#hank loza fic

[bullet-prooflove]

Okay, how about “you need stitches and bedrest, not booze and more fights.” From the lover’s injury prompt list you reblogged for Hank (I am so giddy to see how you portray him, I’m sure it’s going to be amazing!)

You tell Hank as the two of you sit at your kitchen table, your medical kit laid out on the surface.

His jaw clenches as you apply the antiseptic wipe to the gash near his temple. It's the only sign that he's in any pain at all.

"Ok, so we aren't going to talk about this?" You say as you reach inside the kit for the butterfly stitches. "Why you turned up at my house in the middle of the night looking like you've been in a fight and smelling of whisky."

"Not my whiskey." He says quietly.

That's a relief because it means he didn't drink and ride which you guess is a small mercy. His eyes are on your face and you can tell he's studying your expression.

"I miss you." He tells you as you apply the stitches firmly.

"I miss you too." You say focusing your attention on the task at hand. "But you were the one who decided to end things."

His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, he captures your hand as you try to draw away. He presses it to his cheek, his gaze fixing on yours as your thumb ghosts over his cheek bone. He inhales, savouring that sensation of your touch.

"What if I made a mistake?" He asks you.

"Did you?"

"Yea." He says, his voice gruff as his lips trail over your pulse point. "I think I did."

#hank loza x you #hank loza x reader #hank loza fic #hank loza x ofc #hank loza

[broiderie]

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 28

Alright. It's a doozy. I'm talking like twice or three times the length of most of my chapters, but y'all voted for it. Here it is.

Do not steal my shit. This is the only place this is posted and there's a damn good reason for it. People have been waiting a long time for this chapter.

WARNINGS: cussing, 18+ only, unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I write), oral sex (f receiving), etc. It's fluffy porn for the last 2K+ words, okay?

Also - the first time I've EVER published something like this so be gentle. Better yet - be specific if you like it because I probably won't have the guts to write more like it if you aren't.

In Santo Padre proper, Hank parked the bike outside the best restaurant in town. He locked down their helmets and offered Megan his arm as he escorted her to the hostess stand.

“Good evening. Do you have a reservation?” the young lady asked.

“Should be under Loza,” Hank said, squeezing Megan’s hand gently.

“Yes sir. We have your table all ready for you. Please follow me.” She led them inside where they checked their jackets and then took them to a table that was fairly private. “Your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy your meal.”

Hank pulled Megan’s chair out for her and guided it in before taking his own seat.

Megan looked around with wide eyes. “Holy shit, Hank. I don’t know how to act in something as upscale as this.”

Hank laughed a little. “You’re doing fine, mi reina. Relax. It’s not as stuffy as it seems. I bring Mama here for special occasions. I promise, you’ll be just fine.” He leaned forward and took her good hand in his. “Besides - you don’t have to be anything except yourself. We don’t even have to order here. They just serve us the meal prepared for the evening. No decisions. No menus. Just us and dinner.” He couldn’t resist kissing her knuckles again as he watched her settle at his touch.

A waiter appeared at his elbow inquiring as to what they’d like to drink. Megan ordered water and Hank did as well. “We won’t be needing the wine list either,” Hank told him with a smile for Megan.

The bread and salad came out soon after they’d both gotten their drinks. As they ate, they talked softly about anything that came to mind. By the time the main course arrived, Megan was as relaxed in public as she could be. 

Hank was in the middle of telling Megan a story about when he was a young man in the military when their waiter appeared again to refill their water glasses. “Pardon me, but Mr. Galindo sends his regards and would like to buy your table a round of drinks,” he informed them.

Megan stiffened and looked around before clocking Miguel Galindo at a solitary table on the balcony. His head of security - the mercenary with the braids - stood near him. He raised a whiskey glass to acknowledge her look. 

Hank nodded. “You can tell Mr. Galindo that we appreciate his offer, but we’re not drinking tonight. Thank you,” he said levelly. 

“Very well sir,” the waiter said before leaving them to eat in peace. 

“What the hell does he think he’s doing? Megan fumed quietly. “There’s no way he thought that would be well received.”

Hank reached across the table to clasp her hand again to steady her. “Easy, mi princessa. THe more he sees it bothers us, the more outrageous he’ll get. Just ignore him.” He gently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Deep breath. Don’t let him get to you.” 

Megan took a deep breath and squeezed his fingers before she started eating the steak and vegetables that was their main course.

Once the main course was finished, the waiter appeared again to clear their plates. “Would you like dessert?”

Hank grinned. “What is it tonight?”

“Triple chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream.”

Hank looked at Megan with a smile. “What do you think, mi amore?”

Megan cracked a smile and bit her bottom lip.

“I do believe that’s a yes. We’ll take one,” Hank laughed. 

While they were waiting on their dessert, Hank reached for her hands again. “Still up for dancing after this, mi reina?”

“Of course. You promised to teach me how to really dance.” She grinned. “Tío Marcus has taught me some of the formal stuff, but Coco swears I look like a stiff.”

Hank laughed. “Alright. There’s a little dance club down the street-”

“Excuse me. I hate to interrupt -”

Hank sighed and looked up to find Miguel standing by their table adjusting his cufflinks.

He watched Megan sink a bit in her chair. “Mr. Galindo. What can we do for you?” He reached to guide Megan around the table to bring her closer to him.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, but I couldn’t help but notice that your sling is off, Ms. Morales. Is that wise?” Miguel asked. 

Megan looked to Hank in a panic without saying anything, so he pulled her around to sit on his knee. “Megan was cleared by a doctor earlier today. We’re actually celebrating that tonight. Was there something you needed?” Hank asked, gently rubbing the small of her back over the low back of her dress.

Miguel raised his eyebrows. “Ms. Morales - your voice has changed. I was under the impression that you were an officer in the M.C. Surely you can answer for yourself.”

Megan rested against Hank and took a deep breath. “Mr. Galindo, I am the Armorer of this charter, however, I’m not a voting member. I also don’t speak for the club on anything. Hank or another member will always be the one to speak instead of myself. That’s just how the structure of our organization works.”

Galindo smirked. “Ah, but we weren’t discussing business, Ms. Morales. We were discussion your personal safety. Perhaps you would do better with my organization watching out for you.”

“Either way, Mr. Galindo, my caballero or my father or godfathers will always speak for me first. They will always protect my interests,” Megan stated confidently. Hank nodded and placed a kiss to the side of her head.

“Surely you don’t see me as a threat, Ms. Morales. I’m a friend of your godfather. I’d like to be a friend to you.” He cut his eyes at Hank. “What’s preventing this relationship from becoming a friendship?”

Hank rubbed his hand up and down Megan’s bare back again and smiled. “Mr. Galindo, Megan can befriend whomever she likes. However, she also is still recovering from the abuse she suffered at the hands of people in a position of power over her. Because of that, she doesn’t feel comfortable discussing things with people that she doesn’t know. That’s where her club comes in. That’s where her family comes in.”

Megan settled against Hank’s chest and leaned her head against his shoulder as he continued to soothe her with his touch.

Miguel nodded and seated himself in Megan’s abandoned chair. “So, how can I gain your trust Ms. Morales? My business runs on trust. I don’t like not having yours.”

Megan sat up again, but continued to lean into Hank for courage. “Mr. Galindo, trust takes time to build. You have to give me time to get to know you and your organization. Time to see that you’re trustworthy.”

“Time? You need time?” Miguel ran his pointer finger over his top lip. “I can give you time, Cariño. On one condition…”

“What is your condition, Mr. Galindo?” Megan asked, lacing the fingers of her good hand through Hank’s where his hand rested on her hip.

“You allow me to attempt to earn that trust from you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Simply… allow me to be… friendly. Accept my gifts. Allow me to speak to you freely on the street without someone to hide behind.” He flashed her a charming smile.

“Mr. Galindo - it’s a free country. You can speak to anyone you’d like. Megan will speak with whomever she pleases. She can accept gifts from anyone - but you cannot require that of her if she is uncomfortable with you. You cannot intimidate mi princessa into trusting you.” Hank squeezed Megan’s waist comfortingly. “No one will ever force la princessa de los Mayas y mi reina to do something against her will again as long as any members of the Mayans M.C. survive. NOw - if you will excuse us - you’re interrupting our celebration. If you’d like to arrange a meeting to discuss la princessa, I suggest you go through proper channels.” Hank’s voice was smooth and calm the entire time he spoke to Galindo, but Megan could feel the tension in his body beneath hers.

Miguel nodded decisively and smirked at Hank’s protective speech. “Very well. Perhaps I will go through the proper channels then. See if I can’t get her as liaison.” He stood and straightened his suit jacket. “Until then, it was wonderful to see you looking so… well, Ms. Morales.” He paused to run his eyes over Megan where she sat. “Enjoy your… celebration.” He gave a mocking not to them and swept out of the restaurant. 

As soon as he was out of sight, Megan wilted into Hank as he cuddled her close. He could feel her trembling as she fought to keep her breathing even. “Easy, mi amore. You did beautifully.” He pressed kisses to her hair and used both hands to stroke her back and arms. “Shh. You’re alright. I’ve got you. He’s gone.”

Megan focused on her breathing as it seemed like a bubble of tension in the restaurant popped, releasing a wave of chatter from the other diners. She got herself under control and quickly sat up to give Hank a weak smile.

Hank cupped her cheek in his massive palm and soothed over her cheekbone with his thumb. “There’s my girl.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lip and smiled.

Their waiter reappeared with fresh water and their dessert. “Here you are sir, miss. Can I get you anything else? We appreciate how calmly you took your dinner being interrupted by another guest. My manager would like you to know that tonight’s meal is on the house as a thank you for your patience and kindness.”

Hank smiled at the much smaller man. “Thank your manager for us. I think mi reina would appreciate a cup of tea if you have time.” He smoothed some hair that had escaped her braids out of her face softly as he rocked her.

“Of course. I’ll be right back with that, sir.” The waiter hurried off.

Megan took one more deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth before she smiled at Hank. “Sorry. I froze.”

He kissed her forehead before pulling the dessert close and offering her one of the spoons. “You did just fine, Princessa. Let’s finish dinner and see if you still feel like going dancing afterwards.”

After finishing their dessert and a cup of tea for Megan, Hank guided her back out of the restaurant. He gently helped her into her leather jacket and took her back to his bike.

“Alright, mi amore. Still feel like dancing tonight? I’ll understand if you don’t,” he assured her.

Megan smiled up at him. “I don’t want him to succeed at spoiling our date night. I’d love to go dancing with you.”

Hank lit up. “In that case - let’s leave the bike here. There’s not much parking over by where I want to take you. Do you mind walking?”

“I don’t mind at all. It’s a beautiful night.”

Hank guided her to the inside of the sidewalk and took her good hand as they walked down the street. It wasn’t very far at all and Megan grinned when she could hear the music. “Ready to go dancing for the first time, mi princessa?” Hank asked, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and lingering teasingly.

“Ready.” She smiled up at him, giggling when he guided her into a spin right there on the street. 

They rounded the corner and entered a plaza that was lit with strings of lights. The club door was just a few yards away when Megan froze. Hank stopped and turned to check on her with a frown. “Mi amore? What’s wrong?”

Megan pointed to the door where a man with familiar braids stood talking to the bouncer. 

“Fuck. Asshole. He delayed us on purpose because he was sending his errand boy ahead,” Hank growled. “Either he’s waiting inside to ambush us again, or he’s paid off the doorman to keep us from getting in.”

Megan sighed and pressed her face into Hank’s bicep. “I really don’t want to deal with him again. He makes me anxious.”

Hank pulled her close and let her tuck herself into his broad chest before he wrapped his arms around her tightly. “Then we won’t, mi reina. We can dance another night. We can go home or even back to the clubhouse with your papa and tíos. If you want, we can call the guys and have them bring the girls from Vickie’s - make our own dance club at the clubhouse…” He kissed her hair gently and rocked back and forth to settle her.

Nestor caught sight of them and smiled before patting the bouncer on the shoulder. 

Hank struggled not to lose his temper and go a few rounds with the cartel security. He focused on Megan in his arms and got angrier when he heard her sniff back tears. “Oh Princessa. Don’t cry. Don’t let that bastard steal our night.” He loosened his hold until he could tilt her face up to his and kiss her gently right there on the street corner. “Say the word, mi amore, and the club will arrive in force to go in with us if you want to dance in there tonight. You won’t have to deal with him. We’ll shield you.” He wiped the lone tear that slid down her cheek gently.

“No. Let’s just go home.” She shook her head. “No use in getting into fights with the fucking cartel over it.” Her eyes pleaded with Hank to let it go. “Let’s just ignore him and go home.”

He searched her face for a minute. “Alright, mi reina. Alright.” He turned her around and headed back towards the bike. 

Once they were back at the bike, Megan sighed. She looked so upset still, and Hank couldn’t stand it. He kissed both sets of knuckles and then her lips before he smiled down at her. “Well - at least I won’t have to shoot anyone for hitting on my gorgeous girl tonight. You really are so beautiful I’d probably have had to fight to keep you to myself in there.”

That got a watery chuckle from her as he leaned down to press a deep kiss to her lips. He pressed her close to his body and smiled as she fought to catch her breath after they broke apart. 

His personal phone chimed from his suit jacket pocket which gave him an idea. He pulled it out and started typing furiously. It dinged again - multiple times in a row - alerting her to the amount of responses he was getting. By the time the dinging stopped, he was grinning ear to ear.

“Alright, Princessa. Plan B. Let’s run to the grocery store for some extra ice cream and head home. The night’s not over yet.”

Hank encouraged her to take her time choosing snacks at the store. They got ice cream and topping for it as well as candy of all sorts. 

“What are we doing?” Megan giggled as Hank reached for a giant bag of M&Ms. 

“It’s a surprise, Princessa. The rich bastard can’t ruin this plan.” He grinned down at the loaded handbasket. “Anything else you want, mi amore?”

“I don’t think so. There’s so much.”

“Gotta have options.” His phone chirped again and he checked it. Whatever was on his screen made him smile in satisfaction. “Let’s head home.”

Back on the bike, Hank felt Megan relax into his back as soon as the wind hit her. When they stopped at a stoplight, he reached back to rest his hand on her bare thigh, stoking the soft skin that he couldn’t feel through his leather riding gloves.

At the ranch, Megan saw that the lights had been turned on inside, but there were no bikes or van parked outside. Once Hank cut the bike’s engin, Megan asked, “Who’s here?” as she removed her helmet.

“No one anymore. I had the Prospect come set some things up for us and then leave the lights on.” He smiled as he guided her off the bike first before dismounting along with her.

“Did you tell Papa what happened?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “Not yet, Princessa. We can tell him tomorrow morning so that he and Bishop can handle it. It’s not going to blow up our night.” He pulled her close and leaned down to kiss her gently. “Let’s go inside.”

Inside the ranch house, everything looked normal in the entrance and the living room, so Megan was a little puzzled. Hank helped her remove her leather jacket and hung it with his before leading her into the kitchen to put away the ice cream. That’s when she noticed it.

Hank had asked EZ to clear the patio of everything except the love seat to the side and the brick fire pit. String edison lights were hung from the rafters holding the roof and a fire had been laid, but wasn’t yet lit. One of the stereo systems from the clubhouse had been hung as well and the projector and screen from their movie date were back in place playing Latin dance music and showing video of some kind of festival where dancing happened in the plaza. 

