#nestor oceteva drabble

[proceduralpassion]

Nestor Oceteva - scooting, deep, view

Well this just got dicey 😶

The view through your scope was perfect. Your target was locked in, unknowingly taking their last breaths. Some might call you heartless for murdering the love of your life, but a job was a job. And you didn't take too kindly to betrayal.

Nestor had crossed the ultimate line. There was no taking back the damage that had been done. Once upon a time, you thought this kind of assignment would wrench your guts.

But now it seemed like the easiest thing in the world.

Scooting closer to the edge, you take a deep breath and then… you take your shot.

Send in drabble requests for the sleepover!

#mayans mc #nestor oceteva #400 drabble event

[happysoldlady]

Coney Island Part 2 - Nestor Oceteva

a/n: I'm back! Also, I wish I could tell you what this is but I can't. Y'all said you liked this concept so here's a part two. I'm on a real Nestor kick lately. Mans has got me in a grip. Enjoy!

warnings: NSFW!!, fem! reader, brief mentions of violence/abuse

"Fuck, dulce." Nestor groans, rolling his hips against yours, his fingers buried deep in your hips for leverage. He takes pleasure in the way your face relaxes into ecstasy every time his dick meets that spongy spot inside of you. The way your eyebrows furrow as he pulls out, and the rolling of your eyes to the back of your head as he presses back in, moving a thumb to roll over your clit. He feels your pussy clench around him as you reach to touch any part of him. Your nails find his chest, and he lets out a deep groan as you run them down his skin. He picks up the pace on his strokes, keeping the same tempo on your clit, leaving you a withering mess below him. Moments later, the two of you reach your climax together, Nestor then collapsing onto the bed next to you. His chest rising and falling as he tries to settle his breathing, his eyes finding your profile as you take a minute to breathe, your hands lying idly on your chest, eyes closed in relaxation.

Following the incident last month of the two of you being kidnapped, you had found yourselves making up for lost time in the bedroom (and on the kitchen table, bathroom sink, against the wall in the foyer, ottoman in the living room...wherever, really). It had been probably a year since the two of you had had this much sex. Being busy with work, and oddly disconnected from one another had pushed you to opposite sides of your king-sized bed, not sharing it at all some nights. But for the last few weeks, Nestor seemed eager to get home if not for any other reason than to bury himself in you. And well, who would turn down an orgasm from the man you love? However, should the two of you probably talk things through? Absolutely. Were you going to do it while Nestor is fucking your brains out? Absolutely not.

You peel your eyes open, and turn your head, meeting his dark eyes that beam at you with affection. You find yourself wondering if he's always looked at you that way, and if that look will fade when the post-nut clarity comes.

"Te amo." He mutters, as one of his hands reaches out to brush a piece of hair out of your face. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your head. And then, he's up. He strolls to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You let out a breath, setting up in the bed and pulling a robe around your body. The sex...well, it's great. It's always been great, but sex feels like a band-aid for the disconnect. Nestor comes inside you and then goes off to work while you wait for him to come home and do it again. There is very little conversation...or apologizing.

You hear the shower turn on and let out a breath. A grumbling in your stomach reminds you that you should probably eat something. You slip on a pair of shorts and are digging through the fridge to find ingredients when you hear a rustling outside. Your insides freeze, and you lift your head to look outside your kitchen window. Nothing. You take a breath and shake your head, going back to your search when you hear it again.

“What the fuck?” You mutter under your breath. Taking no chances this time, you scurry back to your bedroom and bang on the bathroom door. “Nestor!!”

The panic in your voice damn near makes him panic. He quickly rinses the suds off his body and turns the water off. He wraps a towel around himself and unlocks the door.

“What’s wrong, mi amor?” He gives you a once over, noticing the way your chest is heaving up and down in a panic. You slip into the bathroom with him, and shut the door making Nestor’s brows furrow.

“I heard something outside.” You rush out, hushed.

“What was it? Like a person?” He asks, leaning over to open the door to go check.

“No, no, no. Don’t go out there.” You say quickly, grabbing his hand before he can turn the doorknob.

His gaze softens and he raises his eyebrows. “Mi dulce, you know I’m not the type to sit here and wait it out.”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. “I just don’t want them to find us again.”

Nestor grabs your wrist and pulls you into his chest. He’s still wet from his shower but you don’t mind. He holds you there for a second and you feel him press a kiss to your head. He knows you’ve been stressed since the incident. He’s watched as you glance around, rushing to the door of your home. He’s seen the panic on your face when you can’t find him at work events. Your newfound hyper-vigilance has not gone unnoticed by him.

“Mi amor, no podemos vivir nuestras vidas con miedo de algo que puede suceder o no.” Nestor says, taking your face into his hands. “I protected you then, and I’ll protect you now. Always.”

A shaky breath escapes past your lips and your eyes dance between his in uncertainty. You open your mouth to reply but his lips come down to your own for a few seconds.

“I’ll get dressed and take a look around. Give me five minutes.” He mumbles against your lips and then disappears before you can protest.

Ten minutes later, you are pacing around your living room, biting at your nails. The fear of not knowing if something actually was out there is starting to get the better of you when Nestor slips back inside. He slips his shoes off at the door and then meets your worried gaze.

His gaze meets your and he gives you a small smile. “The coast is clear, mi dulce.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and take a seat on the couch. Nestor’s eyebrows furrow as he watches your head fall into your hands. He crosses the floor and kneels down in front of you, his hands coming up to hold yours.

“I would never let anything happen to you. You know that, don’t you?” Nestor questions, his eyes searching yours.

You want to reassure him. Tell him that you’re sleeping well and that you know he would never let anything happen to you. But the look in his eyes when those guys threw you into that van haunts you. He was helpless. And you were helpless. And there was absolutely nothing that he could do to maintain your safety. Especially after they separated the two of you.

Your mouth opens to whisper the lie to him, to tell him that you have faith in him but the words die on your tongue and his face twists in confusion.

“Hey,” Nestor breathes out, moving to sit next to you on the couch. You turn your body to face him, your hands falling to tug on your fingers. “What’s happening in that head of yours?”

You look up at him, your hands gripping onto each other to stop the shaking. “Something already did happen. And we couldn’t do anything.”

Nestor shakes his head. “You are safe now. You were always going to be okay. I would have never let them actually hurt you.”

“They did hurt me.” You whisper, looking away from him. “They did. And you weren’t there. You were in the van. And it’s not your fault and I’m not blaming you because you are just a human being. But I’m afraid, Nestor. All the time.”

Nestor’s heart shatters in his chest. You’ve been together for years, and no it’s not always been the perfect relationship but the love he has for you is deep and unrelenting. Never did he think that fear would be the thing you felt while with him.

He takes your hands gently into his, pressing a kiss to each of them and then meeting your gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you then. I tried.”

You shake your head and it’s your turn to take his face into your hands. “No, no, no. You did everything you could and I know that. And I love you for it. And I feel the most safe when I’m here with you. That’s not at all what I’m saying.”

His eyebrows are furrowed and he shakes his head. “What else can I do to make you feel safe? More boxing training? Do we need to find a new house?”

The desperateness in Nestor’s voice breaks your heart and you shrug, “Those might help. We can try them.”

He nods at you, his hands grabbing at you and pulling you onto his lap. His arms wrap around your waist and he holds you close to him. The two of you sit like this for a while. Probably too long, but despite your anxiety, you really do feel safest in his arms.

“Do you want to talk about how they hurt you?” Nestor mumbles against your chest after a while. You lean back so you can meet his gaze. His dark eyes are somehow even darker and you lean down to catch his lips with your own.

“Yes. But I don’t want the details to hurt you.” You mumble, using your hands to smooth over his hair.

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about me, mi amor. I want to know.”

So you do. You sit in his lap and tell him everything. The pain, the fear, the shooting. Their greedy hands grabbing at you and making innuendos toward further abuse. The way they kept laughing that Nestor couldn’t help you. By the time you’ve told him everything, you can feel Nestor’s anger buzzing under his skin.

His arms tighten around your waist and he buries his face in your chest. "I should've ripped them limb from limb."

You let out a quiet chuckle and press a kiss to the top of his hair. "And I know you would have if you had known."

Nestor leans his head back against the couch, deep in thought. You trace a finger along his jawline and wait for him to gather his thoughts. Several minutes later, he meets your gaze and you don't recognize the look on his face.

"Do you remember that apartment you lived in when we first met?" He asks, one of his hands coming up to smooth down your hair. You nod, silently wondering where he's going with this.

"I remember the first time you invited me over." He starts, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. "I was so nervous. Worried that this life wasn't going to be what you wanted, and absolutely positive that it wasn't what you deserved. I walked into that apartment and it was in one of the shittiest neighborhoods in Santo Padre and somehow, you had made it nice. The walls painted a green color and plants everywhere. You were wearing these baggy pants with a white shirt and denim button-up thing, and you offered me lemonade." Nestor lets out a laugh at the memory, as if it's the most absurd thing he's ever heard. "No one has ever looked at me and thought to offer me lemonade."

You smile, "I just didn't want you to be thirsty."

Nestor's eyes lighten up as he laughs. "You're the most effortlessly thoughtful person that I know." His face grows serious and then he closes his eyes. "I know that this past year has not been easy. And I know that I have driven you to some dark places in your mind and I can never apologize enough."

You wait for him to finish, your fingers running up and down his arm in an attempt to comfort him as he speaks.

"I can't promise you that people like those pieces of shit won't hurt you again, mi amor. I wish I could. I can promise you that I will die trying to stop them." He says seriously, his eyes locked onto yours. "And if you want to leave and get out of this shit, I won't stop you. Hell, after the year we've had I wouldn't blame you."

Your face crumples at his suggestion. You shake your head at him, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth. Nestor's hands find your waist and squeeze as you deepen the kiss. Your hands tangle into his hair and tug as you resituate yourself on his lap. Nestor lets out a deep groan, and you feel him pressing against you.

You grind down onto him, his lips trailing down your neck, suckling onto the skin there. You're breathless by the time his lips find yours again and he lifts your legs, laying your back down gently on the couch. Your robe falls open and he quickly undoes the tie, his dark eyes trailing over you.

You shrug off the robe and toss it onto the floor, reaching down to remove Nestor's shirt and then his shorts. His lips find yours again and his hand trails up your leg. He revels in the sound you make when his fingers brush over your sex. He removes his lips from yours and trails them down your body. He lines his mouth up to your sex and licks a long stripe up, his tongue focusing on your clit. Your hands find his hair again and you let out a moan. His lips wrap around your clit and he inserts a finger into you. Then another.

