books that are collecting dust in my room inspired me to! Hope you had a fun and safe holiday IF you celebrate lmao. We only celebrate since it’s my big bro’s bday. Anyways!!! This was deeply inspired by all those fireworks gone wrong videos that seem to surface every year! Here’s a cute? Summer prompt. Hope this doesn’t flop like my others ones ✌🏽

WARNINGS: violence, violence, violence! Disability, trauma, mentions of edibles + language — if you’re familiar with my work then this isn’t news to you! 😆 + mentions of the punisher crossover but not overly important!

Song playing in the background while written if you’re wondering or not—it’s fine—

#11. Fireworks from this prompt list here.

~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~•~*~•~*~•

To cope with the fact that you almost lost the love of your life, you went out and bought a boat.

“Mama, what’s this charge on the joint account?” Manny scratched at his buzzed hair, looking at you underneath his lengthy eyelashes as he sat at the dining table.

You hummed as you placed your sleepy daughter, Emmanuelle, “Emmy,” into your husband’s lap. With ease he wrapped a arm around her entire waist as the 3C girl relaxed into her father’s chest, not talking his ear off this evening.

Plopping down in the chair next to them with your glass of Sauvignon Blanc, you slid the bank statement closer to your line of vision since you took your contacts out for the night. Your eyes scanned over the numbers from last month, resulting in you lifting your shoulders, nonchalant.

“Yes, that’s the boat I bought this summer for us to take out on the lake.”

Manny twitched his bottom lip to the side, slightly biting down on it as he deeply inhaled, “…we ain’t discuss that. Anything that’s coming out of our shared account is usually discussed and I’ve got a fantastic memory so…run that by me again.”

Raising your brows you huffed out a laugh, “oh yeah? How about when you spend thousands on toys for your baby girl?”

“I enjoy spoilin’ my girls, sue me.”

“And I enjoy retail therapy.” You challenged, raising your glass as you swallowed the rest of your wine before getting to your feet, “it’s your turn for night time duty with Emmy, i don’t think she’ll give you too much of a hard time tonight.”

Standing up, you leaned forward to place a kiss on top of Emmy’s almond scented thick hair and walked off with Manny watching you leave.

“Yeah, at least somebody won’t.” Manny muttered, as he lightly began to bounce the four year old on his lap.

Manny should have known that this was going to be hard for you. No matter how hard you tried to downplay the situation. You weren’t a stranger to the dark side, mostly everybody on your fathers side was part of the one-niners and although they tried to not include you in the stigma, you ended up with someone who was simply on the other side.

The wrong side.

The two of you been married since twenty-one and twenty-two and dealing with each other for much longer (17-18)…minus the times you broke up. There was no escaping what you had and what Manny was involved in. Usually people tended to keep you out of it all but it was almost next to impossible considering who you surrounded yourself with. You weren’t completely innocent, you learned at a young age with your dad and uncles in and out of prison and what small jobs were asked of you. This was the real time you had to get your hands dirty, when it became knowledge that the sons put a hit out on the Mayans.

All of the Mayans, including the Yuma Charter.

It was that gnawing at your gut that got you involved. When you haven’t heard from Manny and with the recent death of Canche, you did not have a good feeling. So with a quick call to your girls (real girl gang shit!) and cousins, you rode out for your man.

That was the first time you committed a crime or what you considered a real crime: homicide and everyone expected you to be shell shocked, much like you were in those brief moments you put Issac down on his got damn knees.

Not in the way that he wanted, that’s for sure.

“Y/N.”

Humming on your side now in bed, you didn’t bother to turn to Manny who rested beside you.

“Are we gonna have a honest conversation about you purchasing that big ass boat that’s sitting in the front yard?”

Keeping your eyes closed you continued resting on your hands, “What’s there to talk about? I bought it for us but if you don’t want to use it, I can always take the girls.”

“So you can throw ass at some horny college boys passing by?” You could tell Manny was shaking his head, “absolutely not. I know how y’all get with Julio in your system—it’s not even about the boat, it’s your mental behind that.”

“I always wanted a boat, I saw it, wanted it aaand,” You sung, “I got it. Next time I’ll purchase it from my account but it’s a family gift…so I didn’t see the big deal.”

Next time?

It was Manny’s turn to raise his brows.

“You know baby girl might be traumatized being in a big body of water like that.” He spoke.

That’s when you turned slightly to face him in the dim room. It happened last summer on a lake house trip in upstate New York, Emmy was in the water with your mother on a floaty. There was another boat close by with some college students on water ski’s. Somehow Emmy got away from your mother, ended outside of her floaty and under the water where her arm got caught in their blade. Your daughter almost lost her entire arm and that was probably one of the most scariest moments of your life.

Of course you took that into consideration, what kind of mother would you be if you didn’t? When you were growing up you were hardly a water person but your mother forced you along with your siblings to like it. Your father wasn’t much of a water person either but he preferred the lake over the beach any day.

“She might,” you answered, “but she’s gradually getting familiar with the water again after she received her prosthetic. We’ll have her safe in the kiddie pool. Not the lake. We all unfortunately get exposed to things we don’t want to, doesn’t mean we have to live in fear over it.”

Manny tilted his head at you, lightly damping his lips. “Mama. I understand where you’re comin’ from but we agreed we weren’t gonna do that, raise our kids how our parents did us.”

“Have you met your child, Manuel?” You stared hard at the man you usually adored but was on your nerves tonight, “she’s ambitious, quick on her feet, and will do whatever she wants when she wants, just like you.”

Manny rubbed at his mouth in thought. The last part sounded more like you but he wasn’t about to argue that, not tonight. It was evident you weren’t keen on explaining yourself fully to him, he figured that was only a conversation you wanted to have with your therapist. Manny meant to run up on the therapist after he left the club the other night but given that he was at war with the sons, he had to make sure he was coming straight home to you and Emmy. He wasn’t sure if the sons knew what you did but he was positive this would be a everlasting war, since more of their own were dropping like flies.

However that meant getting the one-niners involved since you were technically part of them. Manny made it his job now to inform the rest of the charters but it was to his surprise to learn Ezekiel Reyes now sat in the president’s chair. That was a problem for another day but right now his focus was on you.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” He pressed the side of his head into the crease of his shoulder.

Manny watched as your body seemed to release some of the tension in it. You smacked the back of your hand against his face, making him grab your hand to nip at your fingers.

“Duh, we’re in this for life dummy. I just don’t want to be vulnerable around you right now, want to focus on the positive and moving forward. Is that too much to ask for?”