She went to the patio doors and smiled brightly at the set up. After putting the ice cream in the freezer, Hank joined her at the doors, wrapping his arms around her from behind and swaying gently. “Now we can dance as much as we want and no one can interrupt us,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her left temple. “And if you get tired, we have all the snacks for a movie instead.”

“This is amazing. You didn’t have to do this -” she said, leaning back into his embrace.

“Mi reina, you were disappointed that Galindo was able to pull strings like he did tonight. I promised you dinner and dancing - so that’s exactly what you’re gonna get.” He smiled and caught her left hand in his right and spun her gently all the way around. “Ready for that dance?”

Megan popped up on her toes and kissed him. “Any time.”

Hank led her out onto the patio and lit the fire pit quickly before finding the remote that controlled the music and sliding it into his jacket pocket. He changed the song to the one they’d first danced to in Mama’s backyard before offering Megan his hand in the most over the top gallant fashion he could manage. “May I have this dance?”

Megan laughed, throwing her head back until she calmed enough to take his offered hand. “Of course, good sir.”

Hank drew her close and into frame for a proper dance before taking the lead. He could definitely tell the difference this time. Megan never looked away from his face to check her feet. She just trusted his lead. 

She smiled up at him as he spun her gently before catching her and lowering her into a dip. “You ready for the next step, Princessa?”

“What’s next?”

He chuckled. “Time to move. Just follow my lead.”

When the song changed, he started dancing her around the patio. It took a few minutes, but she found her footing in the movement. She glanced down to see that she was keeping beat and laughed.

Hank released her hand to guide her chin back up to meet his eyes. “Eyes on me, mi reina. You’re doing just fine.” He watched as she bit her bottom lip before meeting his gaze again. “There’s my girl.”

Megan felt heat spread through her veins and thought it must be visible on her face. The hand that Hank had on her waist slipped back to stroke the skin that was at the small of her back as she moved a little closer to him. “Hank?”

“Sí, mi princessa?”

“Kiss me?”

He smirked a bit before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips as the song swapped again. A much slower song started and he guided both of her hands up to the back of his neck asw he pulled her closer still.

Megan pouted up at him, making him laugh. “What’s wrong, mi amore?”

“That doesn’t count as a kiss.” 

He pressed his forehead against hers with a cheeky smile. “Oh really? What kind of kiss were you looking for?”

“This kind.” Megan pressed herself up to kiss Hank deeply as her hands slid into his haid to pull him closer. 

Hank couldn’t resist and pressed her completely against him with one hand stroking the bare back exposed by the dress that had been teasing him for hours as the other slid up to support Megan's head and neck. He let her lead the kiss as much as he could before she let out a tiny sound of pleasure that broke his carefully held control.

He gentled the kiss only enough to allow her to breathe before he backed them up to the loveseat. When he felt it at his back, he sat - pulling her to straddle his lap. For the first time, he felt like he could safely enjoy her being on top of him. He reveled in it. 

Megan settled into the comfort of his wide lap with a smile. Even with the brace still on her right wrist, this was the most Hank had allowed her to do in a while. Her hands went back to his soft hair as she kissed him again. 

Hank’s hands stroked the skin of her back and shoulders before one slid down her body to her bare thigh where her skirt had ridden up. He traced the bike shorts she was wearing before sliding his hand around to cup her ass through them and pull her hips tighter to his as he guided kisses across her jaw until he could nip her ear gently. “See, mi reina. Dancing at home has it’s advantages.”

Megan let out a breathy giggle as he rocked her hips into his. 

He smiled against her skin before exploring further down her neck with his kisses.

Megan allowed her head to fall back as he brushed his lips along the cleavage the neckline of her dress exposed and let out a small whine when he stopped. 

He chuckled as her trance was broken and she pouted at him again. He gently kissed her once more while rocking his hips up into hers. “Is this what you want, Megan?” he asked quietly. “Is it? You know you are the one calling the shots, right?” He cupped her neck with one hand and her hip with the other and waited until she met his eyes. Megan’s pupils were dilated so far that he could barely see the deep brown color that he had come to love so very much. “This is your choice.”

She smiled at him in such a way as to make his breath catch in his throat. “I know, Hank. You are always my choice.” She wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders and rocked her hips against the hard ridge in his suit pants. “I want you. All of you…”

He buried his face in her good shoulder as he pressed kisses to her skin. Once he’d calmed down enough, he smiled up at her. “Then we should take this behind locked doors.” He paused to press a kiss to her lips. “Go inside, mi reina. I’m going to put out the fire and cover the electronics and then I’ll meet you in our room.”

Megan searched his face for a moment before smiling down at him. “Alright.” She slid off his lap with the help of his guiding hands and shivered a bit when he sat forward on the love seat to kiss her stomach through her dress.

Once he was standing, he released her hand with a kiss and patted her ass to send her on her way inside. As she crossed the threshold of the patio doors, he started shutting everything down for the night. As he turned off the music, he realized that the speaker system was the outdoor ones - but they looked newer than the ones at the clubhouse. And the projector had been mounted to the rafters this time as well.

He went around the corner of the house to get the bucket of sand that Taza kept for putting out the fire pit and saw brand new boxes for the electronics broken down and ready to be burned. He laughed and shook his head. The Prospect must have told Taza what he’d been asked to do and Taza sent him shopping. Probably with Creep along to choose the right things to create a more permanent outdoor theater for the house. He shot a text off to Taza to thank him for making this easy for him, then grabbed the bucket and went to smother the fire. 

Before he went back inside to unplug the lights, his phone dinged with a reply and he checked it. “Anything for her, Hermano. She alright? Why the change of plans?” it read.

Hank paused and responded - “She’s fine. I’ll explain in the morning.”

An immediate reply came through saying “Good. See you in the morning.”

Hank locked his phone as he shut and locked the patio doors. Once he’d unplugged the patio lights, he plugged his phone in next to Megan’s on the kitchen counter and turned to the hallway to meet her.

In the bedroom, Megan had taken the time to remove her makeup and wash her face. She sat at her vanity unpinning her braids as he walked in and leaned in the doorway. She was humming contentedly and he waited for her to notice him before joining her in the bedroom.

Megan’s eyes met his in the mirror and she smiled. “Thought I’d go ahead and wash my face.” She let her warrior braids fall to brush her tattooed back.

“Need some help, Princessa?” he asked, pushing off the doorframe and closing the door behind him and locking it. 

She smiled up at him as he joined her at her vanity. “Of course.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Want your jewelry off?”

“Yes please. And my hair down.”

He smiled again and removed her necklaces, placing kisses beneath each clasp before undoing them. He helped to remove her earrings carefully as well before replacing her cord and silver necklace from Taza. He felt her shoulders relax as soon as it was back in its place around her throat. Lastly, he removed her new pearl bracelet and put it away in her jewelry box.

He reached for the small scissors that Taza had shown him to use to cut the bands on her smaller braids. He carefully snipped each band and threw them away before he started to unravel Megan’s hair. He watched her face relax as the tension from her heavy hair released. Once it was all unraveled, he gently massaged her scalp and watched her eyes close in bliss. Once he’d worked over her scalp well, he picked up the brush she used to detangle it and brushed it out so that it laid to her waist over her dress. “Better, mi amore?” he asked, smoothing her silky hair.

She opened her eyes to meet his with a smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

“You are so beautiful, Megan.” He bruised her hair aside to kiss her bare shoulder. 

She smiled and tilted her head to give him more access to her neck as she watched him in the mirror.

Hank took advantage of the exposed skin and pressed kisses up her neck until he reached her ear. “Alright, Princessa. You’re sure?” he whispered.

“I’m sure, Hank.”

He kissed her temple before shedding his suit jacket and the button up so he was just standing there in his slacks and a white wife-beater tank with his tattoos on display in the dim lighting of the lamps. He offered Megan his hand to help her stand and when she took it, he guided her close to him. Once she was pressed to his front, he used one massive hand to tilt her chin up so he could look down into her eyes. “You tell me to stop at any time, mi reina. Anytime.” He stroked a gentle thumb across her bottom lip. “Promise me?”

Megan’s wide trusting eyes stared up at him and she blinked. “I promise.”

“Good girl.” He pulled her closer against his chest and kissed her deeply, stroking his hands over her still clothed body.

Megan’s hands explored his chest and sides as she let out the tiniest little whimper. When he paused, she whined and reached to pull his head back down to kiss him again. She ran her good hand through his ruffled hair and stood on her bare toes to reach him better.

Hank cupped her hips over her dress and lifted her until she wrapped her legs around his waist without stopping the kiss. He finally broke it to laugh a little because she was giggling. He walked them to the bed and laid her across it before peppering kisses across her face and neck.

She grinned up at him as he paused to catch his breath.

He reached to cup her face again. “I love when you smile at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re the happiest woman in the world and I did something to make you that way.” He pressed another kiss to her lips before deepening it. He slid his hand to her knee where it rested against his side and eased his touch up her leg beneath the skirt of that deep red dress. He was expecting to encounter the bike shorts again, but instead found only the smooth skin of her thigh. He buried his face in the crook of her neck with a moan. “Makeup wasn’t all you took off, mi amore, was it?”

Megan ran her casted hand gently down his back over his wife beater and stroked the back of his neck with gentle fingers. “Don’t need shorts if I’m not on the bike…”

He made another strangled sound as his hand encountered lace which made her giggle again. “You alright, Hank?” she asked.

He kept his face buried in her skin and nodded. “Gimme a minute.”

Megan relaxed beneath him where he laid on top of her, supporting his weight  on the arm by her head. She marveled at how he was rock steady above her as she traced the muscles of his back.

“Princessa, that’s not helping. I’m trying real hard not to embarrass myself right now.” He picked his head up with a smile before rocking his hips gently against her.

Megan reached to stroke the line of his jaw with her good hand. “I won’t break, Hank. The sling is fully off and all that’s left is the soft cast. You won’t hurt me.”

He kissed her inner wrist and nodded. “I know, but you were so hurt for so long, mi reina. I don’t want that for you again. Especially because I lost control.” He slid to the side a little to rest on the bed beside her as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Besides - I know that this -” he gestured between the two of them. “This isn’t something that’s been your choice in a long time. I don’t want to be like him.”

Megan smiled and moved to snuggle closer to his body heat. “You aren’t him though. You’ll never be him. I’m not afraid of you and never have been.” She made solid eye contact with him. “I love you.”

Hank took a moment to scan her eyes for any hesitation, but found none so he drew her into a deep and loving kiss while guiding her hands back to his chest. 

Megan could feel that he was still hesitant to push her, so she tugged at the white tank top he was still wearing before whispering - “Off.”

When Hank sat up to remove it, Megan reached to undo the side zipper on her dress. He never took his eyes off of her as she shed it carefully - revealing the white lace panties he had only felt during their make out session. Her chest was completely bare since she’d shed the sticky bra at the same time as the bike shorts. She watched his jaw tighten before reaching for him to unfasten his slacks.

As her fingers fumbled with the zipper, Hank’s hands explored the now familiar skin of her torso.  He stroked her skin gently while surging forward to kiss her again with more heat in it. 

As soon as the zipper released, Megan stroked the hard ridge of his cock through the cotton of his boxer briefs causing him to moan softly. He broke the kiss to slide out of his slacks and sit firmly against the headboard before offering her his hand in invitation.

She didn’t hesitate. She took the offered hand and moved to straddle him, sitting firmly over that pronounced ridge in his underwear and shivering in pleasure at the feeling.

The heat that he could feel through the two thin layers of cotton was overwhelming. He cupped the back of her neck to pull her into his kisses before trailing more over them over the soft skin of her neck and shoulder. When his kisses hit that soft spot, right below her ear, Megan couldn’t resist a small moan of satisfaction as she rocked gently in his lap giving her body some of the stimulation it craved. 

With his left hand, Hank moved to cup a bare breast, gently thumbing and rolling the hard nipple as he diligently nibbled sweet spots on her neck and ears. His other hand slipped down to stroke teasingly along the top band of her panties.

Her hands alternated holding his head close to where she so desperately wanted it and stroking the muscles of his arms and abs.

When he pulled back a bit to catch his breath, Megan didn’t give him a chance for his brain to re engage and start overthinking again. Instead, she returned the favor, exploring his tattooed skin with wet kisses and nibbles. She traced the now familiar ink of his chest with her lips before nuzzling the nautical star just beneath his clavicle.

Hank reached to pull her higher on his body so he could catch her breast with his lips. She arched to offer him full access which he took advantage of - tracing around her sensitive breast with his tongue before catching a nipple to suckle - enjoying the soft noises of pleasure she let out. His fingers slipped under the final lace covering her to tease her cleft, causing her to buck into his touch with a whine. He chuckled and swapped breasts as her hand clutched at his broad shoulders for support.

It didn’t take much encouragement for him to part her folds to find her clit. As he stroked the first circle over it, Megan’s breath caught in her throat and he noticed her arms shaking trying to support her weight against him. Her cast rubbed his skin as she shifted.

He nuzzled her breasts. “Easy, mi amore. Don’t hurt yourself.” He kissed up her body to catch her lips in a deep kiss before muttering “Let me help…” against her lips.

He quickly wrapped his free arm around her back to hold her against him. Without ever losing rhythm, he flipped their positions and laid her back against the bed beneath him again. 

As soon as he settled her into the covers, he paused to look at her. Her dark hair sprawled across the blankets they had chosen together. Her lips swollen from his kisses. Her breasts rising rapidly as she enjoyed his touch. That’s when it clicked for him. She really meant it. He was her choice - and he’d be damned if he didn’t worship her the way she deserved. 

Megan whined as his fingers left her slit.

“Shh,” he hushed her gently, leaning to kiss her softly on the forehead. “Patience, Princessa.” He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties before guiding them down her legs as his lips trailed kisses down her small body.

Once she was completely bare beneath him, he pecked kisses up her skin again until he could kiss her lips. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered before resuming laying on his side over her to enjoy her kisses again.

When she was so involved in kissing him that she tried to roll over to press into his body, he gently pressed her back onto her back before trailing his hands along her skin again and teasing her entrance with a single finger as she whined. 

“Hank, please - don’t tease me -”

He smiled down at her. “Never.” He eased a finger into her tight tunnel and she arched off the bed as his thumb found her clit again. She was so wet she was practically dripping, so he pulled out and added another finger, catching her cry of pleasure with a kiss. He eased into a rhythm with his fingers and thumb - watching her build quickly for him.

“There she is. Gonna cum for me, Preciosa?” On his next press inside her, he hooked his fingers up to rub along her top wall. He knew he’d found it when Megan cried out and her hands scrambled for purchase against his chest making him chuckle a little. He shifted his weight to catch her hands in one of his before gently, and with a mind for her brace, trapping them against him. “Come on, Princessa,” he whispered, watching her body language. 

On the next thrust of his fingers, her eyes popped open to meet his and her mouth opened on a silent scream as her entire body tensed and she came for him.

Hank eased her through it as he watched her body spasm before relaxing into him panting for breath. He slowed his hand and released her arms to hook a finger under her chin an guide her into a deep and gentle kiss. 

He tried to ease his fingers out of her without triggering too much oversensitivity, but she still twitched and whimpered. He hushed her gently and gathered her to his chest to let her breathing regulate. 

Once she was breathing regularly again, he eased back to grin down at her a bit cockily. “Alright there, Princessa?”

Megan giggled. “Mmmhmm.”

“Good. Do you want more or do you want to stop?” he asked, smoothing her hair down her back as they lay on their sides still pressed closely together.

