#bishop losa x daughter
Text
Seen
Bishop Losa x OC Lara Barrera Losa (Father/Daughter)
Angel Reyes x OC Lara Losa (quick interaction at the end!)
Day 21 from these April Prompts: A slight change in appearance
Summary: A little one shot of Lara and her pops, Bishop. I don’t have a place for this in my multi chap, Contaminated but there is some background from that story here. (You really only need to read the first two chapters but don’t really have to!)
Words: 1.8k
Warnings: Angsty af. Daddy Issues. Mentions of murder and drinking.
A/N: This was pure coping for me, lol.
Contaminated Taglist: Using my Contaminated Taglist for this, I’m not sure where in the timeline of the multi chap this goes down but it does fit somewhere lol. @est1887 @minimel-fics @spnaquakindgdom @nessamc @alienstardust@mrsstevenbuchananstark @hinagiku0 @lyly00 @drabbles-mc @lilac-tea-time @justreblogginfics @danzer8705
The night was early, but Lara was over being out and socializing. She had spent a majority of the night outside of EZ’s trailer with him and Frankie, just bullshitting the time away but now found herself walking back to the clubhouse. She hoped maybe Angel was back from whatever run he was out on and could take her home.
The sound of Taza’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, her head raised to see him calling her from the porch.
“Lara!” His hand raised as if she wasn’t able to see him.
“What’s up?” She answered him as she got closer to the steps.
“Do you mind taking your dad home? He uh- he really isn’t in any condition to drive.”
“Can’t like Uncle Hank take him or something, me and him aren’t really–”
Before Lara could even finish her sentence, the clubhouse door barreled open and Bishop’s voice was the only thing that could be heard probably in a 5 mile radius.
“Heee-hey!” He called out and threw his arm over her and Taza weighing them both down. “My best friend and my daughter, what more could I ask for?” His breath reeked of alcohol, it was practically pouring out of his pours.
“Lara’s gonna take you home, mano.” Taza shifted in a way to lean most of Bishop’s weight on him so it wasn’t weighing down too much more on Lara.
“Nah, nah, nah, nah” He repeated over and over again like saying it the first time wasn’t enough. “I can get home, I can take my truck.” Bishop pointed to where he thought his truck was but was far from the correct location.
“No c’mon, I’m gonna take you back home.” Lara started to move down the stairs. “Let me get your keys.”
“In a bit, let’s go back and hang for a little bit, there’s still a lot of people here.” Bishop’s words slurred as he tried to turn back around.
“Give Lara the keys, Bish.” Taza’s voice was firm but still soft.
“Alright.” Bishop gave up when Taza gave the direction, his misogyny showing.
Taza took over getting the man into the passenger seat of his truck, letting Lara stand outside the driver's seat fiddling with the keys.
“He’s good to go.” Taza came back over to the driver's side to hug the girl goodbye.
“Real quick,” Lara pushed off the car and spoke to Taza. “Is Angel here? I had to ask him something about the scrapyard paperwork.” Lara came up with an excuse that by reading his expression Taza bought.
“Ah, no, he’s not here. Still out with Gilly. I can let him know you were looking for him once he’s back.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll find him when I find him.” She shrugged and turned to get into the car.
“He’s practically knocked out, should be an easy ride home, once he wakes up at the house he should be good to walk in with little help.” Taza called out to her.
He wasn’t asleep. Or he wasn’t asleep for long. Just after Lara adjusted the seat and mirrors to fit her height and was making the right out of the scrapyard he opened his eyes. He was still out of it, but he definitely wasn’t asleep.
“Where the fuck am I?” Bishop’s voice wasn’t at a yell but it wasn’t normal either.
“I’m driving you home.” Lara’s voice was dull, just giving information not trying to poke the bear.
His head snapped over to his daughter, taking in the site of her driving his car because he was too drunk to drive. His head fell back against the head rest and he closed his eyes, slightly ashamed at everything.
“You, uh.” He sat up now, adjusting his posture in the seat. “You look different. You got” he moved his hand up to point towards his head. “You got new glasses or something like that?”
“Something like that.” Lara responded.
“Alright.” Bishop snapped. “I know I was a failure of a fuckin’ father.” Bishop spit out one of the most harsh sentences. “I got one kid dead and the other doesn’t even wanna talk to me.”
The emotion was bubbling up in him, the drunkenness making it worse as his words slurred and he stuttered to find the things he wanted to say.
“I know you hate me.”
That sentence felt loud and clear.
Lara’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as she got uncomfortable, she felt like a kid again, helpless, hopeless.
“I was an awful father.” He was repeating the same things over and over again. “I pushed you away, I pushed your mom away, I pushed Antonia away. I lost Aiden, I lost your mom, I lost Antonia. I’m losing you.”
“I didn’t realize I bought tickets to the pity party.” Lara spoke out, not wanting to sit in the uncomfortableness of everything.
Bishop didn't say anything, just leaned against the passenger side window.
“You weren’t a shitty father. You did what you thought was right.” Her voice was firm but she was trying to comfort him.
“No. I was. You fuckin’ hated me. You left, you went off and moved in with some fuckin’ piece of shit. Only need me to clean up your dirty work.”
Lara knew he wasn’t trying to direct that anger on her or at her, he thought he was just shitting on himself but in the process, he was bringing his daughter down with him. Those words cut Lara deep. But the next ones cut deeper.
“I’m just your piece of shit father. President of a fuckin’ MC, a goddamn gang. I’m the president of a fuckin’ gang and my daughter is a murderer.”
My daughter is a murderer.
Lara tried to swallow the pain that came with that sentence but she felt it coming back up her throat. She tried to forget about the traumatic events of what was self defense towards her ex but every so often they found a way of sneaking back in, but all on her own account. Never her fathers. She pulled into his driveway now, what felt like hours of hearing Bishop shit on himself and now Lara was only 15 minutes from the clubhouse to his home.
“We’re here.” Lara said, still monotone as she stepped out of the car and moved over to his side of the truck to guide his drunk being inside.
“Who's taking you home?”
The sentence offered a moment of something, relief might have been too generous of a word but some hope for better conversation until Bishop shattered it with his next ones.
“Cause you’re not fuckin’ stayin’ here.”
Again, he was in his own pity party and he was dragging Lara down with him whether he knew it or not.
“Look, you either got to move the fuck on or shut the fuck up.” Lara was over this, she wasn’t a kid anymore, she wasn’t going to take this.
“Ge the fuck out of here.” Bishop snapped right back at the girl.
Lara was now standing in the driveway staring at her father who barely could hold himself up when she nodded her head and took a step back.
“Aiden might be gone for good. But I’m here. All I’ve ever wanted was to be here. I left because you made me. You pushed me out. I’ll get the fuck out of here, no problem. Because, hey,” Lara shook her head and smiled through the tears, “that’s what we do best, Dad. You push people away and I’ll just keep running away.” Her feet moved to walk away from him, not wanting to let him get another word in but his arm extended out to grab her.
“Don’t!” She yelled out the first word. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” The volume of her voice lowered but it was pointed and said between her gritted teeth.
Bishop was quick to retreat to the house, turning off all the lights which left Lara sitting at the curb crying in the dark as she pulled out her phone.
“Hey, I was just about to call you. We just got back to the club.” Angel’s voice was chipper.
“Can, can you come pick me up?” Lara got the sentence out through sobs.
Angel’s voice immediately turned from chipper to worried, “Are you okay?”
“Yea, I just need a ride. I’m at my dads.” Lara wiped the tears and took a deep breath in followed by a few sniffles.
“I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”
_____
Lara expected to hear a motorcycle pulling up in front of the house but was shocked to see Felipe’s truck with Angel in the driver’s seat before he threw the car in park and hopped out to help her up off the curb.
“You aight?” Angel asked as his hands met hers and brought her back into a standing position.
“Why didn’t you bring the bike?” Lara didn’t let go of his hands.
“You didn’t sound like you were in the state to ride, plus didn’t know if this was more of a stealth pick up thing.” He pointed to Bishop’s house.
Lara nodded as he helped her into the passenger seat and made his way back over to the driver’s side. Once he was in the car and situated, he looked at the girl. He wanted to ask her what happened but he noticed there was something different about her appearance, something small, but he put his finger on it immediately.
“You cut your hair.” He said it with a smile.
Lara looked back at him with frown and a smirk peeked through her tears.
“You noticed?”
“Yea it looks good.” Angel nodded and moved to place the car in drive.
Angel wasn’t the type to notice things like that, and Lara really wasn’t one to care much either, but after the start of her conversation with her dad, this felt like some type of universal sign. She felt wanted. She felt safe. She felt seen.
That’s all she really wanted. To feel seen.
#Mayans MC#MayansMC#Mayans FX#Mayans Fanfiction#Mayans Fanfic#Bishop Losa#Bishop Losa x OC#bishop losa x daughter#Bishop Losa x daughter!oc#Bishop Losa's daughter#Angel Reyes#Angel Reyes x OC#Contaminated#contaminatedfic#OC Lara#oc lara losa
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 26
Well don't kill me. Here's part 26. It's a bit of lead up.
Personal note - I'm now on some serious heart medication due to reoccurring heart issues, so I'm a little foggy. Things may be a bit slower than they used to be even though I hoped to stick to my previous posting of about a chapter a week. That's not working out very well. It's taking me longer to get my ideas on paper and then even longer to get them typed. Please be patient with me.
Warnings: cursing (maybe), show level casual illegal activity, Angel being a menace.
Also - don't steal my shit. This is the only place this is posted.
Taza, Hank, Megan and Rex quickly joined the rest of the club inside. “Morning, Poquito, Hank, Taza. You look like you’re going somewhere important,” Bishop greeted them as he claimed a morning hug from Megan. “What’s the plan today?”
Hank smiled ruefully. “Ask la princessa. She’s the one that’s insistent about it.”
Megan, who had moved on to giving Marcus his morning greeting, shot him a look over her good shoulder.
“Really now, Bebita? What’s he mean?” Marcus asked, looking down at her as he hugged her close.
Megan sighed. “We’re going to see the doctor in Santa Madre for an x-ray. I want this sling off so I can have my life back.”
Creeper frowned from the bar stool where he was perched. “Didn’t the rez doctor say no?”
Megan grimaced. “He said not quite, but that was with the plaster cast. The soft cast and the immobilizing sling mean it’s been resting more than it had been. Some progress has to have been made.”
Bishop nodded and sat down at one of the tables with a cup of coffee. “How’s the pain?”
“Honestly - so much better. I haven’t had so much as an aspirin and it just feels achey and stiff,” she assured him.
“How achey?” Bishop asked again.
“More than a post workout ache but less than a set dislocated shoulder ache. I honestly think I’d be fine without the sling for the most part. I can always put it back on if it hurts.” She shrugged her good shoulder.
There was a collective wince from the elders at her description.
“What the hell, Shorty. How’d you know what a dislocated shoulder feels like, huh?” Angel asked, giving her a skeptical look.
“Angel - I rode in rodeos. Not a rider I know who hasn’t dislocated at least one shoulder once. In my event - that was the price of a mistake,” she smiled. “And a small price to pay rather than a broken leg or back.”
“Shit, Ma. And you did that shit for fun?” Coco added, puffing on his cigarette.
“Well, the money was nice too.”
“Holy shit. No wonder you didn’t freak out about the pain.” Coco ashed the cigarette in his hand. “Y’all need someone to ride along?”
“Nah. Thanks, Coco. We’re good, I think. Just a quick run for an x-ray,” Hank assured him as he settled into a chair across the table from Taza.
“Besides- like Creep said - the rez doc didn’t think she was healed enough yet. Good possibility it’s still too early but la princessa is impatient,” Taza said with a grin in Megan’s direction. SHe stuck her tongue out at him.
“Well, we have Angel and EZ doing the Adelita meet today. They’re going South anyway. Might as well go along with you so they don’t have to walk from the desert,” Bishop said. He turned to look at EZ where he was polishing glasses. “Prospect, you better do your memory shit. Poquito could only arrange for the two of you. We’ll hold Templo tonight so everyone gets read in at once.”
EZ nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“And don’t fuck it up,” Hank added.
Taza agreed. “You two fuck up this gun deal… Neither of you can afford it. The club can’t afford it.”
Both brothers nodded solemnly.