"Oh my fuck." You curse, your back arching at his assault. Nestor continues for several minutes, adding another finger which causes you to cry out. The familiar pleasure builds in your lower abdomen and you moan out his name as the pressure snaps.

His fingers fuck you through your orgasm and then he comes up, kissing you and allowing you to taste yourself on him. You groan, gripping onto his back. You can feel him pressing into your leg and spread your legs further to accommodate him.

"Hmmm, always so thoughtful." He mutters against your lips. You grin and urge him forward. "What is it? What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me." You mumble, tugging lightly on his hair. He growls, and teases his tip at your entrance. One of his hands come up to rest against your throat. He meets your gaze and tightens his grip as he sheathes himself inside you.

"Oh fuck, Nestor." You moan out, your back arching against him. He lifts his hip and thrusts back into you. Hard. The sound that comes from his throat damn near makes you come right then and there.

Nestor sets a quicker pace than usual, never letting up pressure on your throat in a positively delicious way. His eyes stay locked on yours, silently checking in on you as he watches your mouth drop open in pleasure.

"Fuck mi amor, you look so fucking good like this." He grumbles, his mouth coming to make its assault on your ear.

You let out a moan and reach a hand down to your clit. The familiar twinge of pleasure begins to build again and you let out a louder moan.

"That's it, mi dulce. Go ahead and fucking come for me." He coaxes, his hand tightening some on your throat. Your orgasm washes over you in waves and Nestor fucks you through all of them before reaching his high as well.

He pulls out of you slowly, immediately removing his hand from your throat. His eyes meet yours and he presses a kiss to your lips, grinning at the fucked-out look on your face. He settles himself between your legs and rests his head on your bare chest.

Several minutes pass before anyone speaks, but oddly enough, Nestor is the first to break the silence. "I don't want you to think that I'm complaining but you didn't answer my question."

You let out a giggle and shake your head, "There's no one else in the world I want to have near-death experiences with. Let's just maybe get a camera on the front door or something."

#nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #taylor x mayan series #mayans mc #mayans drabble #mayans imagine #mayans fx #soa imagines #sons of anarchy #mayans #mayans x reader

[bullet-prooflove]

Stockton!Series Part Four: Sierra - Nestor Oceteva x Reader (feat: Marcus Alvarez)

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @expir3dl0v3 @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @multifandomloversworld @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @thanossexual @lexondeck @weiwei0210 @trublu2u @justreblogginfics @oklahomapeach @keyweegirlie @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @wnbweasley @skyesthebomb @msjava1972 @trublu2u @fleureeee @jp1019 @thiashazzywriting @jeybae

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

Part Two: Always - Nestor learns about what happened.

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

Bishop is livid, fucking livid. He can feel the fury chasing through his veins as he stands on the patch of land outside the clubhouse at two in the morning, his eyes fixed on the three men kneeling in front of him, their hands bound behind their backs.

Sanchez, the man who had planned to burn down your house.

Flaco, the man who’d tried to murder you in your sleep.

Ramos, the fucking orchestrator of all this chaos.

Hank and Taza stand on either side of their prisoners, making sure no one gets a stupid fucking idea in their head and tries to run.

It’s fitting in a way that it comes down to the old guard. These were the men who swore to protect you once upon a time. When your father was at his wits end, staring down the bottom of bottle because he didn’t know how to help you. What you don’t know, what you will never know is that they had plans for the list your father made all those years ago. If you hadn’t sought your vengeance first, they would have done it for you.

He hears the roar of the motorcycle in the distance, it tears through the air like a banshee screaming into the night. Noone speaks as the rider pulls up, they simply wait as he climbs off the bike, his snakeskin cowboy boots clicking against the concrete. He’s wearing his kutte tonight, his El Padrino patch showing predominantly in the overhead lights on he strides towards Bishop.

That rage, it seems to simmer. Bishop can feel it radiating from the other man as he draws closer, his eyes glowing like coals from the deepest depths of hell. El Padrino’s out for blood tonight, Bishop can taste it.

“Just these three?” He asks Bishop, indicating towards their captives.

Bishop removes Ramos’s phone from his pocket before handing it to Marcus. The other man studies the messages intently, his thumb scrolling through them as he takes in the details of the hit.

Raze it the ground, he’d written. I want her to burn.

“Smokey wasn’t involved?” Marcus questions, handing the phone back to Bishop.

Bishop shakes his head as he returns it to his pocket.

“I have Riz keeping him company in the clubhouse, figured you’d want to talk to him once you were finished with them.” He says, inclining his head towards the three Stockton men.  

“You were right.” Marcus says, withdrawing the Berretta from the waist band of his trousers.

He points the weapon at Sanchez.

“The one that wanted to burn down their home.” Marcus says before pulling the trigger.

Flaco cries out as the blood splashes across his face, the stench of cordite fills the air as Marcus points the gun at him.

“The one who fired an assault rifle into their bed.” Marcus pulls the trigger again and Flaco falls face first onto the concrete.

“And you,” Marcus says turning his attention to Ramos. “The man who can’t let the past just die, who has to come back and rake it up because he can’t stand the fact a dead man was a better Mayan that he will ever be.”

Ramos laughs, it’s a haunting rasp that echoes through the yard as he stares up at Marcus.

“She grew up pretty didn’t she? Javi’s daughter.” Ramos says, a cruel smile spreading across his features. “Just like her mother.”

There’s a flash of steel behind Marcus’s eyes, his hand threads through Ramo’s hair, gripping it tightly before he tugs it back and jams the Berretta right under his chin.

“A bullet is too good for you.” Marcus snarls as he locks gazes with Ramos.

“She was my girl.” Ramos hisses, his tongue running over his lower lip. “Sierra was mine until he rolled up and took her!”

“She didn’t belong to you.” Marcus snaps, driving the gun even harder into the other man’s jaw. “That is something you have never been able to understand. She had a choice, and she didn’t choose you.”

“I had her anyway.” Ramos reminds him and, in that moment, he looks every inch the animal he is. “I took what was his and I ruined it.”

“I should have let him kill you that night.” Marcus seethes as he wrenches the other man’s head back even further. “I should have let him beat you to death, instead of pulling him off you.”

“But you didn’t and now we’re here.” Ramos grins, blood staining his teeth. “I bet her daughter would have tasted just as sweet as she did…”

The words are barely out of his mouth before the gunshot explodes through the scrapyard, his brains spattering across the concrete.

“Take their kuttes.” Marcus says as he stares down at Ramos’s corpse. “We’re heading up to Stockton.”

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[garbinge]

Commission Job

Nestor Oceteva x F!Galindo!Reader

Day 19 from these April Prompts: A Commission Job

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

Words: 2.5k

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

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

Part 1​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me get you an ice pack.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need something.” 

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

“Mikey has a hit out on me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You placed your attention on him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise.”

Part 1​

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

[drabbles-mc]

Restless

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Whumptober 2022: No.24 Fight, Flight, or Freeze- Blood Covered Hands and “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Warnings: 18+, angst, blood/injury, hospitals

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: It’s always Fuck Miguel Galindo Hours here at drabbles-mc. 😌That being said, I have a lot of feelings about these two. I’ll be thinking about them for a long time.

Mayans Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @kelpies-shed @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @gemini0410 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @amorestevens @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @bport76 @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @choochoo284 @blessedboo @holl2712 @withmyteeth @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @fanfic-n-tabulous @i-love-scott-mccall​ @mijagif​ @winchestershiresauce​ @frattsparty​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @mveggieburger​ @thanossexual​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @passionatewrites​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You didn’t know why it always ended up being the two of you.

Miguel had an entire fucking team of security people working for him, and yet it always seemed to be you and Nestor who got things the worst. You were always stuck in the most volatile situations, you were always the ones who seemed to be bleeding the most. You hadn’t asked to show and tell, but you were willing to bet that out of everyone on the team, you and Nestor were also the ones with the most scars left over from everything. Sometimes you started to think that maybe the two of you were just bad luck charms.

But no matter what shape you were in, the two of you always made sure that Miguel made it home in one piece, and usually unscathed at that. And that was the point of it all. On days when you wondered why Miguel hadn’t told both of you to hit the goddamn bricks because messes seemed to follow you around like a starved cat you fed once, you remembered that all he was worried about was himself. You were serving your purpose to him perfectly despite what it was putting you through, what it was putting Nestor through. You felt like the human incarnation of a broken mirror but Miguel saw you as his saving grace. The same way he saw Nestor.

So, on second thought, maybe you did know why it always ended up being the two of you. You were messy sometimes, sure, and certainly not conventional in your methods, but you always made sure the boss made it home. You were good. Messy, but good. Plus, Miguel made sure that your bills were covered and then some, and it wasn’t like you had a whole lot of other options banging down your door.

You wished that you could have the same weird sense of pride in it that Nestor did. No matter how brutal it got, not matter how badly he was injured, Nestor never seemed to second-guess any of it. He had the type of blind faith in and loyalty to Miguel that you only remembered having back when you were in the service. And those years were long gone now.

You always meant to ask Nestor where that came from, that undying sense of loyalty. But it never seemed like the right time. And, in the moments that could’ve been the right time, it didn’t seem like it was really a topic that he talked with people about. You weren’t so foolish to think that whatever it was between you and Nestor put you in high enough rank to know what was really going on inside his head. You knew he’d take a bullet for you. You’d take one for him, too. It was a lot easier for him to do that than to bare his soul to you.

None of those should’ve been the thoughts that were going through your head given your current circumstances. You hated that your brain took you there. All of the late nights and obscenely early mornings pretending that you were just as disconnected from it all as he was were proven to be futile, useless, a complete waste of your time and energy. Because there you were, bleeding out in the back of his SUV, and rather than thinking about literally any other thing in the entire universe, you were thinking about Nestor.

You weren’t going to wax poetic to his face, though.

“Told you,” you gasped out as you tried to put as much pressure as you could on your lower abdomen, “we should’ve worn the fucking vests.”

You couldn’t see it from where you were laying across the back seats of his van, but Nestor tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He wasn’t the most relaxed driver to begin with, but now he was white-knuckling the damn thing, one quick move away from detaching it from the rest of the vehicle completely.

“We didn’t exactly have a lot of time to get strapped in.”

“And now,” you cringed, fighting the urge to cough because you knew how badly it was going to hurt, “you gotta use that time we don’t have to get me to the fucking hospital.”

“You probably shouldn’t talk.” He glanced at you for a split second in the rearview mirror, already seeing the change in your complexion from the blood loss.