She tilted her chin so she could look him in the eyes. “I really want all of you…”

He smiled and moved to kiss her again. “Then you’ll get it, mi reina.” He nudged her back onto her back before reaching to tease her entrance again. “That’s my girl. Oh Princessa, you’re so wet…” He eased his fingers back inside her as she arched for him. He started slow and gentle to be sure that her oversensitivity had passed before brushing sucking kisses down her throat - focusing on a spot between her neck and left shoulder to leave a light mark beneath where the collar of a t-shirt would cover.

When her soft whimpers turned to a whine, he eased further down to kiss and tease her breasts. She arched as he stroked that spot inside her again and he sucked a nipple hard making her cry out. “That’s it- Good girl-” he breathed into her skin as he kissed further down.  “Let me taste you, mi amore…” He nuzzled further down, guiding her good hand to his hair before he pressed a kiss to her hip. “Just a taste - then you can cum for me again…”

Megan whined and tugged his hair. “Hank - want you-”

He kissed her hip again, nibbling another mark into her skin. “You’ll have me - but I really want to taste you. Let me?” He looked up at her to meet her eyes - blown wide with the pleasure his fingers were giving her.

She met his eyes and bit down hard on her lip before nodding. 

Hank immediately moved to swipe his tongue through her dripping slit. Broad flat licks from his pumping fingers to her clit before circling that sensitive bundle with his tongue.

Megan’s fingers tightened and clutched his hair as she cried out a writhed. When he sucked gently at her clit and crooked his fingers again, she screamed and came for him again.

This time, Hank didn’t let her come down fully. He eased up a little, but kept up the stimulation as he shed his briefs. Just as she suddenly started spasming again, he slid his fingers out and moved to sink his cock inside her. 

Megan screamed again in pleasure as Hank sank halfway inside on his first thrust. Her hands moved to clutch at his back as his face buried in her good shoulder with a groan and a string of broken Spanish.

He eased back and thrust back in with a gentle roll of his hips until he was fully seated inside of her. He peppered her skin with kisses as he gave her time to adjust. When she finally relaxed beneath him, he propped himself on his elbows so he could look down into her face. “You okay, mi reina?” he panted, struggling to be still.

She nodded and tried to lift her hips - “So good. Hank - move please-” she begged through harsh breaths.

He started gentle but felt her shifting to take him deeper and adjusted his strokes until she was crying out again and digging her nails into his tattooed back. 

He moaned as he felt her tightening down on him. “Good girl - gonna cum soon. Need you close-” He shifted to put more power behind his thrust and snaked a hand between them to thumb her clit again. 

“Hank!”

“You close, mi amore? Gonna cum on my cock like mi reina deserves?”

She nodded frantically and tried to bite off her scream as she exploded, triggering his own release. He thrust through both of their highs before easing off until he practically collapsed on top of her. After a few breaths, he pulled her close and rolled them so she was on top as she shuddered through the aftershocks. As she relaxed, he eased out of her causing her to whimper.

“Shh. Easy, mi princessa. Rest.” He pressed kisses to her tangled hair and stroked her skin soothingly. “You are so perfect. So perfect.” He looked down as both of their breaths evened out to see her eyes closed and a content little smile on her lips. “Rest a minute - then we’ll get you cleaned up.”

After letting her relax in his arms, he gently eased out from under her - soothing sounds escaping him as she whined at him moving. He scooped her up and went in to start the shower for both of them. He helped to clean her up and combed through her hair to remove the worst of the tangles. Then he snuggled her dozing body against his beneath their blankets and drifted off to sleep with his nose burning in the crown of her head and her right back where she belonged to sleep - practically on top of him.

Taglist:

@jemmakates

@msjava1972

@drabbles-mc

@delightfulheroshoeflap

@iamthegraham

@oureternalbond

@camelia35

@anaeve

@tallrock35

@keyweegirlie

#lost princessa #mayans mc #meet the reaper #lost princessa sequel #taza x daughter!oc #megan(oc) x hank #che taza romero #hank loza #mayans mc fanfic #hank 'tranq' loza #hank loza x oc smut #hank loza fic #hank loza x oc!megan #please don't flop

[the-hinky-panda]

The Preacher's Wife Series: Big Bear Lake (Part III)

TW: Mentions of domestic abuse.

Maggie isn’t used to having dinners like this. She is used to expensive food, plated like it’s from a five star restaurant even if it’s in her own home. She’s used to sitting across from her husband, Simon, as he extols whatever dinner guests they happen to have with his Biblical insight and wisdom. She tries to drown him out by concentrating on chewing her food. She is watched like an animal in the zoo, making sure she uses the right utensil, takes small bites, sips her wine. There is no warmth, no laughter, no relaxation.  

That is not the experience with Hank. 

They’ve gone through half the bottle of Monkey’s Shoulder, the warmth from the whiskey making the heat lamp overly efficient. Maggie’s face is hurting from smiling, her stomach from laughing. She eats her burger with her hands, uses her fries to catch the Thousand Island dressing that’s dripped onto her plate. It’s the best time she’s had in a very long time. 

“Did they ever find the other chicken?” she asks, tears spilling down her face from laughing so hard. 

Hank is laughing just as hard. “No! We searched the clubhouse for four fucking days!” 

There’s a lightness she hasn’t felt in years and she doesn’t want it to end. Hank is everything Simon isn’t: warm, funny, kind. She wants to hear all about him, how he became involved in the motorcycle club, what other hobbies does his mother have other than reading her books, what does he like to do in his spare time? But it’s two a.m. and the bar is closing down. This small blip of joy that has occurred in her life is coming to an end. The disappointment feels tangible. She pulls out her phone reluctantly and brings up the Uber app. 

“I, uh,” Hank glances over at her phone, “I could take you back to your place. If you want.” 

It’s a welcome extension to the time that they can spend together and she jumps at the offer. “I’d like that very much.” 

Maggie had asked her sister, Morgan, about Hank after her first visit to Santo Padre. Morgan had told her that Hank was quiet, even-tempered, and one of the nicest human beings she had ever met. He was protective as the day was long and this was all high praise coming from Morgan who saw the worst of humanity in the ER. Her sister could spot a bullshitter from five miles away. She certainly had nailed Simon for being the over-controlling, narcissistic asshole that he was. So knowing that Morgan had the utmost respect for him assured Maggie that she was in good hands with Hank. 

She follows him out of the restaurant, their arms bumping against each other as they continue to chat about the chilly weather and surrounding woods. When he opens the passenger side door and helps her up into the truck, it’s the first time she’s felt like a lady in years. Her hand feels so small when it’s laying in his large one. But his palm is warm, his fingers gently squeezing her hand as she climbs into the passenger seat. 

Everything was for show with Simon. He would hold her hand when making a public appearance. Guide her across stages with a hand against the small of her back. But they were all expected gestures. When they were at home, he never held doors open for her, helped her into the car, or carried things into the house. She couldn’t remember the last time any man had helped her into the car. She gently squeezes his hand in return, in this empty parking lot with no witnesses. 

“Thank you.” 

He gives her a small, shy smile before closing the door and going over to the driver’s side. When he starts the truck, he positions the heat vents towards her and that small act brings tears to her eyes. It’s so small but speaks volumes of the kind of person that he is: thoughtful, caring, selfless. It’s such a stupid thing to get emotional over. Maybe she’s just too tired, or stressed, or drunk-

“Hey, you alright?” 

She laughs and wipes at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Yeah, I’m just…I don’t know. I’m not used to having someone look out for me, I guess. I’m sorry.” 

Hank reaches over to her and takes her hand. “You have your sister.” 

“I know.”

“But she’s not there with you everyday,” he acknowledges with a small nod. “Has that been hard, her moving down to Santo Padre?” 

Maggie knows that Morgan had her own cages that she was escaping when she left La Jolla. She admired her for escaping and finding her happiness in the border town. Yes, it had gotten worse since Morgan left but Maggie wasn’t ever going to fault her for that. But she knows her silence is answering the question at the moment. 

“Mo is so happy where she is right now. I wouldn’t want anything else for her. She loves Coco so much, loves all of you actually. Besides, she’s only a phone call away.” 

He pulls out a slip of paper and hands it to her. “And so am I.” 

Maggie takes the phone number, running her thumb over the numbers. This could be her ticket out of hell, her’s and the kids. “Thank you, Hank. This means a lot.” 

“I don’t know what your marriage is like but if you need any help, anything at all, call me.” 

“I’ve been planning on leaving for four years now.” The words leave her mouth and she can’t believe she voiced them. 

“Four years?” 

Well, there is no unhearing those words. “Did my sister ever tell you who my husband is?” 

Hank shakes his head. “I think she mentioned he was a church pastor. And an asshole.” 

A sudden chill runs through her body. Guilt perhaps, but that doesn’t stop her from sliding closer to Hank, seeking out his warmth. “Have you heard of Morning Light Ministries? The megachurch in La Jolla?” 

“Yeah, that’s the ex-surfer guy on TV every Sunday morning.” Hank laughs. “My mom tried watching him one morning. Said he had too many teeth in his mouth.” 

Maggie laughs. “Well, she’s not wrong. But that’s my husband. Figuring out how to leave someone is tricky enough. Trying to do it when thousands of pairs of eyes are watching makes it next to impossible. And then trying to get the kids out safely…” 

“Safely?” Hank’s eyes narrow slightly. “Does he hurt you and the kids?” 

“Not the kids. He’s never raised a hand to the kids. In fact, he leaves them alone most of the time.” 

“But you?” 

Maggie flexes her toes, the cold bringing a familiar ache to her foot. “It’s never anything bad enough to go see or tell anyone about. I only ever had to go to the ER once for a broken foot but that was just an accident. That’s the worst of it.” She sees Hank’s grip tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles going snow white. She reaches over and lays a hand over them. “It’s not like some women who are in and out of the ER with black eyes and broken bones. It could be worse.” 

He releases the death grip on the steering wheel and instead takes her hand back into his. His thumb drags over her knuckles and her skin erupts in goosebumps. There’s such a gentleness to the touch but an earnestness in it as well. She knows at that moment that if she were ever to call him in a moment of need, he would rescue her. Protect her. And God, how she needed that. 

“The club,” he says after a moment, “we’re actually quite good at moving contraband.” 

She squeezes his hand and moves even closer to him, leaning against his shoulder. She understands why Morgan speaks so kindly about him. It’s the safest she’s felt in six years. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“I want you to.” He says it with sincere earnestness. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that.” 

She knows it’s true. She knows that one day Simon will cross the line with her, and she will need to take Lydia and Asher and leave. She knows that Morgan will help her when the time comes. And now, staring into Hank’s warm, earth brown eyes, she knows he will protect her as well. She leans forward and rests her head against his shoulder. 

Who would have thought that salvation would come in clad in a leather kutte?

#hank loza x ofc #hank loza fic #hank 'tranq' loza #Hank loza

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - A Guero (Mayans MC)/OC Story.

Okay, okay! I cave to the demand and the excitement I have warmly received from you all. Here you go, darlings. First chapter is here. I can’t promise I will be posting the second next week just in case I want to do ANOTHER deep dive into the editing, but since I am just over halfway through writing it now, I thought I would at least post the first. 

Story is somewhat canon, with a few changes here and there to suit my artistic vision... i.e. I kicked canon in the ass and told her to go home, hahaha! Oh, I also gave Guero a surname, too! I tried to keep him as true to who we see on screen, but obviously since we didn’t get him for long, some of his characterisations are of my creation. Don’t like it? Don’t read. Simple as that. 

Nervously and excitedly awaiting your feedback, eeek! :)

Words - 3,834

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse in the coming chapters. 

Unknown numbers. Ezekiel Reyes often received more than he wished to endure upon the burner phone he used for club business. Regularly they were legitimate, but occasionally telemarketers, such annoyances he simply hung up on instantly. While walking from his trailer to the clubhouse, he expected the call coming in to be that of nuisance, 11am seemingly the call centre worker bee’s peak time to bother him about his long-distance courier needs, or savings on his energy bills.  

It was no telemarketer, but he almost disconnected the call all the same in sheer disbelief.  

“Ezekiel Reyes?”

“Who wants to know?” His journey across the yard was undisturbed, watching as Bottles and Nestor took in an alcohol delivery, a nearby Guero and Downer giving them the usual offering of shit talk.

“Rocco Lombardi.”  

He stopped dead in his tracks. The Rocco Lombardi was reaching out to him? Nah.

“This your idea of a joke?”  

He heard a deep chuckle filter down the line. “I’m more of a knock knock, who’s there kinda fella.” Remaining paused, he thought whoever it was had at least nailed the thick, New Jersey accent. He had to give them props for that, he guessed. “Listen, you got FaceTime, I take it?”  

“I do, but...” The line cut dead. Five seconds later and sure enough, a FaceTime call came in. EZ nearly fell over when there on the screen, appeared the face of the big boss, the notorious and famed king of the mafia. There he was; the head of the biggest, most powerful crime family on earth. Rocco Lombardi.  

“That better?”  

He raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Yeah, the confirmation is appreciated.”

“Good. Now not for nothin’, but I can’t fuckin’ stand video calls, encrypted or not. I’ll call you back.” Once again, the call disconnected, the cell ringing after a few moments. All the while EZ could feel his ego swelling, realising truly how far he’d come in his leadership that he was being sought out by someone of such standing within the criminal underworld. He was nothing short of surprised when he eventually found out why, though.

He’d always believed that the code of La Cosa Nostra forbade their operations to extend into the realms of drug trafficking. To be specific, he’d assumed it stemmed from reasons of mortality, perhaps a skewed sense of Catholic guilt, when in fact, the commoner explanation was far simpler.  

The prospect of a lengthier prison sentence, of course, increased the propensity of their members turning upon the organisation, becoming government informants in order to secure a more lenient custodial term. When the federal carrot is dangled before a desperate man, one looking at forty years when his assistance could mean all he ends up serving is ten to fifteen, tongues tend to be loosened.  

Rats out themselves, major players are taken off the streets and ultimately, the government wins.  It would be very reasonable to assume that the code is in place for this very reason, to prevent such catastrophic damage within their organisation and family infrastructure. The risk is not worth the payout. Or rather, it is bendable to the point of unrecognition when those doing said bending can earn a substantial profit.  

Enter Rocco Lombardi and his proposition.

“I think we could mutually benefit from the blending of your organisation with mine, Mr Reyes.” Lombardi was intelligent enough to be concise, even when speaking upon the relative safety of a burner phone. He hadn’t gotten to the top because he was sloppy. Lombardi had sat at the very head of the hierarchy for years, after all. He was hailed as the boss of all bosses for a reason.  

They’d once given John Gotti the monicker of Teflon Don, because nothing ever stuck to him in the way of evidence to bring about charges. That was until his own underboss has turned on him, the evidence given at trial by Salvatore “Sammy the Bull” Gravano leading to his incarceration. Truly, if there was one overlord within the organised crime world who lacked cohesion, it was the man who ruled the Romano crime family with an iron fist.

EZ Reyes had launched into thoroughly researching Lombardi after his reaching out to him, learning the ins and out of his character, how much of a slippery customer he was, how – and it went without saying – he would use people as pawns to further his own reach and agenda. It went without saying because it was the way of his own world, too. Within his MC, he went about the very same, albeit on a much smaller scale.  

Rocco Lombardi’s reach was, to put it simply, enormous. EZ and his VP would be lying if they’d have claimed that bearing such in mind, it hadn’t piqued their curiosity over what on earth he could want with a Californian based MC. For all intents and purposes, the man had his operations not merely sewn up tightly, but steel reinforced.  