Manny could respect that. When you were growing up you were much more sensitive when he first met you, he found that shit cute and poked fun at you, cooing, “sweetheart!” Whenever he greeted you. Life has a way of changing you either for the better or the worse, manny was still unsure where you fell on that line; especially now that he put you in the position to save him from being burned alive.

He lifted his thin frame off the bed to slide in beside you as you rolled back onto your side. He entangled himself with you, cuddling you like you were his damn pregnancy pillow, smushing his face against the side of yours.

Sliding a bit against your champagne colored silk scarf you laughed as he clicked his tongue in irritation. It was his own fault for having dewey skin and thinking he could just rest comfortably against your scarf like that. He knew what the deal was so he shouldn’t be acting brand new.

Once he was comfortable fidgeting his face around, he let out a small sigh as he squeezed you tight against him.

“Aight focusing on the positive, got it.” He responded after awhile, “want to hear something that I know that you don’t?”

“Um…”

“Your moms planned a gathering here at the spot for the fourth. Called me about it and said she’s tired of having it at her place and that it was time for us to host, her words: we had a big enough break since Christmas.” Manny stated making your eyes snap open.

He wouldn’t allow you to turn and face him with how snug he had you in his arms though.

“How the hell is that positive? Basically she just told you what the fuck she’s gonna do? Not ask?! The fourth is three days away, we don’t have enough time to plan for that shit! You have shit going on at the club, I’m frequently at therapy now while still managing a boutique, on top of that with a hyperactive four year old—I don’t even like having people in our house and she knows that.” You grumbled.

Manny laughed, “and you said baby girl gets doing what she wants when she wants from me? Yeah aight. That’s all your side.”

If your arms weren’t locked in Manny’s arms right now, you’d elbow the shit out of his ribs.

“Don’t stress, we always make it work don’t we? Just relax and try to get some sleep, I’m right here.” His smooth voice provided you the comfort you needed as the night shined on.

★彡ミ☆ ★彡ミ☆ ★彡ミ☆ ★彡ミ☆ ★彡ミ☆

The night sky began to burn in navy blue with specs of pearls that waved hello. The cookout seemed to fly by pretty quickly despite the stress your mother placed on you. She always had these bright ideas but at least she was here to help out with setting up and making sure the food was right. With everything going on you wanted to cater but your mother wasn’t having that…which meant more work. It was almost as if this was thanksgiving and Christmas all over again with how much dedication she put into it all. If showing up at nine in the morning didn’t speak for your mother, then there wasn’t much more you could say to convince anyone else.

“Your mother means well,” your father would always excuse—until she pissed him off that is.

So you had his voice in the back of your head whenever she ticked you off throughout the day. Once the woman had a edible mid-afternoon she calmed her boisterous attitude down for awhile until one of your best friend’s, Cherish requested the DJ—her on and off again boyfriend to play one of Chris Brown’s tracks from his new album, that your mother came down from her high. It was already a sight to see your mother act a fool to Al Green but it was a whole other thing once she heard Chris Brown.

True embarrassment was felt even when your no good friends and cousins hyped her up. You been seen enough, keeping your distance across the yard as you mingled with a few old friends that came up from NYC: Frank, Karen, Billy, David and his wife, Sarah. Manny wasn’t that found of the three men, especially David but he kept it cordial as you did the same with Ezekiel and Angel Reyes.

You weren’t sure what Manny was thinking by allowing not only the brothers but the rest here at your home, your supposed safe haven. They maybe working together and Manny was still holding onto the benefit of the doubt when it came to EZ but you knew Manny was smarter than what he was playing at.

It was hard for you to hide your emotions when you didn’t fuck with people, so you didn’t hold your tongue when your husband introduced you. You found Angel big headed (literally) and annoying much like your late friend, Johnny Cruz told you he was. He was basically a man-child and you heard the gossip from other women who were friends of your girl-friends how he couldn’t get his shit together. You knew men like him, shit, you fucked men just like him in college when you and manny weren’t together. So to have him standing here in your home simply annoyed you. It was projection sure but you couldn’t really help that.

Ezekiel on the other hand had this arrogance about him. You only heard some of the chatter the Yuma charter would say once they all became acquainted and it was clear they didn’t fuck with their side. However Manny was one to always look at situations from all perspectives…which was odd to you since he made it clear he would kill and die for your child. EZ seemed to be analyzing you as much as you were him, although he had such a charming smile, you saw darkness in those honey wooded eyes.

So you kept your distance from most of the Mayans, mostly speaking to Marcus, his family, and what was left of the Yuma Charter, if you weren’t speaking to your own.

The night was running as decent as could be until a pop ripped through the air. It seemed as if you almost stopped breathing, your head searching for the cause of the sound as smoke flew into the air; before multiple pops ripped in the sky; forming colors.

“Now who the hell?” You heard one of your friends ask.

You heard manny call out, “yo, primo Jamal! This what we doing? Give me a signal next time, man.”

You noticed all of the clubs holding onto their straps.

Your cousin, Jamal, grinned from his spot from the side of the house, “just had to make sure these old things still work my guy!”

“Okay, nobody told you to do that tho.” You called out, eyes in slits.

He kissed his teeth, “everybody else startin’, we can’t go out like some punks! Gotta show ‘em what we got!”

“I’m with Jamal!” Angel agreed, beer bottle held up in the air.

Your glare was now on the taller bearded man across the yard and Manny held his hands out to you, telling you he would handle it. He motioned to the DJ to keep the music going as he waved the Mayans from both charters to follow him to a few of your cousins that huddled together. Shaking your head you inhaled air through your smile as you turned back to the conversation you were sharing with your amused sibling.

What happened next may or may not be triggering. With the music down, the smell of charcoal still lingering in the air, stomach’s full, and gentle night breeze swirling around, most gathered around to watch the fireworks decorate the sky. You could hear in the distance other fireworks going off and what seemed like a nice way to end the night, quickly turned into another nightmare you didn’t need.

The first and second round of works were cool, pretty even but as the third was starting you found that you wanted to be under your man’s arm with your daughter clinging onto either of you. You quickly became bored with the continuous popping and began to move through the yard as everyone watched in awe or brought their phones out for keepsake. As you were making your way through the yard, you had that feeling in your stomach again, making you pause.

A garbage can was smoking on the opposite side; away from where mostly everyone was gathered. Before you could pry your lips apart, the garbage can lifted from its side into the air with the deafening sound of a BOOM that shook the ground. You flinched, watching in horror as your backyard filled with smoke, sparks flying rapidly and shooting towards the windows of your home.

You were sure you would need window replacements now.

