Hey everyone, trying something different with this one, it's any idea I've been toying with for a while. I wanna get a feel, to see if anyone is interested in reading this one. Let me know in the comments.
Minnie is a huge fan of Mayans MC, but after the death of her beloved Coco, grief and unknown forces pull her into Santo Padre itself. Suddenly trapped in the gritty, dangerous world she once only watched from afar, Minnie must navigate suspicion, loyalty, and the harsh realities of club life.
Determined to rewrite fate, she fights to save Coco, Riz, and Creeper from deadly consequences, but some things won’t change no matter how hard she tries. As she gets closer to the truth, Minnie begins to realize that the world she knew from the show may not be the whole story, especially when it comes to Coco and those she thought she understood.
With the club watching her every move and love complicating everything, Minnie learns that living in this world means risking everything to protect those she cares for.
After Coco’s death in the show, Minnie couldn’t shake the grief. It wasn’t the first time she’d been crushed when one of her favorite characters was killed off, but this time it felt different, more intense. Coco wasn’t just a character; he felt real, like someone she knew and loved. In a haze of frustration and heartbreak, she decided to immortalize him with a tattoo, a tribute to his life, his struggles, and the bond she felt with him through the screen. It felt silly doing it, but somehow it just felt right.
As Minnie walked in and out of tattoo shops, she became discouraged. So far, all of them were either busy, inattentive, or way out of her budget. One shop she walked into had the tattoo artist lying on the couch, stoned out of his mind. Nope, she stepped out just as quickly as she stepped in. There was one last shop she was going to give a try, a tiny place she nearly missed while heading home.
When she stepped inside, the artist welcomed her. He seemed friendly—salt-and-pepper hair tied back, brown eyes that seemed ancient and all too knowing, as if they’d seen more than a lifetime. The creases around his eyes only solidified the feeling that this man carried a weight of wisdom and mystery.
Minnie shifted slightly, feeling the soft cotton of her loose blouse brush comfortably over her curves. Her shorter frame made her feel a little swallowed by the high ceiling, but she straightened her shoulders.
“What are we looking for?” His voice was thick with an accent she couldn’t quite place.
“I was looking for something to sort of honor someone,” she said hesitantly.
“Is this someone who has passed recently?”
Minnie nodded.
“I can do angel wings, an infinity symbol with his...” he gestured vaguely “...name? Or a heart.” But then his gaze sharpened, locking on her as if he was reading her soul. “Though I don’t think that’s what you’re after.”
“No,” she admitted, glancing at the walls of displayed artwork. “I was thinking something more like that.” She pointed to a piece of a Mayan warrior in full battle gear.
He nodded thoughtfully. “I think I know exactly what you’re looking for.”
He led her to the counter, but instead of flipping through the binders of artwork on display, he unlocked a drawer beneath the register and pulled out a book so ancient Minerva was afraid it would crumble into dust. The pages held strong, though, as he carefully flipped through them until he found what he was looking for.
“This is what you want.” His tone was certain, not questioning.
The design immediately drew Minnie in. It was a Mayan tribal design, similar to ones she’d seen before but different, intricate, unique, and etched with an inscription she couldn’t read. It felt personal, almost as if it were meant for her. The inscription drew her eye, its flowing curves and sharp edges creating an almost hypnotic pattern. She ran her fingers over it, the ancient symbols cool against her skin.
“What does this say?” she asked.
The artist’s eyes glinted with something unreadable. “The words speak of destiny and connection,” he said vaguely. “They’re not meant to be fully understood yet. But you will, in time.”
Minnie frowned slightly but nodded. The design spoke to her in a way she couldn’t explain.
“I can add his name into the design,” the artist offered.
She agreed, and he smiled as though he knew she would. He worked quickly, his movements sure and precise, but something about the air in the room felt… strange. Heavy. When the final stroke of the tattoo gun hit her skin, the ink suddenly burned, a searing pain so intense she gasped out loud. But just as quickly, it subsided, leaving her shaken.
“Pain is part of the process,” the artist said, his tone almost reassuring. Then, leaning closer, he added in a voice barely above a whisper, “Remember, the ink doesn’t just mark your skin. It marks your path.” Before she could respond, he straightened, his expression unreadable. “Take care of it. This tattoo has power, more than you realize.”