You brought one hand up from your bullet wound to wipe at the sweat on your forehead. You hadn’t thought about the fact that sure, you would wipe the sweat away, but you were going to leave smears of blood behind in its place. You went from feeling slick and sweaty to sticky with your own blood. The hits just kept coming.

“You got an ETA? I can’t see shit back here,” you gritted out.

“ETA is fucking soon.” He shook his head at you. “Stop talking and sit still.”

“Always so bossy,” you grumbled through the pain.

He knew better than to engage with you when you got like this. He especially knew better than to do it when you were bleeding out in his back seat. But he couldn’t stop himself. That was the whole issue with you: he was never able to stop himself.

“Too bad you don’t listen.”

You huffed out a tired, pained laugh. He was right, of course. It wasn’t that you never listened. But you weren’t always the best at taking orders from people, not even from Nestor. You wanted to come back with something else snarky, maybe something that would put his current anger at odds with amusement. You were feeling too tired to fire back with something, though. Your eyelids were finally starting to feel as heavy as the rest of you.

It took a lot more effort than it should’ve to lift your head off the seat. Looking down at your stomach, you saw the way the blood was trickling down your hands and onto your wrist. Your head dropped back again with a soft thud as you tried to press a little harder. It hurt, but you didn’t have much of another choice.

It was hardly a minute later when there was the sound of another, much softer, thud coming from behind him in the car. Nestor reached up, angling his rearview mirror to get a better look at you. He saw that your eyes were closed and his stomach twisted into a knot. Then he saw that your one hand had dropped, arm dangling off the edge of the seat, leaving your fingertips dragging lightly across the floor of the car.

He called your name, his tone gruff and angry, not unlike how he usually sounded on the clock. But you didn’t stir, didn’t respond with anything. He twisted his hands on the steering wheel as his foot pressed a little harder against the gas pedal, calling your name again.

“Come on.” He sounded worried, and it was a shame that you weren’t awake to hear it. “Don’t fucking do this.”

He practically drifted his way to the emergency entrance of the hospital. He didn’t even take the time to yank the keys out of the ignition before going and ripping the back door open. As carefully as he could, he pulled and lifted you out of the car. He looped your one arm around the back of his neck, the blood from your hand smearing across the floral pattern of his shirt, something else that conscious you would’ve had something to comment about. He saw the way that with each minor adjustment, more blood seemed to spill out of your wound.

He came crashing into the hospital, knowing the halls practically like the back of his hand by this point. People quickly scattered out of his way, most likely off-put not just by you being covered in blood and draped over his arms, but also by the angry, frantic look on his face.

“Sir,” one of the nurses was running to catch him as he stalked through the halls, “sir, what happened?”

“What the fuck does it look like?” he grit out, his voice not loud but the sharpness of it still made the nurse flinch.

He wasn’t the first angry person she’d ever dealt with, though. She took it in stride as she called on a few other personnel to help her take out off his hands. He didn’t want to let you go. It wasn’t until they were directing him to lay you flat that he realized how tightly he had balled his fists into your clothes. Unfurling his fingers felt like a herculean effort.

He stood there as the doors closed, breathing labored by much more than just carrying you inside. He was just about to reach up and run hands his down his face when he realized that they were covered in your blood. He was a few seconds from being the second person to have your blood smeared across their face. He wished that he got the chance to wipe it off yours.

He lost track of how long he’d been pacing. With the exception of his phone call to Miguel, and the split-second pauses each time a doctor strode their way out into the waiting area, he had been in constant motion. He hadn’t sat since he got out of the car.

When a nurse finally approached him, he almost didn’t think that she was really talking to him. She cleared her throat, waiting for Nestor to focus his attention. “She’s not awake yet, but you can still see her.”

He was too hung up on the fact that you weren’t awake to be relieved that he could see you. “Is she alright?”

She nodded. “She’ll be fine. Anesthesia hasn’t worn off yet. She’ll be moving slowly for a bit, but no permanent damage.” She paused, waiting a moment before gesturing to an adjacent hallway. “Would you like to…?”

“Yes,” he answered, snapping back to attention.

The nurse left him with a warning to just be careful. He heard it but didn’t acknowledge it as he took in the sight of you. It was far from the first time he’d seen you injured. It wasn’t even the first time he’d ever seen you asleep, but this was a different kind of vulnerable and defenseless that he’d never seen on you before. You were no stranger to trips to the hospital, but you’d always been awake for them. You were usually providing commentary to him while you got checked out and stitched up. They’d never had to put you under before. It was strange to see you all hooked up, laying in the hospital bed.

They’d at least cleaned you up. He also saw the spare set of clothes on the side of your bed—they were at least nice enough not to make you change back into the bloody, bullet-torn top you had on before. You’d probably be strangely ecstatic at the prospect of a free pair of sweatpants when you finally came-to.

He was about to reach out to hold your hand, touch your face, anything to really send home the fact that you did actually make it, that you really were going to be okay like they’d said. Before he reached far enough, though, too-familiar sound of someone clearing their throat behind him halted his movements. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was, his hand dropping limply back to his side.

“She’s alright, then?” Miguel asked.

Nestor took in a slow, deep breath as he nodded. “Yea. Doctor said she’ll be fine. She, uh, she won’t be able to work for a bit though until it all heals.”

“That’s fine,” Miguel said, stepping in closer to the hospital bed. “We have a team for a reason, yes?”

Nestor nodded but it took more work than it should’ve to get one word out. “Yea.”

“Do you plan on staying? Or should I send someone else?”

Nestor tried not to sound too eager, too protective. “I’ll stay.”

He could feel Miguel’s eyes on him. Miguel might’ve been self-absorbed, but he wasn’t stupid. The reason that you and Nestor had kept your deal under wraps so successfully for so long was because you were both able to compartmentalize. What happened in the dark halls and rooms of your apartment never seeped over into working hours. All these months he’d gone thinking that you would be the one to crack, to blow your cover. And yet, here he was.

He must’ve kept a straight enough face to satisfy Miguel, to wipe away any lingering suspicions. Miguel rested his hand on Nestor’s shoulder for a moment. “I’ll make sure they switch out the cars—take yours to get cleaned.” He pulled his hand away, already taking a step back towards the door. “Call me if anything changes.”

“Yea,” Nestor nodded, managing to pry his eyes off of you just long enough to look back at Miguel before he left, “I’ll let you know.”

It wasn’t until Miguel left that Nestor pulled the chair closer to your hospital bed, finally allowing himself to sit down. He almost reached out to catch your hand in his, the same one that had been limply dragging along the floor of his SUV only hours before, but he stopped himself. Instead, he knitted his fingers together as he propped his elbows against his knees. He pressed the knuckles of his thumbs into the space between his eyebrows, like that would press all of the stress out of his brain. He didn’t expect to be so rattled by it all.

“You look,” you sounded groggy, tired, but your smirk was still audible, “pretty stressed out for a guy who didn’t get shot.”

He snapped his head up to look at you. His expression didn’t give much away, but the fact that he so quickly reached to catch your hands in his said it all. You looked at the way both of his hands clamped over yours, small traces of blood, your blood, still embedded in the cracks of his knuckles.

“Maybe if they doped me up with anesthesia, I’d be as relaxed as you,” he replied with a shake of his head.

You tried not to think too hard on how tightly he was holding your hand as he studied the look on your face. “Still today?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Yea, still today. Their drugs aren’t that good.”

“Damn,” you tried to laugh but you felt the pain shoot through where you’d been shot. “Not even the good drugs.”

There was a small stretch of silence between you before Nestor spoke up. “For a second, I thought…”

“That I was gonna bleed out?” You watched the shift in expression on his face as he nodded. You shook your head, pulling your hand from between his as you tried to get yourself in a more upright position, wincing in pain the entire time. You caught the way he went to reach for your hand again but stopped himself—you didn’t comment on it. “Yea, I thought I was too.”

He didn’t know how to address any of the things that he was thinking or feeling, so he didn’t. “Mikey stopped by.”

“Yea?” You dragged your hands down your face before letting them drop to the bed on either side of you. “Asshole didn’t even bring flowers?” Nestor got half your name out before you put your hands up in surrender, “My bad, my bad.” You shook your head. “I got shot for the guy. If he can’t send me a consolation prize, I think I should be able to call him an asshole.” You paused. “What’d he say?”

“N-not much.”

You nodded, the unimpressed expression on your face speaking volumes. “Sounds about right.”

Nestor’s brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just,” you shrugged, “I don’t know, Nestor. Do you, do you think that if it was you in this bed instead, that he would’ve had more to say?” You paused to give him the chance to answer. When he didn’t, you continued. “’Cause I don’t think he would.”

“Don’t—”

“What? Don’t what?” you shook your head, taking a deep breath as the pain slowly starting coming back. “I know we don’t talk about…well…fucking anything, really. Or, like, I talk, and you lay there and listen to me. Or pretend to. I don’t know if you ever actually do.”

“I do.” He sounded mildly offended by the insinuation.

You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Okay. So you listen. Then,” you gestured vaguely at nothing, “then you know what I’m saying. Miguel didn’t even stick around.”

“I told him I would stay.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” You gasped, wincing in pain. You knew better than to yell, but you were at the end of your rope now. the drugs were wearing off and you were done with all of it.

“What is the point, then?”

You took a slow, steadying breath. “I’m not gonna die for him, Nestor.”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You shook your head. “I’m not dying for Miguel. I thought, I fucking thought that I was done. I thought I was going to die in the back seat of your stupid SUV. And for what? For some rich prick who didn’t even stick around to see if I woke up?” You rested your head back against the pillow behind you. “What the fuck would it even be for?”

You’d never seen his frown stretch so deeply. His fingers messed with the edge of the blanket draped over your hospital bed. “So, what, then?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you said with a helpless shrug.

“So,” you could tell by his cadence that he was coming up with the sentence as he went along, something that wasn’t quite like him, “so you just. You get shot and you’re going to walk away?”

It took all of your self-control to stuff down the cold laugh bubbling in your chest. “That’s…that’s what most people would do if they almost died, yea.”

“We aren’t most people.”

“We?” You couldn’t hide your surprise. “We’re we now? Okay, okay. Interesting. I’ll bite. What is we, then?”

His jaw clenched. “You can’t leave.”

“Why not?”

“Mikey isn’t just going to let you—”

“I protect him. No,” you shook your head, “we protect him. What’s he going to do if I leave?”

His voice got unexpectedly soft. “You wouldn’t just be leaving him.”

You felt your heart crack on top of all the other pain that was returning to your body. You tried to ignore all of it. “I never got the impression you really cared if I stayed or not.” You saw the slightly hurt and confused look on his face. “Don’t do that. You’re almost always gone when I wake up in the morning. And if you aren’t gone yet, you’re halfway out the door.”