“Y/N!” You heard Manny yell over the screams of your running guests.

The can began to spin at the impact once it fell back to the ground, spitting out more fireworks towards any and everybody. You spotted your cousin Jamal laying on the ground now, a great distance from the garbage can.

Before you could make your way over to his stupid ass, the smoke began to make your eyes burn as more fireworks went off from all areas of the backyard now. You felt a hand grip your wrist and yank you through the smoke and away from possible damage.

You panted as you now stood in the street, slightly choking as you used one hand to hold onto one of your thighs. Rubbing your eyes you faced Manny’s who watched you in concern while he held onto Emmy, who clung to his neck.

“You okay, mama?”

The sound of the mini explosions made your heart pound. Using the back of your arm you wiped the sweat that began to form at your forehead and shakily gathered your hair up to air your kitchen out. Swallowing, you folded your fingers into your palms silently motioning for your child who easily gripped onto you, swinging her legs around your hips.

“If Jamal isn’t dead, I’m gonna kill him.” You gritted.

You hugged Emmy who giggled against your neck, “mommy, that was fun!”

Fun? It was time for her to go to bed, for real.

You snapped your head back at Emmy who giggled up at you and you shook your head as you placed her head against your chest. You mouthed to Manny who bit back a smile, “thats your crazy child.”

The lanky tattooed man leaned towards you, pressing a hand into your shoulder as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “You’re alright. We’re alright. Right? Everybody okay?!” He turned to the guests that stood in the street.

“Hell nawl!”

“I think I done shitted on my Versace.”

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“What a party!”

“I guess.”

“Do we look alright to you, homie?”

“The hell was that?!” A few of the Mayans echoed after the short troll doll looking one, you think Manny said his name was Bishop, exclaimed.

You noticed Ezekiel nodding his head for Manny to head his way and it was your turn to grip his wrist. Immediately he faced you, his eyes soft but questioning before his mouth did.

“If anybody is truly hurt, and I hope to God they aren’t. they’ll think this is the son’s doing but if it turns out to be the Reyes brother’s…this is going to be a real fucking,” you whispered the swear knowing you had your daughter in your arms, “problem, I promise you.”

Manny searched your eyes, noticing the major shift in you since you had his back weeks ago.

“I know, y/n. I hope that’s not the case, for their sake. I got us, always.” He pulled the both of you into a long embrace.

Boldly you responded, “me too.”

You pulled back, peering up into his eyes to let him know you meant that, in which he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and dipped his head at you, squeezing your shoulders, he leaned forward to peck your lips quickly before spinning on his heels to handle business, as usual.

~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~*~•~•~*~•~*~•

Continue along with summer anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #good girls nbc #rio x black!reader #mayans mc fx #mayans mc x reader #manny mayans x reader #manny montana #the punisher #ez reyes #Angel Reyes #marcus alvarez #bishop losa #johnny cruz #Johnny coco cruz #coco cruz

[proceduralpassion]

Mayans S5 Trailer Thoughts

Y'all... I have so many thoughts???

-It sounds like Felipe kinda done with EZ given those opening lines?

-Who the hell is in that casket considering Coco had his funeral? If it's Creep, I'm telling y'all now that I'm throwing hands

-I'm thinking it's actually him that EZ's talking to in the prison scene but it also kinda looks like Angel or am I tripping??

-Miguel and Angel scenes?! I'M UP! OMG the brothers are finally bonding (while talking shit about EZ, love to see it 😂)

-I could've done without bringing the Sons back into this but I also know JR Bourne is about to be an infuriating villain so cheers to that

-I can't believe Angel is the voice of the reason but it doesn't look like Sofia is gonna be listening to anything he has to say. I feel like she's gonna be ride or die and stick beside her man

-Omg who is holding Angel back and WHY are they holding him back? Don't tell me something happens to Felipe

-"One of our brothers has been working with the Feds. We have a rat" 👀 now what EZ gon' do when they find out he was an informant after all this shit he's been putting the club through??

-Not Adelita, Angel, and Maverick getting their happy ending! So it seems

-Did I spy someone holding a hand over Letty's mouth??

-I don't see how Emily even plays into the storyline anymore but good for her for making it out alive

-WHERE IS MARCUS?!

#mayans mc #come holler in my inbox if you wanna #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes #angel reyes #coco cruz #bishop losa #obispo losa #emily thomas #emily galindo #miguel galindo #luisa adelita espina #creeper vargas #marcus alvarez

[bullet-prooflove]

I love your Marcus Alvarez fics! That man is CRIMINALLY underrated. Please could I request 3.”Thought I’d lost you.” Thanks!

The front window is gone, the glass crunching under his boot as he steps inside his house. His gaze takes in the bullet holes in the plaster above his couch, all at head high.

He left you sleeping this morning, tangled up in his sheets, his lips brushing over your forehead.

His heart thuds even harder against his ribcage as he steps into the kitchen and sees you sitting there clad in one of button up shirts and a panties. There's a gash across your hairline, from the glass he suspects. He realises you must have been in the living room when the shooting happened and that thought chills him.

"Couple of scratches from that glass." Coco tells him as he packs away the medical box. "Stitches is on her way to put a few in the head wound, she'll do a cleaner job than me. Less scarring."

Scarring...

You'll bare the mark of your relationship with him for the rest of your life and it cuts him because you don't deserve this, you don't deserve the violence that comes with this life.

You are on your feet already and he can't help but go to you. He wraps his arms around you, gathering you up close as your hand grasp the back of his kutte. You smell like lemons and cordite, the scent of it clings to your skin as he cradles you close and breathes a sigh of relief.

"I thought I lost you." He whispers. "I thought..."

He can't vocalise it. The idea of a world without you is too agonising to even consider.

"I'm still here Marcus." You reassure him as you look up into his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

#marcus alvarez #marcus Alvarez x reader #marcus alvarez x you

[broiderie]

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 26

Well don't kill me. Here's part 26. It's a bit of lead up.

Personal note - I'm now on some serious heart medication due to reoccurring heart issues, so I'm a little foggy. Things may be a bit slower than they used to be even though I hoped to stick to my previous posting of about a chapter a week. That's not working out very well. It's taking me longer to get my ideas on paper and then even longer to get them typed. Please be patient with me.

Warnings: cursing (maybe), show level casual illegal activity, Angel being a menace.

Also - don't steal my shit. This is the only place this is posted.

Taza, Hank, Megan and Rex quickly joined the rest of the club inside. “Morning, Poquito, Hank, Taza. You look like you’re going somewhere important,” Bishop greeted them as he claimed a morning hug from Megan. “What’s the plan today?”