Minnie thanked him and headed home, still angry at the writers and heartbroken over Coco’s death. That night, staring at the tattoo in the mirror, she felt a strange pull toward her keyboard. Writing fanfiction wasn’t something she’d done since she was a teenager, but tonight, she couldn’t help herself. She opened a blank document and began to rewrite the story...her version. One where Coco lived, where things turned out differently, where maybe, there was a place for her in his life.
Every time she wrote, the tattoo reacted. At first, she chalked it up to the healing process. But even after weeks, it continued. When the story took a happy turn, the tattoo felt warm and comforting. When she wrote conflict or danger, it prickled and burned, almost as if it was warning her.
Finally, months later, she finished the last line of the story. As she hit save, the tattoo flared with an unbearable heat. The glow from the ink lit up the entire room, and the pain became so overwhelming that she collapsed.
When Minnie woke, she was lying on the ground and the world felt different. The ground beneath her was dusty, the air smelled of dirt and desert heat, and the sun beat down on her skin. She sat up slowly, heart racing as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Dusty roads stretched out before her, framed by desert shrubs.
Her first thought was that this must be some kind of hallucination. Maybe she’d had a reaction to the tattoo ink, and her mind was playing tricks on her. That had to be it, right? She scrambled to her feet, trying to steady her breathing. She had no idea where she was or how she got there, but she started walking. But the heat of the sun, the crunch of gravel underfoot, everything felt too vivid to be fake. Lucky for her, she wasn’t in the middle of the desert, like she had though, only just outside of civilization.
The sound of distant motorcycles rumbled through the air, and her chest tightened. She followed the noise, her steps hesitant but drawn forward by a pull she couldn’t explain. Then she saw it, the Mayans’ clubhouse, just as she’d imagined it. But it wasn’t a set, and it wasn’t a dream. It was real.
This wasn’t her world.
She was in Santo Padre.
Her stomach churned as the weight of reality began to sink in. This wasn’t just her imagination. Somehow, she was here. But how? Why?
The sound of voices made her freeze. Through the open doorway of the clubhouse, she caught a glimpse of armed men, tough, intimidating in a way that the show never fully captured. A new fear crept in. She wasn’t just a fan anymore. She wasn’t just an observer. She was an outsider, walking into their world. And they didn’t know her.
She hesitated, her heart pounding as her mind raced. Did she turn around and run? Or did she keep going? The tattoo on her arm tingled, faint but insistent, as though urging her forward. Then she felt it—a pull toward something, someone. Toward him.
Squaring her shoulders, Minerva took a shaky breath and pushed through the doorway. The music inside was loud, the atmosphere thick with smoke and sweat. Conversations quieted as she stepped in, all eyes turning toward her.
Coco was the first to speak, his voice cutting through the noise. “Well, this is new.”
His eyes briefly take in the fullness of your frame, but it’s your presence that keeps him fixed.
He leaned casually against the bar, a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, but his dark eyes were sharp as they studied her. The moment his gaze locked on hers, the tattoo tingled, then warmed, a subtle but undeniable reaction. She clutched her arm instinctively, and his brow furrowed slightly, as though he’d noticed something too.
“You lost?” he asked, taking a slow step toward her.
“No,” she managed, though her voice wavered. “I’m… looking for a job.”
The room went quiet. For a moment, all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart.
Coco raised an eyebrow. “A job?” He looked around at the others, as if checking to see if anyone else found this as strange as he did. “You know where you are, right?”
“I think so,” she said quickly, trying to sound confident. “I heard you guys were hiring.”
Now he laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah? Who told you that?”
She hesitated, realizing too late that her excuse had a glaring hole. “I, uh… I just heard it around town,” she said, hoping it was vague enough to pass.
Coco stepped closer, his smirk fading as he studied her more closely. “What kind of job are you looking for, exactly?”
Before she could answer, another voice cut in.
“Who’s this?”
She turned to see Angel walking over, a curious yet wary look on his face. He glanced at her, then at Coco, clearly trying to gauge the situation.
“Apparently, she’s here for a job,” Coco said, the amusement back in his voice.
Angel laughed. “A job? Here?”
“That’s what she said.” Coco tilted his head, his gaze never leaving hers. “So, what is it you think we do here, exactly?”
She swallowed hard, realizing she’d stepped into a lion’s den. “I just… I heard you might need help around the bar. Cleaning, serving drinks. Stuff like that.”