He knew that he couldn’t argue with that. You were right that he was always the one leaving. But it wasn’t because he didn’t care. He didn’t know how to tell you that, though. He didn’t know how to afford himself that sort of vulnerability. It crossed his mind that if he couldn’t get it together and say something to you about all of it now, after he thought you were going to die, when you were saying that you were going to leave, he might never be able to say something.

“You want me to stay, Nestor? You want me to stay with you?” He nodded, not able to force the words out. You let your hand creep over, delicately tangling your fingertips with his own. “Why do we both have to stay?”

“What?”

“Why is the option that we both stay? What if…what if we both go?”

He leaned back in his chair, fingers slipping out from underneath yours. Your stomach dropped at the reaction. You didn’t know what you had been expecting, really. He didn’t quite seem like the running off into the sunset type. But you still had a sliver of hope. Maybe because you would’ve been ready to give this up for him if the roles were reversed. Not that you’d ever be in that position anyway. Not like he would ever turn his back on Miguel.

You let your hands rest far enough up on your stomach not to bother your injury. “Forget I said anything.”

“Listen, I’m—”

“You can call Miguel,” you slowly lowered yourself so that you were lying down again, “let him know I officially didn’t bite the dust. No paperwork for him.”

“Let me—”

“And you can go,” you could hear the slight shake to your voice and you knew that that meant he could hear it too, “I’ll be fine.”

He stood up out of his chair, reaching over to rest his hand on top of yours. “Hey…”

You hated that it took you bleeding out in front of him to get even a modicum of vulnerability out of him, and then it still all turned out to be for nothing. You put your cards on the table and for what?

“You can go, Nestor.” You pulled your hand out from underneath his. “If you’re feeling particularly cruel, you can break the news to Miguel that I’m leaving once I get checked out of this fucking hospital.”

“I’m sorry.” It sounded genuine, but it still didn’t do you any good.

“Go get your car detailed, Nes.” You turned your head so that you weren’t facing him anymore, so that he couldn’t see the tears that were starting to gather in your eyes, “I’ll send you a postcard from wherever I end up next.”

He lingered for a moment, his fingers running over the knuckles of the opposite hand. He could’ve sworn he could still feel the warmth. Looking down at them, he could still see the little bit of blood left over. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, hoping that the words would come to him, but they didn’t. He pressed his lips into a flat line before finally taking a step back and making his way towards the door.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[band--psycho]

New Character Update

So there's a few characters that I've been meaning to write for, I have a few ideas of my own but I would love to get some requests for them!!

The new character are:

LT. Simon 'Ghost' Riley - Modern Warfare

CPT. John Price - Modern Warfare

Alucard (Adrian Tepes)- Castlevania

Treveor Belmont - Castlevania

Gilber 'Gilly' Lopez - Mayans M.C

Hank Loza - Mayans M.C

Angel Reyes- Mayans M.C

Nestor Oceteva - Mayans M.C

As I said before I would love to get some requests for any of the characters above (the requests can be fluffly, angsty, smutty, or a mixture of all of them if you wish).

I will be continuing to post the stories for my 3.6k drabble challenge in the mean time so stay tuned for those as well!

Thank you all for your continued support! 💛

#new character update #mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #john price mw2 #alucard castlevania #alucard x reader #alucard imagines #castlevania imaignes #treveor belmont x reader #travor belmont castlevania #gilly lopez x reader #mayans mc x reader #hank loza #hank loza x reader #angel reyes x reader #nestor oceteva x reader

[nestor423]

[crowfootwrites]

Hair [Nestor Oceteva x Reader]

Soft lil drabble for Nestor.

Warnings: none | Words: 97

Taglist: @chibsytelford

You were glad that the front door swung closed quietly behind you when you got home from work. Otherwise, you would have missed it: the heartwarming sight of Nestor sitting on the couch, his wild curls loose around his shoulders, with your daughter tucked into his lap and distracted by Moana on the television, as he meticulously braided her hair. The strain of the day released its firm grip from your chest as you leaned silently against the living room entryway, content to witness the love between your man and his daughter for as long as possible.

#mayans fx #mayans mc #mayansmc #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva drabble #mayans oneshot #mayans drabble #mayans mc imagine #mayans fanfic

[proceduralpassion]

WIP Game

Rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

Tagged by bestie @drabbles-mc

Would y'all believe if I said this is how many WIPs are in my files after deleting hella stuff that's been in there for years lmaoooo. This is crazy but idc 🤷🏽‍♀️ please indulge me and ask me stuff

As Fate Would Have It (Original Fiction, Sci-fi/Fantasy)

PIGZ (Original Fiction, Post-Apocalyptic Horror [think Walking Dead but with college students])

I'm The Sky To You (Original Fiction with Aaron Pierre x Jayme Lawson as face claims, Romance)

For Still Loving Even When I'm Aching- OA Zidan x Tiffany Wallace (one-shot)

Turning Tables- OA Zidan x Tiffany Wallace

Love You Like I Will- OA Zidan x Tiffany Wallace (OrganizedCrime!OA x PrivateInvestigator!Tiff)

Always Win- Vorrester (Celebrity!AU, childhood sweethearts)

Live and Die- Vorrester (Syndicate!AU)

Unrelenting- Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x OC

Ached For- Jake Seresin x OC (Hockey!AU)

Going To The Chapel- Javy Machado x OC

Deeply Stuck- Kevin Atwater x OC

Warm Embrace- Kevin Atwater x OC

Always Yours- Kevin Atwater x OC (High School Sweethearts!AU)

All I Ask- Burzek (Biker!Adam x Assassin!Kim)

Dangerous Road- Juice Ortiz x OC

Got Me Feeling The Way I Do- Opie Winston x OC

Fallin'- Nestor Oceteva x OC

Shoot 'em Up- Jay Halstead x OC (Mafia!Jay)

One Chicago Next Gen Fic

I've Got You- Ivan Ortiz x OC (one-shot)

It's Gonna Be A Scream- Chicago PD (Slasher!AU)

No presh tags: @roosterforme @rayslittlekitten @imagineredwood @darqchilddaydreamz @withmyteeth @ashlingiswriting

#wip game #fbi #fbi international #chicago pd #sons of anarchy #mayans mc #top gun maverick #jake seresin #javy coyote machado #mickey fanboy garcia #kevin atwater #adam ruzek #kim burgess #burzek #scott forrester #cameron vo #vorrester

[bullet-prooflove]

Stockton!Series Part One: El Cuchillo - Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @anime-weeb-4-life @expir3dl0v3 @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @multifandomloversworld @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @thanossexual @lexondeck @weiwei0210 @trublu2u @justreblogginfics @oklahomapeach @keyweegirlie

It’s a guy from Stockton, it’s always a guy from fucking Stockton.

It isn’t the first time you’ve been groped in the clubhouse, but it hasn’t happened in a long time, not since Bishop instated a zero policy. The girls were treated with respect here, it was a common courtesy.

Yuma were usually fine, but there’s always a problem with Stockton. It’s the reason Bishop clears out all the female bartenders before they show up. You don’t know if it’s a management issue because Ramos is a convicted rapist and his views on women have filtered down or if it’s the calibre of men they’re recruiting.

You don’t usually visit the clubhouse, but Carmen's asked you to swing by to pick up some donations for the community centre that Angel had dropped off. Valeria was growing like a weed and most of the clothing was new or almost new. He wanted it to go to good use in the community, they’d been there for him when he suddenly found himself with a two-week-old infant. He was paying it back or forward depending on how you looked at it.

You’re carrying the box of donations when it happens, a hand comes to rest on your ass, squeezing it tightly before an arm snakes around your waist drawing you into their lap. The box slips out of your hands, tumbling across the floor and the room falls silent.

“Ain’t you a pretty little thing?” A voice murmurs in your ear. A stranger’s lips brush the curve of your throat, unfamiliar stubble raking across your skin. “Where have they been keeping you?”

Your own hand comes to rest upon the one that encompasses your waist, gripping the two middle fingers before you wrench them back, breaking them. The crack of bone resounds through the room, a choked scream erupting out of the man whose lap your sitting in. You rise to your feet and turn to face him.

It’s Ramos.

He’s the only one who has the balls to go up against Bishop, to blatantly break clubhouse rules. You doubt he has any idea of your reputation; how deadly you really are. You look towards Bishop, he’s already out of his seat, his jaw tense, those dark eyes of his glittering with rage.

The whole reason Stockton are here is to discuss Santo Padre relinquishing control of the pipeline. Bishop wants to do it in the safest way possible and that means sitting down with both Yuma and Stockton to discuss the options. What you’ve just done might have usurped all of that.

“The bitch broke my fingers.” Ramos spits, his hand trembling as he holds it up.

“You’re lucky she didn’t cut them off and feed them to you.” Bishop snarls before jabbing his finger at Ramos. “You come in here with no fucking respect.”

Ramos leans forward, his elbows resting on the table as he meets Bishop’s gaze.

“Those are your rules not mine.” He says, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a smile. “If they’re not somebody’s old lady they’re fair game and I don’t see a ring on this one’s finger.”

“That’s not how we operate.” Bishop snaps, his eyes blazing.

“It is if you want to make this deal.” Ramos says, raising to his feet. “She needs to learn her place and I’m more than happy to be the one to teach her.”

“That’s not fucking happening.” Bishop informs the other man, his gaze full of fury. “Now get the fuck out of my club house before I allow El Cuchillo to cut your fucking dick off.”

“El Cuchillo?” Ramos laughs, jabbing his finger in your direction. “There’s no way this, cunt…”

Bishop inclines his head towards you. You realise what this is, him giving you his blessing. He’s had enough of Stockton, of Ramos and his demands, the way he treats the women he interacts with. If it wasn’t you, it could have been someone else, Carmen, Songbird, Stitches. Ramos needs to learn that their women are off limits and who better to teach him?

Ramos doesn’t see the punch coming, it’s a lighting fast blow to the nose that snaps Ramos’s head right back. Blood erupts, spattering the lower half of his face with crimson.

Two things happen when someone who’s untrained gets punched in the face, they flinch, or they flail. Ramos is a flailer, he comes straight back at you, fists swinging. You’re ready for it. You’ve spent years sparring with Nestor, someone with a much more advanced skillset that Ramos. Ramos is a thug, and a brawler.