Hank smiled ruefully. “Ask la princessa. She’s the one that’s insistent about it.”

Megan, who had moved on to giving Marcus his morning greeting, shot him a look over her good shoulder.

“Really now, Bebita? What’s he mean?” Marcus asked, looking down at her as he hugged her close. 

Megan sighed. “We’re going to see the doctor in Santa Madre for an x-ray. I want this sling off so I can have my life back.”

Creeper frowned from the bar stool where he was perched. “Didn’t the rez doctor say no?”

Megan grimaced. “He said not quite, but that was with the plaster cast. The soft cast and the immobilizing sling mean it’s been resting more than it had been. Some progress has to have been made.”

Bishop nodded and sat down at one of the tables with a cup of coffee. “How’s the pain?”

“Honestly - so much better. I haven’t had so much as an aspirin and it just feels achey and stiff,” she assured him.

“How achey?” Bishop asked again.

“More than a post workout ache but less than a set dislocated shoulder ache. I honestly think I’d be fine without the sling for the most part. I can always put it back on if it hurts.” She shrugged her good shoulder.

There was a collective wince from the elders at her description.

“What the hell, Shorty. How’d you know what a dislocated shoulder feels like, huh?” Angel asked, giving her a skeptical look.

“Angel - I rode in rodeos. Not a rider I know who hasn’t dislocated at least one shoulder once. In my event - that was the price of a mistake,” she smiled. “And a small price to pay rather than a broken leg or back.”

“Shit, Ma. And you did that shit for fun?” Coco added, puffing on his cigarette. 

“Well, the money was nice too.”

“Holy shit. No wonder you didn’t freak out about the pain.” Coco ashed the cigarette in his hand. “Y’all need someone to ride along?”

“Nah. Thanks, Coco. We’re good, I think. Just a quick run for an x-ray,” Hank assured him as he settled into a chair across the table from Taza.

“Besides- like Creep said - the rez doc didn’t think she was healed enough yet. Good possibility it’s still too early but la princessa is impatient,” Taza said with a grin in Megan’s direction. SHe stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well, we have Angel and EZ doing the Adelita meet today. They’re going South anyway. Might as well go along with you so they don’t have to walk from the desert,” Bishop said. He turned to look at EZ where he was polishing glasses. “Prospect, you better do your memory shit. Poquito could only arrange for the two of you. We’ll hold Templo tonight so everyone gets read in at once.”

EZ nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“And don’t fuck it up,” Hank added.

Taza agreed. “You two fuck up  this gun deal… Neither of you can afford it. The club can’t afford it.”

Both brothers nodded solemnly. 

It wasn’t even an hour laters that they met at the dress warehouse hatch. By now they had this to a science. EZ carried Rex. The ladder was difficult for Megan on handed, so Hank went first so he could catch her if she slipped. Taza stayed at the top guiding her down as far as he could maintain his balance. 

The tunnel itself wasn’t too bad. The terrain was a bit rough, but nothing Megan couldn’t handle with the help of the lights and either Taza or Hank’s guiding hand on her good arm. 

THe hatch on the other end, however, was the bane of her existence. The ladder was built for much taller men so the rungs were further apart and roughly built. They weren’t evenly spaced either. When they reached it Megan sighed. She had slipped every time at this end.

“What’s wrong, Princessa?” EZ asked. “Need a break?” He handed her a bottle of water from the backpack he was carrying. 

Megan shot him a rueful smile and sipped it. “More like an elevator. I hate this ladder.”

Taza grimaced. “We’ll get a new one soon, Chica. Just gotta deal until then.”

Angel eyed the ladder. “Bet me and the boyscout could get you up it easier.”

Hank frowned a bit and tugged Megan to rest against his chest a moment. “What do you mean, Angel?”

“We got Creep up it pretty easy when he needed the doc. Megan’s a lot smaller.” Angel shrugged. “Same way we used to get shit into the attic for Pops.”

EZ broke into a wide grin. “You might be right.”

Taza shrugged a bit as he glanced at Megan. “What do you say, Chica? Want to let them try it?”

Megan eyed the hated ladder, before turning to eye the brothers. “Promise not to drop me?”

Angel gave a sardonic laugh. “And risk getting shot? We won’t drop you, Shorty.”

“Alright then. How’re we doing this?” she asked.

Angel grinned. “Taza, you and EZ go first. Once you’re up, EZ lays on the floor to lift la princessa with Taza to anchor him. Megan gets on my shoulder an’ EZ pulls her out. Simple. Reyes Brothers Elevator.”

Hank chuckled and shook his head, amazed at the simplicity of it. “I’ll help steady you, mi amore. This way you don’t risk falling like yesterday.” The day before, Megan had been lucky Hank was behind her for the ladder. He’d had to catch her twice.

Just like Angel outlined, Taza and EZ went first with EZ carrying Rex. Taza paid the toll while the prospect laid down and hung his top half through the hatch. Taza anchored his legs as Hank helped Angel get Megan onto his shoulders and steadied her as he stood. Then EZ locked his arm and pulled Megan up until Taza could help her out of the hatch. In the end, EZ was breathing a little heavy, but the near disaster of the day before had been averted. Angel and Hank then climbed up to join them. 

“Thanks Angel and EZ. That was much easier on my end,” Megan said, smiling at the brothers. 

Angel gave a slightly cocky grin. “Anything for la princessa de los Mayas, right Prospect?”

EZ laughed a little and straightened his kutte. “Right.”

Once they reached the town, Angel and EZ dropped them off at the storefront where the doctor kept an office upstairs and headed out to the coordinates Luisa had sent to the burner phone in Angel’s pocket. 

“Alright, Chica. Let’s go get this x-ray and find out how you’re doing. After, we can go find something to do until Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum get back,” Taza said with a grin.

Hank led the way up the narrow stairs and paused at the top to smile back at Megan. “You ready, mi amore?”

Megan smiled a little nervously. “You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course, Princessa.” He chuckled a little. “We’d have to anyway - Doc doesn’t speak English.”

Inside, Taza spoke with a man quietly in Spanish as Megan leaned into Hank’s side. The conversation wasn’t very long before the man smiled at Megan and waved her forward. 

Megan turned to look at Taza. 

“He just wants to take the sling off and feel for the break before he x-rays you, Chica,” Taza assured her. 

Hank guided her forward and worked the sling straps on her back to release them. Once the sling was off, he sat her on the narrow wooden table while holding her good hand.

The doctor approached with his hands held calmingly out in front of him. He gently pressed along her collarbone. He looked at Hank and asked something. 