Angel chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re a little late, sweetheart-”
Coco held up a hand to stop him. “Wait, wait. Let her talk. I wanna hear this.” He gestured toward the bar. “Go ahead. Tell us why we should hire you.”
Minnie took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “I’m new in town, and I just need a fresh start. I’ll do whatever you need -cleaning, cooking, errands. I’m not picky, and I’m a hard worker.”
Coco gave a slow deliberate once-over, clearly unconvinced. “A fresh start, huh? You running from something?”
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I just… I wanted a change. A new beginning.”
Angel crossed his arms, studying her with a skeptical look. “You picked a hell of a place for that.”
“Why here, though?” Coco pressed. “Of all the places in Santo Padre, why us?”
She hesitated, her mind scrambling for an answer. “I guess… I just figured you’d understand. Starting over, I mean.”
For a moment, Coco just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then he glanced at Angel, who shrugged.
“Well,” Coco said finally, turning back to her. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Walking in here, asking for a job? Either you’re brave, or you’re crazy.”
“Or both,” Angel added with a smirk. “How the fuck you get in here anyway?”
Coco took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly waiting for an answer.
She opened her mouth to answer, but Bishop’s voice cut in from behind her. “That’s what I’d like to know.”
The weight of his presence was immediate. The men straightened slightly as Bishop stepped forward, his sharp eyes narrowing on her. He was calm, but there was an edge to him, a quiet authority that made her stomach twist.
“Who let her in?” Bishop asked, his gaze sweeping over the room. When no one answered, he looked back at her, his eyes boring into hers. “Come with me.”
She was led to a quieter corner, away from the others, the low hum of conversation fading into the background. Bishop didn’t sit. He stood tall, arms crossed, his presence as intimidating as the question hanging in the air.
“Who are you?”
She swallowed hard. “I’m Minerva. Everyone calls me Minnie. I just moved here. I’m looking for work.”
“Running from something?”
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I just wanted a change. Something new.”
His gaze sharpened, dissecting her words. “And you thought this was the place to start over?”
She hesitated, realizing too late how naive her story must sound. “I heard… people talk. Said you might need help around here.”
“People?” His tone was dangerously soft. “What people?”
Her mind scrambled for an answer. “Just… around town. I didn’t get names.”
Bishop’s lips pressed into a thin line. He stepped closer, and she felt the weight of his experience, the years of leading men like Coco and Angel. He’d seen liars before, and she knew he was searching for cracks in her story.
“And how’d you get in here, we don’t let just anyone in. So who let you in?”
“Um. Nobody, I just walked in.”
“Just like that.”
“Yeah, I mean, I was looking for someone to ask about a job but I didn’t see anyone so, I kinda just let myself in.”
“And you thought that was wise.”
“Well, I guess it wasn’t very smart on my part but I figured since I was just looking for a job it would be okay.” She did her best to sound clueless but without over doing it. “I’m really sorry if I intruded, I just really need a job, I haven’t had any luck, my savings can only go so far and I really don’t want to go back home and if I can’t find one soon, I might have to.”
He was a little wary of her but her disheveled appearance and her story made him feel a little sorry for her. Yet he wasn’t quiet convinced she was being honest.
“Look,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I’m desperate. I’ve been to every bar and diner in town, and no one’s hiring.”
For a moment, Bishop said nothing. Then, slowly, he nodded, though his expression remained hard. “You’re desperate, huh? Desperate people make mistakes. And mistakes around here…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication hung heavy in the air.
“I won’t make any,” she said quickly. “Just give me a chance.”
He studied her a moment longer before turning and gesturing for her to follow. “Stick around. Prove you’re not a problem, and maybe we’ll find something for you. But if you screw up…” He glanced back at her, his meaning clear. “You’re out.”
Minnie noticed Coco watching her out of the corner of his eye, his suspicion still lingering. While he didn’t seem entirely convinced of her story, there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze, a hint that maybe he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Angel, on the other hand, wasn’t as subtle. He made it clear that he was keeping an eye on her, throwing out sarcastic comments whenever she was within earshot.
The other Mayans didn’t pay her much attention yet, but the weight of their presence was impossible to ignore. For now, Minerva had managed to buy herself some time but she couldn’t shake the feeling that her every move was being watched.