“All I know is we gotta play it carefully, mano,” Bishop had sagely advised prior to their leaving Santo Padre to for a face to face with the mafioso legend, Rocco insisting that a larger MC presence not assemble in the interests of it remaining nothing short of clandestine. “Our worlds might be similar, but the mafia play by an entirely different set of rules. I ain’t saying you’re not smart enough to outsmart the guy, but he’s the kind who will have thought three moves ahead before we’ve even stepped foot into that hotel suite.”  

EZ had sipped his beer, narrowed eyes unmoving as he’d absorbed the words of the former president with all the credence they deserved. Bishop had, after all, been approached by the mafia before. His reasons for turning down an offer from a different crime family had been solid in their validity, and EZ knew he would be a fool to let this warning go unheeded. Especially since the club were on their knees where their drug trade was concerned. He also knew that somehow, Rocco likely knew this, too.  

The mafia tended to have ears in the very last places one might expect them to extend. He also knew that they preferred to keep their operations within the Italian American brotherhood if they could at all help it, so the need for an alliance was somewhat even in its beneficial mutuality.  

“I guess we just have to wait and see what this sit down entails.” Truly, it was all they could do.  

The time passed quickly between then and the two of them riding through the strip, both separately feeling the mist of apprehension gather, until they were parking up at the hotel and casino they were scheduled to meet Lombardi at, their demeanours switching to cool composure before they’d even entered the building.

The two men dressed in denim, flannel and leather looked out of place as they strode across the foyer of the MGM Grand, the buzz and tacky decadence of Las Vegas swirling all around them. Gamblers bet it all, slot machines flashed in frenzy while spitting out endless streams of coins, and alcohol flowed without restriction, certainly enough to keep it so the house always won.  

Would it be their own win he was sealing, EZ thought while waiting for the elevator, or was this the biggest and most uncertain gamble the club were about to make to date? He guessed the next few hours would tell, whether or not he was about to be presented with a winning hand.  

The ding of the elevator roused him, both stepping inside, Bishop pressing the button for the tenth floor. EZ stared straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny metal of the elevator doors, noting the haunted veil that hung over his features. Shadowy eyes and skin bearing many more lines than a man in his mid-thirties should do were now his staple in appearance, a few further flecks of grey in his hair also.

Ezekiel Reyes was a man barely holding it together, but his demeanour did not give away the tumult that gnawed at his guts and yanked at his nerves, even if it had seemed to age him five years in just over seven months. His control was as unquestionable as it was unshakable, even in the dark times his club was currently under the duress of. He would never, ever let the toll it was taking upon him show.  

He was in Vegas, after all. Home of the poker face.  

The man at his side, though? He saw through the veil. He knew. In the interests of helping him glue back together the smashed fragments of the MC, he chose to keep his observances to himself. When he’d reigned supreme, if someone had pointed out his weak points, he would have shown no magnanimity in return. He knew better than to antagonise. Bishop Losa was nothing if not tactile these days, with how much delicacy teetered upon a knife’s edge, how much was at stake.  

The elevator shunted to a stop, the doors gliding open, the men exchanging a look and a nod before they exited, walking in step down the long hallway. Coming to a stop in front of room eight one five, EZ reached to knock, his arm suddenly grasped, preventing the rap of knuckles upon the sleek, white enamel.

“Whatever goes down in there, I got you.” Bishop’s words were delivered with a solemn nod, EZ returning it before knocking the door. They stood tall as they waited, unflinching, rock-like in their demeanour, the door opening to reveal a slight yet menacing looking man in an expensive suit. He eyed up the two men standing before him, his lips pursing slightly as he stood back to allow their entrance.  

“Guns on the table.”  

EZ’s brow knitted. “The fuck?”

“You heard me, stronzo. Guns. On. The. Table.”  

Neither man took well to his condescending delivery, both irked at the display of what they considered to be one hell of a chip upon his shoulder. EZ was just about to offer his retort when a voice came from further within the suite.

“Stop playing rottweiler and let my guests in, Mario. If we’re armed, so can they be, too.” Immediately, he stood aside at the instruction of his boss, a large, dark-haired man rising from his seat at the dining table, two armed men stationed in opposing corners of the suite. “My apologies. This one here, he can be a hot head, y’know?”

Although seemingly personable right off the bat, there was an aura surrounding Rocco Lombardi that virtually crackled with menace. His ‘thou shalt not fuck with me’ demeanour was beyond palpable. “Take a seat, fellas. Can I offer either of youse a drink?”

EZ’s eyes flitted around the room, taking in every detail. He stored it all on the internal hard drive that was his brain, his guard up as naturally it should have been. “No, thank you.”

Rocco took the rebuff in his stride, gesturing to the chairs opposite as he sat again. “A man who likes to get straight down to business. I can appreciate that.” Down to business was exactly how it went, no pleasantries, no idle chatter. Rocco cut right to the chase.

“My proposition is simple, Ezekiel. My current methods in transportation of product are, shall we say, attracting more attention than myself and my associates are comfortable with, y’know? I need to implement a one stop solution. I also need a far more financially viable method of my product crossing the border from Mexico than I’m currently paying through the fucking nose for.”  

Bribes. Of course, Lombardi meant bribing the border control, an exercise EZ knew likely cost fortunes, cutting into a profit margin the mafia were probably tired of having bites taken out of. “This is where the MC comes in, youse and your tunnel.” EZ’s eyebrow twitched, just a fraction, Rocco smirking at the tell.  

“Yeah, I know all about it. Ain’t many places my ears don’t have reach. I want that tunnel as a new channel to move my product across the border, which then will be transferred to the Port of San Diego, to a designated shipping container the day it ports. You unload into the container, minus your personal cut that will ensure you keep the monopoly on supply within the Californian correctional facilities, and you also get a nice little monetary injection for you and your boys on a monthly basis. How’s that sound?”

EZ took a moment to ponder, his fingers knitting before him on the table, arm muscles flexing as he shared a sideways glance with Bishop. “Sounds like there’s a catch.”  

Rocco smirked, taking a long puff on his cigar, his eyes twinkling through the thick plumes of smoke as he leaned back in his chair. “You move two tons at a time. That is non-negotiable.”  

Two fucking tons every month. Holy mother of god. Before they’d even entered that room, they of course knew the reach of the Romano crime family, that it was extensive. Worldwide, even. Two tons of heroin every four weeks truly hammered home just how far Lombardi’s tentacles reached within the criminal underworld. The risks associated with that were unfathomable, EZ lifting his chin, his poker face firmly set once more. “I’m gonna need to see a number, the nice little monetary injection you speak of.”  

Rocco reached into the pocket of his suit, removing a pen, taking a napkin from the table before him and scribing a number upon it, sliding it across the polished wood. Upon viewing it, EZ’s well trained blank façade slid south quickly, showing it to Bishop.  

“Jesus fucking Christ.”  

His quiet exclamation was no understatement over the amount of zero’s scrawled upon the napkin.  

“I assume you know of our current difficulties with the LNG?”

The tall man nodded. “Quite a fucking pasticcio youse have gotten yourself into, eh?” His smile widened suddenly, slowly drawing his thumb and forefinger from the corners of his mouth down to the centre of his lip. “If you do the first shipment for free, I can take care of that, as well as your issues with the knuckleheaded, heavy arms wielding fuck heads you got yourselves caught up in, too.” He hissed a breath over his teeth, shaking his head. “Fentanyl, gentleman. What a risky business that is.”

What in the fuck didn’t this man know about their operations? EZ was all but surprised that Rocco wasn’t clued in on the colour of his underwear by that point, the man seemingly well informed, his intel even extending to knowing about their deal with Cole.  

He rose to his feet, jerking his head towards the balcony. “If you could give myself and my VP a moment?”  

Rocco made a passive motion with his hand, nodding. “Sure, take your time.”  

They strode across the suite, wallet chains rattling and leather creaking the only sounds to permeate the silence of the room, EZ sliding the glass door open. The warm Vegas air hit him, his eyes narrowing as he looked out over the luminosity of the strip, thousands upon thousands of lights twinkling. They glittered a promise of wealth and prosperity hinged upon a gamble, which was exactly what Rocco Lombardi was offering up to them.

“You have to back me on this when we take it to the table. The risk is massive, and I appreciate that, but this? This is our way out of it all. Our way out and our ladder to climb back to the top.”

Bishop considered the words of his president as he pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one up. A massive risk; fuck, that was putting it lightly. It was a fool’s errand, in short, transporting such a colossal consignment of heroin. The pay off, though? If they could execute each run flawlessly, it would be beyond worth it. Santo Padre would be back on top, and the Mayans kings of California.  

He wanted with everything he had to back EZ, but something persistent tugged at him deep in his guts. The old adage ‘too good to be true’ echoed through his mind. There had to be another catch. For all appearances, said catch appeared to be the two tons of narcotics, the kind of consignment that would mean the MC would never see the outside of a prison for the remainder of their lives, should they be caught moving it. However, he felt there was another shoe yet to drop from Lombardi’s perspective.  

Conflict rose in him like an unpleasant tempest, knowing that they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Take the deal and shoulder an enormous risk or walk away from it and try to seek a way out of their mess alone. Being in the pocket of the mafia was a dangerous location, he knew that; they both knew that. In this instance, no matter how much trepidation he felt, he had to concede that Lombari’s offer was very much the lesser of two evils.  

Still, it didn’t prevent him voicing the concern. “I feel like there’s something extra he’s gonna have us on the hook for further down the road.” Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he turned to his president, brows furrowed, his head shaking softly. “I wanna back you, but I don’t trust him.”

Neither did EZ, if he was honest. “We don’t need to trust him. We need to make ourselves indispensable to him. The weight of his organisation has the power to break us completely, and I’d be an idiot if I didn’t see that, Bish. We gotta remember that he’s coming to us because he needs this symbiosis too. If he had any other plan to move his product, he’d have exacted it by now. What he’s offering us in payment solidifies that. He needs to lock the MC down.”  

He took a breath, his eyes once again focusing on the lights below. “And our backs are against the kind of wall we can’t break alone. Rocco Lombardi can not only break that wall, he can obliterate it completely. We can’t refuse.”

Upon their return to Santo Padre, an immediate templo was called, the proposition repeated, a vote cast. It was, just as EZ had anticipated, a unanimous yes. Hell, it wasn’t like any of the men assembled around the table hadn’t known that extreme danger was exactly what he was signing up for, and this was about a risky as it got.

Moving heroin two tons at a time for the mafia was the height of hazardous endeavours, but the payoff would elicit the kind of money and power they had been striving for. Sure, they were still ultimately under someone else’s thumb, but in the world of the MC, Santo Padre rose like the phoenix from the proverbial ashes. If they were careful and exercised caution, they would remain risen, too.  

The operation was undertaken with military precision. The two tons of heroin were moved through the tunnels from one side of the border to the other, then stowed away down there for a day before the Mayans arrived, loading one ton into each van. The vehicles both then hit the road, two members within, two members upon motorcycles escorting at the front and rear, and EZ leading the way.  

They drove far enough apart not to attract the attention that such a closely assembled convoy likely would, with EZ a quarter of a mile in front, so he could warn of any upcoming complications that might lead to said convoy needing to peel off the freeway. Since the run was done at 2am, the risk of such was minimised greatly, yet still they always prepared for the worst-case scenario. This is why two vans were utilized, when all it truly took was one. If one broke down, then there they were, stuck with a life sentence cargo on the side of the freeway, rather than another means to continue their journey.

Arriving at the port, EZ gave the usual nod to the guard, a guard whose pockets had been nicely lined with mafia cash, who would duly send another of his team down to the container as soon as the Mayans left, standing guard until the cargo was loaded onto a vessel bound either for New York or the far east the following morning. Yes, the tentacles of Rocco Lombardi even reached over to the Yakuza, the Japanese criminal organisation taking two tons of product off his hands on a bi-monthly basis.  

The shipment they were about to offload on that particular night was heading straight back to New York, the guys all assembling, the usual banter firing back and forth.  

Downer, of course, was at the epicentre of it. “Hey, I thought there was meant to be whores on the dockside? That’s a thing, ain’t it? We’ve been here four times before now and no damned pussy anywhere.”

Angel lit a cigarette, raising his eyebrows. “Man, where the fuck you get that from?”

“He’s right,” Hank chimed in, “but about a couple hundred years out of date. Hookers used to frequent the docks back in the eighteen, nineteen hundreds. Gave lots of navy men who’d been at sea for months at a time a rampant case of the syph.”  

Guero couldn’t help himself. “Eighteen hundreds. Back in your youth, huh bro?” He was shot a look of pure distain from Downer, his chirp continuing. “I bet you’d like the crotch rot. You’re a sick enough individual to probably be into it.”

“It’s his kink. Itchy balls and a putrid cock, man,” Bottles interjected with, earning a snort laugh from Guero and an incredulous stare from Downer.  

Aggressively delivered middle fingers were raised. “Fuck you and fuck you even fuckin’ harder!”

Bottles grinned at the rise he’d gotten. “You wish.”  

“You’re getting way too smart with that fuckin’ yap of yours, prospect,” he snorted, pointing at Guero. “Been spending too much time with him and his big mouth.”

The man himself beamed, pulling his hood up. “What can I say?” He held his arms in wide expression, his smirk growing. “I’m infectious. Like your cock, just way less scabby.” He received a boot in the ass as he turned, heading straight over to the yellow container and hauling the levers to open it. What he expected to see within were the usual lines of packing cases into which they would load their cargo, with a specially marked one housing their cash.  

The last thing he expected to see was the body of a dishevelled looking blonde girl with a gash upon her head, lying there out cold, and the marked case notably empty of its usual stack of bills.  

“Uh, guys?” he called, appearing back around the container door as his brothers were carrying cargo across from the vans. “We got a situation in here.”  

#guero mayans mc #guero mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fanfiction #guero fanfiction #guero fanfic #guero smut #guero x ofc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic #ez reyes fanfiction #bishop losa fanfiction #bottles mayans mc fanfiction #downer mayans mc fanfiction #angel reyes fanfiction #hank loza fanfiction

[drabbles-mc]

Coming Along

Hank Loza x GN!Reader

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I’ve ever written for, I’m aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March.

Prompt: garden

Word Count: 300

A/N: this is it! we did it, friends! this was such an interesting writing exercise/challenge in terms of self control keeping under a specific word count, and being flexible enough to write a fic no matter who the wheel gave me. i highly recommend because it definitely got me out of my comfort zone! hope you've all enjoyed the fics as well! xo

Hank was able to do and take care of a lot for his mom, but realistically there were only so many hours in a day. There was a small list of things around her house that he knew he had to take care of, things that she couldn’t do herself.

He never put any of it on your plate, knowing that you were also busy. But he couldn’t pretend it didn’t melt him inside when he showed up to his mother’s house after wrapping things up with the club, and already seeing your car parked in her driveway.

He made his way towards the house. Letting himself in, he didn’t hear anything in the kitchen or living room. It wasn’t until he walked farther into the house and got near the back door that he heard the two of you, relieved to hear you both laughing.

Walking out into the back yard, he saw you kneeling on the ground, planting flowers in his mother’s freshly-weeded garden. That was a task she’d mentioned to him multiple times but it hadn’t ever made it to the top of the priority list. Clearly, though, the two of you had taken care of it in his absence.

Neither of you even noticed him at first, too busy talking and laughing with each other as you tried to figure out the best placement for all the flowers and plants you’d bought. Hank lingered silently for a moment just to revel in the sights and sounds of it all before he finally cleared his throat and stepped out of the house and onto the grass.