“Mi reina, he wants to know if it hurts when he touches it,” Hank translated. 

“No. It’s a little achey, but that’s just the stiffness I think,” Megan said. 

The doctor nodded as Taza translated what was said. He gestured for Hank to step away from Megan and rolled a camera looking machine in front of her before holding a metal panel behind her shoulder. Megan fought the urge to giggle as she realized that the x-ray machine was a portable vet tool. 

The doctor took the shots that he needed before indicating that he’d be back in a moment. 

As soon as he was out of the room, Megan lost the battle with her giggles. Both men grinned at her. 

“What’s so funny, Chica?” Taza asked, amused at her reaction to this doctor. He had expected nerves or even some defiance like he’d seen the other times doctors had looked at her. 

“Papa, he’s not a doctor, is he? He’s a vet,” Megan bit her lip to stifle her laugh.

Hank burst out laughing while Taza stared at her for a moment before joining in. 

“How’d you know, Princessa?” Hank asked as he moved to support her still splinted arm through her laughing fit.

“The x-ray machine gave it away. And he wasn’t exactly concerned that he couldn’t talk to me directly. Plus - he came at me like I was going to cow kick him if he surprised me.”

Taza laughed again. “You’re right. He’s a farm vet. We didn’t want to scare you with him not being a ‘real’ doctor, so we just didn’t say anything.”

Megan smiled mischievously. “Well - for future reference - I’d much rather the vet than the hospital any day.”

An hour or so later they were walking down the narrow steps to the street level again with Megan’s sling tucked into a bag. The doctor had given the go ahead to remove the sling as long as she wasn’t using her arm too much and there wasn’t a lot of pain. He’s also provided Hank with a refill of the ibuprofen - just in case.

Once on the street, they decided to head to a small restaurant down the street to wait for the Reyes brothers and have lunch. 

Taza ordered for them at the counter while Hank and Megan found a table in a spot where they could see the door. Megan kept rolling her right shoulder until Hank gently rubbed his hand down her spine and across her shoulders. “Are you alright, mi reina?” he asked her as he did it. 

Megan gave a soft groan of relief as Hank rubbed. Hank chuckled at the noise as she answered. “I’m fine. Just stiff.” She paused, arching her back into his rubbing hand. “That feels so good.”

Hank laughed again and scooted his chair back from the table. “Come ‘ere, Princessa. Let me help.” He tugged her to sit in his lap facing him and leaned her forward against his chest so he could gently rub the knots from her back that the sling caused. 

Megan melted against him as the firm pressure released her muscles even through her kutte and holster. 

Hank grinned as Taza came to the table with two trays of food and drinks. His smile assured Taza that nothing was seriously wrong. 

Taza placed the trays on the table and took his seat across from her. “Everything alright?” he asked quietly. 

Megan nodded from where her face was buried in between Hank’s neck and shoulder but made  no move to get up. She let out another quiet moan that only Hank could hear as he hit a particularly nice spot. 

Hank chuckled again and tried not to think about it too much. He liked that noise. He met Taza’s eyes. “Yeah. She’s just stiff and her back muscles are in knots from the sling. 

Taza laughed a little. “So that’s why she’s practically purring.” 

Hank grinned. He tilted his chin to kiss Megan’s hair. “Your papa brought lunch. You ready to eat?” he asked her. 

Megan whined a little, but nodded before lifting her head. Hank helped her to settle back into her chair with a laugh. “A hot shower when we get home will help, mi amore.”f

As they ate, they made plans for the rest of the day. They had Templo when they got back to discuss the deal with the L.O. but after that no plans had been made. 

“Well, your tíos and I need to meet after Templo to do some book work, so I’ll be tied up for the night. What are your plans, Chica?” Taza asked as he discreetly added more rice to Megan’s plate while she was distracted. 

“Don’t know. I need to let Riz know to put me back on the schedule since the sling is off, but I also know that he’s already got this week’s schedule posted. I looked this morning,” Megan said as she ate the taco she'd fixed from the communal plates Taza had ordered them. “Will you be in meetings too, Hank?”

Hank sipped his soda and shook his head. “Nah. All my book stuff is done for the next two weeks.” He leaned back in his chair and slid his arm along the back of Megan’s. “Now that your sling’s off - would you want to do something tonight?”

Megan’s eyes sparkled. “Like a date?”

Hank laughed. “Yes. Like an actual date, mi princessa. Nothing too fancy, but a date.”

Megan bounced a little in her chair. “Yes!”

Taza grinned at her enthusiasm. “There we go. I’ll be home late too, so don’t wait up for me.”

“Would you keep Rex for the night?” Hank asked, petting the big dog’s ears under the table. “I thought we might take the bike.”

Megan lit up further “Really?”

“If your papa doesn’t mind.”

Megan turned to him with her big, brown eyes pleading.

“Yes. I’ll keep the pooch - if you promise to stay with Hank, Chica. I like you having him as an extra line of defense when you’re out, so you have to promise not to do anything stupid,” Taza stipulated. 

“I promise, Papa.”

“Alright then. You two will have date night while the pooch and I work late.”

Hank’s burner beeped from his kutte pocket. He pulled it out and checked it without removing his arm from Megan’s chair. “Angel and the Prospect are back in town.”

“Perfect timing. Let’s go home.”

They met the brothers back where they’d split up. Angel quickly abandoned the driver's seat to Taza and Megan got shotgun with Hank behind her. 

At the hatch, this time Taza went first followed by Megan. It was much easier without the sling. She managed to slip once, but caught herself. Once they were at the bottom, EZ frowned at the ladder. “That thing really does need fixed. La Princessa shouldn’t have to struggle with it every time. Especially since she’s going to be dealing with this trip a lot as the armorer,” he said.

“Glad you volunteer, Prospect,” Hank agreed. “You can start on it tomorrow.”

Megan giggled a little as she caught her breath in the close confines of the tunnel but petting Rex.

“You good, Shorty? Didn’t bust nothin’ when you slipped, did ya?” Angel asked.

Megan stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m fine. Just missed a rung.”

“Alright. Just checkin’. No harm in that,” Angel grinned a bit. “Hey Boyscout - maybe you need to use that big brain of yours to figure out a lift, huh? That way la princessa doesn’t break a nail.”

Megan smacked Angel in the chest with the back of her good hand and laughed. “You suck, Angel.”

“That’s why the women love me.”

Megan wrinkled her nose. “Eeewwww. TMI.”

Angel cracked up. “You asked for it.”