The first hit he lands on you is a glancing blow, it hurts like hell, but you’ve taken worse, much worse. It gives you the space to manoeuvre, because he’s over extended, off balanced. You hit him with a right hook that turns his head. He spits blood onto Bishop’s table as you slip the ornate hair pin from your hair. It’s the one that Nestor gave you as a birthday present a couple of years ago, back when you were both still working for the cartel. The surgical steel glints in the light that’s streaming through the window before you dive it into Ramos’s palm, fixing it to the wood.

He screams, it’s a shrill, piercing sound that cuts through the air like a blade. Ramos reaches for the pin but you get there first, tearing it out before you grab the back of his head, slamming it hard into the table. You kick his legs apart, your palm pressing down on the back of his neck as you press the sharp end of the pin between his legs, jabbing it lightly against his balls.

“It’s not fun being in this position, is it?” You ask him. “I hope you think about that, the next time you even consider laying a hand on a woman.”

He curses at you Spanish, and you alter the trajectory of the pin just slightly, so it cuts through the denim of his jeans, scraping across his scotum.

“You know it will take the barest amount of pressure to make you eunuch.” You say conversationally. “Do you think they’d follow you then, that they’d still consider you a leader? Shall we find out?”

“Rosa.” Bishop says quietly, his face impassive as he watches Ramos struggle. “I think he gets the message.”

You sigh before pulling away, releasing Ramos as you take a step back. You wipe your hair pin across your jeans, smearing blood across the thigh. Bishop’s attention turns to Smokey, Stockton’s V.P.

“I’d be taking a vote if I were you.” He tells the other man, grasping the back of Ramos’s kutte and shoving him towards Smokey. “This asshole is going to be the downfall of your whole charter unless someone gets him in line.”

There two men share a look of understanding before Smokey loops Ramos’s arm around his neck and guides him towards the exit. Ramos shoots you a final hostile look before the two of them disappear out the door.

It barely closes behind them before Bishop looks at you and says “Fuck, I need a drink.”

Love Nestor? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you

[garbinge]

Minimum Wage

Nestor Oceteva x F!Galindo!Reader

Day 02 these April Prompts: “Minimum Wage”

Summary: You left the Galindo name and life behind, but it always seems to come back after you.  

A/N: Just something short, there’s something so intriguing to me about a Galindo sister who just ~hates~ the family business. 

Word Count: 1.4k words

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angsty, very angsty. 

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini (Not sure how many individual Mayans fics i’ll have in the future but happy to add anyone to any potential future fics!)

Part 2 

“Come on, can I please drive you home?” Nestor pleaded with you as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the run down diner in his slacks and suit jacket. 

“I told you, that’s not my home.” You said as you passed him with two plates in your hand. 

Carefully, you placed them on the table farthest from the door and asked if they needed anything else, taking out your guest check ready to take notes. After writing down their updated drink order you retreated back behind the counter and poured two more cups of coffee. 

“I have strict orders to not leave until I get you to agree to come home.” Nestor was now a step or two closer to the counter now. 

“Well, you better make yourself comfortable because my shift isn’t over for another 2 hours.” 

Your eyes didn’t even bother to meet him as you said it, but you took one of the coffees you just poured and left it on the third seat from the corner on the diner counter for him before you moved to take more orders. 

The lunch rush died down, with only a few minutes left of your shift, you made your way back to Nestor, pouring him what was probably his 3rd cup of coffee since being here.

“I’m not coming home.” You said as the liquid poured. 

“I know.” Nestor said nodding and not making eye contact with you. 

Your eyes jumped from the mug to his eyes. His hair had grown a little since you last saw him, his grip was firm  around the coffee mug, you took in his outfit fully, you never envisioned Nestor like this, that it would ever get to this point. 

Being Miguel’s younger sister, you grew up with Nestor. While Miquel would hang out with the eldest Oceteva, you would be stuck with the younger, both of the big brothers being forced to bring the younger siblings with them. Over time your relationship evolved from being stuck with Nestor to actually enjoying your time together. You started hanging out more on your own, you invited him over and you’d hang out for hours, sometimes days if your dad was out of town. 

It was sickening to you, to see how much things changed again. Nestor always felt like yours. Not in a possessive way but in a way that only you knew him, his secrets, his flaws, his mannerisms, his favorite things, his pet peeves. That was all information that only you knew, and now there was a whole new set of secrets, of flaws, of mannerisms that Miguel knew and you didn’t. That broke you. 

“Then why are you here?” You asked him genuinely. You believed that he truthfully knew there was no chance he was going to be bringing you home. Because just like he felt like yours for all those ways you knew him, you felt like his for the same reasons. 

You left home the minute you turned 18, similar to how Nestor fled to the Navy, you fled to here. You got a minimum wage job, a few of them, and made it work. You had a decent place, you paid your bills, you changed your name, completely separated yourself from the Galindo business. It came as a shock when you heard Nestor had done the complete opposite as you when he returned from the Navy. You had written him letters, you two talked frequently, and he never mentioned once about his plans for after. He just stopped writing. Then showed up to the diner one night very similarly to how he did now. 

“To see you.” His eyes now met yours. That look, it broke you. It was hard to stare at him and really look at him, it reminded you of everything you could have had, everything that was supposed to be yours but was robbed by his decision to go neck deep into the Galindo Cartel, by your brother who was dragging him in even deeper. 

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Your words left your mouth before you could think. “What’s the point of this, Nestor? I’m not coming home, you’re not leaving. Why put ourselves through this shit.” 

“Because I miss you.” He said without hesitation. 

It sounded like a pick up line, but you knew it wasn’t. Nestor wasn’t going to play a game with you, things were too complicated for that. If he wanted a quick fuck he could get that easily, he wasn’t hard on the eyes, he had access to money if it really was finding itself to be a difficult task but you knew that wasn’t what he was here for. 

“I miss you too.” You closed your eyes before turning and putting the coffee pot back. “But this, this isn’t going to help anyone.” 

“I don’t care about anyone. I care about you.” Nestor had planned this out, he didn’t come here on a whim, it was on Miguel’s orders, yes, but he didn’t come here without thinking through his words. It was something the Nestor you grew up with never did, but Navy Nestor always did. With every letter he sent you, there was thought, intention, the service matured him in a way that your pining over him turned from a childhood crush to the man you wanted to marry. The man you knew would be a good husband. Protective. Funny. Thoughtful. Smart. Aware. But he took all those traits and gave them to Miguel instead. 

“You care about Miguel.” 

“And you don’t?” He retorted back to you. 

“He’s my big brother. Of course I do, but I can’t spend my time worrying about him–caring about him, he made his choice just like I did.” You lifted your hands up in defeat. 

“You work minimum wage at 4 jobs.” Nestor didn’t mean for it to come out harsh but it did, he just meant to put things into perspective for you. And he did. 

“And yet, I’m happier than I ever was then.” Your words also didn’t mean to come out harsh but, it did. 

“You gave up everything.” Nestor phrased it weirdly, it wasn’t so much a statement but it wasn’t so much a question either, somewhere in the middle of both. 

“Yea, you did.” You said staring deep into his eyes. 

It got silent, things got tense while you took a deep breath and kicked off the counter behind you. 

“In another life, maybe we chose each other.” You hoped the statement offered some type of closure, you knew if you didn’t end this now it would never stop. “But in this one, we made our choices clear and we have to live with that.”

Nestor nodded, he stood up from the seat and reached to his back pocket for his wallet. 

You lifted your hand up and shook your head. “On me.” 

Nestor hesitated, it didn’t feel right but he also knew it was barely a dollar worth of coffee so he nodded and turned to exit the diner. The bells from the door jingled as he opened it, the breeze hit you along with the realization of the situation.

“Nes.” You called out his nickname as he turned to look at you. “I wish things were different.” You wanted to leave him with some kind of peace, but deep down you knew it was also for you too. 

“Me too.” He nodded his hand still keeping the door open. “I’ll see you.” 

With that he closed the door, letting his hands fall into his pockets while he retreated to his black escalade that was parked in the lot. 

Your eyes looked down behind the counter, where your duffel bag sat, packed with all the things you needed to start new again. Having your own life where your brother knew where to find you wasn’t ideal anymore, you couldn’t live with one leg still connected to the Galindo family, so you knew this was the best thing moving forward. You’d find new jobs, you already had one lined up, it was a promotion too, not a minimum wage gig but something that paid more and was way more stable with the hours. The life you wished you would have had with him, but you were going to make for yourself at least. 

“No,” You shook your head as you mumbled under your breath. “You won’t.” 

Part 2

#mayans mc #mayans fx #nestor oceteva #nestor x reader #nestor x galindo!reader #galindo!reader #galindo reader #galindo sister #nestor oceteva x reader #angst

[drabbles-mc]

Same Time Tomorrow

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader (And my favorite dynamic duo Marcus Alvarez & Nestor Oceteva)

Inspired by This Drabble by @withmyteeth​ 💛

Warnings: 18+, language, Marcus Alvarez 😌

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: This is written for and dedicated to Cricket and @fandomfaeryreads​, but everyone else is welcome to enjoy it too lmao 😂 I had no right to have this much fun writing this. I hope it’s what you guys had in mind! xo

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

Marcus looked over when he heard the front door opening. Nestor stepped into the house, head down slightly as he pushed the door shut behind him. Marcus scanned him over, noting the paper coffee cup clutched in his hand. Maybe he just missed it before, but Marcus was fairly certain that Nestor was never that into coffee up until recently.

“Marcus,” Nestor nodded to him in greeting as he made his way to the table where he was sitting.

Marcus returned the gesture, “You know, if you’re coming here, you don’t have to stop on the way for coffee,” he nodded towards the coffee maker on the counter in the kitchen, “If I can figure out how to use it, you can.”

Nestor nodded, trying to think carefully about his answer, not wanting to admit the real reason he was now making daily stops at the coffee shop, “Alright.”

He was good enough at reading people to see the thought that went behind the one-word answer, but he chose not to comment on it. Nestor’s business was his own. He shrugged, sipping out of his own mug, “Alright.”

The following afternoon, Nestor found himself parking on the street outside the coffee shop once again. He was hoping that eventually, the law of large numbers would have to work in his favor. If he showed up and saw you enough, there would have to come a day when he’d be able to have a real conversation with you, maybe even get your number. He was hoping that the fact that you hadn’t picked a new place to get coffee from meant the universe was trying to work in his favor. It was almost like a game now, and he’d never been good at losing.

He walked inside, causing the chime on the door to sound as he crossed the threshold. The barista behind the counter smiled when she saw him, already knowing what his order was going to be. At least someone at the coffee shop was happy to see him every day, even if it wasn’t who he wanted.

“Hey, Nestor,” her smile was bright, voice bubbly as always as she greeted him, “The usual?”