“Looks good back here,” he said as he went and gave his mother a hug, followed by going and giving you a kiss.

“It’s coming along,” you said with a smile.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc fanfiction #hank loza #hank loza fanfiction #hank loza x reader #hank loza x you #x reader #x reader fic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[rosielou94]

Dinner Date - Hank Loza x Reader (NSFW)

Follow up to Motel Room Candles

Warnings: slight angst, Hank basically being a Master Chef, age gap, p in v, oral (f and m receiving), cliff hanger ending!!

Words: 2.140

A/N: This is part 2 of my Hank Loza fic. I'm hoping to get Part 3 up ASAP as this storyline has me hooked.

Hank’s hands trembled slightly as he laid the table, adjusting the knife and fork until it was “just right.” The light from the candles he’d placed in the centre of the table glowed softly, reflecting their delicate light off the walls of the kitchen. Nervously wiping his hands on his jeans, Hank took a swig of beer before tossing the mushrooms he had sauteing in a pan.

Tonight was special; not only was it your first night together outside of a crappy motel, but it was also Hank’s first night cooking for you. He’d headed down to Felipe’s store first thing this morning, picking out two of the finest steaks before marinading them in his signature mix of herbs and spices. He’d made some homemade thick-cut fries and the peppercorn sauce that would finish off the meal was bubbling away nicely. Hank’s mom was out at Bingo with some of her friends tonight, and Hank jumped at the chance to have you over. Consuela had guessed her son was having someone special over, and she’d happily linger at the Bingo club to give him precious time with his new lady. She didn’t know who you were, but she knew you made her son very happy. He was a changed man these last few weeks.

The doorbell rang and Hank jumped, marvelling over how you had turned him – the usual stoic, unmoving hulk of a man – into an excited, jumpy teenager. He smoothed down his shirt, one he’d bought especially for the occasion, took a deep breath, and opened the door. You stood before him in a figure-hugging calf-length blue dress, a bottle of wine in your hand. “Hey,” you smiled, blown away by the sight of a Hank in a crisp white shirt. The sleeves strained against his huge arms, the tattoos on his chest visible through the undone buttons at the top of his neck. Your stomach did a delicious flip at the sight of him, and you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him. “You look amazing!” Running your hand down his shirt, all you could think of was taking it off. “So do you.” Hank took you all in, genuinely stunned that he was lucky enough to have you. He shook his head, forcing himself back to the present and took the bottle of wine from your outstretched hand. “Come on in, dinners almost ready.”

He led you through to the kitchen, the smell of cooking and candles enveloping you. It smelled amazing. “How do you like your steak?” Hank asked. “Medium-rare,” you smiled, “should I pour the wine?” Hank indicated for you to go ahead, and you poured two large glasses, before settling back and watching him. Hank seemed to be in his element; He had multiple pans on the go, humming softly as he worked. The smells of mushrooms, steak and the sauce came together in a mouth-watering combination and as you watched him work your heart swelled. You were head over heels for this man. Hank dished up and you were instantly blown away by this man’s talent when it came to cooking. The steak was melt-in-the-mouth, the fries crispy on the outside but fluffy on the inside, and the peppercorn sauce was the best you’d ever tasted. “You’re a man of many talents,” you smiled, “this food is incredible.” Hank’s blushing cheeks were visible, even in the dim light of the candles and he reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “I wish I could cook for you every night,” he smiled sadly. It was just his luck that he would meet the woman of his dreams, but that she’d be the one person he couldn’t have. The daughter of El Padrino was strictly off-limits. You father wanted you to have a good life, one away from crime and violence, and falling in love with a member of the MC wasn’t what he wanted for you. He'd tried his best to shield you, but the MC was your family too. As you looked at Hank from across the table, at his soft brown eyes that gazed so adoringly at you, you wanted nothing more than him.

After dinner, you washed up in companionable silence, both knowing what would happen next, but enjoying each other’s company too much to rush things. Your hands brushed every now again, as Hank handed you the clean dishes to dry. He’d put on a soft soul playlist that quietly played in the background and you wondered if you’d ever felt as content as you did in this very moment. After you’d finished cleaning up, Hank poured another glass of wine. He handed it to you, and you set it down, pulling him to you by the lapels of his shirt. You kissed, Hank moaning as your tongue flicked gently against his. He pushed you back against the counter, your body slotting perfectly in between his. His large hands caressed your hips, your waist, moving slowly up before cupping your cheeks. “I love you,” he whispered, not quite realising what he was saying until the words had left his mouth. The only person he’d ever said those three words to before were his mother. He instantly regretted opening his mouth as you pulled away from him slightly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “I love you too,” you whispered back, “now take me to bed.”

Whisking you up in his arms, Hank carried you through to his bedroom. You noticed the room was mostly bare, save for a bed, a side table and small built-in closet. You guessed he didn’t need much here seeing as he spent most of his time at the Club House, but then you spotted a few polaroids on his bedside table, ones you’d taken in the motel room the other night. You were snuggled up together, your heads touching, both smiling at the camera. You’d given them to Hank, and completely forgotten about them, but seeing them now you couldn’t help but smile. “You big softie,” you teased, kissing him as he lay you gently on top of his sheets. “I like having them there,” he said, “it reminds me this isn’t a dream.” He didn’t dare keep any photos of you on his phone in case anyone saw them. If he had it his way, all his memory would taken up with photos of you, but the two polaroids were all he had. Sometimes, when he’d had a heavy day and he couldn’t sleep, he’d look at the photos to remind himself that there was some good in the world.

Hank moved between your thighs, sliding your dress up to your waist. Your wetness was already visible through your underwear, and he ran a finger over the soft material, smiling as you arched hips into his touch. “Please,” you whined, desperate to feel his fingers inside you. “So impatient,” Hank smiled, his finger trailing up the skin of your inner thigh, feeling your body shiver against him. “Hank,” you pleaded, “please.” “Ok querida,” he said, smiling at your neediness as he slid your underwear down over your legs. You spread your legs wide, letting him take all of you in as his fingers stroked your slick folds, ghosting over your clit before he lowered his mouth to your centre. You cried as his tongue replaced his fingers, greedily lapping up the sweet taste of you, the sounds of your moans spurring him on. He slid a finger inside, your tight walls clenching against him, before sliding in one more. “Fuck,” you whispered, your hands gripping Hank’s hair as he curled his fingers in a “come here” motion, stroking a spot deep within you. You could feel the pleasure building, your thighs shaking as Hank worked his tongue and fingers expertly. This man knew your body so well, knew just what turned you on. Hank moaned against your swollen bud, the taste of you driving him insane. His spare hand snaked its way up to your chest, taking your nipple in between his fingers. He squeezed gently, enjoying the moan that escaped you. “Harder,” you breathed, “I’m so close.” Hank obliged, flicking your pert nipple and squeezing it a little tighter. With a shuddering cry, your hands gripped his hair, and you came around his fingers, you hips arching into his tongue that still circled your clit. Every nerve ending in your body screamed for more, and Hank carried you through your orgasm, gently stroking your soft walls until your cry became a soft moan, your thighs quivering.

You lay breathless on his sheets, your chest heaving as you came down from your high. Hank was certain he’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. You looked so perfect, your hair splayed out around you, your cheeks flushed. You sat up, hastily undoing the buttons of his shirt, giggling as he lifted your dress over your head. You fumbled with the button on his jeans, desperate to have him naked in front of you. As you pulled down his underwear, his dick was already hard, pre-cum leaking from the tip. You took him in your mouth, Hank rewarding you with a loud moan. Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, making up what you couldn’t fit in. He was big, and it made your jaw ache, but you loved looking up at the blissed out look on his face whenever you took him like this. Your tongue swirled over his tip, your hand and mouth working together. “I wanna cum inside you, querida,” Hank hissed, pulling back. You pouted, enjoying the hold you had over him, and he pulled you in for a deep kiss. He settled at the top of the bed, his back against the headboard and pulled you into his lap. You lowered yourself onto him, your legs either side, your arms wrapped round each other. This position felt so intimate, your bodies so closely connected as you rocked you hips, Hank stretching you out in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. You sighed into his lips, his hands gripping your hair as you moved. “I love you,” he whispered, his lips grazing your jawline and neck. “I love you too,” you smiled, your back arching as his thumb began to stroke soft, slow circles over your clit. No matter how many times you had this man, you always wanted more.

Hank rocked his hips in time with yours, your bodies perfectly in sync as your pleasure built. He loved watching the expressions on your face as you rode him, the soft moans you made driving him crazy. Your breasts grazed across his chest as he pulled you closer to him, the smell of your perfume and shampoo intoxicating. He could never get enough of you, he was always left wanting more. He’d never felt like this before, never been so at the mercy of one person. Hank could feel himself getting close, not wanting this moment to end but the way your body moved against his, he couldn’t help himself. “Fuck, querida,” he growled, arching his hips hard into you as he came, a hoarse moan erupting deep within him as he spilled into you. You pushed yourself against him, your own orgasm rippling through your body as you felt Hank cum inside you, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer. You stayed like that, your heartbeats and breath slowing down as you came down off your high. “We’ll make this work, Hank,” you said, gently kissing him. You’d always known this man was special, but after tonight, you couldn’t bear the thought of him not being in your life. It broke your heart just to think of it. “I promise you, we’ll make it work.”

Outside Hank’s house, Marcus Alvarez pulled to a stop. He had some club business he wanted to run by him, as Hank was a man El Padrino could trust. He was wise, he had his head screwed on and he never made irrational decisions. But, as Marcus approached the house, he noticed your car parked outside. It was unmistakable, with its custom paint job that Coco had given it the day you brought it to the MC. Why would you be here? None of the lights were on in the house, but Hank’s bike was parked out front. A cold, creeping dread slithered its way down Marcus’ spine as he came to the slow, but gut-wrenching realisation of what his daughter and his close friend were probably doing. Marcus gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. This absolutely wouldn’t fucking stand. He sat there watching the house for a few minutes, his anger bubbling up inside until it threatened to spill over. He thought about breaking the door down, storming in and grabbing you, but he knew he wouldn’t like what he saw. No, he’d bide his time, wait for the right moment. Hank would see what happened when you messed with El Padrino.

#hank loza and you #hank loza x reader #hank loza #hank tranq loza #mayans mc #mayans fx

[garbinge]

Contaminated (13/?)

Angel Reyes x OC Lara Barrera Losa OC Lara Losa x OC Frankie Loza

From these August Prompts:  “Damage Control"

A/N: Update for my girlies <3 and Angel lol.

For a refresh, all the chapter links are in the below link!

Chapter Index

TW: 18+, mentions of death, losing a loved one, Alzheimers, cancer, light angst, cursing. . 

Word Count: 1.8k 

Taglist: (Just let me know if you want to be added :) @est1887 @minimel-fics @spnaquakindgdom @nessamc @alienstardust @mrsstevenbuchananstark @hinagiku0 @lyly00 @drabbles-mc @lilac-tea-time (it’s been a while since I’ve posted this, if I’ve forgot to add you to the taglist or you’d like to be tagged just let me know!)

“So this has been going on for five years?” Frankie sat at the kitchen island trying to wrap her brain around everything. 

“No, once five years ago. And now, only for a few months.” Lara explained. 

“Months?!” Frankie’s eyes went bug eyed. 

“Weeks! A few weeks!” Lara corrected herself to ease Frankie more into it. She was in full damage control mode and trying to back track her mistake of not telling her best friend about her and Angel, although classifying it as a mistake wasn’t exactly true. She had her reasons for not saying anything but she was regretting her finding out this way. Lara’s eyes moved over to the person to her right expecting him to chime in but Angel was too busy stuffing his face. 

Lara closed her eyes and took a big sigh before looking back at Frankie. 

“I was going to tell you, I promise I was going to tell you.” Her hand extended across the island to grab Frankie’s. “I just, things are really complicated right now. I didn’t wanna risk Bishop finding out and honestly we weren’t really sure this was anything until yesterday anyways.” 

At that Angel looked up from his plate, “Um, no I was actually sure, just following your lead.” 

Lara looked at him with a frown and then back at Frankie, “Alright well I wasn’t sure this was anything so I wanted to wait to tell you.”

Frankie just sat there, frown on her face, more confused than angry as she took in all the information.

“Are you happy?” She looked at Lara and asked, her face was serious. 

Lara looked at Frankie for a split second before looking over to Angel who was also waiting for her response. Her silence was bringing anxiety to everyone in the room except herself. Turning back to Frankie she nodded. 

“The happiest I’ve been since Aiden.” She knew Frankie would get that, Lara loved her little brother like anyone would have loved and cared for their little sibling, but Aiden brought Lara pure joy into her life and when he died that light in Lara went with him. 

“Okay then.” Frankie said with a nod and she stood up getting ready to leave. 

“I’m going up north with Hank today to see my grandma.” She was grabbing her bag and situating it back over her pajamas. 

“It’s like 5 in the morning.” Angel said confused since the girl had just gotten home an hour ago and was pretty drunk. 

Lara knew though. This time of year was difficult for everyone. For Lara and Bishop it brought up the painful memories of losing Aiden. For Frankie and Hank it was his mother, her grandmother, while she was still alive, she was going downhill but they still went up every year around this time to celebrate the anniversary of her beating cancer. It was fucked up that the year she beat cancer the early onset of Alzheimer's began. It gave them an excuse to visit her and ring the bell every year, though and it did bring some happiness to each of them to see her celebrate it. 

“I completely spaced.” Lara said realizing it was one of the reasons she had gotten drunk. “Do you need a ride?” Yes, Lara was sucking up, but that’s what you did when you were in full damage control mode with your best friend. You kissed her ass. 

“No Hank’s picking me up, I’m gonna wait outside for him.” She squeezed Lara’s arm and gave a half smile even though it looked more like a frown. “I’m happy you’re happy. You deserve that.” 

As Frankie passed Angel she leaned over to give him a quick goodbye. “If you hurt her I’ll fuckin’ gut you.” It was said at such a whisper, Angel almost missed it but he didn’t. His eyes went wide and his brows met in the middle of his forehead as the shock and confusion of what Frankie said to him settled in. As Frankie pulled away the smile on her face was like nothing of the sorts had just been spoken from her mouth. 

Lara walked Frankie to the door, there was so much more she wanted to say but right now wasn’t the right time. But she couldn’t just say nothing. 

“I want you to know it’s not because I didn’t trust you–”

“I know, Lara. It’s because you wanted to keep it yours. I get it.” The smile on Frankie’s face was a lot more genuine now, “but I’m still mad at you. And whatever this is, I expect it when I’m back.” She laughed, referring to Lara’s full kiss ass mode. 

The two hugged before Frankie walked out the door leaving Lara and Angel in the apartment by themselves. 

“That could’ve gone worse!” Angel said, standing up from the stool. 

“That could’ve gone better.” Lara said with an eye roll. 

“Well, I’m sure a couple hours of sleep will make you feel better.” Angel was practically begging to go back to bed. 

“You can go back to bed but I have tons of shit I need to get done.” Lara started picking through the cabinet under the sink for cleaning supplies. 

“What?” Angel frowned and looked at what Lara was doing. 

“I’m in full damage control mode, I’m gonna clean her room, like really clean her room and do her laundry.” Lara said in an obvious way like Angel should have known better. “Why don’t you go home, crash, and call me when you’re up, I’ll come over and we can stay at your place tonight. Give Frankie some space.” 