It wasn’t even an hour laters that they met at the dress warehouse hatch. By now they had this to a science. EZ carried Rex. The ladder was difficult for Megan on handed, so Hank went first so he could catch her if she slipped. Taza stayed at the top guiding her down as far as he could maintain his balance.
The tunnel itself wasn’t too bad. The terrain was a bit rough, but nothing Megan couldn’t handle with the help of the lights and either Taza or Hank’s guiding hand on her good arm.
THe hatch on the other end, however, was the bane of her existence. The ladder was built for much taller men so the rungs were further apart and roughly built. They weren’t evenly spaced either. When they reached it Megan sighed. She had slipped every time at this end.
“What’s wrong, Princessa?” EZ asked. “Need a break?” He handed her a bottle of water from the backpack he was carrying.
Megan shot him a rueful smile and sipped it. “More like an elevator. I hate this ladder.”
Taza grimaced. “We’ll get a new one soon, Chica. Just gotta deal until then.”
Angel eyed the ladder. “Bet me and the boyscout could get you up it easier.”
Hank frowned a bit and tugged Megan to rest against his chest a moment. “What do you mean, Angel?”
“We got Creep up it pretty easy when he needed the doc. Megan’s a lot smaller.” Angel shrugged. “Same way we used to get shit into the attic for Pops.”
EZ broke into a wide grin. “You might be right.”
Taza shrugged a bit as he glanced at Megan. “What do you say, Chica? Want to let them try it?”
Megan eyed the hated ladder, before turning to eye the brothers. “Promise not to drop me?”
Angel gave a sardonic laugh. “And risk getting shot? We won’t drop you, Shorty.”
“Alright then. How’re we doing this?” she asked.
Angel grinned. “Taza, you and EZ go first. Once you’re up, EZ lays on the floor to lift la princessa with Taza to anchor him. Megan gets on my shoulder an’ EZ pulls her out. Simple. Reyes Brothers Elevator.”
Hank chuckled and shook his head, amazed at the simplicity of it. “I’ll help steady you, mi amore. This way you don’t risk falling like yesterday.” The day before, Megan had been lucky Hank was behind her for the ladder. He’d had to catch her twice.
Just like Angel outlined, Taza and EZ went first with EZ carrying Rex. Taza paid the toll while the prospect laid down and hung his top half through the hatch. Taza anchored his legs as Hank helped Angel get Megan onto his shoulders and steadied her as he stood. Then EZ locked his arm and pulled Megan up until Taza could help her out of the hatch. In the end, EZ was breathing a little heavy, but the near disaster of the day before had been averted. Angel and Hank then climbed up to join them.
“Thanks Angel and EZ. That was much easier on my end,” Megan said, smiling at the brothers.
Angel gave a slightly cocky grin. “Anything for la princessa de los Mayas, right Prospect?”
EZ laughed a little and straightened his kutte. “Right.”
Once they reached the town, Angel and EZ dropped them off at the storefront where the doctor kept an office upstairs and headed out to the coordinates Luisa had sent to the burner phone in Angel’s pocket.
“Alright, Chica. Let’s go get this x-ray and find out how you’re doing. After, we can go find something to do until Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum get back,” Taza said with a grin.
Hank led the way up the narrow stairs and paused at the top to smile back at Megan. “You ready, mi amore?”
Megan smiled a little nervously. “You’ll stay with me?”
“Of course, Princessa.” He chuckled a little. “We’d have to anyway - Doc doesn’t speak English.”
Inside, Taza spoke with a man quietly in Spanish as Megan leaned into Hank’s side. The conversation wasn’t very long before the man smiled at Megan and waved her forward.
Megan turned to look at Taza.
“He just wants to take the sling off and feel for the break before he x-rays you, Chica,” Taza assured her.
Hank guided her forward and worked the sling straps on her back to release them. Once the sling was off, he sat her on the narrow wooden table while holding her good hand.
The doctor approached with his hands held calmingly out in front of him. He gently pressed along her collarbone. He looked at Hank and asked something.
“Mi reina, he wants to know if it hurts when he touches it,” Hank translated.
“No. It’s a little achey, but that’s just the stiffness I think,” Megan said.
The doctor nodded as Taza translated what was said. He gestured for Hank to step away from Megan and rolled a camera looking machine in front of her before holding a metal panel behind her shoulder. Megan fought the urge to giggle as she realized that the x-ray machine was a portable vet tool.
The doctor took the shots that he needed before indicating that he’d be back in a moment.
As soon as he was out of the room, Megan lost the battle with her giggles. Both men grinned at her.
“What’s so funny, Chica?” Taza asked, amused at her reaction to this doctor. He had expected nerves or even some defiance like he’d seen the other times doctors had looked at her.
“Papa, he’s not a doctor, is he? He’s a vet,” Megan bit her lip to stifle her laugh.
Hank burst out laughing while Taza stared at her for a moment before joining in.
“How’d you know, Princessa?” Hank asked as he moved to support her still splinted arm through her laughing fit.
“The x-ray machine gave it away. And he wasn’t exactly concerned that he couldn’t talk to me directly. Plus - he came at me like I was going to cow kick him if he surprised me.”
Taza laughed again. “You’re right. He’s a farm vet. We didn’t want to scare you with him not being a ‘real’ doctor, so we just didn’t say anything.”
Megan smiled mischievously. “Well - for future reference - I’d much rather the vet than the hospital any day.”
An hour or so later they were walking down the narrow steps to the street level again with Megan’s sling tucked into a bag. The doctor had given the go ahead to remove the sling as long as she wasn’t using her arm too much and there wasn’t a lot of pain. He’s also provided Hank with a refill of the ibuprofen - just in case.
Once on the street, they decided to head to a small restaurant down the street to wait for the Reyes brothers and have lunch.
Taza ordered for them at the counter while Hank and Megan found a table in a spot where they could see the door. Megan kept rolling her right shoulder until Hank gently rubbed his hand down her spine and across her shoulders. “Are you alright, mi reina?” he asked her as he did it.
Megan gave a soft groan of relief as Hank rubbed. Hank chuckled at the noise as she answered. “I’m fine. Just stiff.” She paused, arching her back into his rubbing hand. “That feels so good.”
Hank laughed again and scooted his chair back from the table. “Come ‘ere, Princessa. Let me help.” He tugged her to sit in his lap facing him and leaned her forward against his chest so he could gently rub the knots from her back that the sling caused.
Megan melted against him as the firm pressure released her muscles even through her kutte and holster.
Hank grinned as Taza came to the table with two trays of food and drinks. His smile assured Taza that nothing was seriously wrong.
Taza placed the trays on the table and took his seat across from her. “Everything alright?” he asked quietly.
Megan nodded from where her face was buried in between Hank’s neck and shoulder but made no move to get up. She let out another quiet moan that only Hank could hear as he hit a particularly nice spot.
Hank chuckled again and tried not to think about it too much. He liked that noise. He met Taza’s eyes. “Yeah. She’s just stiff and her back muscles are in knots from the sling.
Taza laughed a little. “So that’s why she’s practically purring.”
Hank grinned. He tilted his chin to kiss Megan’s hair. “Your papa brought lunch. You ready to eat?” he asked her.
Megan whined a little, but nodded before lifting her head. Hank helped her to settle back into her chair with a laugh. “A hot shower when we get home will help, mi amore.”f
As they ate, they made plans for the rest of the day. They had Templo when they got back to discuss the deal with the L.O. but after that no plans had been made.
“Well, your tíos and I need to meet after Templo to do some book work, so I’ll be tied up for the night. What are your plans, Chica?” Taza asked as he discreetly added more rice to Megan’s plate while she was distracted.
“Don’t know. I need to let Riz know to put me back on the schedule since the sling is off, but I also know that he’s already got this week’s schedule posted. I looked this morning,” Megan said as she ate the taco she'd fixed from the communal plates Taza had ordered them. “Will you be in meetings too, Hank?”
Hank sipped his soda and shook his head. “Nah. All my book stuff is done for the next two weeks.” He leaned back in his chair and slid his arm along the back of Megan’s. “Now that your sling’s off - would you want to do something tonight?”
Megan’s eyes sparkled. “Like a date?”
Hank laughed. “Yes. Like an actual date, mi princessa. Nothing too fancy, but a date.”
Megan bounced a little in her chair. “Yes!”
Taza grinned at her enthusiasm. “There we go. I’ll be home late too, so don’t wait up for me.”
“Would you keep Rex for the night?” Hank asked, petting the big dog’s ears under the table. “I thought we might take the bike.”
Megan lit up further “Really?”
“If your papa doesn’t mind.”
Megan turned to him with her big, brown eyes pleading.
“Yes. I’ll keep the pooch - if you promise to stay with Hank, Chica. I like you having him as an extra line of defense when you’re out, so you have to promise not to do anything stupid,” Taza stipulated.
“I promise, Papa.”
“Alright then. You two will have date night while the pooch and I work late.”
Hank’s burner beeped from his kutte pocket. He pulled it out and checked it without removing his arm from Megan’s chair. “Angel and the Prospect are back in town.”
“Perfect timing. Let’s go home.”
They met the brothers back where they’d split up. Angel quickly abandoned the driver's seat to Taza and Megan got shotgun with Hank behind her.
At the hatch, this time Taza went first followed by Megan. It was much easier without the sling. She managed to slip once, but caught herself. Once they were at the bottom, EZ frowned at the ladder. “That thing really does need fixed. La Princessa shouldn’t have to struggle with it every time. Especially since she’s going to be dealing with this trip a lot as the armorer,” he said.
“Glad you volunteer, Prospect,” Hank agreed. “You can start on it tomorrow.”
Megan giggled a little as she caught her breath in the close confines of the tunnel but petting Rex.
“You good, Shorty? Didn’t bust nothin’ when you slipped, did ya?” Angel asked.
Megan stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m fine. Just missed a rung.”
“Alright. Just checkin’. No harm in that,” Angel grinned a bit. “Hey Boyscout - maybe you need to use that big brain of yours to figure out a lift, huh? That way la princessa doesn’t break a nail.”
Megan smacked Angel in the chest with the back of her good hand and laughed. “You suck, Angel.”
“That’s why the women love me.”
Megan wrinkled her nose. “Eeewwww. TMI.”
Angel cracked up. “You asked for it.”
Taza shook his head with an exasperated chuckle and shoved Angel forward along the tunnel. “Get going before you scar my daughter for life.”
They made their way back to the Northern hatch where they all climbed out into the dress warehouse with EZ helping to lift Rex through the door. They were all a little dusty, but none the worse for wear.
Back at the clubhouse, Megan proudly walked in without her sling to find Bishop and Marcus relaxing at a table with a few beers.
“Well look at you, Poquito. Doctor freed you?” Bishop asked, standing to claim a hug.
Megan stepped into his embrace with a smile. “Still gotta wear the soft cast and be easy with it, but he cleared me to lose the sling.”
“Good. That’ll make dance lessons easier,” Marcus said as he got his own hug,
“Among other things,” Megan agreed.
“Is everyone here?” Hank asked.
“Waiting on Riz. He went to help Vickie with something,” Bishop said, taking his seat back.
Taza and Hank joined them as Angel split off to the bar where Coco and Gilly were waiting. EZ went to fetch drinks automatically as Hank pulled Megan onto his knee.
“He needs to hurry up. La Princessa and her caballero have a date tonight,” Taza said, accepting the beer from EZ.
Marcus grinned. “Finally going to take Poquito somewhere, Tranq?”
Hank grinned. “That’s the plan if nothing fucking it up this time.”
Bishop looked over his shoulder at where Angel was sipping on his own beer. “We’ll be fine for one night, brother. Take Poquito out tonight. If shit hits the fan - it can wait until tomorrow for you.” He grinned. “Now, that being said - you have planning to do. So get to it. Poquito - did the doctor say when the soft cast can come off?”
Hank chuckled and pressed a kiss to the place where Megan’s neck met her shoulder before sliding out from in under her. He watched as Megan settled into his seat and got distracted by her tío’s question before slipping out to the front porch.
Megan smiled at Bishop. “Tío, why’re you asking me? You know very well the doctor doesn’t speak English.”
Bishop laughed and nodded. “You’re right. You’re right. So what did your papa tell you he said?”
“Still another three weeks or so - as long as I don’t do anything stupid. I kind of think Papa added that part on though,” Megan teased.
Taza laughed. “I paraphrased. That’s all Chica.”