He nodded, offering up a smirk in return, “Yea,” sure, he wasn’t interested in her, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t get a little bit of enjoyment out of her being interested in him

And you clocked the entire thing from the other end of the counter as you waited for your coffee order to be ready. You rolled your eyes, returning your attention to your phone as you waited for your name to be called. You tried not to listen to the two of them talking, but your ears instantly picked up on the sounds of their voices.

“It’ll be ready in a minute,” she handed him his change with a grin.

“Thank you,” he tucked a few of the bills into the tip jar before stepping away to wait for his drink. He saw you standing and waiting as well. And, despite the fact that he could see you scrolling on your phone, he also knew that you had been listening to him, maybe even watching him too, since he walked in. He landed himself next to you, leaving just enough space between you to not be crowding you, “He—”

You didn’t even let him finish the word before locking your phone with more emphasis than necessary, looking over at him with a sigh, “If you’re seeing me here, Nestor,” the attitude was dripping from the way you said his name, mocking the barista just the tiniest bit even though none of this had anything to do with her and everything to do with him, “then it’s not the time to try and talk to me.”

“Maybe I just can’t help myself.”

The slick smirk curling the edge of his mouth made you want to roll your eyes so hard that they’d get stuck in the back of your head. Maybe that would finally get him to leave you alone. You sighed, “Maybe you should work a little harder on your restraint, then.”

“I wouldn’t have to show up here to see you every day if you’d just give me your number, you know,” he said it so casually, like the two of you were at a point where asking for your number was the logical next step.

Your laugh was hollow, “If that’s the only reason you’re showing up here, then you’re wasting your time and your money,” a different barista called out your name to come and get your drink, which you did gladly, “Save yourself the trouble and ask the girl at the counter out instead. Seems like, for some reason, she actually wants to get to know you.”

Nestor smirked, shaking his head at the abrasiveness you met him with. Something about you told him that if you really saw him as an actual problem, he wouldn’t be able to get within six feet of you. So he was content to continue playing the game, “Same time tomorrow?” he asked after you with a chuckle.

You didn’t turn around to face him as you kept walking towards the door, but he saw the shake of your head as you exited. He smiled to himself, pulling out his phone while he waited since the real reason he was there had just walked out the door. It was only another minute before the same bubbly voice as before called out his name again, letting him know that his drink was ready.

“See you tomorrow?” her voice was light, laced with a little bit of hope.

He nodded as he took the drink from her, “Of course.”

With the way that things had panned out, Nestor found himself showing up at Marcus’s house long before the sun came up. Rather than going in and running the risk of waking up the kids, Nestor waited in the driveway, opting to text Marcus to let him know that he’d arrived. A couple minutes went by before the front door open and Alvarez stepped out, a travel mug in each hand for the two of them.

Marcus handed one to Nestor before walking over and getting into the driver’s side of the car. He saw the vague look of confusion on Nestor’s face as he stared down at the mug in his hands, “Too early for your usual stop, huh?” even though Marcus kept his expression neutral, his tone said that there was more to the comment than there seemed to be.

Morning had come and gone by the time that Nestor and Marcus finally had a moment to stop and catch their breath from the running around they’d been doing. They drove through town, assuming that they were heading back to Marcus’s house until it was time to head off to the next thing. Neither of them were saying anything, both of them being men who could appreciate the silence. As Marcus went down the main drag in town, Nestor saw the coffee shop starting to loom closer. He kept his face neutral, knowing that now was not the time to be pulling over and grabbing a drink to-go. Plus, he certainly didn’t want to ask Marcus to pull over for something like that.

When Marcus saw the coffee shop at the end of block, though, he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t just the tiniest bit curious as to what kept Nestor coming back there every day. How good could a cup of coffee really be? So, without saying anything to the man in the passenger seat next to him, he pulled over to park on the side of the street.

Nestor was unable to hide his confusion, “What’s up, Marcus?”

“This is it, right?” he motioned towards the shop on the other side of the street, “Where you always go?”

“Yea, but—”

“I just wanna see what it’s all about,” he was already unbuckling his seatbelt, “Besides, I’m fuckin’ tired. Could use the coffee.”

For the first time all day, Nestor hesitated, “Right.”

Marcus noticed that he was still strapped in, not making any move to get out, “You coming?”

Nestor knew that he couldn’t really say no. Fighting the urge to sigh, he nodded as he unbuckled and opened his door, “Yea.”

Like clockwork, the door chimed, the peppy barista behind the counter looked up, and her wide smile grew even wider when she saw who had walked through the door. It was the first time he’d shown up with company, but she almost didn’t notice the man who walked in with him.

“Hey, Nestor,” she was already reaching for a cup and getting her marker ready, “Usual?”

He nodded, his usually flirtatious attitude subdued with Marcus standing next to him watching the entire thing unfold, “Yea, uh, make it two,” he gestured to the man standing next to him.

Her eyes finally made their way to the man next to him, “Name for yours?” she asked with a grin as she grabbed a second cup.

“Marcus,” he offered her a soft smile.

“Marcus,” she repeated the name back to him as she wrote it on the cup, “Alright! Should be ready in a couple minutes.”

“Thank you,” Nestor handed her a few bills to pay for their drinks.

Marcus watched the two of them closely. It was absolutely impossible to miss the way that the girl behind the counter smiled and batted her eyes at Nestor. And for a moment, Alvarez was satisfied thinking that that was the reason Nestor was coming here all the time. When he was younger, he’d certainly done stranger and stupider things to see a cute girl who was interested in him. He wondered why Nestor didn’t just say that. Of all the things that the two of them did together, the things they had come to know about each other through the nature of their jobs, he found it strange that that’s where Nestor drew his line in the sand.

Since they had a couple minutes to wait, Marcus occupied his time with looking around the small café. It was a nice little spot, and for as often as he drove through town, he’d never made the time to stop in. It wasn’t necessarily his type of place, but he wondered if maybe Izzy and Tessa would like it. It seemed like it could be their kind of place.

When he returned his attention to the man that he’d walked in with, the whole reason he’d stopped at the coffee shop in the first place, he saw him standing next to you. He couldn’t quite hear what was being said between you, but as he moved closer he could easily see the look on your face, and it wasn’t one that showed any kind of amusement at all. In stark contrast to that, there was a smug grin on Nestor’s face that Marcus didn’t think he had ever seen before.

“All good, kid?” he asked as he landed himself next to Nestor.

Both of you stopped the snarky exchange that you were locked into. When you turned to face the man who had joined you, your eyes widened. You looked back and forth between the two of them, immediately trying to figure out what the dynamic was. The man looked at you, but he was clearly more focused on Nestor, and for some reason you enjoyed that immensely.

You cocked an eyebrow as you looked at Nestor, “Thought bringing a wing-man might improve your chances?”

Marcus was thankful that he had years of experience in keeping a straight face, because that was not what he thought you were going to say. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Nestor shook his head, truly faltering for the first time since he’d started attempting to shoot his shot with you, “He’s not—”

“I’m Marcus,” the man held his hand out to you.

You tilted your head, smiling as you shook his hand and told him your name in return. It only served to pique your curiosity even more. Nestor couldn’t believe that the first genuine smile he’d ever seen on you was directed at Marcus.

“Nice to meet you,” once you broke off the handshake, you gestured to Nestor, “He’s been coming here unsupervised, you know.”

“I’ll have to shorten up his leash, then, huh?” there was a small smirk threatening to curl the edge of his mouth.

You nodded, trying to keep a serious face despite the urge to laugh, “Please do,” the barista called your name and you wasted no time stepping up and grabbing your drink, “Nice meeting you,” you gave him a nod as you walked by. You paused for a fraction of a second, waiting to see what remark Nestor was going to leave you with today, but you were met with silence. That was more interesting than the rest of it, and it made you once again start to wonder who that man was to Nestor.

Both the men watched you leave. Once the door shut behind you, Nestor busied himself with looking anywhere but at Marcus. Marcus, however, simply stared and waited for Nestor to look back at him. He kept the laughter inside, but the amusement was starting to show on his face. Even though he wasn’t looking directly at him, Nestor could practically feel the man’s expression.

“Don’t,” was all he said as he gave a slight shake of his head.

“’S got nothing to do with the coffee, then,” Marcus clasped his hands in front of him as he studied Nestor’s reaction to the comment.

“I don’t know—”

His sentence was cut short by the barista calling out both of their names. She flashed them each a smile as they came to retrieve their coffees, “Have a good rest of your day, guys.”

“You too,” Nestor responded on behalf of both of them. As they walked towards the door, he could still feel Alvarez watching him, “What?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. He had to admit that it was good, “I get it now.”

“It’s not—”

“She’s good for you,” he pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the car, “We can come back tomorrow.”

Nestor stopped, not really able to believe what he just heard. Marcus saw a sixty-second interaction and had already come to his own myriad of conclusions. Which was concerning on its own, but the most concerning part of that had been the word we. Nestor opened his mouth to protest but he didn’t get the chance.

Marcus was already sitting, buckling himself in, “C’mon, we got shit to do.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #marcus alvarez #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[happysoldlady]

Coney Island - Nestor Oceteva

a/n: this is a lot longer than the others because I got a little carried away. also this song is top 5 from evermore, argue with the wall. I couldn't decide which lyrics to use, they're all too good. I might do a part two to this? idk I kinda like the storyline. y'all can shit all over my dreams if you wish lol.

part 2 link

warnings: idk everything? heavy, problematic drinking, violence, suggestive conversation, angst!!!!

-----

"Break my soul in two looking for you But you're right here If I can't relate to you anymore Then who am I related to?"

The longer you stare into the abyss of a lonely house, you can't help but wonder how you got here. Consumed by what? Love? Lust? Greed? You met Nestor at a time in your life where you needed someone to take care of you, and now, sitting alone in the house the two of you put so much of yourselves into, you can't figure out who that person was.

It's only midnight and you've been doing this long enough to know that Nestor won't be home for another couple hours. So you sit back into the couch, glass of wine in hand, sipping a generous amount before letting out a quiet sigh. You don't bother turning on the television, knowing you won't pay attention to anything on it anyway. Nothing could possibly distract you from the fact that the man you love has been absent for the better part of a year, and you've allowed it.

Allowing it has been easier than walking away. You've invested too much of yourself into this, and walking away feels more like a betrayal to yourself than anything else. Meeting him for the first time all those years ago seems like a fever dream. Something that happened in another lifetime, and now you're stuck in this one, desperately trying to grasp onto something, anything to hold on to the life you once shared that you'd do anything to get back.