Angel was genuinely baffled and confused but knew better than to argue with the girl. “Sure, you don’t need help cleaning?” 

“Thanks for the offer but I’ll be good.” Lara smiled as Angel bent down and placed a kiss on her head.

Cleaning was actually pretty therapeutic for Lara, it gave her time to clear her head while also going through some thoughts and feelings she needed to sort out, doing this for Frankie felt like the right thing. She honestly didn’t hide it because she thought Frankie would tell Bishop it was exactly what Frankie said, she wanted it to be just her and Angel’s thing. No outside sway or opinions. It was dark by the time Angel called, Lara knew he had probably been up for a while and got called into club stuff, she didn’t mind, it gave her more time around the house. 

Now at Angel’s, the two of them were knocked out on the couch, both catching up on the hours they missed from the night prior. Hours must’ve passed by just with the TV playing overnight in the background while the two laid snoring on the couch. An alarm went off on someones phone, causing both of them to stir awake, both a little frightened while they searched for the source of the noise. 

“It’s not mine.” Angel said his voice groggy and raspy. 

“It’s mine, I have a shift. It’s already 7AM.” Lara sighed and plopped back down against Angel who had already tried to go back to sleep. 

“Call out.” Angel mumbled. 

“I wish, I need the money. I’m gonna shower.” Lara wasn’t exactly speaking at anything higher than a mumble either. “Please can you make me coffee?” 

The groan from Angel’s throat was one of annoyance but not one of defiance so Lara knew she’d have a hot cup of coffee when she got out of the shower which is what motivated her to get up in the first place. “Thank you.” 

______

“I don’t know what you did to get water pressure like that but I’m demanding you come to our apartment and do it to our shower.” Lara said as she walked through Angel’s house in one of his flannels and her hair wet ready for a coffee. 

To Lara’s surprise, Angel wasn’t alone, she walked right into the living room where EZ was with the biggest grin on his face. 

“Hi Lara.” He smiled from ear to ear. 

“Prospect.” She rolled her eyes, no need to hide now. If Frankie didn’t tell him, she eventually would have and there was no going back from or denying her swimming in Angel’s clothes. 

Angel had a cup of coffee in his hand and handed one to Lara. “EZ brought coffee, you can have mine.”

“If I knew you were gonna have company I would have brought three, or not come at all.” The grin on EZ’s face was getting bigger as he spoke, he wanted to boast and tell Angel every version of ‘I told you so’ that he could. 

Lara took two sips from the cup and handed it back to Angel. “Here I just needed a jolt, I gotta get ready and head out anyways, I’ll grab something on the way.” And before she could even let either of them respond she was running back into Angel’s room and tossing her all black hostess outfit on and tying her hair back. 

As the two boys stood alone in the living room, EZ wiggled his eyebrows at Angel which earned him a light shove and ‘shut the fuck up’ before Lara reappeared in the room. 

“Sorry to leave like this, thanks for the coffee sips.” She stood up on her tip toes to grab Angel’s head and leave a kiss on his lips before grabbing her purse off the hooks and going to the door to leave. “Bye EZ!” 

Now both the men were truly alone in Angel’s house, there was a couple seconds of silence before EZ spoke up. 

“So should I say I told you so, I was right, or something else? I’ll let you come up with it even, it can be a joint effort.” EZ was still grinning from ear to ear. 

“Man, shut up.” Angel turned to grab his kutte from the hooks. “I thought you needed me for club shit.” 

“I do, but this is just my reward for having to play hide n seek with the fuckin’ club. No one answers their phone this early.” 

“Yea bro, it’s 7 fuckin AM.” Angel’s eyebrows raised as he placed his kutte on and grabbed the coffee back to chug half of it down. “Come on let’s go.” 

“Yo,” EZ said as they started to head out themselves. “Don’t fuck this shit up.” It was serious, he wasn’t grinning anymore, it was coming from a genuine place. 

“Don’t go saying shit at the club, aight? Bish doesn’t know and I’m gonna let Lara tell me how she wants to deal with that.” Angel yelled back at his little brother and paused before speaking up again. 

“And I’m not gonna fuck it up.”

#mayans #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fanfiction #Angel Reyes x OC #ezekiel reyes x oc #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes #angel reyes #my oc #oc lara losa #oc frankie loza #contaminated #contaminatedfic

[im-just-a-mississippi-girl]

Below is a link to questions about requests!

Questions About Requests

Below is a link to my masterlist!

Masterlist - The masterlist is updated right after I post a new fic so it’s always up to date!

Below is a link to my taglist form!

Taglist - Fill it out so you never miss your faves!

What categories do I write?

Fluff

Hurt/Comfort

Comfort

Angst

What fandoms do I write for? Who in those fandoms do I write for?

Wrestling - You can ask me and I’ll let you know if I do or don’t.

AEW - Majority.

Impact - Majority.

NJPW - Select ones because I’m not caught up yet.

WWE - Select ones because I don’t really watch anymore, but I catch the highlights from Twitter and Instagram.

Law and Order: SVU - Seasons Watched: All

Nick Amaro, Sonny Carisi, Rafael Barba, Mike Dodds, Peter Stone, Joe Velasco, and Terry Bruno

Sons of Anarchy - Seasons Watched: All

Jax Teller, Juice Ortiz, Opie Winston, Chibs Telford, Tig Trager, Half Sack, David Hale, Herman Kozik, and Ratboy

Mayans MC - Seasons Watched: All

EZ Reyes, Angel Reyes, Coco Cruz, Gilly Lopez, Bishop Losa, Hank Loza, Manny, Marcus Alvarez, Miguel Galindo, Creeper Vargas, Nestor Oceteva, and Riz Ariza.

#guide info #information details #who i write for #fandoms i write for #wrestling #aew #all elite wrestling #impact wrestling #wwe #njpw #law and order svu #sons of anarchy #soa #mayans mc #mayans

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Shotgun Wedding - Part 2

A/N: You asked and I (hopefully) provided! I wrote one more part to close out this mini series and then my attention goes back to Playin with Fire 🖤🖤

Angel Reyes x Reader; Hank ‘Tranq’ Loza x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: angst, language, mention of break-up, Angel being an ass, fluffy feelings, (gif not mine)

       MASTERLIST          PART ONE

“It’s Tranq. You know what to do.”

Her heart from swelled at the familiarity of Hank’s calming voice and just how much she missed him. A voice she hadn’t heard in far too long nevertheless by her own doing. She didn’t blame anyone but herself, well herself and Angel Reyes for throwing her out like yesterday’s trash. Engaged and with a baby on the way. Her mind reeled at how quickly her life turned to shit in twenty-four hours. A somber ache laid underneath her dissolving determination since that fatefully shitty day.  

It’d been six torturous months since Y/N left Santo Padre defeated and brokenhearted. She caught the next bus outta town heading to the lone address she knew by heart. The skies alit with angry streaks of lightening prewarning its destiny. A massive downpour followed howling to hellish life. Y/N chuckled jadedly never feeling more understood. Rain soaked into her jacket from the brisk walk to the brightly painted front door. She’d shacked up with her sister two hours outside of town. It only took one glance for her sister to figure something was horribly wrong but Y/N’s tear riddled eyes told enough of a story, at least for now.

While her body was physically exhausted, her mind fashioned an entirely different story, constantly churning nonstop. With the due date was most likely fast approaching, Y/N wondered if Angel was officially a married man. Did he regret anything? Would he even notice her absence? So many questions and not an answer in sight.  

An obnoxious beep blasted through her ear signaling its recording. She lowered her voice slightly above a whisper.

“Hey…it’s, uh, me. I- I know it’s been a minute but I just wanted to drop in, maybe even hear that annoyingly charming voice of yours. Call me sometime. Miss you.”

Y/N hung up filled with an uncontrollable nerve settling in the pit of her stomach. Would he call? Did he miss her too? Questions swarmed her before her attention shifted towards the slumbering man passed out in her bed. His name was Aidan and a thankfully deep sleeper. Also extremely handsome, hilariously snarky, and made Y/N forget even if it was temporarily.

Alongside the toe-curling orgasms, Aidan knew how to make her cum deliciously. Pure carnal attraction released in absolute privacy between two broken people. Angel’s face blurred each passing day pushing him further and further away. Soon enough, Y/N couldn’t picture him at all. She wasn’t sure whether to feel ecstatic or sickened, confliction taking ahold once again.

A trivial smile pursed her lips not totally offended at the snoring giant currently hogging the covers. Y/N easily slid back into her spot shedding her t-shirt. Aidan’s arm looped around her waist pulling her inwards. His warmth radiated against her own scorched skin. Her hips wiggled trying to get comfortable. An elicit moan escaped his slumber lips. Seconds later, his grip went limp implying he’d dozed back to dreamland. Her own lids grew heavy before darkness overtook her.

   Tranq POV

He briefly glanced down at his phone checking nothing in particular and everything.

Y/N: Missed Call (2)

Y/N: New Voicemail (1)

His pulse jumped at the mere mention of her name. Too often his thoughts drifted between Y/N and killing Angel for forcing her to leave. His feelings for Nails were fleeting at best now realizing he was just a friendly distraction. But this was his brother; careless and deceptive but someone he trusted wholeheartedly. It’d been radio silence for the last month weaving more doubt into his subconscious. His thumb hovered over the screen contemplating deleting instead of listening. Not before a startling knock alerted him someone was at his door, correction pounding on noisy metal.

“¿Yo pendejo, que onda? (What’s up?)”  

Suddenly his bubble popped as Angel appeared in the doorway looking cool as a cucumber. Hank wasn’t an idiot, at least not completely; he knew deep down Angel was hurting but refused to show a hint of weakness. He played by the rules keeping his head held high during the surprise pregnancy excited at becoming a father. Nowadays, the wrinkles around his eyes were more prominent, his shoulders absurdly rigid, and his once lively eyes now extinguished.

“Nada, absolutamente nada. (Nothing, absolutely nothing) You need somethin, Reyes?”

“Nah. Not really.”

Angel uncrossed his arms on the verge of awkwardly walking away. But he paused resetting his posture.

“Actually...”

“Just spit it out already, man.

He cleared his throat fumbling over the sentence stretched on his lips; “You heard from Y/N?”

Instantly Hank’s irritation spread; “That’s none of ya fucking business.”

“Not my—she was my—”

“Was, meaning not anymore. You made sure of that.”

Angel’s anger mounted over Tranq’s defensive nature; “Poor Loza, always the friend, never the boyfriend. I saw the way you looked at her when we were together.”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin bout.”

“Must’ve really sucked knowing she’d never choose you even if she had a choice.”

Hank stood snappily getting up in Angel’s face; “That’s a lotta big talk from a man who couldn’t keep it in his pants. And yeah, I might have feelings for Y/N but that doesn’t mean I can’t put her friendship first. She’s the coolest girl who deserves the fucking universe at her goddamn fingertips and you cheated on her without even batting those pretty lashes of yours. You’re blaming me for something I had nothin to do with. Time to own up to your shit brother and abre los ojos.” (Open your eyes)

Bitter realization dawned on Angel soaking beneath his bronzed skin. Fucking up had been the one forte in his shitty life but Y/N was his more, so much more. Unfortunately, he did what came naturally and destroyed her making sure nothing remained intact. Audible silence lingered between the two men neither willing to break bread first.

“She’s been distant since…ya know. She built this fortress of a wall, working too much, and probably not prioritizing herself but she seems okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Angel, you knocked up your side chick and then gave tu madre’s ring to her. She’s far from fine but the good part is she will be, eventually.”

Angel sighed rubbing his hands over his sullen face. If the dictionary had photos to match definitions, he was positive his picture would be filed under asshole. But he couldn’t keep living in the past no matter how much love he still held for Y/N. His actions were beyond irredeemable creating an unrepairable rift. The handsome Reyes gulped loudly digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

“I didn’t plan any of this shit. But if I could take it all back, I fucking would, T.”

With his words haunting the surrounding air, Hank found it difficult to hide his baffled amusement but nodded anyways.

“Take care of her. She’s …extraordinary. But you knew that already.”