They chatted amicably for a bit before Angel came over to ask to speak to Bishop and Taza alone for a minute in Templo. That left Megan with Marcus.
“Have you heard anything from Tía Diana and Tessa?” Megan asked. “I haven’t heard much since they left.”
Marcus sat forward at the table to smile at her. He leaned his forearms there and smiled. “Yeah. I heard from them at about lunch time. They’re probably still on the road though. Tessa doesn’t have much patience for car rides, so Diana will stop often to let her stretch.” He fiddled with his beer bottle a bit. “I talked to your tía about the move. She agrees that it’s probably best for everyone if I pause my patch for a bit.”
Megan reached across the table to squeeze his fingers. “And you? What do you think?”
He squeezed back before meeting her eyes. “I think she’s right. It makes the most sense, Bebita.”
“Then why the hesitation?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know who I am without this kutte, Poquito. I’ve been wearing it so long it’s practically my skin at this point.” He sighed. “I’m struggling with letting go.”
“I understand. It’s like leaving rodeo was for me.” She fiddled with his signet ring, “But Tío, you aren’t leaving for good. It’s just like recon.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. We’ll make the call at the Templo after this one. I want to be sure the gun deal is solid first. Besides - this way nothing is on Hank’s mind tonight except you. Finally getting a real date night, huh? You gonna let him show out?”
Megan laughed and sat back. “You mean I could stop him?”
“Good point.”
Bishop and Taza returned with very serious faces. Megan sat up straight in alarm. “Papa? Everything alright?”
“Sí, Chica. Angel just had some information for us.” He pressed a reassuring kiss to the top of her head before resuming his seat. “Your tío is going to take care of it before Templo.”
Bishop nodded and gathered Gilly and Creeper before riding out.
“Anything I need to know, Hermano?” Marcus asked.
Taza shook his head. “Nah. Charter issue.”
Marcus nodded.
When Bishop and the others returned, Bishop’s face was like a thundercloud and Riz was with them. Hank followed them in from the front porch too. Bishop didn’t even have to say anything. He just grabbed the whiskey bottle and a glass and headed for Templo. Everyone followed.
taglist:
@jemmakates
@msjava1972
@drabbles-mc
@delightfulheroshoeflap
@iamthegraham
@oureternalbond
@camelia35
@anaeve
@tallrock35
If you would like to be added to the taglist - please let me know.
#lost princessa#mayans mc#meet the reaper#taza x daughter!oc#lost princessa sequel#che taza romero#hank loza#megan(oc) x hank#mayans mc fanfic#bishop losa#marcus alvarez#johnny coco cruz#coco cruz#neron creeper vargas#creeper vargas#gilly lopez#gilly mayans#ez reyes#angel reyes#(oc) Rex the doggy
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
GVF is in my city tonight and I’m so sad I can’t go.
#gretavanfleet#gvf#starcatcher#josh gvf#jake gvf#sam gvf#danny gvf#starcatcher world tour#tumblr#bishop losa x reader#raymond reddington x reader#raymond reddington x daughter#raymond reddington#kirk hammett imagine#eleventh doctor smut#eleventh doctor headcanon#eleventh doctor headcanons#eleventh doctor imagine#eleventh doctor imagines#avatar#atwotw#jake sully#neteyam#lo’ak
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Valentine's Day Bingo: Kicking - Bishop Losa x Reader
Tagging: @fanfic-n-tabulous @anime-weeb-4-life @keyweegirlie @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @est1887 @oklahomapeach @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @adaydreamaway08 @spookyboogyuniverse @librarian1002 @thanossexual @kishie8 @fleureeee @saltyunicorn079 @thebaileybugle @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @doggirlforever @justreblogginfics @skyesthebomb @beccabarba @legally-a-bastard @trublu2u @@lora21 @kmc1989 @jp1019 @fanfic-n-tabulous @just-a-throw-away @kabloswrld
Can be read as stand alone or a companion piece to:
Black Satin (NSFW) - Bishop discovers a surprise Christmas gift.
Gingerbread - Bishop comes home to a problem.
Snow - Bishop talks to you about something that's been on his mind.
Miracle - You and Bishop get an extra Christmas gift this year.
Hitting the Slow Dance Bingo Square
The first time Bishop feels his baby kick is during Coco and Stitche’s wedding reception. The two of you are swaying together on the dance floor, his grizzled cheek pressed against yours, eyes closed as the music serenades you. There’s no better feeling in the world than this, having you pressed up against him, the baby residing in the space between you.
You’re five months pregnant at this point, just starting to show. He spends his evenings singing lullabies to his daughter in Spanish, his lips ghosting over your skin before he gets distracted by other things.
It’s when the song changes that the baby starts to react. The band switches to something with a faster pace and he feels a tiny dig against his navel.
“Oh.” You say as you tilt your head to look up at him. “I think she’s kicking.”
You take his hand in yours, pressing his palm flat against the baby bump and he laughs when he feels the small nudge. He spends the next few minutes following his daughter’s movements before the song changes and the baby goes quiet.
“She’s strong.” He says fondly as he draws you into his arms once more. “She’s going to be exactly like you.”
“She could end up a hellion like you.” You counter and Bishop grumbles.
“I hope not.”
The last thing he wants for his daughter is for her to adopt his personality traits, he was wild as a teenager and his biggest fear is that his daughter will follow in his footsteps.
“You turned out alright in the end.” You remind him, your fingertips trailing over that sensitive little spot at the nape of his neck, the one that releases all his tension.
“With a little help.” He smiles, his forehead coming to rest upon yours.
Bishop has always been convinced that you saved him. He was a functioning alcoholic when he met you, smoking forty a day and running drugs and guns up and down the country. He’d expected to be dead before sixty, through a bullet or bike accident. He was careless with his own life, there hadn’t been much to live for after Aiden had died. He’d been in a state of depression for over eight years before he started to see the sun again.
Now he’s on the board of the community centre, he has a home, a partner, a baby on the way. He doesn’t drink anymore, he’s cut his smoking right down, he’s trying to quit before Luna arrives. The job is less risky because the club has gone legit. He’s happier than he’s ever been and he has you to thank for that.
“You saved my life.” He tells you as he cradles you close. “You saved my god damned life.”
Love Bishop? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Want more Bishop? Read his masterlist here!
Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!
Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee
#bishop losa#bishop losa x reader#bishop losa x you#obispo losa#obispo losa x reader#obispo bishop losa#obispo losa x you
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
Moodboards masterlist
This is my graveyard for the moodboards I will not write about...
no, I will not... well... maybe...
• Moodboards masterlist #2 • Main Masterlist •
Adrian Chase
Vigilante (Adrian Chace x Kryptonian!Reader)
Aemond Targaryen
The Bastard Princess (Aemond Targaryen x Daemon’s daughter!Reader)
Phantom of the Opera AU (Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon (Strong)!Reader)
Aleksander Morozova
see moodboard masterlist #2
Alfie Solomons
see moodboard masterlist #2
Bane
Stolen - Bane x warlord’s daughter!Reader
Bane x mayor!Reader (LP version)
Bane x mayor!Reader (GG version)
Catwoman - Bane x Fox!Reader
Catwoman - Bane x Fox!Reader (Joker version)
Heist AU - thief!Bane x hacker!Reader
Billy Russo
see moodboard masterlist #2
Bishop Losa
Zombie Apocalypse AU
Boba Fett
Stargate AU - goa'uld!Boba x SG team member / tok'ra!Reader
inspired by this?
Professor AU
Supernatural AU - hunter!Boba Fett x Reader (hunter!Fennec Shand)
RED AU - ex CIA agent!Boba x CIA agent!Reader
Brother Day
Day & Night
Bucky Barnes
Neverland AU - Captain James “Hook”!Bucky x Tigerlily!Reader x “Crocodile”!Namor
Caspian
Caspian x witch!reader
Daemon Targaryen
The dragon has three heads - Daemyra x Targaryen!Reader
The Pirate Queen AU - pirate!Daemon Targaryen x Pirate Queen Rhaenys’ daughter!Reader
Eddie Brock/Venom
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo AU - Eddie Brock x hacker!Reader
inspired by @fabuloustomhardy's edit
Eddie Munson
Three - Eddie Munson x powered!Reader
The Banished - fox fae!Eddie Munson x Reader
Eddie Munson x dark genie!Reader
inspired by @harrywavycurly's not genie
Éomer
Immortality/The choice - Éomer x Reader x Haldir
Feyd-Rautha
Fae AU - dark fae!Feyd-Rautha x light fae Atreides!Reader
Dream of a lifetime - Feyd x Atreides!Reader
Feyd-Rautha x Earthling!Reader
Haldir
Immortality/The choice - Éomer x Reader x Haldir
Jake "Hangman" Seresin
Star Wars AU - Rebel pilot!Jake Seresin x Ren!Reader
Pen Pals
The Proposal AU - Jake Seresin x doctor!Reader
Epic(ish) AU - fae!Jake Seresin x Reader
James Delaney
James Delaney x blind!Reader
Biker AU
Maliksi
The Other Trese - Maliksi x Alexandra’s twin!Reader
Namor
Alliance - Namor x Killmonger’s cousin!Reader
Neverland AU - Captain James “Hook”!Bucky x Tigerlily!Reader x “Crocodile”!Namor
Nathan Bateman
Altered Carbon AU
Poe Dameron
The Pink and Blue Ribbon
made for @the-little-ewok's Poe x Reader fic
Robb Stark
The Wolf and the Lion - Robb Stark x Lannister!Reader
Sesshōmaru
Sesshōmaru x cat yōkai!Reader
Tommy Shelby
Men (modern AU) - Tommy Shelby x Reader x Alfie Solomons
What Dreams May Come AU
Treadway
Succession
FIREFLY-GRAPHICS MOODBOARD CHALLENGE
(Billy Russo/Darkling, Bucky Barnes, Sherlock Holmes, Tony Stark, WandaxVision)
500 FOLLOWERS MOODBOARD CHALLENGE
(Daemon Targaryen, Valyrian OCs, Darkling/Aleksander Morozova, Eddi Munson and other Stranger Things characters, Hangman and Coyote, Alfie Solomons, Eames)
#moodboard#moodboards#aesthetic#aesthetic moodboard#moodboard aesthetic#masterlist#alternate universe#darkling#nathan bateman#bishop losa#star trek au#boba fett#poe dameron#poe dameron x reader#alfie solomons#eddie munson#bane#tommy shelby#my stuff#my boards
124 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bishop Losa x reader
Credits to the owner of the GIF
English is not my first language, so there could be some mistakes :))
Warnings: any, just some swearing
Chapter one
You couldn’t see anything, were you dead? It wouldn’t be so bad, you lost everything maybe you could finally be in peace.
Your head hurted a lot, you could hear some distant voices, where were you? Did they find you again? Or you will wake up in hell? Finally you could open your eyes, you could feel someone holding your hand, you looked in that direction and you couldn’t see who it was because you didn’t have your glasses. But you could tell that he was a mid-age man, he was talking to… a doctor. You were just in hospital, so they found you, but did they found them? “Did you find them?” Your voice was rough for your lack of speaking,for who knows how long. They both looked at you. The man got up from the chair, “Who?” He was puzzled. “My mum… and my dog… Did you find them?” Tears were at the corners of your eyes. “No. We didn’t know, we thought that you were alone…” How could they know, you were the only one in that van, without counting the driver and his ‘bestie’.
You told them what had happened, you described the cantine where you were, so maybe they could find them, but unfortunately you couldn’t without having a crisis, so they called the psychologist of the hospital. After the interrogatory, he said that he wanted you to be moved to the psychiatrist area. He said that you were suffering of post traumatic stress, well actually it wasn’t the only thing. They gave you some pills for sleeping and when it would happen to have another crisis they would give you a different medicine.