Taza shook his head with an exasperated chuckle and shoved Angel forward along the tunnel. “Get going before you scar my daughter for life.”

They made their way back to the Northern hatch where they all climbed out into the dress warehouse with EZ helping to lift Rex through the door. They were all a little dusty, but none the worse for wear.

Back at the clubhouse, Megan proudly walked in without her sling to find Bishop and Marcus relaxing at a table with a few beers.

“Well look at you, Poquito. Doctor freed you?” Bishop asked, standing to claim a hug.

Megan stepped into his embrace with a smile. “Still gotta wear the soft cast and be easy with it, but he cleared me to lose the sling.”

“Good. That’ll make dance lessons easier,” Marcus said as he got his own hug,

“Among other things,” Megan agreed. 

“Is everyone here?” Hank asked.

“Waiting on Riz. He went to help Vickie with something,” Bishop said, taking his seat back.

Taza and Hank joined them as Angel split off to the bar where Coco and Gilly were waiting. EZ went to fetch drinks automatically as Hank pulled Megan onto his knee. 

“He needs to hurry up. La Princessa and her caballero have a date tonight,” Taza said, accepting the beer from EZ.

Marcus grinned. “Finally going to take Poquito somewhere, Tranq?”

Hank grinned. “That’s the plan if nothing fucking it up this time.”

Bishop looked over his shoulder at where Angel was sipping on his own beer. “We’ll be fine for one night, brother. Take Poquito out tonight. If shit hits the fan - it can wait until tomorrow for you.” He grinned. “Now, that being said - you have planning to do. So get to it. Poquito - did the doctor say when the soft cast can come off?”

Hank chuckled and pressed a kiss to the place where Megan’s neck met her shoulder before sliding out from in under her. He watched as Megan settled into his seat and got distracted by her tío’s question before slipping out to the front porch. 

Megan smiled at Bishop. “Tío, why’re you asking me? You know very well the doctor doesn’t speak English.”

Bishop laughed and nodded. “You’re right. You’re right. So what did your papa tell you he said?”

“Still another three weeks or so - as long as I don’t do anything stupid. I kind of think Papa added that part on though,” Megan teased.

Taza laughed. “I paraphrased. That’s all Chica.”

They chatted amicably for a bit before Angel came over to ask to speak to Bishop and Taza alone for a minute in Templo. That left Megan with Marcus.

“Have you heard anything from Tía Diana and Tessa?” Megan asked. “I haven’t heard much since they left.”

Marcus sat forward at the table to smile at her. He leaned his forearms there and smiled. “Yeah. I heard from them at about lunch time. They’re probably still on the road though. Tessa doesn’t have much patience for car rides, so Diana will stop often to let her stretch.” He fiddled with his beer bottle a bit. “I talked to your tía about the move. She agrees that it’s probably best for everyone if I pause my patch for a bit.”

Megan reached across the table to squeeze his fingers. “And you? What do you think?”

He squeezed back before meeting her eyes. “I think she’s right. It makes the most sense, Bebita.”

“Then why the hesitation?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know who I am without this kutte, Poquito. I’ve been wearing it so long it’s practically my skin at this point.” He sighed. “I’m struggling with letting go.”

“I understand. It’s like leaving rodeo was for me.” She fiddled with his signet ring, “But Tío, you aren’t leaving for good. It’s just like recon.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. We’ll make the call at the Templo after this one. I want to be sure the gun deal is solid first. Besides - this way nothing is on Hank’s mind tonight except you. Finally getting a real date night, huh? You gonna let him show out?”

Megan laughed and sat back. “You mean I could stop him?”

“Good point.”

Bishop and Taza returned with very serious faces. Megan sat up straight in alarm. “Papa? Everything alright?”

“Sí, Chica. Angel just had some information for us.” He pressed a reassuring kiss to the top of her head before resuming his seat. “Your tío is going to take care of it before Templo.”

Bishop nodded and gathered Gilly and Creeper before riding out. 

“Anything I need to know, Hermano?” Marcus asked.

Taza shook his head. “Nah. Charter issue.”

Marcus nodded. 

When Bishop and the others returned, Bishop’s face was like a thundercloud and Riz was with them. Hank followed them in from the front porch too. Bishop didn’t even have to say anything. He just grabbed the whiskey bottle and a glass and headed for Templo. Everyone followed.

taglist:

@jemmakates

@msjava1972

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If you would like to be added to the taglist - please let me know.

#lost princessa #mayans mc #meet the reaper #taza x daughter!oc #lost princessa sequel #che taza romero #hank loza #megan(oc) x hank #mayans mc fanfic #bishop losa #marcus alvarez #johnny coco cruz #coco cruz #neron creeper vargas #creeper vargas #gilly lopez #gilly mayans #ez reyes #angel reyes #(oc) Rex the doggy

[sonhosquebrados]

Bishop is alive and playing golf with Alvarez. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

#bishop losa #obispo losa #michael irby #marcus alvarez #emilio rivera #mayans mc

[burningtacozombie]

for episode 5x08 Emilio Rivera threw a watch party for the cast and friends because not only was his wife in it, it was also her birthday. X - X - X - X

#andrew jacobs #guero #alex barone #bottles #emilio rivera #marcus alvarez #gino vento #nestor oceteva #joseph raymond lucero #neron creeper vargas #mayans mc #mayans fx

[mrsfilipchibstelford]

#sons of anarchy #kim coates #tiggy #soa #emilio rivera #marcus alvarez #mayans mc

[meep-meep-richie]

‘‘ You’re not a f*ckin Mayan.’’

#nbjknnkdfngnf #this show #my new addiction #those two are absolute kingssss #mayan mc #mayans mc #marcus alvarez #bishop #obispo losa #emilio rivera #michael irby #mayans season 1 #mayans season 3 #does it ever drive you crazy #dailytvgifs #my gifs #tvgifs #tv series #tvshows #tv #gif #my gif set #gifs* #gifset #tvgifedit #tvedit #tvshowedit #tvseries #tv shows #tvgif

[drabbles-mc]

Again and Again (Part 3)

Mayans!Juice AU

Day 15 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: isolation / flinching / "Do you trust me?"

Part 1 / Part 2

Warnings: 18+, angst

Word Count: 3k

A/N: I started this series back during Whumptober, so it felt fitting to post another installment of it for Whumpril! Hope you enjoy!