Angel took his leave darting around the nearest corner. Hank reached for his phone hoping Y/N still shared her location. The blinking ping kicked him into gear grabbing his overnight bag and hauling it to his bike. He had a new destination in mind.

~~~~~~

Tags: @twistnet​  @angelreyesgirl89 @carlaangel86 @imagineredwood @gemini0410 @mayans-mc @reaperwalking @prospectfandom @emmaveale123 @peaky-marvel @kind-wolf @scorpio4dayzzz @starrynite7114 @penny4yourthot @thegirlwhowritesfics @star017 @threeminutesoflife @woahitslucyylu  @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass @blessedboo @amberritonicole  @encounterthepast @redpoodlern @im-a-slut-for-fluff @diaryofkali @cherieann-2001 @writings-of-a-fool @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo

#angel reyes x reader #hank loza x reader #tranq x reader #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans x reader #angel reyes imagine #my writing #shotgun wedding #shotgun wedding part 2 #mayans #mayans fic #angel reyes fic #hank loza fic

[spookiekewchie]

Shooting Shots

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Characters: Hank “Tranq” Loza x woc!reader

Summary: The one where Hank has an admirer (i suck at summaries)

Word Count: 782

Warnings: none really, mostly it’s just sweet nonsense.

A/N: Honestly I just felt like Hank deserved some love and someone to show him genuine interest. The divider is by @firefly-graphics

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. Reblogs are always welcome, and let me know that you enjoy my fics.

You’d think after going through this little routine so many times already that you’d be over the butterflies and the heat that crawled through you when you pulled into the scrapyard to deliver your latest order for scrap metal. An order that you could easily give over the phone, something that Chucky never hesitated to remind you. You conveniently forgot every time, especially if you knew Hank was going to be there on the yard to intercept you once he realized you were there. 

The attraction between the two of you was obvious, for him it had been instant. For you it had been when he didn’t laugh when you explained that the scrap metal you were constantly buying was for the sculptures you created and sold for a profit. Most men found it either hilarious or unbelievable when you told them that you were a scrap artist. Hank on the other hand had been impressed and thought it was the most interesting topic when you’d gone off on a tangent about the process of creating scrap art. That hadn’t been the only thing of course, there was the bonding over the tattoos that covered his arms, and the one that he only ever got a peak at against your thigh and the half sleeve on your arm. 

You’d thought by now he’d ask you out, or make a move but he hadn’t. There had been moments when you thought he might come close, but it never seemed to happen and you were getting concerned. The thought that maybe you had misinterpreted his attention as something more than just friendly and professional interest had begun to creep into your mind, and deciding that you’d rather have answers than doubts you decided that you’d just put it on the line that particular day. 

Dressed in a fitted tank top that showed off the half sleeve that Hank always seemed so interested in, and a pair of shorts that offered a little peak of the intricate black ink against your brown skin before the pattern disappeared under your clothes. Your curls were wrapped up and spilling out of the top of a colorful scarf. It seemed that your outfit choice had his attention, and just like always he managed to convince you to stick around and join him in the clubhouse for a drink once you’d handed over the list of things you were looking for to complete your latest piece. 

Currently you were sitting a little closer than necessary on one of the sofa’s, one leg crossed over the other as your denim shorts inched a little higher to show off more of the ink against your thigh. To his credit, Hank was trying not to stare. He may have been an outlaw but he wasn’t a creep. It was something you appreciated, but sometimes you just wanted the man to grab you and press you against the nearest flat surface. 

“Hank?” The sound of his name on your lips had Hank’s gaze snapping to yours just in time to catch the way you were subtly leaning into him. “I want you to ask me out on a date.” You say it so matter-of-factly that Hank didn’t seem sure if you were being serious or not. You’d flirted and joked around with him before, but he hoped you wouldn’t joke about this. 

“You-you uh, serious? You want that?” 

Was that a blush on the big bad biker’s cheeks? Yes it was, and it had you smiling. 

“For starters, ask me out on a date and if it goes well I’ll let you know all about the other things I’ve been wanting.” You teased, and Hank couldn’t help his soft laughter as he nodded. 

“Y/N, would you like to grab some dinner with me tonight?” 

“Yes, I would. Eight o’clock good with you?” You replied, watching as his smile grew into a grin as he nodded. 

“Eight is good.” Lifting the bottle of beer in his hands to his lips he took a drink, hoping to school his expression just enough that he wasn’t looking so God damn giddy. 

“Good. I’ll see you then.” Moving to stand from the sofa you hesitate for a moment, head tilting to the side briefly before you decided to be a little more impulsive than you had already. Leaning forward you braced a hand against one of the man’s sturdy shoulders you bent down to press a sweet kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be late.”   

Hank watched you leave then, ignoring the stares his brothers were giving him after you little affectionate display. There was no way in hell he was going to be even a minute late. 

#hank loza x woc!reader #hank loza x black!reader #hank loza x woc #hank loza x you #hank loza x reader #hank loza reader #hank loza fanfic #hank loza fanfiction #hank loza fic #woc!reader #black!reader #mayans x reader #trilla writes

[bullet-prooflove]

Okay so I found this cute little dialogue prompt on Pinterest that I think would be adorable with teddy bear Hank — “You talk in your sleep, you know that?”

Hank tells you, as his lips chase up the curve of your throat, his palms caressing your naked skin underneath his sheets.

"What do I say?" You ask him, your lips tipping up into a small smile as his breath ghosts on your ear.

"Hm." He murmurs as he draws you into his arms, his fingertips trailing along your inner thigh. "That you're always late for work."

"I wonder why." You tease as you roll onto your back, your head tilting so you can look into his eyes. He cups your chin in his palm and guides your mouth back up to his.

"Preemptive stress relief." He smiles his lips brushing over yours. You moan into his mouth and it is the sweetest fucking thing.

"We keep this up and you will be late." He tells you.

You give him a mischievious look that makes him chuckle.

"You'd best be quick then."

#hank loza fic #hank 'tranq' loza #hank loza #hank loza x reader #hank loza x you

[minimel-fics]

Mayans M.C Masterlist

Find my multi-fandom blog here.

Reyes Brothers

Nowhere to Go, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8- Angel had hurt you before so what was causing you a little more pain now to avoid a future of hurt? 

Obispo “Bishop” Losa

I Want You (18+)- You aren’t his to have but he sure wants you, you keep your thoughts about him buried until you go to bed at night.

Broken Bells- Annabelle’s life has been anything but easy. Just when she finds a sense of peace in the desert town she gets slammed back into a life full of conflict and men who ride motorcycles for more than just a little fun.

On Hiatus - May resume/ rework after final season airs?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7,  Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10 (18+), Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18,

Neron “Creeper” Vargas

Unexpected Blessings, Part 2- An unexpected late night encounter brings out Creepers soft side and flips two unsuspecting worlds upside down.

Familial Persecution- Creeper loves you more than anything and sticks by your side while you deal with the death of your father but your family does not approve.

A True Gem- Everyone thinks you’re eccentric but Creeper embraces your quirks. 

Inked (18+)- There’s a mutual attraction but the admiration for your tattoo’s is what brings you together.

Marshmallow Dreams- What happens when you mix a Cali boy and wintery New York? The risk of frostbite and hot cocoa with too many marshmallows.

Parental Guidance- A daughter’s first date is a father's worst nightmare.

Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes

Coffee Connections- It is an unspoken rule to never be late for the first date. 

Getting Old (18+)- While a back injury causes you to have an existential crisis, Ez has other plans for you.

The Way We Get By, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5- Working at Vicki’s was just a way to put yourself through law school and keep food on your table. (18+)

People Watching- If he is the one to interrupt your peace while hiding away from the party downstairs then you’re okay with that.

 Johnny “Coco” Cruz

Second Chances, Part 2- He had always dismissed his family because of the poison that ran through their veins until Letty showed him that it didn’t have to be that way, now he just wants to make things right.

Asshole- No matter what you do, you’re always the bad guy.

Hank “Tranq” Loza

Moral of the Story, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4- Their marriage took a turn for the worst, but they made a vow that neither of them had the heart to break. 

Loss of a Brother- Lucille had never imagined the day she would lose her baby brother, nor would she imagine Hank being the one there to pick her back up.

Che “Taza” Romero

Summer Break- You couldn’t get through to your son but Taza has dad powers.

#mayans mc #mayans mc masterlist #mayans mc fic #bishop losa #obispo losa #creeper vargas #neron vargas #hank loza #tranq loza #mayans #michael irby #joseph raymond lucero #frankie loyal #coco cruz #johnny cruz #richard cabral #mayans x oc #mayans x reader #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #jd pardo #taza romero #raoul max trujillo

[the-hinky-panda]

The Preacher's Wife: Escape (Part II)

TW: Spousal abuse: physical, metal, emotional, and sexual

Maggie pushes her food around on her plate, making designs in the teriyaki sauce from the grilled salmon. She lines up her asparagus in a tic-tac-toe grid and uses the small red potatoes to fill in the spaces. She glances up at the clock. Eight fifteen. It’s Thursday night, and Hank is probably washing the dishes from dinner with his mom. Consuela is probably sitting in front of the TV, watching whatever sitcom is on, crocheting. 

God, how she wishes she was with them at the moment. 

“Margaret?” 

Her eyes snap up to her husband, Simon Peters. Named for the occupation he has pursued, pastor of a megachurch, the shepherd of souls who love God.. Dressed impeccably in a dress shirt and designer jeans, his hair perfectly groomed in the latest style, seated at the head of the table. The master of his house. “Yes?” 

His cold blue eyes narrow slightly. “Are you alright? You’re very quiet.” 

She hears the veiled threat under his polite, concerned tone. Pay attention. Make me look good. Don’t embarrass me. She forces a smile and straightens her back. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired.” She looks over at the young, newlywed couple that are their dinner guests this evening. “Lydia and Asher wanted me to play in the pool with them today. I guess it took more out of me than I thought.” 

The young woman, Heather, takes her husband’s hand. “I can’t wait to have my own children.” 

Maggie glances over at Simon and gives a forced smile herself. “Children can be a blessing. I do wish I had spent more time learning how to be a wife before becoming a mother though.” Instead, she had married at nineteen and had Lydia ten months later. She had been so naive, believing that she was fulfilling her life plan. Growing up, she had been told that fulfillment was found in family: husband and children. And while she loved both Lydia and Asher, she had also come to realize that joy is found in a variety of things. To keep it constrained to a spouse and children was stifling. 

“God’s timing is perfect though. Lydia arrived exactly when she should have.” Simon picks up his wine glass. “And people who have been married for fifty years or more are still learning how to be the best spouses they can.” 

“And what’s the secret?” the husband, Carter, asks. “You and Mrs. Peters make it look so easy.” 

Maggie feels like she’s going to throw up. She wants to tell this young couple to run as far and as fast as they can from this house. It’s all fake. There’s no love here, no warmth. Her chest physically aches from the longing of wanting that home, that love. That hope. 

“Well, the secret is simple,” Simon says. “Draw closer to God, draw closer to each other. That’s it.” 

Maggie takes a healthy sip of her own wine and swallows down a follow up question of her own concerning the leather restraints and gag that are sitting in the bedside drawer right now. The restraints that she said she did not want to use only to find them wrapped around her wrists when she woke up in the middle of the night. Was that drawing closer to each other? She certainly didn’t think so. 

“And speaking of drawing closer to God,” Simon slips into his preacher’s voice, “this brings me to the reason why Carter and Heather are joining us here this evening.” 

That phrase, the reason why, makes Maggie’s hair stand on end. She becomes hypervigilant, taking in everything in the room. The tightening of the couple’s hands, the embarrassed blush staining Heather’s cheeks. The subtle slide of her eyes over to Simon, who gives her a small nod. How does Carter not see that, see that secretive look? Maybe he doesn’t know, doesn’t have enough experience with infidelity to recognize it. But then Carter looks over at Maggie, his eyes intent as they focus on her face, her lips…her breasts. Maggie pushes her chair back, her desire to flee prompting the motion, when Simon clears his throat. 

“Heather, sadly, is unable to conceive a child on her own.” Simon stands and slowly makes his way over to Maggie. “She and Carter came to me last week asking for prayers and guidance on what the next step should be. So I took the weekend and went into the wilderness and asked God for an answer. This is what He told me.” 

Maggie sways in her chair, feeling sick and lightheaded. Simon steadies her by digging his fingers into her shoulders. 

“God told me that the answer lies in the Old Testament story of the trials of Abraham and Sarah. When Sarah couldn’t conceive, she gave her maid to Abraham and Abraham was able to have a son. So, I give my wife to you so that you may achieve this blessed, and wonderful experience of parenthood.”

He gives her to them, like she’s a possession. Something to be borrowed and returned. She knows better from his phrasing and example, that a clinic for in vitro fertilization was not going to be considered. And if that wasn’t enough, then the leering look that Carter is giving her from across the table is enough to solidify her worst fears. Her stomach roils and she twists her way out of Simon’s grip. 

“Excuse me,” she mutters, running towards the bathroom. 

She locks the door because she can hear Simon’s footsteps behind her. She vomits what little dinner she managed to eat and then sits on the bathroom floor, her back against the wall. She wipes the tears from her eyes with shaking hands. 

“Margaret? Are you okay?” 

The fake sincerity drips from his words. Maggie pulls out her phone from her back pocket and opens her text messages. She needs help. She needs to get out. The door knob moves as Simon tries to open the door. She selects Morgan’s name and manages to type okay, it’s time and sends it off. 

“Margaret.” 

Simon’s patience has run out so she pushes herself up the wall. She turns the water on, more to drown out anything they will say to each other, and she unlocks the door. He’s through it immediately, slamming the door behind him. Maggie prays for deliverance. 

“Pull yourself together,” he demands. “This is happening tonight.” 

“Simon-” 

“And every Saturday night until they get what they want.” 

Anger is replacing the shock. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just fuck her during one of your ‘counseling’ sessions and leave me out of it?” 

“Do you know who they are? They are Silicon Valley royalty, the both of them. That’s about 4 billion dollars worth of income sitting at our dining room table and all they want is a kid. Do you know what that kind of money could do for us?” 

“Oh, draining them of their money makes a wife swap so much more tolerable.” Maggie crossed her arms. “I’m not doing this.” 

Simon gives her a wicked smile. “Oh, I think you will. Holly Singer.” 

Maggie feels her blood run cold. “What?” 

“Oh yeah, I know about your books, Holly. So this is how it’s going to go. You’re going to go back out there, do whatever that man tells you to do. And if you’re finding it hard to get in the mood, just pretend you’re one of the sluts you love to write about in your filthy little novels.” 

Well, if God isn’t going to deliver her, then she’ll have to deliver herself. She starts looking for anything to fight back against Simon so she can get out of the bathroom, but all the decorations are too flimsy to inflict any damage. But then, from the other side of the door, comes a tiny little voice. 

“Mommy?” 

Asher, her little three-year-old savior. “Yes, baby?” 

“I don’t feel good.” 

Bless him and whatever it is that roused him from his sleep. Simon’s jaw is tensed, his back teeth practically cracking as he grinds them together. He can’t force anything on her now if one of the kids needs her. Maggie steps around him and opens the door. Asher is standing there, his blonde hair sticking up in every direction, as he holds a small hand over his right ear. 

“What’s the matter, honey?” she asks, picking him up. 

“My ear hurts and I can’t sleep.”

Maggie gives a pointed look at Simon. “Please tell Heather and Carter that I’m sorry I won’t be back out there tonight as my son needs me.” 

She knows he’s going to make her pay for that later but she’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it. She puts ear drops in Asher’s ear, gently massaging the side of his little neck to help alleviate the discomfort. She hums “Annie’s Song” twice through and soon, he’s back to sleep in his own bed. She checks her phone before leaving the safety of his room and sees that Morgan has responded already. 

When?

Tomorrow? Is that even possible?

I will make it happen. And I’ll be bringing back-up. I’ll let you know when we’re in the area.

Thank you. She doesn’t need to ask who the back-up is going to be. Morgan had told her she’s put the entire MC on alert so that as many as can come will make the ride up to La Jolla to move her and the kids to safety. Maggie erases the messages from her phone so Simon won’t find them. She already has bags packed for the kids and herself. Clothes, documents, jewelry, cash, all packed up in suitcases and backpacks, stored away in the crawlspace in Asher’s closet. All she needs to do is grab them and the kids and run. She slips the phone back into her pants pocket as she closes Asher’s door quietly behind her. When she turns around, something strikes her across her face, knocking her against the wall.. 

Simon. 

She smooths her hair back from her face and covers her stinging cheek with her hand. He’s standing just a couple feet away from her, a scowl on his classically handsome features. 

“Don’t you ever embarrass me like that again.” He rolls up his shirt sleeves. “They’ll be back tomorrow evening and you will have that child for them.” 

Knowing the calvary is coming tomorrow has made her brave. “And what if she’s not the problem? What if it’s him? Guess you’ll have to be the one to knock her up. What a shame.” 

She moves away from him but he grabs her arm, pushing her back against the wall again. This time, it’s not a slap. Stars erupt behind her eyes when his fist connects with her face and the back of her head hits the wall. His hand rests at the base of her throat, just enough pressure to hold her upright.“Or I just knock you up again. We both know how easy that is.” 