One day the man that was holding you, came back to see how you were doing. You found out that he was a sergeant of the intelligence unit, he’s name was Charlie Davidson, and he was the one that found you on the street and helped you. “We found the bodies of two of the aggressors, we think that the third one killed them because it’s their fault if you could escape. And doctor Smith said that you will be dismissed soon.” “Oh… it’s a great idea, I think…” You looked at him and he immediately understood what you wanted to asked him, “ I’m sorry, but you’re still a minor, so your father has all rights to take you with him” “BUT HE IS THE REASON THAT ALL THIS SHIT HAPPENED” You screamed, it’s his fault that your mum died, it’s his fault that your dog died, IT’S his FAULT that you got hurt. AGAIN! “ Please… I don’t want to go with him please, I’ve already told you, I can’t leave with him, I’d prefer die, and maybe I will be happy with them” your voiced cracked, you were going to cry, but you didn’t want to, you took a deep breath and calmed your self. “ I won’t.” “What?” He landed you a passport, you opened it and inside there was an ID too, but on them there wasn’t your name. “I have a friend in Santo Padre. You will pretend to be his daughter, and you will live with him.” If your body wasn’t still so sore you would have got up and hug him as you’ve never done before. “But I have to warn you about something.” “What is it?” “He’s the presidente of a motorcycle club, the Mayans” “And what is the problem?” “They work for the Galindo’s charter. They transport the drug to the clients. I’m telling you this, because I don’t want you to be scared. I’m not saying that’s the safest place, but I’m sure that you’ll like it after all.” “And me, the real me, what will happen to her?” “We’ll fake your death. So you’re dad will have another body on his conscience.” You laughed a bit, “He’ll never learn. I know him, he’s immature, and doesn’t understand a shit, I would be surprised if he cried”
So this is why you’re here on a bus going to Santo Padre. You had a flight from Chicago to San Diego, and now you’ll have other five hours on this cracked bus.
When you arrived, you asked some indications to find the clubhouse. While you were walking down the street, you were feeling as someone was watching you. You turned around and there was a hooded man walking behind you, he was the same on the bus, the same person that tried to touch your ass. So, what would you do if someone was walking behind you, looking at you? Well, for you there was only one solution. Run. So you ran and ran, your knees were hurting, you weren’t used to run before, and now with your conditions, it was insane. You were still running when at your left you saw some motorbikes, so you stopped abruptly and turned immediately left. You entered the gate and you opened the door and you leaned on it. You were panting, you were going to faint for sure. A Spanish guy arrived from your left, “Everything is okay?” You jumped a bit, “Yes… May I have a glass of water please?” “Umm, sure” You went to the bar, he landed you the glass and you drank it all. “Excuse me, but where can I find Bishop Losa?” “He’s in the templo with the others” He pointed to a glass door “Thanks” You approached the door and you were going to open it but he stopped you “No. Wait.” With your hand still on the door you turned to him “You can’t enter, they’re in the middle of a meeting.” The door opened and a lot of people came out of the room. They were tall and with many tattoos. One looked at you and he smirked, but you looked away, and you saw that in the room was still a man, he was looking at you intensely and a chill hitted you. (Before exiting the hospital you got your glasses back so now you can see something . )“Enter, close the door behind you and sit” You gulped and you did what he told me. On his kute you read ‘presidente’ so he’s definitely him. He lightened a cigaret “Do you want one?” “No, I don’t smoke” “ I’m Bishop, but I think that you’ve already understood that.” “Yes, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you” You smiled and he bowed his head as a response. “How was the flight?” “Hmm… good, I mean I don’t like flights but it was quite good.” While you were talking he would look at you and that made goosebumps all over your body, you shouldn’t react like this, it passed only a month since the disaster, you were still in therapy, and the doctor said to take your meds for at least a month. “What are you thinking about?” He snapped you out of your thoughts, you didn’t realise that you were staring in to the void. He looked at you like he knew well what you were thinking. “ Nothing, I’m just tired.” In fact, after that you yawned. He laughed. “Well, how does it sounds if I take you home little one?” ‘Little one’ no one ever called you like that, and it hit you really hard. “It sound as a great idea” and you smiled at him. One other ‘problem’ that you had was social anxiety, so talking to strangers it’s not so easy for ones like you. He got up from his throne and he was in front of you, you got up too, but your knees gave up and you fall but he took you with only one arm that was on your waist embracing you. One of your hands on his shoulder and the other on the chair. You turned your head and your faces were only centimetres apart, you could feel his breath on your face. Your throat was dry, it felt like you couldn’t breathe. It only lasted a few seconds but it seemed like an eternity. You looked him in his eyes and… “Are you okay?” “Yes, as I told you before I’m tired so…” “Got it.” You walked to the door together his hand still on your waist. “Brothers. I want you to meet my daughter Y/N Losa.” You wanted to sleep, the time zone was hitting you, but instead you had to smile and shake the hands off ALL of them. A torture.
You arrived home, ‘what a relief’ you thought. You got inside. It was pretty cosy, you liked it. You two went up the stairs. He opened the door and in front of you there was a king side bed. At your left there was another door, you supposed it was the bathroom and on the opposite side the wardrobe. “You’ll sleep here.” You frowned, you exited the room, there weren’t any other rooms, where will he sleep? “I’ll sleep on the couch. I can tell you that’s kinda comfy” He was smirking, so your mind went to some scenarios that you shouldn’t think about. You shaked your head. “Are you sure that is okay? I can sleep on the couch. I don’t want to steal your bed” “Haha, don’t worry little one. I would never let a lady sleep on my couch. Maybe there are some exception, but you aren’t in those. I left you some clothes to wear as a pyjamas in the bathroom. Goodnight querida.” And he kissed your forehead and he left. “Goodnight Bishop.” He turned his head and smiled at me. Querida… it sounds as a nice thing, but you didn’t know Spanish and you didn’t have a phone to search on it, so you didn’t know what he told you.
You took a bath, you changed your clothes with those that he gave it to you. It was a black t-shirt with the Mayan’s logo, and for the lower half he gave you his… boxer. Well, what can you say, you turned red as a tomato, but in the end you wore them. You went to sleep. You were so tired that you didn’t take the pill, but you should have took it.
In the middle of the night you started to pant and to lay around in bed. “Mum… Take me, not her me, kill me… please…Please!” You woke up in shock the memories of that night rushing into your mind. You got up to take a glass of water in the kitchen. You went down the stairs, but saw him laying on the couch with only a t-shirt on and his boxer, and the thought of a glass of water wasn’t important anymore. Something else came up to your mind, you could have asked him if he would like to make you some company until you could sleep again. You gulped and you approached him. “Bishop…” “Hmm.” “Are you awake?” “Well, now I am. Is everything alright?” You took a deep breath, “I can’t sleep…” you couldn’t see him in the darkness but you felt his stare, and than with nonchalance he just asked you: “Do you want me to sleep with you little one?”
Fuck.
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
I posted 1,199 times in 2022
That's 654 more posts than 2021!
135 posts created (11%)
1,064 posts reblogged (89%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@ithinkwehitametaphor
@buckyhoney
@mariamariquinha
@cheesybadgers
@justanotherblonde23
I tagged 295 of my posts in 2022
#the corinthian - 14 posts
#lou's gifs - 12 posts
#boyd holbrook - 11 posts
#bishop losa - 10 posts
#bring me a dream - 10 posts
#jon bernthal - 10 posts
#mayans mc - 9 posts
#ficmas - 9 posts
#sandman fanfiction - 8 posts
#the sandman - 8 posts
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Princess
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female!Reader
Warnings: Angst, Smut (18+), spanking, fingering, PinV, choking, brat taming, slight bit of name calling (slightly dubious to have sex with someone after rescuing them from a kidnapping but we'll ignore that)
Summary: Reader is the daughter of a prolific genral who's been kidnapped while she was trying to party it up with her friends. Ghost and Soap are recruited to rescue her, and soon find out that reader's attitude might be more of a challenge than the gang they're trying to rescue her from.
(No use of y/n)
A/N: I can't get Ghost out of my head and tbh I kinda feel like he'd be so good at dealing with your bratty nonsense if he had to.
- 👑-
You were sure you were going to die.
Not because your family didn’t have the money, not because there weren’t enough resources to save you, or even because of your own natural pessimistic tendencies. No. You were sure you were going to die because your father had made it abundantly clear long ago that you didn’t matter to him.
You weren’t a man. You couldn't carry his title on and you’d grown up learning that that was mostly all he cared for. His legacy. It was one of the few things that cold man spoke of fondly, always lighting up at the mention of your brothers but never you. And as a result you’d grown up living for even the smallest chance at spiting him for it. You partied and drank and slept around with boys that made even your friends curl their lips at you sometimes.
So, you were pretty sure that once your kidnappers realised that, that could only mean one thing. One of those big guns they were carrying was going to end up pointed right in your face then…bang.
It was enough to leave you disoriented, you weren't taking in much. Not that there was much to take note of. Your eyes were shoddily covered over with a scrap of harsh, scratchy cloth and you could only see little slivers of things here and there. Your hands were duct taped to the arms of an office chair and your mouth was similarly covered so as to prevent anymore screams and curses.
You watched sets of boots as they echoed around the frigid room, and saw gun barrels and machetes, men roving across a scuffed up concrete floor. You didn’t catch anything that made you want to see more. Especially when you heard the taunts they slung at you in their thick accents.
“Don’t worry precious, I’m sure a spoiled little rich girl like you will get a good ransom, you’ll be home soon.”
“Bet you’re used to guys with big guns like this, daddy’s men must love you.”
“She’s a cute little thing, we should have some fun with her before we send her back.”
“I’ve heard she likes to have lots of fun, bet we’d slip right into her, fucking american girls.”
If the blindfold came off then that would only mean one thing. They were going to make good on the salacious threats they were now casually slinging your way. The fantasies they were now trading back and forth as they returned to speaking their own language. That was a small mercy at least. Not having to hear about how the last few moments of your life would go.
You could feel your body shaking like an addict in withdrawal and your poor heart was leaping around in your chest like a caught frog. It didn’t help that you were riling yourself up either, imagining what the newspapers would say. Flashing up in your mind like something out of an old batman episode with a blaring brass section accompanying them.
Daughter of a notable general killed in shock kidnapping
Holiday in Cancun turned nightmare as General’s daughter taken in the night
You couldn't even be sure if you were still in Mexico. For all you knew you were in all those other countries that you’d been too busy crafting a reputation to learn about in school. What were they again? Guatemala, Cuba? You were sure those were somewhere close by. Funny the things the mind distracts itself with when you’re stuck tightly in a chair surrounded by leering wolves.
If only you hadn’t been drawn in by that tattooed man with the big arms. If only you’d been a good girl and enjoyed your holiday and stuck close to your friends instead of going out on the hunt for attention from bad men covered in tattoos and cologne that smelt like bad decisions. You could practically hear your father’s growly voice echoing through your mind.
Stupid little girl.
He’d been saying that for as long as you had memories of him. He’d be satisfied now, you lamented. You’d proved him right in the end, he’d always said your lifestyle would catch up with you and you’d be wishing that you’d just behaved for once sooner or later.
At the very least, you figured, you wouldn’t have to hear him say I told you so.
- 👑-
You weren't sure how much time had passed. It could’ve been a few minutes, or it could’ve been hours, but as your breathing grew more ragged behind the tape you knew you were experiencing the last few precious moments you had left.
The men were sounding more and more pissed off as they rattled off curses to each other, filling the room with sharp hisses. They weren’t getting the results they wanted. They’d even removed the tape at some point and had you screaming out for a video, but apparently that wasn’t getting them anywhere either. They got tired with your cries and slapped an even thicker strip back in place.
You were starting to cry, feeling the stiff cloth go damp against your skin and irritating it further. It was so thick and itchy over your eyes, you wanted nothing more than to pull it off. You needed to see, needed to breathe. You were panicking. You needed out, you needed air, you needed to feel safe again.
See the full post
340 notes - Posted November 19, 2022
#4
Bring me a dream
Part 3: Vanilla Marshmallow
Status: Ongoing
Masterlist
Pairing: The Corinthian x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, smut, horror elements, manipulation
A/N: ok i think I got everyone tagged that wanted to be, but if not please don’t take it as a mark against you! Just message and let me know to add you ☺️ enjoy everyone!
-🍰-
Perhaps it was the thought of your sweet face, or maybe it was the flashback of you making him “pinky promise”; or it was some combination of those things and others that was making Corinthian feel bad about the dead person in front of him. He stared back at the hollow eye sockets with a grimace, holding the cooling body close to himself and brushing its dark hair away from the trickling blood. What was he going to do?
Of course he had no intention of actually stopping his illicit activities, those were a part of his life’s rich tapestry. Naturally he said what he could so that you would give him a chance, but now he was genuinely beginning to feel like he should at least dial back. He tilted his head at the corpse and arched his back, coming to lie back against the soft, thread rich sheets and letting the body slump off of the bed.