As the night wore on, Angel cornered Coco by the pool table, his tone low but sharp. “You’re awfully quiet tonight. What’s up with you?”
Coco shrugged, his eyes flicking briefly to where Minnie was sitting in the corner. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Angel said, stepping closer. “You’ve been staring at her all night like she’s some puzzle you can’t figure out. What’s the deal?”
Coco exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know, man. She… she feels familiar, but I’ve never seen her before. And that tattoo…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”
Angel didn’t look convinced. “You sure about that? Or are you just getting soft?”
Coco’s jaw tightened, and he shot Angel a sharp look. “Drop it.”
Meanwhile, as Minnie sat in the corner nursing a glass of water, the tattoo on her arm tingled faintly. She glanced down, running her fingers over the intricate design. The symbols seemed to shimmer under the dim light, and for a brief moment, she remembered the tattoo artist’s words: “The ink doesn’t just mark your skin. It marks your path.”
She thought back to the artist’s piercing gaze, the way he seemed to know more than he let on. His voice echoed in her mind: “This tattoo has power, more than you realize.” A shiver ran down her spine as the realization dawned on her, this wasn’t just about her. The tattoo, the pull toward Coco, the strange familiarity… it was all connected. But how?
And why did Coco keep looking at her like he was trying to figure out the same thing?
Laughter rumbled from the other men, but Coco didn’t join in. His gaze lingered on Minnie a moment too long, and she swore she saw a flicker of something-recognition? Connection?-in his eyes.
As he passed by, he brushed past her, the tattoo burned faintly, and she felt a spark of heat spread through her entire body. Coco stopped mid-step, his jaw tightening as he glanced back at her, confusion flickering across his face. For the first time, he looked uncertain, as though he’d felt it too.
And in that moment, Minnie realized this was only the beginning.
I Drew the Witcher signs on myself cause why the fuck not. I do actually have this tattoo in my DR as part of some tattoo magic to intensify my signs. Have some unsolicited Witcher lore
From the Bottom up:
Quen- the Witcher’s shield. It provides protection from magical attacks. I have this on my back to protect me and aid healing.
Igni- literally just lighting shit on fire. I have this on my chest to keep me from being burned.
Yrden- it’s kinda of a trap. It makes who ever it’s shit at sluggish and when it’s cast on the ground it gives spirits a corporeal form so then can be seen and killed. It’s on my foot to keep me light on my feet and unbound
Axii- it can range from full mind control to subtle suggestion to make someone more open and amenable to helping a Witcher. Kinda depends on the Witcher. It’s on the side of my head to keep my mind from being fucked with
Aard- kind of like a magic blast. It’s the only sign that’s really used or acknowledged in the show in the episodes “Bottled Appetites” and “Rare Species.” I think it’s on my bicep to make me strong I don’t know I’m locked out of my google drive and therefore my script
Again, I have the actual tattoo in the picture on my wrist to just intensify my signs in general
But what about that weird sign up top? That’s not cannnon
No it’s not and here’s the shit Im pulling out of my ass because it’s my DR and I can
Loquix- allows Witchers to communicate telepathically during a hunt. The Witchers with clasp hands and cast the sign and it stays in place until they cast it again. I created this sign myself after some magical training from Yen. I have it on my palm so I will always be able to find my family and sense if they need me
The whole concept of Witcher tattoo magic is also something I pulled out if my ass. It felt cool and if you can’t be a little OP in the comfort of your own DR, why fight monsters at all.
“White is a death color,” Rao protested as Cora draped the scarf around her shoulders and admired the way the sequins glittered. “Not tha’ I don’t like you in death colors, but if you’re gonna take allegiance to someone, shouldn’t it be me an’ Cal?”
“I’m not swearing allegiance to anyone, Cora said, and considered the scarf again. She liked it, but the price was too high. “I have a lot of white. You’re going to have to get used to it.”
So the Gods have decided I need a new tattoo. I'm 💯 behind this idea but here is what it will be... eventually. As soon as I can afford it. But hey it's my birthday in about a month so maybe
Here is my new and improved witchsona!! I wasn’t happy with last year’s since it didn’t feel very witchy. So this year I threw in some norse runes and some alchemist symbols (instead of stealing shadowhunter ones). Her tattoos glow whenever she draws on them. Those and her book are her main sources of magic. The second outfit is for when she has to do some stealthy magic work.