SOA Taglist: @espieviolet99 @littlekittymeow @chibsytelford @juicyortiz @i-just-read-stuff @justreblogginfics @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @beardburnsupersoldiers @choochoo284 @artemiseamoon @nessamc @garbinge @narcolini @cositapreciosa @darqchilddaydreamz @withmyteeth @camelia35 @passionatewrites (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Despite the days that had gone by, and the fact that the worst of the physical pain was over, Juice had barely set foot outside his house. The few times he had, it was to go and get things that he needed—groceries, alcohol, cigarettes, weed. He had yet to set foot back at the clubhouse again. The mere thought of it made him shake, so he couldn’t imagine what his brain and body would put him through if he actually went and showed up.

He was lying on his back on his couch in the living room, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was wandering and taking him nowhere good as it went. The lights were off, but there was enough sunlight coming through the windows to keep the room from being too dark. This was where he had spent most of the last couple of weeks. Even when it was time for him to try and sleep, he hardly ever went and laid in his bed. That was one thing he wouldn’t have been able to explain even if he tried.

The sound of someone knocking at his front door caused him to snap his head immediately in that direction. His heart began thudding quickly in his chest as he stared at the door, with all of its locks firmly secure because he’d checked them each three times. He laid still, partially waiting but also partially unable to try and make himself move. Logically he knew it was most likely someone from the club, or maybe even the nurse that they’d sent over to check on him.

After the first couple of days, when they were all reassured enough that he wasn’t going to eat his gun, they didn’t have club members camped out at his place around the clock anymore. Someone always checked in once a day, usually Marcus, either with a phone call or an in-person visit. Juice still hadn’t figured out if the club had been asking Daniela to keep coming and checking on his injuries and his overall state, or if she was just the type of person who cared that much. She had brothers in the club, after all, so maybe it was just a sense of duty.

He must’ve been replaying the days in his head for longer than he thought, because there was another set of knocks. Juice was trying to will his body to move, but it was slow-going. His feet had hardly hit the floor when he heard Marcus’s voice from the other side of the door.

“It’s me.”

Juice forced himself to pry the words from the back of his throat, a herculean effort when it shouldn’t have been one. “Coming.”

One slow step in front of the other, he made his way over to the door. Even though he knew it was Marcus, and even though he knew that if something was wrong Marcus would’ve warned him somehow, Juice still had his gun clutched tightly in one hand as he reached to start undoing the locks with the other.

When he finally pulled the door open, Marcus was standing patiently on the other side, his facial expression not giving away any particular emotion. That was something Juice had noticed he was good at—keeping things close to the vest. Marcus, to the extent of Juice’s knowledge at least, had never lied to him. He was always honest. But when it came to what he was feeling about something at any given moment, it was rare that Marcus wore his opinion on his face. Juice was trying to figure out if he found that to be a comforting thing or not.

Stepping to the side so that Marcus could walk through, Juice nervously drummed his fingers on his side of the door. Pushing it shut, he immediately set about redoing all of his locks. He tried to make his voice sound as normal as possible as he spoke to Marcus, even though the frantic movements of his fingers instantly negated his efforts. “All good?”

Marcus watched him, his expression still not giving anything away. He waited for Juice to turn and look at him before he finally nodded. “All good.”

“What’s, uh,” he tucked his gun into the back of his waistband, like that would somehow make it seem more casual, “what’s going on?”

“Just came to update you.”

Juice’s eyes widened. “Update me? About…about what?”

Marcus could hear the panic edging its way into Juice’s voice, and he kept his as steady and as neutral as possible. “Templo tomorrow.” He paused, seeing how Juice’s expression didn’t relax any. “We need you there.”

That wasn’t the answer Juice had been expecting. He’d spent day after day pacing around his house waiting for the worst. Truth be told, he was half expecting one of the guys, or Marcus, to stop by and ask for his kutte. It felt like all the trouble Juice had been drowning in when he was in Charming, just took on a new form and followed him right to Santo Padre. He was wondering when the Mayans would get sick of the constant clean-up like the Sons did.

“Why,” he sniffled and shrugged as he crossed his arms over his chest, “why do you need me there?”

Marcus’s brows came together for a brief moment before he recovered and answered, “Because you’re part of the fuckin’ club.”

From almost anyone else, that response would’ve sounded annoyed, or even angry. But not from Marcus. The way he said it was so matter-of-fact. A large part of that was because he wasn’t annoyed or angry with Juice. He wondered when that fact was finally going to sink in with the young man that was standing in front of him.

It wasn’t that Juice didn’t want to be at Templo, or that he didn’t want to be part of the club. He did. He wanted all of that more than almost anything. But after all that had happened, the thought of just going about his life like it was business as usual was impossible to wrap his head around. For years he had just gone from one mishap to the next, and they seemed to keep getting worse as the years went along. He’d always been able to rally, though, always been able to move onto the next thing.

Now, standing in front of Marcus with trembling hands and flashbacks that made beads of sweat gather along the edge of his forehead, it was all finally starting to catch up to him at once.

Taking a breath, Marcus asked, “What is it?”

Juice’s eyes that had previously been glued to the floor snapped up so that he was looking at Marcus. “What is what?”

“What’s keeping you in here?” He made a small gesture to the house.

Juice shook his head, eyes dropping back to the floorboards beneath his feet as he tried to string together an answer. He didn’t even know where to begin. It felt so obvious and yet so complicated all at once. Because, yes, danger was a part of what they did. There was no way to be an outlaw and do it safely. However, it wasn’t just the feeling of danger. It was something deeper than that, something internal and far less tangible than the threats lurking outside his door.

He still didn’t look up as he started to speak. “Everywhere I go…bad things happen. To, to me. To the people around me. No matter what. Queens…Charming…” he hesitated like he didn’t want to spit the words out, “Santo Padre. Bad shit. Every, every fucking time.”

“And it was all on you, huh? Every time?”

Juice knew what Marcus was doing. It wasn’t the first time that he’d had a conversation like this. And he knew that in a way, Marcus was right. It wasn’t very often that the man was wrong about much anyway. This, however, this Juice knew that if one of them was approaching the situation rationally, it was Marcus. All of that and he still found it so hard to believe him.

“I know,” Juice finally said. “I know there’s more to it but I just,” he ran his hands back over his head, hating that he could feel tears stinging at the edges of his eyes, “I can’t shake the feeling. Bad luck has followed me across the country and down the border. How long was I here before…?” his voice trailed off.

“I told you,” Marcus said firmly, “what they did was about the club—it wasn’t about you.”

“But it happened to me!” Juice finally broke, emotion cracking his voice. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes for a moment as he tried to get the shake in his voice under control and failed. “Because it always happens to me.”