“Gonna have to hide that now,” he said to himself, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Never had to do that before…”
His naked thighs tangled in a blood stained white throw, burrowing him closer into the warmth of the bed. He could’ve lain there all night, staring up at the ceiling and into the emptiness there, contemplating you. There was a softness that grew inside his chest as he thought of you. A need that tingled through him as the blood that remained on his bare skin seemed to scratch at him.
He needed to wash off his sins.
The bed was slicked with crimson, evidence of his failed promise. He glanced at the glasses on the bedside table and stared back at himself in the reflection, considering his toothy eyes and solemn lips. His cheeks were trickling with blood that looked like tears. Was this what Morpheus envisioned when he was created? He often wondered about that.
Corinthian trailed his thoughts toward the entrapped endless and smiled. thinking of him caged and seething often brought a grin curling to his lips. It had upset him to know just how much you revered Morpheus upon talking to you more. You’d denied yourself the pleasures of the human realm, waiting so loyally in the dreaming, it was unfathomable. Beyond his comprehension. There was so much to gain from life, so many experiences to live.
He intended to make sure that you experienced them all. He wanted to claim it all for himself anew, seeing what the human realm had to offer for a dream. What would you do? How will the world change you? He couldn’t wait to see. It made his heart flutter thinking of all of the possibilities.
All he had to do was hide that poor wretch sprawled on the floor and he could drive back to the city and go meet you at daybreak. A thought that had him sighing into the pillow, moving his hands so that they trailed down past his stomach. He had some time before the darkness would dissolve and until then, well, he intended on having some fun to himself before he had to restrain himself once more.
Not for much longer, he hoped.
See the full post
380 notes - Posted August 29, 2022
#3
See the full post
405 notes - Posted February 6, 2022
#2
Bring me a dream
Part 2: Cherry Cheescake
Status: Ongoing
Masterlist
Pairing: The Corinthian x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, smut, horror elements, manipulation
-🍰-
You spent all day on a knife edge. You couldn’t take your mind off of the ‘date’ you were to go on that night. At least, that was what you’d told Casey when she asked why you were flitting around the kitchen, baking all manner of different tray bakes and cakes. Your human companion was less than pleased that her kitchen was rendered unusable for breakfast before her work, but you didn’t have the mental capacity to think about that.
“Oh my god, will you stop already!”
You looked up from the messily iced cupcake you’d been working on and faced your roommate, looking into her incensed green eyes. Your hands shook for a second, continuing to pipe out icing until finally Casey reached out and snatched the bag from you. It left you standing like a hamster with your hands still in position, staring ahead into the abyss.
“What’s up with you? This should be exciting! You’ve never even talked about fancying a single man or woman, or anyone since I’ve known you and now the minute you go on a date you’re acting like you’re in a TV heartbreak!” she said, half laughing, half looking ready to strangle you.
You sighed and looked around at the floury mess you’d left all over the room and at the numerous treats you’d made, finally registering the extent of your work that day. You couldn’t believe what you’d done. You wondered for a second where you’d get the time to give them away, until you realised that her presence meant that she was back from work. Time was creeping on you faster than you'd realised and you were going to need to prepare to go out soon. Shit.
“O-oh well I um- I’ve never been on a date before,” you said truthfully, looking back at Casey as she started to clear up your damage.
She stopped in her tracks just as she began to take your mixing bowls over to the sink and whirled back around. Her eyes were as wide as an owl’s. Now you were beginning to think that your excuse wasn’t the best cover up.
“You’ve never been on a date?” she echoed.
You nodded and rubbed the back of your neck, already regretting your idea so much more. It was obvious she was invested now. Invested in your date with the Corinthian, oh gods, what were you going to do? You didn’t want to get all dolled up for him, you didn't want to indulge him in any way really, but the look on Casey’s face now was the ‘you’re not getting out of this without a makeover’ look.
“Hold on, before you get any ideas-” you tried.
“Oh I have so many ideas!” She interrupted. “ We need to start getting you ready now, we need to prepare you. Right, you go get in the shower then I can do your hair and bring up first date topics- oh and then we can-”
You zoned out while she rambled on about her schemes, lost in your own despair. Her head was filled with roses and your’s was occupied by those dark soulless shades and fox-like smile. You were going for a date with the devil and she was acting like you were meeting prince charming and getting ready for a life in a castle. It made your lips turn like you’d just eaten sour candy.
You knew better than to argue with Casey, however. Once she got on one of her tirades you’d never be able to stop her, especially not while she looked so full of childlike excitement. Who were you to ruin her dreams of preparing her friend for her first date?
-🍰-
You looked like something out of a magazine. Your eye makeup was perfectly applied and glittered like a fairy had flown over you, your cheeks were glimmering with highlighter and your lips were pink and glossy. Kissable, she had said. As if you were going to allow him to kiss you. Ha!
You stood in the doorway, glaring at the thought of the nightmare you were going to meet. Only for a second though. Casey turned back around to face you and continued to rattle off her first date rules, while you stared off into the distance. Somehow, you didn’t think you were going to need to use them. Instead of listening, you played with the skirt of your white cotton dress and admired your pretty pink nails.
“Are you even listening to me?” Casey snapped.
“Oh- yes! I’ll let you know as soon as I’m there and I’ll call you if anything happens,” you said dutifully, gesturing away with your hand.
“That’s not what I was-”
“Actually, you know what, I really should be going! Don’t want to be late,” you interrupted, finally growing tired of humouring her.
With a squeal of good luck being shouted out to you, you closed the door and rushed down the stairs of your apartment toward the exit. You stood in the lobby for a second, feeling as if your breath was being stolen from your lungs. You didn’t want to have to go to the club, you didn’t even know if he’d be there yet, he hadn’t been so prudent as to give you a time. It made you wonder if he’d make you sit there all night for him.
Think of the humans, you said to yourself over and over like a mantra. You whispered it at first until you got into the cab you’d called, and even then, you took to recycling it in your head instead. You had to protect these beings' lives with your own, no matter what fiendish plans the Corinthian had in store for you.
“You look real pretty tonight, miss,” the driver said, eyeing you appreciatively in his mirror. “Somethin’ special on?”
See the full post
472 notes - Posted August 21, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Bring me a dream
Part 1: Strawberry Daiquiri
Status: Ongoing
Masterlist
Pairing: The Corinthian x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, smut, horror elements, manipulation
A/N: This part is more of an introduction so nothing really to warn about here, but The Corinthian is pretty creepy so I'll add anything else on that I think needs to be there as I go!
Summary
The corinthian has been enjoying his time away from Lord Morpheus (that is, his forced imprisonment of course). Being free has been a dream. However, when he meets another from the land of the dreaming, he realises the exciting potential to corrupt one of his masters sweet creations. And so he decides he has to have her for himself...
-🍰-
The moment he caught sight of you, of your sweet face and soft nature, he felt compelled to have you. To possess you. To corrupt you completely. Knowing what you were was just the icing on the cake really.
Had you been just any being he’d have felt a pull, but knowing that you were one of his master’s dreams only ramped up his terrible desire all the more. Especially when you were so beloved by dream, his little baker, the girl that could completely change a human’s emotions with just a bite of something sweet.
The Corinthian had wandered alone for such a long time, he’d almost forgotten there were others out there. Other dreams and other nightmares. He’d been unimpeded by his master for so long, living by way of his own twisted whims that when he saw you it reminded him of a world outside of his own. Reminded him of a place he detested so wholly he wanted to rip apart like a daisy. He desired to tear the petals off one by one and scatter the pollen like ashes.
And what better way to do that than to take you and bend you to his will. At least that was what he’d intended on anyway.
You were out in a booming city club with one of the humans you’d befriended only a few months after you’d left the dreaming. A decision you’d not made lightly. You’d watched so many others abandon hope while you’d held on so resolutely, had been so sure that Lord Morpheus would return that you couldn’t let yourself disappoint him. Until finally the lonely crumbling expanse had turned you away with a heavy heart.
You couldn’t bring yourself to watch the last walls of the palace tumble down, and so you’d come to earth like many other dreams in search of somewhere less lonely. Somewhere alive. And you’d found that in the city. It was odd at first, speaking with the beings you had only interacted with in their sleep, conversing with them and getting to experience every part of them and their confusing natures. You’d thought them frightening and, in some cases, cruel at first when you’d just arrived, but soon you came to realise how multifaceted they could be. it only made you love them all the more.
You were watching Casey now as she attempted to flirt with some man from another group, and smiling fondly to yourself as you often did. She was awful at it. She fumbled with her words and awkwardly played with her straw, stealing glances at the stocky man and trying to tell him jokes. She’d grown up insecure, carried her lack of confidence into her twenties like a backpack she couldn’t take off. She was more than the little red head girl hiding in the corner with her frumpy hand-me downs that she believed herself to be, she was the first human to show you kindness.
It comforted you to know that she would be returning home with you that night and delight in one of your signature bakes. Perhaps a big gooey brownie that would inexplicably dry her tears and put a smile on her face, or maybe a richly iced cupcake that would fill her heart with sprinkles of joy and laughter. She wouldn’t go home with some man that wouldn’t appreciate her tinkling laughter and hand-knitted creations. Wouldn’t be led away from you. She needed you. At least that’s what you told yourself every time you would spirit her away from nightclubs and back to your shared kitchen.
“Thinking about somethin’ sweet, sugar?”
A southern drawl broke you out of your thoughts and had you craning your head up into the strobing darkness. You’d been leaning your head in your hand, looking far into the distance but once you met the sculpted face peeking out of the shadows you felt more alert than ever. You felt a chill working it’s way down your spine when you stared into the soulless lenses of his midnight black shades. You tried to place him in your mind, but you couldn’t think of any solid. Only an instinct telling you that he was trouble.
“W-What do you want?” You uttered quickly, hands shaking as they clutched the leather of your seat.
You weren't sure who he was, but you knew for definite that he was a nightmare. There was a dark aura expelling from his pores despite his clean pressed suit jacket and charming smile. You didn’t trust him one bit.
“Now now, sugar, no need to be like that. I just wanted to offer you a drink. After all it’s not often I come across a dream like you,” he’d said so smoothly you could imagine him wink. “Can I sit?”
You were about to protest, you’d opened your mouth and were about to unleash hell before he placed a glass of bright red liquid in front of you. You frowned at it and then looked back at him, catching him gracefully sloping into the seat next to you. Who was this man? Who did he think he was to come and disturb your night.
You looked down at your drink finally and looked at it suspiciously, running your finger up and down the condensation covered glass. What was it? Was it something sinister? You inspected it all over,there was a sugary cherry pierced onto the drooping straw and a little sparkly umbrella that twirled around in the ice that could barely be seen through the dark crimson liquid. It smelt fruity to you, and probably sickly sweet to most humans. Maybe you could give it a taste…
“It’s a strawberry daiquiri. Sweet drink for a sweet dream,” the man drawled.
You tensed as he called you out again. Did he know who you were? If he did then he had you at a disadvantage and you didn’t care for that one bit. The man was too slithery to hold power like that and you knew all this had to be some kind of manipulation, but to what end? It’s not like he could hurt you, you thought to yourself. You can’t kill a dream.
“You never answered my question,” you said finally, taking the straw in your fingers. “What do you want?”
You took a tentative sip of the drink and found yourself holding back a moan at how good it was. It was ice cool and had several shots of extra syrup, too much for a human palette, though it was perfect for you. How did he know? Your eyes drew back to him and that equally sweet smile of his, running your eyes across his soft pink lips. If only you knew who he was.
“I want some company, sugar. Nothin’ sinister, I just saw you and thought you’d like a conversation…I don’t know about you, but I don’t run into dreams often,” he said smoothly, sitting back in his chair and relaxing into the booth.
See the full post
639 notes - Posted August 17, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
1 note
·
View note
Text
Angel reyes x Bishop losa daughter part 1
Yn losa comes to see her dad and how's been after a few years. On her way of healing there relationships she meets this man.