You can see it like it was yesterday. You were working at a shop your grandmother owned late one night, wiping down the counters following a particularly rowdy group of teenagers. You sold treats: ice cream, brownies, fudge, etc. It was just something part-time to do while you figured out your next move, but honestly, you kind of enjoyed it. The shop door chimed just as you were rounding back around the counter to toss the dirty rag in the back. You had to do a double take when you looked up as you saw none other than Miguel Galindo and his men standing in the lobby. All dressed in suits, sunglasses resting on their noses, looking expensive overall. You cleared your throat, giving them all a warm smile.

"Hi," You squeaked out, avoiding eye contact with the infamously cocky Miguel. "What can I get for you?"

"My son loves your butterscotch soft serve. Can I just get a scoop of that maybe in a cup? He's only two." Miguel says politely, adjusting the cufflinks of his sleeve.

You nod, "Yeah of course, any toppings or anything?"

Miguel looks at you like the question takes him off guard. "Uh, I guess not."

You nod, and then get to work. You slide the cup of ice cream over toward him, sticking a spoon in it, and grabbing a napkin.

"Can I get anything else for you guys?" You end up making eye contact with the guy standing near the tables in, behind Miguel. The only one besides Miguel that wasn't wearing sunglasses, although you weren't complaining. The man was very attractive. His tongue darts out his bottom lip as he makes eye contact with you, his back stiffening.

"Actually, yes. My wife comes in here a lot, and she gets some sort of fudge. I don't know if you still have it. A coconut white chocolate something?" Miguel asks, eyes dancing over the fudge flavors. You smile and nod.

"Yeah, it's seasonal but I think we may have some in the back. Give me just a second." You say before scurrying, kicking yourself for not asking how much he wanted. You lean back around the door, "I've got 2 pounds left."

He nods curtly, "We'll take all of it."

Once his fudge is wrapped up, you ring him up, wishing him well. As they're leaving, the man you made eye contact with before lingers, giving you a once over, then making his way out the door. Days later, you've almost completely forgot about the encounter, you see a rather familiar pair of braids stroll into your shop, and the rest is history.

As the clock ticks, you end up just drinking straight from the bottle. The fuss and the fight have left you once and for all. After all, you figure, there's no need to pretend like you aren't going to drink the entire bottle anyway. And then Nestor will come home, notice, and you'll tell him to wipe the worry off his face. You're not entirely sure that he could fix it even if he cared enough to want to.

"And if this is the long haul How'd we get here so soon? Did I close my first around something delicate? Did I shatter you?"

Nestor dreads going home. And it's not solely because you don't look at him with the same fire in your eyes anymore. But he just really hates to see you drinking yourself into a stupor every night because of a life he can't get out of either.

He loves you. That much has always been true. He's adored you from the moment your eyes connected in that ice cream shop, and in that regard, nothing's changed. But there was nothing he could do to stop the ever changing circumstances around him. His life belonged to the Galindo cartel, and it didn't matter how much he hated watching you succumb to the darkness of it, he still had a job to do. His loyalties lied with them no matter how much he loved you.

So, yeah, he fucking hated going home. And as he walks toward the front door, he wonders what flavor of wine you've chosen to drown in tonight.

"Y/N? Mi amor?" He calls, unloading his pockets and turning the safety on his handgun. He hears you before he sees you. The deep breath, and then your unsteady feet.

Your hair is disheveled from the couch, the bottle of...white wine in your grasp, and you lean against the wall. Your eyes meet his, a watery grin on your lips.

"Missed you." You mumble as he walks toward you. He tilts his head, pressing a sweet kiss into your hairline, his hand sliding down to cup your face in his hand as he stares down at you.

His eyes glide over the wine bottle. You're down to the last fourth of the bottle, and the very broken part of him wonders if you're on the comeback. At least you haven't finished it yet. He slips the bottle easily out of your grasp, gulping down the last fourth, then leaning into to plant a kiss to your lips.

"It's 3am, amor. What are you doing up?" He asks, voice quiet, lips brushing against yours.

You let out a sigh, pecking his lips. "You know me, I don't really sleep if you aren't here."

Nestor nods, setting the wine bottle down, undoing the first few buttons his shirt. "Well, I'm here now."

He watches his words roll over you, settling into your cracks and threatening to split you wide open. Your watery grin slips off of your face, and one of your hands runs through your hair absentmindedly.

"That's it?" You ask, your voice barely registering to his ears.

He doesn't want to hurt you, really. But he can't fuck you like this, and he won't coddle you into reversing whatever story you've managed to spin around him tonight. Icing you out isn't his intention, it's just a very unfortunate consequence of losing his trust.

He stares at you a minute longer, then turns to walk down the hallway, into your bedroom, turning on the hot water in the shower. And when you hear the bathroom door close, you crumble.

"Lost again with no surprises Disappointments, close your eyes And it gets colder and colder When the sun goes down"

You had plans. And considering you were hardly ever invited anywhere, you were almost too excited. Fitted black dress, tall heels, dark makeup and hair styled to perfection. You were just finishing strapping on your shoes when your front door opens. You jerk your head up in surprise, meeting Nestor's confused gaze.

"You're home early." You comment, leaning back down to adjust your heels.

"Yeah I asked Mikey for the night off..." Nestor trails off as he notices how dressed up you are. He had plans too. Plans for the two of you, in a desperate attempt to reconnect. "Where are you headed for the night?" He keeps it casual, not wanting to guilt you into a change of plans.

"Girls night with a coworker." You say, giving him a wide grin, only to notice his face falter at your words. Your eyebrows furrow as you sit up, eyes scanning him. You stand, watching his eyes wash over you, drinking you in.

"Well," He mumbles, meeting your gaze once more. You almost expect him to object, but he doesn't. He wouldn't. "I hope you girls have fun."

You nod, giving him a slight smile. You open your mouth, wanting to invite him to tag along, be the Girls Night Out bodyguard, but you quickly close it. He didn't take the night off to babysit you and your friends.

"I'll text you the location." You say, grabbing your purse off the hook, running over to him to give him a goodbye kiss. He gives you a slight grin, and a curt nod.

"If you need me..." He trails off, meeting your lips once more, giving your hips a squeeze, then releasing you. You nod, muttering out a quick 'of course' before heading out for the night. And you do text him the address, adding a not-so-subtle winky face as an invitation. You kind of want him to show up. Tell you how hot you look. How he can't stand the thought of another man looking at you. But he doesn't, and you desperately try to hide your disappointment in the bottom of a margarita pitcher.

Nestor, a few beers deep himself, stares at the winky face for a long time. Types out a few messages, deletes all of them, letting out a frustrated groan. He doesn't know what you want. You won't tell him, and he's never been the type of man to guess. So he decides that if you text him again, he'll show up. But hours pass by, and nothing, so he drinks a few more beers, pausing one bottle at his lips when he hears your giggles on the porch, and then a key in the door. He doesn't have it in him to tell you the door's unlocked.

He hears you stumble in, your heels clicking against the floor of the foyer. He stands, setting his beer down and meeting your very inebriated figure halfway. Your tangled up in your coat when you feel Nestor's hands slide up to help you remove it. You mumble out a 'thank you', staring up at him as he hangs your coat up in the small closet in your entryway. He even puts it on the hanger. You notice that he's got his hair down, and it makes you smile. He turns and does a double take when he meets your eyes, furrowing his eyebrows when he sees the wistful look on your face.

"What is it? You okay?" He says cautiously, holding out his hands. Honestly, you look like you're way past fucked up, and he's concerned you're going to throw up. He's in no mood to clean up vomit on his night off.

You nod, leaning against the wall, trying to focus on him enough not to fall down. "I really wish you would've shown up tonight."

He tilts his head at your words, and opens his mouth to apologize but you interrupt him, "No, you didn't want to spend your night off babysitting. I get it. I just," You pause, letting out a sigh, and running a finger over his cheek, "I just really miss you."

Nestor crosses the floor in a matter of milliseconds, his hands coming up to grip your face in his hands. His lips press against yours, his body backing yours into the wall. You tangle your fingers in his hair, and revel in the groan he lets out. But he breaks the fevered kiss, his breathing heavy against your lips, as he rests his hands against the wall on either side of your head. He doesn't say anything, though. He doesn't need to. He said it all with his mouth.

"The question pounds my head What's a lifetime of achievement If I pushed you to the edge? But you were too polite to leave me"

Following the Girls Night fiasco, Nestor invites you to an event hosted by the Galindos. He, of course, will be on duty but Miguel usually lets his men peruse, only jumping in if needed at events like this. Really, Miguel had wanted to get everybody together to show his appreciation for all their hard work. Miguel, after all, was no stranger to the toll it could take on relationships. Nestor, however, tried to ignore how disappointed he was that Mikey had scheduled this party on his birthday. You and him had made...other arrangements for the evening.

But you dressed up, swiped on your best lipstick, and showed up on Nestor's arm anyway. Mostly because you knew how important it was to him that you come along, even if the two of you had been in a weird place.

As you near the doors of Miguel's mansion, Nestor plants a kiss to your head (carefully as not to fuck up your hair), and then opens the door for you. Hand in hand, you walk in, greeting both Miguel and Emily and then turning to greet the fellow men.

Throughout the night, everyone seemed pretty friendly. The other henchmen had riveting stories of Nestor to tell you, much to his demise, but he enjoyed watching you laugh along so he allowed it. You decided to take the night off from drinking and only had a glass of champagne when Miguel made his toast. You could see the preemptive glint in his eye though, and it made you wonder what tricks he had up his sleeve for the evening.

You decided to leave your gut feeling alone, and let yourself enjoy the one night you and Nestor had had out together in a while. The two of you danced to the music, mingled with the other guests, and genuinely seemed to be having a good time. And then the thing happens. And you had been waiting for it.

Nestor's hand tenses up in yours, and his focus is on something else. Definitely not on his dolled up wife, trying to get him to dance again. He glances around the room and you see the moment that Miguel gives him the signature head nod. Nestor's entire disposition changes and his eyes soften only a little when they look at you, he lifts the hand he's holding to his lips, then leans down to your ear, "El deber llama, mi amor."

You let out a sigh, turning to meet Miguel's gaze also. But his focus is on Emily, and you find a seat, letting your feet rest from the assault of the heels you had worn. You swirl the remaining champagne in your glass aimlessly, before downing it, and then smiling as Emily plops down next to you.

"It's hard." She blurts out, sipping on the drink in her hand.

"What is?" You ask curiously.

She turns to look at you, "Staying. Knowing what they're doing instead of this."

You let out a sigh, shaking your head, "And what are they doing?"

She doesn't answer you at first, just sips on her wine and watches all the other guests then she lets out what's probably meant to be a laugh and says, "That's the million dollar question, Y/N."