Marcus didn’t say anything for a moment. Side-stepping Juice, he made his way deeper into the living room and took a seat on the couch that Juice had been all but glued to for the last few weeks. Leaning forward, Marcus braced his forearms against the tops of his thighs. He finally looked over at Juice and waited for him to come and sit.

It took a few moments, but Juice finally picked up on the cue. Walking over, he put his gun back on the table before sitting down next to Marcus. He could feel Marcus staring at him but he didn’t look over at him. He knew that wherever this conversation was going, he wasn’t going to be able to hide from it. He’d hidden from a lot, locked up in his house the way he had been, but now Marcus was here and it didn’t seem like he was going to leave until he got whatever answers he was looking for.

Juice gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip before saying, “I don’t know if I’m worth the trouble that follows me.”

Marcus nodded, not in agreement, but in thought. He looked down at his interlocked hands for a moment, at the Mayan ring that rested on his finger. He felt the weight of the kutte that hung on his shoulders.

“Are you going to turn in your kutte, then?” Marcus finally asked after a bout of silence.

The knot in Juice’s stomach tightened, his eyes widening as he looked over at Marcus. The lack of emotion on the man’s face left Juice wondering if it was a question or a request. “N—I…I don’t…do you…do you want me to?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yea, but—”

“If I didn’t want you in my club, you wouldn’t be.” He paused, twisting the ring on his finger. “This isn’t about that. This is about whether or not you still want this. If you can still do this.”

It had been a long time since decisions with this much gravity really felt like they were Juice’s to make. He’s been a “Yes Man” for a long time, and he was pretty good at that. For years he’d listened to the decisions being made and contented himself just following the directions that he’d been given. But now he was the one who had to make the choice, and it was one that was going to decide whether taking off to Santo Padre was worth any of the stress it had caused.

Juice knew that he still wanted this. For all of the pain and the mess that it had caused, he still wanted it. For years now it had been all he ever wanted. Belonging somewhere had been the only thing he wanted for as long as he could remember. For the first time in a long time it felt like an attainable goal—he just had to get out of his own fucking way.

“I, uh,” he sniffled, trying to force his bubbling emotions down, “I don’t know if I can, Marcus.” The pause that ensued felt a few seconds too long. “I want to, but I don’t know…”

“If you want to do this, you gotta show up.” His tone wasn’t harsh, but it didn’t leave much room for argument either. It was the plain reality of it all.

And Juice knew that he was right. Marcus was understanding, he was fair in a way the men he’d worked with in the past never had the capacity to be. But he still had a club to run. He still had messes to clean up. The question now was whether or not Juice was going to be one of those.

Juice shook his head slightly, fear once again rearing its ugly head as he thought about all of the worst-case scenarios. “Why…why do you even care so much? Why are you doing all of this? It’s not,” he shook his head, “it’s not like you owe me anything. All I’ve fucking done is—”

He was cut off by the feeling of Marcus’s hand landing on his shoulder. Juice flinched at the contact, instinctively going to pull away before he realized what was happening, that he was safe, that the gesture was one of comfort and not aggression.

Juice got his tone back under control taking a staggered breath as he repeated his question, “Why are you doing this?” The familiar sting of tears in his eyes came back as he asked, “Do you even trust me? Can…can you even trust me?”

There was a pause, but it wasn’t hesitation. There was no trace of guesswork on Marcus’s face as he sat there looking at Juice. The silence was more to make Juice sit with his own line of questioning than anything else.

Marcus took a deep breath. “Trust is all we’ve got.”

The statement hung alone in the air. After a few seconds, Marcus removed his hand from Juice’s shoulder.  Juice thought that his body would relax at that, but none of the tension dissolved out of him. His leg began to bounce as the two of them sat there. He knew that it was his turn to say something, that Marcus would be more than content to sit there and wait until Juice finally forced himself to give some kind of answer to the original question that spurred this conversation in the first place.

Even though Juice cleared his throat, his voice still came out as a whisper, like he was on the brink of losing his voice. “I’ll be there.”

Marcus’s expression didn’t shift at all as he nodded. “Good.” He paused, giving Juice the opportunity to say anything else that he needed to get off his chest. When silence ensued, he asked, “Nothing else?”

Juice gave a small shake of his head, still not looking directly at Marcus. “No.”

Standing up, Marcus brushed his hands on his jeans before starting to head back towards the door again. “Tomorrow, then.”

Juice nodded, forcing himself up off the couch so that he could follow Marcus and lock the door behind him once he’d left. “Tomorrow.”

When Marcus pulled the front door open, he immediately came face-to-face with Daniela, who was still in her scrubs from work. She took a small step back, a surprised laugh slipping out of her as she looked back and forth between Marcus and Juice.

“Hi, sorry.” She adjusted the small medical bag that was slung over her shoulder. “I was just, you know, um,” she patted her bag, “checking in.”

Marcus nodded in approval. “Thank you.”

She gave a warm smile. “It’s not a problem,” her eyes drifted over to Juice, her expression softening a little, “really.”

Marcus gently rested his hand on the outside of her arm as she slipped past him, allowing them to swap places so she was inside the house and he was out on the front step. He and Juice exchanged one more brief look, each trying to figure each other out just a little bit more, before saying one more quick goodbye.

Daniela waited and watched as Juice shut the door behind Marcus and did all the locks. Her sympathetic smile lost a little bit of its curve as she watched him go back and check the locks, and recheck them again.

“If it’s not a good time,” she offered, “I can always come back later.”

Turning around and facing her, Juice shook his head. He was trying to look less rattled than he really was, which was difficult with everything that had happened within the span of the last half hour. Still, she already showed up, so he wasn’t going to turn her away.

“It’s fine,” he forced out.

She didn’t want to turn it into a debate, so she just nodded. “Okay.” She gestured to the couch, and as they both stepped towards it, she asked, “You wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head as he sat down. “I’m good.”

She nodded again. Some days he talked a little bit, other days the two of them sat there in near-silence as she checked him over. It looked like it was going to be the latter. “Okay.”

Juice watched her as she pulled her medical bag onto her lap and opened it to look inside. He wished he had better things to say to her, anything, really, but he was coming up empty. She never seemed fazed by it.

“Thanks,” he said softly as she pulled her stethoscope out.

She gave him a tiny smile. “Of course.”

That was all that was said between him as she got wrapped up in making sure that he was at least physically alright if nothing else. Meanwhile, Juice’s mind was miles away trying to wrap his head around how he was going to pull himself together enough to do what needed to be done. This was just one day, one meeting, and it was taking this much out of him. As he flinched slightly from the cold metal of the stethoscope, he briefly wondered how he was supposed to handle all the days afterward, too.

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