Angel hey mama's
You hello do you know where Bishop losa is
Angel yeah
Your dad sees you
Bishop Emily
You You run up to him hi dad
Angel in his head dad
Bishop how about you been
Emily I been good hru
Bishop good
Emily that's good pa
The rest of group comes in
Ez hi I'm Ezekiel
Emily hi I'm Emily
Ez nice
Emily yeah
You all sit at a table and have a round of drinks
Bishop mija can I talk to you
You yeah coming
You whats up
Bishop well I would you like if you stayed here when I we went on our travels
You but I want to come please
Bishop I can't every say no to you
You I no do you know where tio is
Bishop you have alot which one
You Marcus
Bishop oh he should be here shortly
You alright
Marcus gets up his bike
Em long time
Marcus mija hi how ahveyou been gives u hug
Em good I figured I come home
Marcus that's good
You go back in and sit down at one of the tables and angel comes up to
Angel Hola
You Hola
Angel so your bishop daughter
You yeah that's me
Angel nice
You yeah lol
You so what's your name
Angel Angel Ignacio reyes
You oh cool are you Felipe son
Angel yeah
You I see your dad at his shop all the time
Angle nice
Your tio and dad glance at you two
You give me a minute
You walk up to your dad and Marcus gets up to get another drink
Bishop so angel
You yo no sey
Bishop uh huh
You pa I'm just being nice
Bishop ok
You lay your head on your dad shoulder
You dad what's so bad about him
Bishop nothing I just don't want you to grown up
You dad I'm grown woman
Bishop I know
You te amo
Bishop te amo princess
The next morning
You getting dressed in a comfortable outfit and head
Ez hey do you want some coffee
You sure gracias
Ez de nada
You hey angel
Angel hi ma
Bishop good morning mija todo bien
You si
You guys spend the day at the temple doing some cleaning
1 note
·
View note
Text
No One Has to Know- Part 3
Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader
Summary: Angel confronts Bishop about his gift to you.
Warnings: Mentions of torture
A/N: Its finally here!
Like what you read, here’s more and if you really like it here’s my taglist
Part 2
Bishop could barely keep this secret anymore. Every time you would pop up at the club, he wanted to envelope you in his arms, but he had to settle for the little hugs you would give him time to time.
Then, he wanted to strangle every man hitting on you. One day when he was riding by, he saw Nestor flirting with you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He almost ran Nestor over that day. Calling on his primo, Marcus, he had him speak to Miguel, because he didn’t want any cartel member near his baby girl and in no way did his personal life need to mix with business.
And he almost killed Angel on multiple occasions as well. It’s obvious he could see the love Angel has for you, but the lust was just as clear and too much for Bishop to handle. The way his eyes would roam over your body, or how he would grab your ass when he walked past you, or when he came to the club in a good mood because you got him right that morning.
Everything would set Bishop off. Only Hank and Taza could calm him down and that was getting harder now. He could feel his resolve breaking down. He wanted your mom to tell you, but as each day passed it looked like it would be him.
-
While Bishop was struggling with keeping the truth from you, Angel was struggling with the idea that Bishop was trying to steal his girl.
It seems that every time Bishop was around you, he was up in your face. Checking on you a little too much, asking about you more than any other woman associated with the club, taking you on your first bike ride, teaching you how to dance, and in general just giving Angel shit.
Angel decided he wasn’t gonna take anymore when he caught something inside of your helmet. There was an inscription that said, ‘Para mi preciosa,’ (For my precious). He knew you haven’t seen it, because you would automatically ask him did he know about it. Taking your helmet, he got on his bike and headed for the scrap yard.
On a mission, Angel didn’t even respond to Chucky when he greeted him. He just brushed past the man and searched for his target. He found Bishop at a table with Riz, Tranq, and Creeper playing cards.
“Hey Bis, can I speak with you?”
Bishop look up at Angel and could tell he was irritated. “After this hand.” He told him, not wanting to deal with whatever drama Angel was caught up in.
“I was hoping it could be now. It’s kinda serious.”
Bishop slammed down his cards. “Is it kinda serious or is it serious?”
“Serious. It’s about Y/N.” The flash of worry that crossed Bishop’s face confirmed his suspicions that something was going on.
The two of them went to sit at the bar. “What’s going on Angel?”
He couldn’t find the words, so he threw your helmet in Bishop’s direction. “What the hell is this? ‘Para mi preciosa?’ You trying to make a move on my girl?”
Bishop didn’t mean for Angel to find that. Well, not now at least. He thought the secret would be out by now. “No one’s trying to take your girl, Angel.” Bishop left it at that and tried to walk away.
“Then explain the inscription.” Angel stopped his retreat.
“It’s none of your fucking business.” Now they attracted everyone’s attention. They were standing toe to toe in the middle of the room.
“No fuck that! You’ve been giving her too much attention for too fucking long! You need to step off!”
Bishop knew Angel was just protecting his, but he couldn’t tolerate the disrespect. “Or what?”
That did it. Angel threw the first swing and Bishop tackled him. They were so busy fighting that they didn’t notice you yelling at them.
You were about to pull Bishop off Angel, but what he said stopped you in your tracks.
“She’s my fucking kid! Y/N’s my daughter!”
“What?” As quiet as you were, Angel and Bishop heard you. They clambered over each other trying to get to you.
“Mija, follow me.” He guided you to the famed Templo. Angel tried to follow, but Hank stopped him. “Let them work it out first.”
“I thought only Mayans were only allowed in here.” You ran your fingers against the carved table.
“Exceptions can be made for Mayan royalty.”
You raised your eyebrow at him. You always wanted to be an honorary member, but princess could work too. “Be careful. Give me an inch and I’ll be your first patched female member. Kutte and all.”
“I don’t doubt that. Come sit, mija.” He patted the seat next to him.
Bishop practiced this speech multiple times, but now the words were stuck in his throat.
All the times you’ve been around Bishop, you’ve never seen him so unwillingly quiet. You took mercy on him and squeezed his hand. “You’re him, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“You’re the guy my mom always used to warn me about. She used to tell me about the guy who almost ruined her life as a cautionary tale.”
Bishop lit his cigarette and took a drag. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, but I always thought she was a coward.” Bishop furrowed his brows at your confession. “Why is that?”
“Because whenever she would talk about you, no matter how much venom and disdain she had in her voice there was a twinkle in her eye. Her love for you would shine through. Although not as bright as it did in the past, I suspect. I’m pretty sure you being from the wrong side of the tracks caused her to drop you thus cowardice. Her need for people’s approval cost her you and our relationship.” As you went on Bishop could see you get riled up even more reminding him of his own temper. To get you to calm down, Bishop wrapped you in his arms.
This hugs weren’t like hugs in the past. This hug was full of love and longing. This hug had a tinge of grief for the lost time between father and daughter.
You pulled back some when you felt some of Bishop’s tears on your face. “Are you crying?”
“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for this moment forever.”
“How long have you known?” You asked wiping away his tears. “I suppose for a while, but I confirmed it a little before your graduation party.”
You remember seeing Bishop talk to your mom the night of the party. She always hated him, but that night you saw a flash of fear in her eyes when she was talking to him. Guess the cat was out of the bag.
While you and Bishop were having your reunion, everyone else was making fun of Angel freaking out. “Dating the president’s daughter, who would’ve thought?” Gilly nudged him on the way to the pool table.
“That’s the least of his worries. Bishop and Alvarez are more like brothers than cousins. So, he’s dating el presidente’s daughter and el padrino’s niece. One fuck up and…pow!” Coco made his fingers into a gun and pointed it at Angel.
“Shut the fuck up, you two.” EZ brought everyone a beer. “Thank you, lil bro.” At least Angel had one person on his side. “They won’t shoot him first. It’ll definitely be torture first.”
Angel tried to swing at his brother, but EZ ducked and tackled him. They ended up wrestling with each other. Neither one grabbing the upper hand.
The brothers were in a jumble of limbs on the ground when you and Bishop finally left Templo. “You sure you wanna be with that idiot?” The president pointed at Angel on the floor in a headlock. “Get these steroid arms off of me, Ezekiel! You’re like some sick creation of Syd from Toy Story!”
“Yeah, I’m sure. He’s my idiot.” Even in a headlock Angel was adorable.
Eventually, the Reyes brothers sensed yours and Bishop’s presence and stopped their wrestling. Angel stood still as Bishop walked up to him. “If you ever hurt her, I’m gonna cut you into pieces, bury you in a fucking hole and piss in it.”
“Told you, torture.” EZ boasted to Coco and Gilly.
“Shut up, Prospect.” Angel and Bishop ordered him at the same time.
There was more talk about how Bishop would torture and desecrate Angel’s body if he ever hurt you. Being the daughter of a biker president sounded violent but oddly comforting.
“And definitely no sex at the clubhouse. Keep that shit at home and away from me.”
Forgetting where you were at the moment, you blurted out, “So that Templo thing is a no go?”
“What Templo thing, Angel?” Bishop questioned, ready to fuck Angel up again.
Angel’s eyes widened at you and you gave him a sheepish shrug, apologizing for your blabber mouth. “Nothing, Bis.”
“Keep it that way.” Bishop poked Angel in the chest.
Your phone started ringing and the name on the screen put you in a trance. Finding out that Bishop is your biological father is great, but it’s a whole lifetime too late. And of course, you loved the man who raised you, but you also missed out on a lot with Bishop and that was because of one person.
The phone finally stopped ringing and you went straight to your car. “Querida?” Angel called out to you, but you ignored him.
“Follow her, pendejo!” Bishop pushed Angel while grabbing his own keys.
“Where is she going?” Angel ran out the door and to his bike. “To the person who just lied to her for her whole life,” Bishop snapped on his helmet and revved up his bike. “Her mother.”
Tagging: @angrythingstarlight @imanerdychubbyqueen @starrynite7114 @lilsmilez @marvelmaree @thickemadame @chaneajoyyy @woahitslucyylu @angelreyesgirl @sadeyesgf @blessedboo @ljstraightnochaser @my-rosegold-soul @richonne4life @brattyfics @lovebennycolon @langiinspirations @chibsytelford @brownsugarcoffy @thesandbeneathmytoes @fvckthisbxtchup @theartisticqueen
#angel reyes x#angel reyes x reader#angel reyes x black!reader#bishop losa x daughter!reader#angel reyes fanfic#mayans mc#mayans mc fanfic#frizzlefic#frizzlesfic#no one has to know series
300 notes
·
View notes
Text
Contaminated (11/?)
Bishop Losa!Dad x OC Lara Barrera Losa
Angel Reyes x OC Lara Losa
A/N: Did I put Guy’s Grocery Games callout in this fic because I’ve been binge watching season by season for the past week? yes. and i’d do it again lol.
For a refresh, all the chapter links are in the below link!
Chapter Index
TW: 18+, mentions of sex, murder, death, violence, drugs, and alcohol.
Word Count: 3.6k
Taglist: (Just let me know if you want to be added :) @est1887 @minimel-fics @spnaquakindgdom @nessamc @alienstardust @mrsstevenbuchananstark @hinagiku0 @lyly00 @drabbles-mc @lilac-tea-time (it’s been a while since I’ve posted this, if I’ve forgot to add you to the taglist or you’d like to be tagged just let me know!)
Lara rolled over and groaned. The sun wasn’t exactly up yet but the orange and yellow tones were starting to peek through the window causing her to stir awake. As her eyes fluttered open, she realized she didn’t recognize where she was. Her heart dropped and she quickly made notice of her surroundings. The minute she saw Angel to her right, she felt a breath of relief escape her mouth before letting reality set in.
Of course, she ended up at Angel’s house. Her next move was to notice he didn’t have a shirt on and she was miraculously missing her other clothes too. Her eyes shut, the sigh she was letting out was in defeat. There was nothing she could do about any of this now, except settle her mind on the fact that she slept with Angel. Again.
Luckily, Angel was a deep sleeper. This allowed Lara to grab what she could around her to get dressed and get out without having to deal with, well, Angel and everything this situation entailed. She didn’t pay mind to what she was putting on, she just needed to cover up so she could get to her car and get home.
Lara had successfully maneuvered her way out of the house and into her car but when she was met with a picture of her and her best friend in the sun visor, thats when more of reality hit her.
“Frankie. Fuck.” She thought to herself as she checked the clock in her car. 7:29AM.
Her eyes looked down to notice she was wearing Angel’s tank top. A deep sigh escaped from her mouth. If Frankie was home, she would have known immediately what happened. If not for leaving with Angel and coming back home in the morning, but what would seal the deal was the fact Lara was wearing his shirt. She banged her head against the headrest of her car a couple times before she came to a realization. Frankie had stayed at EZ’s, there was a really good chance she wasn’t home yet, and Lara would take those odds. With that, she quickly sped through the early morning light traffic that Santo Padre had to get home.