Maggie’s stomach drops at the memories of waking up, drowsy and disoriented, finding Simon on top of her. Too weak to fight him off, too out of it to properly register what was going on. It started happening when she was sleeping in one of the guestrooms, after waking up with her hands restrained in the leather cuffs that one time. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she started waking up with bruises on her wrists and thighs, the sheets and her skin smelling like Simon. She tried to deny it was happening, spending hours scrubbing herself clean in the shower, but then she became pregnant with Asher. She couldn’t deny the abuse at that point. 

That was when she started planning her escape, stashing money, moving assets around, letting Morgan in on what her life was like, albeit a more PG-13 version than the full blown truth. She survived six years in this gilded prison and tomorrow was going to be her day to break free. She knows if she gets too cocky, too confident, then Simon is going to know something is up. So she ducks her head and meekly nods her head. She shows him that she is the epitome of defeat of submission.

“Alright, Simon. Tomorrow night.” She nods in resolution to her fate. “I will follow God’s path for my life.” 

“That’s my sweet, obedient wife,” he presses a kiss against her cheek. “Now, let’s get some sleep so you’re well rested for tomorrow evening.” 

“Okay.” 

She glances at her watch. It’s almost midnight. Just a few more hours until Morgan and the Mayans MC show up to rescue her.  

#hank loza #hank loza x ofc #hank loza fic #hank 'tranq' loza #hank 'traq' loza x ofc #hank 'traq' loza fic

[myckicade]

Title: Enough - A Holiday Ficlet Pairing: Hank/Reader A/N: I had started this one first, believe it or not. It just refused to be finished, for a time. I like to think that Hank, being the quiet one, is always thinking about something. It just might not always be entirely pleasant. >XD.

Truth be told, Hank has no idea what he's doing. While you're far from the first woman he has ever given a gift to, he's a little rusty with the whole relationship thing. And, Christmas... He's a little bit nervous about this, too, being his first major holiday with you, and all. And, to top it all off, he'll be meeting your folks for the first time, come Christmas Eve. Sure, because that isn't going to be a problem. Little lady with a bright future brings home a biker, with double-digit years on her. Sure. What self-respecting father wouldn't be over the moon for that?

Either way, he's in for it. The jewelry box in his hands is proof, enough. He's pretty sure he's in the sweet spot of prices, not too cheap, and not too extravagant for the stage of your relationship. A simple, yet elegant silver necklace, delicate enough for a formal night out, but casual enough that you will be able to slide a charm on it, if you want to. He's excited to give it to you, too. (The necklace. Let's keep it out of the gutter).

Well, not that he won't be happy to offer you that, too.

Just, not until you get home. Your father only needs to want to beat Hank's ass for two reasons, not fifty.

Shaking the idea from his head, Hank sits down at his kitchen table, and pulls a sheet of wrapping paper closer to himself. Everything he needs for this adventure lay before him, with plenty of paper, tape, and ribbon to last him a lifetime of wrapping your presents. He sets the jewelry box in the center of the paper, and begins folding the material over the box. He's careful not to crease the paper, just in case-Oh, that looks like hell, he thinks, undoing the whole thing. He turns the box another way, and folds everything up, again. Bah. It genuinely looks no better, this way. Maybe, a different piece of wrapping paper would help. On the other hand, it might make things worse. Would a bag be considered lazy? Yes, probably, and the last thing he wants is to be considered lazy by the woman he loves.

Turning the box, for one more try, Hank sighs. Yes, yes, the big, bad ass biker is head over heels in love with the chick that runs the yoga studio at the far end of town. He's never done a day of yoga in his life, he considers, placing a piece of tape down over the main fold. He's honestly afraid to even try, at this stage in the game, worrying that he'll put himself in traction. He turns the box, and folds in one side, securing it with another piece of tape. That'll be super attractive for you to have to explain, that your geriatric boyfriend nearly killed himself in your newcomer's class.

Hank shakes his head, folding in the second set of corners. Geriatric. Taza is older than him, and that man keeps up with a partner half his damned age, like it's nothing. Nothing. Hank wonders, as he grabs a bow, whether or not he'll be able to do the same, in x amount of years. Yeah, of course, he will be. Sure, if the Little Blue Pill happens to be needed, he'll feel some embarrassment, but there's no way Taza is doing it without popping a helper.

Okay, that pushes it. Hank nearly gags. He has no vested interest in how his brothers get the job done.

Glancing down at the-Shit, when had that happened? Hank finds himself staring at a perfectly-wrapped gift. Perfectly. The red and silver paper is sparkly, in all of the right places. His corners are all straight, well-creased and tidy. The red bow is perfectly placed. He's done a hell of a job, for not paying any attention, while his mind wandered.

Standing from the table, to go place the gift in his dresser drawer, Hank grins, proud of himself. Oh, he can already see your eyes lighting up with excitement. He may not have broken the bank over this one, and he hadn't had to agonize over his decision, but he knows it's just the right choice.

#Mayans M.C. #Mayans M.C. Fanfiction #Holiday Ficlet #angst with a happy ending #Christmas Fic #christmas presents #Hank Loza x Reader #Hank Loza x You #Hank Loza #300th Post

[drabbles-mc]

Family Dinner

Hank Loza x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Hear me out here, a continuation to one of the first you wrote for Hank Loza. He's on a run for like a week or 2 and it's a bit into the relationship but not quite living together still. His mom needs something so she calls and reader invites her over to talk and for dinner. Hank was able to finish the run early, and comes home to his 2 favorite people laughing/telling stories over dinner. I think his heart would melt. (Other fics in this AU: Come Through and Closeness)

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I’m assuming that this is the universe you were referencing. We love a fic about Hank’s mom! And by we, I mean me haha. Hope you enjoy!

General Mayans Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes​​​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​​ @paintballkid711​​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​​ @queenbeered​​ @kelpies-shed​​ @sesamepancakes​​ @yourwonkywriter​​ @chibsytelford​​ @gemini0410​​ @louisianalady​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​ @plentyoffandoms​​ @georgiaaintnopeach​​ @twistnet​​ @garbinge​​ @themoonandthewicked​​ @bucky-iss-bae​​ @encounterthepast​​ @bport76​​ @rosieposie0624​​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​​ @masterlistforimagines​​​ @xladymacbethx​​​ @blessedboo​​​ @holl2712​​​ @lakamaa12​​​ @mijop​​​ @lilah1903​​​ @toni9​​​ @shadow-of-wonder​​​ @crowfootwrites​​​ @redpoodlern​​​ @punkgoddess-98​​​ @black-repunzel99​​​ @lexondeck​​​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​​​ @amorestevens​​​ @angelreyesisdaddy04​​​ @mijagif​​​ @frattsparty​​​ @winchestershiresauce​​​ @bellisperennis0​​​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​​​ @mveggieburger​​​ @thanossexual​​​ @xeniarocks​​​ @choochoo284​​​ @littlekittymeow​​​ @beardsanddetectives​​​ @bruxasolta​​​ @i-love-scott-mccall​​​ @slut-bitch-brat​​ @withmyteeth​​ @flacalatke​​ @passionatewrites​​ @iamthegraham​​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, let me know!)

Staying behind while Hank was on runs with the club didn’t necessarily get easier, but you were slowly adjusting. The constant offer to stay at his place while he was gone helped a lot. He still always left you with a laundry list of phone numbers for pretty much everyone in the club. He also always reminded you before he left that your number was on the fridge at his mothers for her to call in case she needed anything. You had yet to receive a call from her, but his next run was supposed to be over a week long so you figured this might be the time that you heard from her. By this point the two of you had seen each other enough, you hoped that she’d feel comfortable calling if she needed to.

It was late on the morning of day seven of Hank’s run when your phone rang. You didn’t recognize the number, but given the circumstances you answered any call while he was away just in case.

“Hello?”

“Oh, good,” the relief in his mother’s voice was palpable, “it’s you.”

You laughed, “Hey, Mama. Everything okay?”

“Yes. I was worried I was going to call the wrong number. Hank’s handwriting,” she huffed.

You couldn’t help but to chuckle and shake you head, “He writes in his own code,” you paused, “What’s up? You doing alright?”

“Yes. I hate to ask, but Hank won’t be home for another few days yet.”

“Whatever you need, I can help.”

“I just need some groceries. Not a lot, just a few things.”

“Okay,” you checked the time on your phone, “Well, I’m off work today. So I can stop and pick them up for you, or I can come pick you up and we can both go shopping together.”

“Oh,” there was a hint of hesitation in her voice, “I don’t want to take up your whole day.”

You smiled and shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. Moments like that, you could see where Hank got his overly considerate nature from, “I’d love to spend my whole day with you. Why don’t we both get ready, I’ll come pick you up, we can grab coffee on the way, get groceries, and I’ll hang out and we can make dinner. I’ll see if I can pick up on a few of your tricks.”

There was a brief pause before she spoke up, but you could hear her excitement, “Okay. I’ll get ready. I’ll see you soon, mija.”

You smiled, “See you soon.”

She must’ve heard your car pulling into her driveway, because she was coming out the front door of her house as you were shutting your car door behind you. She smiled and waved at you as she made her way down her front steps. Walking over, you offered her your arm to hold onto so you could help her into your car.

As you were sliding back into the driver’s seat, she spoke up, “Gracias, mija. You didn’t have to do all of this.”

You smiled as you waved off her comment, “Please, this is the highlight of my week. Besides,” you reversed out of her driveway, “Hank is great, but I could use the girl’s time,” you glanced over at her with a grin, “We both could.”

Things were a little awkward at first—it was the first time it was ever just the two of you. But that feeling went away quickly once the two of you got to the store, coffee cups in hand as you strolled up and down the aisle. You pushed the cart, following Hank’s mom around as she went from one aisle to the next. You knew that most of the time Hank did her grocery shopping for her. Not because she couldn’t, but because it was one of the ways that he could still take care of her despite everything else that was always going on. But she was winding her way through the store like she still had it memorized. Every now and then she’d ask you to grab something that was too far back on the shelf for her to reach.

“You know I love my son,” she sipped on her coffee as she scanned over the produce, “But sometimes when he asks me why some of my things have to be a certain brand?” she shook her head, “You’d think after all these years, mija, he’d know.”

You laughed as you leaned against the bar of the cart, “Sometimes boys just don’t get it, Mama.”

She carefully placed a few tomatoes into the cart, “That’s true. But he tries,” a smile broke out across her face as she turned back to you, “He means well.”

You nod, mirroring her expression, “He does.”

The two of you made your way towards the checkout, cart full of things for each of you. His mom was taking count of everything, making sure that she grabbed all that she had wanted, “Have you heard from him?” she glanced at the list in her hands, “I don’t usually hear from him when he’s on his work trips.”

You bit back a chuckle at her calling the club run a work trip, but you shook your head, “I don’t usually hear much from him. Maybe a text here or there. He stays pretty busy when he’s away.”

“Mhm,” she nodded slowly as you both started putting items on the checkout belt, “He does,” she placed a few items down, “But he makes time for you?”

You didn’t have to turn to know that she was looking at you. If there was any hesitation or uncertainty in your response, you knew that she’d give Hank an earful. You loved that about her. Looking over at her, you smiled and nodded, “Always. Hank might be busy, but you raised a man who always makes time for the women in his life.”

“The women that he loves,” his mother elaborated, eyes no longer fixed on you as she dug through her purse.

Heat flared up into your cheeks at what she’d said, and you were glad that she wasn’t looking at you to see the expression on your face. Neither you nor Hank had said it yet, but now you thought that maybe he had said something to her that he hadn’t said to you. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you tried to focus on paying for the groceries.

After a short debate with his mother about who was going to pay for everything, you managed to make her put her purse away and allow you to cover what the two of you were purchasing. She wasn’t happy about it, making a comment about how you must be spending too much time with her son to be insisting on things like that. You had no choice but to laugh as you handed your card over to the cashier, the young girl clearly amused by the rapid-fire exchanges between you and the older woman with you. You assumed that the young girl knew some Spanish by the way she was trying to stifle her laughter at some of the mumblings of Hank’s mother.

“I’m cooking, then,” she picked up one of the grocery bags, at least allowing you to grab the other too.

You smiled, shaking your head as you followed her out of the store, “Of course.”

Her annoyance with you paying for the food faded quickly. She wasn’t really that upset about it—it was just her pride and the principle of it all. Once the two of you were back in the car driving home, she was right onto the next thing, telling you what she was planning on making for dinner.

“I showed Hank when he was young,” she held her purse in her lap, “I’ll show you, too.”

Warmth spread inside your chest, “Thank you.”

When the two of you had gotten back to her house and unpacked all the groceries, the first thing Hank’s mother did was shuffle off to find an apron for you. You laughed as she handed it over to you, insisting that it was necessary if you were going to be helping her in her kitchen. All you could think about was the fact that she most definitely forced Hank to do the same. You wondered what his aprons looked like.

You listened to every word she said, soaking it all up. Every move she made seemed so second nature. You wished that you had the opportunity to take notes on it all, but you supposed you would just have to come and bother her in her kitchen more often to learn it all. Something told you that she wouldn’t exactly mind that.

“You should both come over,” his mother nodded as she gathered up all her seasonings, “Maybe you could teach my son to focus like you do.”

You laughed while you were dutifully stirring the pot on the stove. You felt your phone going off in your back pocket. Pulling it out, you smiled when you saw Hank’s name flashing across the screen. You shook your head as you showed the screen to his mom, “Speaking of which,” you accepted the call, pinning the phone between your shoulder and your ear, “Hey, baby. All good?”

“All good,” he paused and you could hear the controlled chaos in the background, “We actually finished up early here.”

“That’s because you’re there to take care of business,” you felt his mom tap your shoulder, and you took the seasoning she gave you, shaking it into the pot until she motioned for you to stop.

“Maybe. Anyway, we’re about three hours out. I’ll be home tonight, not too late.”

“That’s great!”

“Yea. I gotta stop by my mom’s first, though. Missed a call from her so I’m gonna check in and make sure she’s alright.”

You glanced over at her as she chopped up vegetables on the cutting board, “I’m sure she’s fine. But do what you gotta do.”

“I’ll see you at home?”

You chuckled softly, “You’ll see me tonight, yes. Ride safe, Hank.”

“Will do.”

You hung up the phone and slid it back into your pocket. Returning your full attention to the pot in front of you, you said, “Hank’s going to be home a few days early. We can eat while it’s hot, but he said he’s stopping in tonight.”

His mother looked back over her shoulder at you, a smile breaking out across her face, “Perfect.”

The two of you made quick work of cooking dinner. His mom set out an extra plate and silverware for Hank, even though he wasn’t going to get there in time to eat with the two of you. The meal came out great, Hank’s mom complimenting you and thanking you for your help. It wasn’t lost on her that you made the effort to spend the whole day with her when you didn’t really have to.

The two of you were sitting next to each other at the table, your now-empty plates pushed off to the side. You were showing her pictures of you and Hank that you had on your phone. Photos from little day trips the two of you had taken. You were both gushing over them when you heard the sound of his bike rolling into the driveway.

When he walked through the door, the two of you both looked over at him, smiles on your faces. His mom stood up, quickly making her way over to him, “Mijo!”

“Hey, Mom,” he hugged her, unable to stop looking back and forth between the two of you, “Was checking in since I missed your call this morning, but it looks like you two have it all under control here.”

“She was just showing me,” she waved for him to follow as she walked back over to the table, “pictures from the trip you two took last weekend.”

“You two made dinner?” he leaned down, kissing the top of your head, “Hey.”

You smiled up at him from your chair, “Welcome home.”

His mother shooed him towards the chair kitty-corner to yours, “Sit, sit. Make a plate for yourself.”

“Made enough for three?” he asked with a laugh.

“Enough for three and then some,” you joked as you slipped your phone back into your pocket.

He nodded towards your outfit as he put together a plate for himself, “Nice apron.”

You smoothed it out over yourself with a laugh, “Can’t wait to see you in yours.”

While his mom was busy grabbing a drink for him, he leaned over and stole a quick kiss from you, speaking quietly, “Thank you.”

You smiled, resting your hand over his, “There’s nothing to thank me for. She’s family.”

“So?” his mom set the glass in front of him before taking her seat again, “How was your trip?”

“It was alright,” he nodded, “Missed out on the day you two had, though.”

“It was a girl’s day,” you waved him off with a laugh, “You wouldn’t have been invited anyway.”

You didn’t pry about the run, knowing that he wouldn’t want to get into any of it in front of his mother. Instead, the three of you got wrapped up in stories about any and everything else. He listened to the two of you talk and joke around as he ate. There was nothing else that he’d rather listen to, even if some of the jokes were at his expense.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #hank loza #hank loza x reader #hank loza x you #tranq loza #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[michaelirby]

Hi there! Really, really love your work! 💋 Can I request a fluffy (maybe a bit smutty??) Hank fic based on “you’ve got that power over me” by Dermot Kennedy? I always imagine Hank being the sweetest yet bit insecure softy for his woman when I hear that song!

i am going to SCREAM i LOVE dermot kennedy😭😭😭

i am hopping on your request as we speak omg

#mrnd93 #love letters #fic req #hank loza #mayans mc