"And do you miss the rogue Who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?"

"I just want you to be honest!" You found yourself shouting, although you know Nestor doesn't respond to it. You're just angry, and hurt. Tired of trying to figure out how to navigate his world, and yours.

"I am honest." He says, throwing up his hands. "I can't give you all the details because I don't know. I just take the orders."

"Bullshit. I'm not an enemy, Nestor. I'm your wife!" You yell, and you know you shouldn't be but fuck, he's infuriating. "Don't downplay your role in the cartel to me. I've watched you earn it. I helped you earn it!"

Nestor laughs, "And what did you do that helped me get good with Mikey?"

"Oh! That's it. I don't get to know things about your life outside of this house because I'm separate from it. Is that it?" You egg on, heated. "You think that because I haven't killed anyone personally my hands are clean?"

Nestor rolls his eyes, "Nobody said tha-"

"You didn't have to." You cut him off, your voice calmer now. The two of you glare at each other for a few moments and you watch Nestor's resolve fade.

"I have appreciated your support." Nestor says quietly, giving you a genuine look of appreciation. "But you are on a need to know basis. And you don't need to know this." Correction: he didn't want you to know this. He didn't want you to be anymore disappointed in him than you already were. It's one thing to hear rumors about the things your husband gets up to when he's not home, it's quite another to hear him say it.

You nod, your eyes narrow as you glare at him. "Well, I guess I should be thanking you, then?" You don't wait for a reply, just run a frustrated hand through your hair and walk to your bedroom, making sure the door slam is extra dramatic. And when you hear the front door slam, you slide down the door, putting your head in your hands. Hurt, but mostly just confused about what the fuck that argument was actually about.

"...Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray? A universe away And when I got into the accident The sight that flashed before me was your face..."

Mierda was the only thing Nestor could think. Mierda, he fucked up. He should've taken this guy out when he had the chance, and now here he is, tied up, being beaten for information he would never give. Apparently, loyalty even overrides unbearable pain. And he was most definitely in unbearable pain.

The punches just kept coming, to the face, ribs, stomach. One guy even started kicking at his legs. He would kill him the slowest, he figured. What kind of asshole goes for your legs when you're tied up to a fucking chair?

"Yo sé que tú sabes. Bien podría decirnos." The man said, leaning down with a cocky grin on his face. Nestor found it quite amusing that he had yet to actually tell him what information he wanted, but kept beating him anyway. Not that Nestor would ever say anything, but this seemed like some bullshit. Nestor took several more blows to the face and stomach, doubling over in pain, his grunts muffled by the bandana stuffed in his mouth.

"Es ese cabrón de jefe, o tu chica. You choose." The man sneered, and at the mere mention of you, Nestor's eyes narrow. Who the fuck was this guy and how did he know about you? He starts going through his mental checklist of where you would be today. It's Thursday...probably evening? You got off work at 4:30 so you'd definitely be home. Nestor closes his eyes, not giving anything away but his insides start bubbling in panic. If you're home, they're going to find you. If Miguel didn't intervene soon, he would have to tell them something, anything. Nestor would make up something, or tell them something insignificant. Play dumb? No. They obviously knew he was Miguel's right hand.

The man in front of him breaks his thoughts with another hard punch to the face. Nestor turns his head slowly back to the man, a glare planted in his gaze. If he could just get his hands free, he could take this guy. He tugs on his restraints, hard, hearing a slight crack of hope but he huffs in frustration as that's all he gets. A meaningless, twinge of hope.

Meanwhile, you're dancing in your kitchen, stirring the soup you had spent the last hour or so making. You turn off the burner, reaching up into the cabinets for a bowl, only to feel a hand hastily grab your waist, and then the other pressing against your mouth. You try to twist, screaming against the hand in alarm. As your kicking against nothing, another figure comes at you, masked and grabs your legs, carrying you out your back door and throwing you into a van.

You bang your head against the door on the other side, letting out a groan of pain, looking up to see none other than your husband staring at you with wide eyes. His leg bouncing as he glances around the van or something, anything to break the two of you free. You feel a kick to one of your legs and you sit up, pulling your knees to your chest as you stare up at one of the masked assailants.

He roughly jerks your hands out and duct tapes your wrists together, then slapping a piece over your mouth. Your eyes meet Nestor's again, and he looks you over, checking for any injuries. He figures that if they actually hurt you, he'll lose his cool, and he hasn't yet. Only probably the bump on the back of your head, he figures. You sit quietly as both men climb into the front, swerving the van around wherever they're taking you. You see Nestor trying to see but the frustration on his face tells you it's unfamiliar. His eyes meet yours again, his foot reaching out to you and you grin against the duct tape, stretching your foot out to touch your shoe to his. He's trying to comfort you, and while it doesn't do much for your nerves, it makes you smile.

The van takes a sharp turn and you tumble over, hitting your head again on the bench next to you. You whimper, scooting back up. But you don't have time to dwell because all at once, the van door slides open behind you and arms pull you out, closing behind you with a more than stressed Nestor. If he can't see you, he can't comfort you (or himself, for that matter). His wild eyes meet the mans, and the amusement he sees behind them infuriates him. God, he hopes Miguel pulls through soon. If they hurt you, he won't forgive himself.

"Last chance..." The man says, his tone condescending. Nestor stares up at him, his stance resolved. This earns him another punch to the stomach, but then he hears the van door shut and it's just him. And his thoughts.

He's not sure how long goes by, but it's dark out when the van door opens, and Nestor's almost lost his mind trying to figure out who the fuck these guys are and what they want. If he knew, he could manipulate the information in their favor.

"Alright, pendejo," The man begins, but before he can finish, a bullet rings out and he drops to the ground. Nestor's relieved for a moment, until he sees you stepping into the van, blood dripping down your arm and a bruise forming on your left cheek. He's absolutely elated to see the pistol in your hand, though. Your breathing is heavy as you tug at his restraints, frustrated grunts leaving your throat as they won't rip. He watches you lean down, searching the guy for a knife, and he smiles slightly at your small fist pump when you find what you're looking for. The knife slides through the material with ease, and he immediately pulls the bandana out, spitting it into the van floor. His bruised hands come up to your face, his eyes searching you for anything life threatening. You shake your head, giving him a kiss to the cheek.

"I'm good, mi amor." Your voice is a little shaky, but overall, you look okay and he gives you a nod, eyes apologetic. He presses a long kiss to your hair, then slips the handgun from your gasp, wrapping an arm around you and stepping out the van, eyes on the prowl for any more men.

Nestor digs into his pocket, handing you the gun back, but standing in front of you, eyes peeled as he waits for Miguel to answer. It seems that only minutes later, Nestor sees an Escalade roll up, only excited to see Marcus just this once.

Miguel steps out of the vehicle, and you have to do a double take because he's not in a suit. Nestor and him speak quietly as Marcus leads you to the car, helping you inside and then asking you questions about the men. You tell him everything you noticed, which wasn't much, and lean your head back against the seat, resting your eyes. Marcus goes to join the other two men, who are still talking in hushed tones.

Nestor is so invested in trying to talk through who the men was, that when he glances up and sees your eyes closed, he panics. You hit your head really fucking hard, and there's a rule about falling asleep with a concussion. He's quick on the draw, at your side in a moment, shaking you awake by your shoulder.

"Y/N? Need you to wake up for me, mi dulce." You groan awake, eyes meeting his in frustration as relief washes over him. His hand trails over the cut on your arm, then sliding up to cup your cheek. "Might be concussed."

#taylor x mayan series #nestor oceteva #mayans mc #mayans imagine #sons of anarchy #mayans fx #mayans #mayans drabble #nestor x reader #nestor oceteva x reader

[imagineredwood]

🥀 Seven Deadly Sins - Nestor 🥀

Summary: Nestor goes all out with breakfast on the morning of your first anniversary.

Pairing: Nestor Oceteva x reader 

Warnings: None

Word count: 624

You grinned as you looked at the counter, every different kind of breakfast food you could think of splayed out. Waffles, pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, maple syrup, blueberry syrup, strawberry syrup, cool whip, fresh fruit. There was an overabundance of food and you looked at Nestor in disbelief, the man standing off to the side with a smile.

“This is so much food, Nes.”

Pushing off of the wall, he walked toward you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Only the best for my girl. We gotta start the day off right. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?”

You nodded reluctantly, knowing that he was technically right.

“I know it’s our anniversary, but…”

“But nothing. It’s our one-year anniversary and I made sure that you were going to have a breakfast fit for a queen before we start our day.”

You grinned and kissed him passionately, arms around his neck. He had called you over this morning and told you not to eat, that he would have breakfast ready. You hadn’t expected this though. This was beyond what you had in mind and the fact that he had gotten someone to put all of this together just for you warmed your heart. Nestor pulled his lips away from yours with a happy sigh and then motioned to the counter before handing you a plate.

“Serve as much as you want, babe.”

You took a little bit of everything and then sat down at the table with your man, both of you eating in silence for a little while before the conversation picked back up. Looking over at him, you smiled, loving when you got to see him with his hair down. You were used to seeing him always put together and dressed, fancy shirts, and smooth braids. It was nice to see him laid back in sweats and a regular white tee, curls loose.

“I love how you look when you’re like this.”

The cartel member looked up from his waffle with a lopsided grin.

“What? Sloppy?”

“Normal.”

Nestor’s eyes stayed on you for a few moments before he leaned back in his chair, motioning for you to come to him. You stood from your chair and walked over to him, smiling as he pursed his lips for a kiss. You leaned down and indulged him before standing back up straight, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as he held you to him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He was offering you pieces of fruit then as he explained what he had planned for the day, feeding you and himself as well. Soon enough you were both full, tummies feeling distended as you finished everything that was on your plates. Standing up with you, Nestor rubbed his stomach as he stretched.

“I ate way too much.”

You nodded, holding your own tummy.

“So did I.”

You both chuckled as you stared at each other, Nestor sparing a glance at the couch.

“How about we just chill for a little while, let the food settle, and then we can get ready to go out for the day.”

That idea sounded much more appealing currently than the prospect of heading out to town on such a full stomach. Walking with Nestor, you both sat down on the couch, reclining to make it easier to breathe. He turned on the TV and held the remote with his left hand scrolling, while his right reached over to grab onto yours, holding it as he searched. And in that moment, you were more than ok with simply spending the day with him in the house, not needing to go out and be spoiled.

Besides, you could both cook dinner together that way.

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#mayans mc #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #seven deadly sins anniversary drabble event #mayans imagine #imagines

[nestor423]