Now, Frankie finding out wouldn’t have been the end of the world. It was her best friend, and if anything, she was dating EZ, she’d get it. But that was the thing, Frankie and EZ knew what they were doing, they had mutually agreed to being a couple. All Angel and Lara had mutually agreed on was sex, and even that was strictly consent based, there had been no conversation about labels, fuck buddies, friends with benefits, none of that. If anything, Lara expected things to go back to how they were years ago when they first had sex. Angel ignoring her and Lara making life hell for him. It was the only logical explanation, plus history tended to repeat itself, right?
There’s a saying that when you leave it to chance, all of the sudden you don’t have any luck left. Well, in this case, that was a lie. Lara pulled up to her house and quietly tip toed her way through. As she trekked down the hallway, she glanced into Frankie’s room since the door was open. Empty. She hadn’t been home. Her head dropped back as she smiled and then made her way to her room.
After a quick shower and a short lived nap, Lara was being woken up by the ringing of her cellphone on her nightstand.
She let out a grumble instead of a pleasantry for whoever was on the line.
“Come to the clubhouse in about an hour. We need to talk.” Bishop’s voice said not even bothering to comment on her grumpiness.
Who needed alarm clocks or roosters when the eerie call of your father who sounded just about ready to kill someone did just the same thing.
Lara shot up out of bed, “El que?” The shock had been so real that she flipped to Spanish like it had been her first language.
“10:30. The Club. It’ll just be for a few minutes.” Bishop said still with the same firmness in his tone. He didn’t give her a chance to respond, just hung up leaving Lara in bed, hungover, half asleep, wondering what what going on.
Her head began to fill with thoughts as she drove down to the clubhouse. Had her Dad solved the issue? Had he dug himself deeper? Had he dug the club deeper? Had he fucked up? Was he sending her away for good? The thoughts weren’t going to stop, she thought by stopping for coffee, it would give her something to enjoy but the caffeine just made her spiral more, until she started to drive down the dirt road towards the club.
That was the funny thing about getting behind that metal fence, it ironically felt safe. It felt quiet. It felt calm. There was a peace to knowing that all of the people here would have her back, not just because she was the El Presidente’s daughter but because they all did genuinely care about her.
The yard was packed, there had to be 2 times the amount of bikes there. For the first time, Lara hadn’t recognized half of them, but she did recognize one of them.
Tio Marcus. Curses flooded her brain as her thoughts went back to being extremely negative. Lara now stood in front of the club, staring at all the bikes. The feeling of safety was still there but it was being pushed to the back burner. Nervousness, anxiety, pressure, and the most prominent, scared. All words she’d use to describe her thoughts right now. She would give anything to go back to last night, where nothing mattered. But instead, she was here, while reality started to hit her like a brick.
“Lara!” A voice said from behind her causing her to jump and get startled.
“Sorry,” EZ grinned getting a bit of enjoyment out of startling her.
“Yea, the sympathy is dripping off you.” Lara rested her hand on her chest to catch her breath. “How’s Frankie doing?”
EZ’s grinned stayed plastered on his face, “back asleep, I gave her Tylenol, a granola bar, and a gallon of water to keep her hydrated while I’m on prospect duties,” he explained, “planning to bring her lunch later.”
Lara nodded as he talked.
“I didn’t expect to see you here so early,” EZ added as they stood in front of the clubhouse.
“Came to talk to Bish.” She pointed inside.
With a nod, EZ began walking towards the building, Lara in tow, “They’re in templo.” he informed her.
Lara froze for a minute. “All of them?” She pointed towards the bikes, “do you know why they’re all here? What’s going on?” Lara was starting to spiral.
EZ turned to face her and pointed at the prospect patch on his kutte, “Your guess is as good as mine.” And with that he entered the club.
That was a lie. Lara’s guess was most definitely way better than EZ’s, but she also didn’t want to believe it. With a deep breath, she followed behind EZ and just as she entered the club, templo was over and the large amount of Mayans were exiting the room. None of them looked twice at the girl, or even once for that matter, not even the ones that she had known. It made her think that maybe whatever this was about had nothing to do with her, it was just some larger club business, which Lara would gladly accept. She was turning now towards the templo doors that were still open, sneaking a peak to see that the head patch members were still in there. She managed to get a glimpse of Bishop and Marcus before the doors closed again.
Lara didn’t have enough time to sigh because in the next second Angel was in front of her.
“Sup?”
Lara was frowning, there was so much going on in her head at this moment, everything with the Calaveras and Bishop and now Angel, who was standing in front of her, neutral faced, talking to her like nothing happened.
“Sup?” She repeated his question. While she was really questioning it, Angel took it as she was genuinely asking.
“You left your shirt at my house,” he smirked.
It was said at a whisper which made Lara smirk but she was still a bit confused.
“Maybe you can come by later and pick it up,” he shrugged trying to keep a cool composure.
Lara was honestly shocked, she hadn’t expected Angel to give her the time of day and here he was trying to get her to come over again. It was better than the last time, and honestly, she was on board, so she went with it.
“I took yours by mistake this morning.”
“Yea, mistake.” Angel nodded.
“Hungover, half asleep, you know, wasn't paying much attention.” Lara smirked.
“Right, totally makes sense.” Angel nodded.
“I mean, if you want I can stop by tonight, pick mine up, drop yours off.” Lara continued.
“That works,” Angel faked like he was thinking pretty hard.
“See you tonight, then.” Lara turned as she saw the templo doors open.
She didn’t have a moment to process what really happened, she was already focused on the main reason she was here.
Marcus had walked by her, offering nothing but a nod, but Lara could tell there was something off with the way he looked at her, he normally would stop and chat, but this time he was leaving before she could even wave. Her eyes moved towards the next few people that passed by, president patches from the other clubs, offering her no glance or acknowledgement. Finally, Bishop walked out and they made eye contact.
There was so much tension between them. Lara felt it. Bishop felt it.
“Come on, let’s go outside.” He said and before Lara could argue he was already halfway out the door.
They stood against the railing of the porch, watching Marcus get on his bike and leave. Once he was gone, Bishop spoke up.
“If you get any notes, any calls, any in person run ins, any fuckin’ morse code messages for all I care, you tell me immediately. You don’t wait till you see me, you call me immediately. I don’t care if you think it’s not from them, I want to know. I want you home by 10, everyday, if you’re working, me or one of the guys will follow you home. No more going out to God knows where with God knows who.” Bishop was firm in his words.
Lara opened her mouth to argue.
“I’m not done.” Bishop didn’t even look at her. “If there’s so much as a fuckin post it note on your car, I’m putting someone on you 24/7. I’m not going to lose you over this.” His eyes were still staring straight off.
The urge to argue was gone. Lara knew there was no version of this conversation where she’d end up winning or getting anything that she wanted out of this. So she decided to go the route where she metaphorically punched him in the gut. After a long pause and a deep breath, Lara spoke up.
“You lost me a long time ago, Bishop.” She began to take a couple steps down the stairs. “Don’t worry, if one of the Calaveras sends pigeon mail to me you’ll be the first to know.” She called out now that she was further away.
Bishop stood there, ruminating on her first words. You lost me a long time ago. Bishop. Bishop. She used his first name. Which wasn’t uncommon; she had used his name before, especially when talking to other people, but this was different. He heard the sting behind her tone, he felt it. But regardless his number one concern was her safety. And that’s what he was doing. That’s what he was always doing. Whether he was doing it right or not.
_________
Before Lara knew it, it was night time. She briefly checked in with Frankie earlier in the day and she was spending another night at EZ’s. There were pros and cons to that. For one, it meant that she had no one to talk to about what happened. This wasn’t something she wanted to explain over text, but she also needed to explain the audacity of Bishop, and maybe get a dose of reality from Frankie but either way she just needed that support. On the other side, it meant that EZ and Frankie would be occupied tonight, which made sneaking to Angel’s, well, less sneaky.
Which is what brought her where she currently was. Sitting in front of Angel’s house. It was a little intimidating if she was being honest with herself. They had a history, and she wasn’t sure if she fully trusted him yet. But there was something there. There always was. It was also different this time around, for a multiple of reasons. She felt more vulnerable, which was likely because of everything happening with The Calaveras and Bishop and yet the butterflies were on level 10.
Lara knew if she sat there any longer, she’d psych herself out. So she grabbed his shirt which was in the passenger seat and made her way to his front door and knocked.
Angel opened the door and it was one of the first times she saw him (outside of their intimate interactions), without a kutte on since their first time meeting. She was taken aback a bit which is why she paused after his greeting but quickly recovered.
“Your shirt.” She lifted up the tank and kept eye contact with him.
“Right. My shirt.” He smiled and opened the door more and nodded to invite her in.
She stepped inside, even though she was there in the morning, there wasn’t really much time to look around and take in his place like she could now. It looked like a frat boy’s house. Random flags and signage, old black leather furniture, a mini fridge even though the kitchen was not too far. It was very, Angel which gave her a bit of a giggle.
“Nice place.” Lara was still looking around.
Their conversation hadn’t gone past 4 words a piece, yet.
“Ain’t much, but it’s home.” Angel shrugged, moving to the mini fridge and grabbing beers for the both of them.
Okay 5 words. They were getting somewhere.
Angel approached Lara with the beers, startling her a bit. “Oh, no, I’m not drinking tonight.” She shook her head and pushed the beer away a bit.
Angel’s eyebrows raised in shock, he wasn’t sure if he had ever heard Lara Losa turn down a drink before. He wasn’t going to push her, though. He nodded and went into the kitchen and grabbed two waters.
“You don’t have to not drink just because I’m not.” Lara grabbed the water from him.
“Nah, it’s cool. I still feel like I’m fighting a hangover anyways.” Angel shrugged and plopped down on the couch. Lara nodded and stood awkwardly still looking around his house.
“You can sit down, you know.” Angel tilted his head next to him.
Lara hesitated before she moved to sit next to him, letting her mind go a mile a minute before pushing every thought to the back of her mind and sitting down on the couch to his left.
“It doesn’t have to be awkward.” Angel said as he turned the TV on to have some background noise. “I had a good time with you last night, even before we came back here.” Angel boldly said.
The girl wasn’t expecting that from Angel, and he definitely wasn’t either, which is why he started to back pedal. “But whatever you wanna do, you know. We can act like nothing happened, go back to how things were, you know.”
“Is that what you want?” Lara turned to face him even though he was nervously staring at the TV, “to go back to how things were between us?”
Angel should have thought before he spoke, but that rarely ever happened so he just blurted out something. “Whatever you wanna do, you know?” He shrugged like they were talking about traffic or the weather not the situation between the two of them.
Lara in that moment felt her confidence overtake her. She saw through Angel’s charades and knew that the power was in her hands, it was up to her, and that made Lara thrive.
“I think the sex is too good to go back to how things were” Lara smiled.
Angel’s head snapped to her, stunned at her words but managed to let a smile build on his face.
Lara’s nostrils flared as she tried to hold back her laugh as they stared at each other before they both let a belly cackle out.
“So what are we watching?” Lara got comfortable on the couch, the two of them weren’t touching yet, but it was progress from when she first got there.
______
It had been 4 hours since Lara first arrived, she was currently sprawled out on the couch, her shoes off, swimming in one of Angel’s hoodies, and cuddled up next to the man.
“I can’t believe we’ve been watching Guy’s Grocery Games for the past 4 hours.” Lara said as she checked her phone, 9:27PM and a notification from Bishop.
9:26PM Bishop Losa: Home. 10PM. Don’t forget.
“I mean, it’s the superstar challenge, we gotta see it through,” Angel said as he innocently looked down seeing the message on her phone but quickly looking away.
“Wish we could but, I gotta get out of here. Plus this is the last episode on for the rest of the night,” Lara leaned over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote and pressed the button that allowed the tv guide to pop up. “See, Kitchen Nightmares is on next.” Her body fell back into his.
“Man, I fuckin’ hate that show.” Angel said, wrapping his arm around the girl effortlessly as her head rested on his chest. “Makes me never want to go to a fuckin’ restaurant ever again.” He shivered.
“You easily have 4 different kinds of takeout in your fridge as we speak, Angel. That’s never happening.” She went to stand up.
“You leavin’ already?” Angel changed the subject.
“Yea, gotta get home.” Lara said leaving the rest to be interpreted, but Angel wasn’t going to let her go that quickly.
“Bishop got you on a time clock?” He frowned, he didn’t get up or even change his position on the couch.
“You shoulder surfing?” Lara frowned realizing he had read her text.
“Didn’t mean to,” he adjusted his posture and was now leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“What do you know?” Lara asked, sitting on the wooden table so the two were eye to eye.
This was the million dollar question, what did he know. What was she going to share. Were they going to trust each other.
The answer was yes, but also no.
“I know Bishop’s got some personal shit going on that he brought to the table.” Angel started, trying to tiptoe around the templo meeting this morning.
“Bishop?” Lara frowned and nodded. “Sure let’s go with that.” Lara wanted to leave it at that, but she couldn’t. “I get that what happens in templo is sacred, blood brothers, secret spit handshakes and all that shit, but I know Bishop said my name at that table this morning. What do you know?”
Angel thought about it, this was the first time they were hanging out as whatever they were and he was already seeing the consequences of messing with the club president’s daughter.
“You know I can’t tell you about templo, but I can tell you that Bishop is serious about keeping you safe.”
Lara nodded, “So you know that I have to be home by 10.”
“I didn’t know that, but it makes sense. I know there’s some shit that went down with The Calaveras and I know that the day I saw you at the main square you were having issues with someone wearing a Calaveras rocker.” Angel shared, hoping that would be enough. He knew a little more, but there was a line he had to tow when it came to this.
“So observant.” Lara sarcastically joked.
“What happened?” Angel asked, now flipping the interrogation onto the girl.
“I used to date one of the guys from The Calaveras, bad breakup, they’re taking it out on Bishop.” Lara told a partial truth.
Angel didn’t push for more, he just stood and stuck his hand out to the girl who stared at it for a minute before taking it in her own.
“Well, I guess we better get you home before the clock strikes midnight, Cinderella.”
“10, and I think I’m more of a Mulan.” Lara said with her hand wrapped in Angel’s who looked at her a bit confused.
“Disobeying my father, but still fighting for his honor, you know.” Lara grinned.
Angel took the bait that Lara probably didn’t even realize she left. “Well if you’re disobeying, you might want to go to my bedroom.” Her eyes went wide in shock not expecting Angel to be so bold. “To get your clothes, from this morning.” He smiled even harder knowing he had made the girl blush with her assumption.
“Right, my clothes.” Her head moved up and down as she stepped away from the tall man and inched her way to his bedroom. “You know I think I might need your help to find them.” She turned to him with a fake confused look on her face.
“Well, you know me, I’m a helper.” Angel’s shoulders shrugged and followed her through the house.
“I sure do.” Lara laughed as their hands intertwined and they disappeared into the room.
#ContaminatedFanfic#contaminated#contaminatedfic#Bishop Losa#Dad!Bishop#Bishop Losa x Daughter#Bishop Losa x OC#Bishop Losa x Daughter!OC#bishop losa fic#Lara Losa#OC Lara Losa#Angel Reyes#Angel Reyes x OC#Angel Reyes x Losa!Daughter#Mayans MC#Mayansmc#Mayans FX#mayansfx#mayans fanfic#mayans fic#mayans#obispo losa#bishops daughter#garbinge
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 27
Well... apparently having the two weeks from hell means that I go on a writing spree. I still have like half a notebook plus some more that's already written. I'll probably type some more up tomorrow. For now, I'm exhausted - and a little drunk - so this is as far as I got today.
Warnings: cursing, fluff, and show level talking about illegal shit.
Don't steal my shit. This is the only place it's posted. If you see it somewhere else, it's stolen.
Angel was the last one inside. He rolled the stained glass door closed behind him.
Once everyone was seated, Bishop called the meeting to order. “Before we handle club business, we have some charter shit to discuss and bring to a vote.” He looked at Marcus. “Sorry, Padrino. New information.”
Marcus nodded.
Bishop lit a cigarette and leaned forward. “It was brought to our attention that there is another tunnel to Mexico right in our backyard.” He paused and looked at Angel. “Tell them.”
Angel took a deep breath and leaned forward as well, folding his hands on the table. Coco and Gilly both nodded at him. “When we raided the redneck ranch, Bishop sent us chasing Dennis. We told you he got away because he was shooting at us, and he did.” He paused and looked at Gilly. “It was also because while we were chasing him, Gilly and the Prospect fell into a hole in the ground. We stopped to pull them out. At first we thought it was some sort of animal den, but when we threw them down a light we found…”
Gilly took up the story. “It was a tunnel. A serious tunnel. We thought it was abandoned, but I went back to cover it up the next day and decided to check it closer.” He shrugged. “That branch was abandoned, but it led to another one that was in use. Working lights, supply stashes - everything. The Southern end ends at a locked hatch about a half mile into Mexico, but the Northern end -”
Bishop finished it, “The Northern end comes out in the cellar of the Ariza house.”
Every eye turned to Riz.
He sighed. “That tunnel is older than I am. My grandfather helped dig it. It belongs to Vickie. She uses it to help her girls. You know most of them don’t have papers. That’s what I was doing this afternoon. One of the girls hadn’t seen her baby in weeks, so I brought her mom and the baby to visit.”
Taza shook his head. “You should have told us.”
Riz sat forward. “It’s not affecting the club at all. I didn’t think it mattered.”
Hank growled. “Didn’t matter? And if you’d been caught using it? You’re an officer of this club. They’d never believe we didn’t know about it.”
Bishop nodded sternly. “Hank’s right. You put us all in danger. We’re a club. Everything comes to the table, brother. You risked exposing us all without consulting us.”
“It’s not even my tunnel! There’s no action for the club!” Riz asserted.
Megan caught his eye. “There might not be any action, Riz, but there was risk. Every move we made would be suspect if someone found that tunnel that wasn’t us.” She shook her head. “We’d have lost the guns, the deal with the L.O. - everything.”
Taza agreed. “And it wouldn’t have stopped with our charter, brother. Every charter would be subject to suspicion. Probably even a R.I.C.O. investigation.”
Riz slammed himself backwards in his chair angrily.
Bishop raised a hand to forestall any more comments. “We need to vote this. Riz - step out.”
“This is bullshit!” Riz exploded and shoved himself back from the table before stomping out.
Megan shivered at his tone and reached to rub Rex’s ears under the table to hide her shaking hands. Hank slid her chair closer to his and his arm around her shoulders soothingly. It was only family. He could afford the affection in Templo.
Bishop ashed his cigarette and sighed. “We have to decide how serious this offense is.” He looked around and met everyone’s eyes. “Do we strip his patch?”
Megan sucked her breath in sharply but stayed silent. She didn’t have a say in this. She bit down hard on her bottom lip as Hank soothed her a bit by running his hand up and down her spine.
Creeper sighed and ran a hand over his bald head. “Man - it was stupid, but I don't think it was malicious. Riz would never risk the club on purpose.”
Coco lit a fresh smoke. “That’s true, but he still did it.”
Bishop sat back and sipped whiskey, but stayed out of the discussion.
Hank shook his head. “But stripping his patch? Riz lives for this club. It’s why we voted him Secretario.”
Taza agreed. “But we also can’t trust him with that job if he’s not considering the club when he makes his decisions - especially when he does something like this.”
Gilly nodded. “I agree.”
Bishop finally spoke. “So do we let him keep his patch, but strip his rank then?”
Taza nodded. “I’ll second that idea. Strip his rank. He’s left a full member with his vote, but not an officer.”
“And not eligible to hold office again for at least two years,” Hank agreed.
Nods went around the table. Bishop met everyone’s eyes. “Alright then. Let’s vote.”
The vote was unanimous. Taza stood to call Riz in, where Bishop informed him of the decision made by the club.
Riz drew his belt knife and cut the stitching that held his rank flash to his kutte and threw it on the table.
Bishop called for nominations for the position and it came to a unanimous vote that Angel took the flash - with Riz abstaining from the vote with Bishop’s blessing.
Once everything had settled, Bishop looked to the new Secretario. “Alright. Charter shit handled. Now - what did Adelita say?”
Angel smirked a bit. “La Princessa was right. Adelita and her people are the perfect ones to hide and keep those weapons for us. We saw their current camp. It’s impossible to find without the coordinates. We were right on top of it before we even knew it was there and their guards had us in sight long before that. And every mother fucker there is deadly. Kids included.” Angel lit a cigarette. “We just need to get them shipping details. The barrels can come into the port at Ensenada to a shell company that EZ has the details for. The L.O. will move it, assemble and guard. We just play delivery boys and deal with the buyers. L.O. gets twenty percent. SAMCRO gets five percent. Seventy-five percent of the profit goes to the club.”
Marcus grinned. “Everyone wins.”
Bishop chuckled. “Everyone wins. Any questions?”
Megan raised her hand and looked to Angel. “Did Adelita find out who was following us in the market?”
“Nah. She put a tail on them, but the kid lost them.” Angel shrugged. “She wants to keep meets to a minimum until we either figure it out or the first shipment gets here.”
Bishop nodded. “Any objection to Angel staying the go-between?” he asked before looking around. When there weren’t any, he nodded again. “Alright then. Any other business?” When no one had any, he banged the gael. “Good. We’re done here.”
Angel, Coco, and Gilly rose to leave with Riz right on their tail looking pissed.
Creeper sighed and pushed himself up. “They’ll be in the cage before sundown.”
Bishop nodded. “Probably, but that’s on them.”
“I’ll go supervise -” Creep agreed.
Bishop grinned. “You’re on your own, brother. We’ve got paperwork and Hank’s got a date.”
That made Creeper laugh and wink at Megan. “Alright. Fair enough.”
After he left, the elder members of the club all turned their eyes to Megan and Hank. “Hank, brother, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Bishop asked.
Hank laughed. “It’s all planned out. We can leave whenever mi reina is ready.”
Megan giggled and stood up. “Alright. We’re going. Don’t spend all of your time gossiping about us.” She petted Rex’s ears again. “His harness and leash are behind the bar. I’ll have EZ fill his bowls. Should I leave the Templo door cracked so he can get out or do you want it closed?”
Taza laughed and stood to hug her tightly. “The pooch will be fine. We’ll be home late, so don’t wait up for us. Enjoy yourself, Chica.” He kissed her forehead and she felt his lips move as he muttered something in Apache against the crown of her head.
Megan hugged him back and smiled. “We will. Have fun doing paperwork.” She grinned as she went to hug her tíos too. They both said their goodnights before Megan gave the command for Rex to stay with Taza and joined Hank at the door to Templo.
Hank led the way to the car with a grin. “Are you excited to get to ride the bike again, mi amore?”
Megan nodded enthusiastically and slid into the passenger seat as Hank held the door open for her. “I really am. I love my car - but nothing beats riding the bike.”
“Good. We’ll head home to change before we head out.”
“Where are we going?” Megan asked as he joined her in the front seat.
“I promised you dinner and dancing, mi reina. I haven’t forgotten.”
At the ranch, Hank hung up their kuttes when they came through the door. Then he tugged her close by her waist to plant a kiss on her lips. When he finally came up for air, he couldn’t help but smile at the slightly dazed look on her face. “Alright, mi princessa. I’m going to do something I normally wouldn’t do.”
“What’s that?” she asked a bit breathlessly.
He tilted her chin up so she’d meet his eyes. “I’m going to make a request for your outfit. Will you please wear a dress for tonight? I don’t care which one - but you deserve a nice night and the dress will help with that.”
She smiled up at him. “Alright. But - you have to let me surprise you.”
He chuckled. “Going to short circut my brain?”
“Hopefully.”
“Alright, mi amore. Let me grab my stuff and I’ll get ready in Taza’s room.”
Hank grabbed the hanging suit bag from the closet and smiled. “You need anything before I go, mi princessa?” he asked, pulling her left hand to his mouth to kiss her crown ring.
Megan smiled at him. “Will you help me change my earrings? I want to wear my pearls.”
“Of course, mi reina.” Hank carefully led her over to her dressing table and switched her earrings from the feathers he’d bought her to her crowned pearls. The backs were just too fiddly for her to do with the soft cast on. “Anything else?”
Megan touched the necklace she was wearing that matched Taza’s. “Can you help me swap this one out for grandmother’s pearls before you go?”
“Are you sure, mi amore? You haven’t taken it off since Taza gave it to you. You could leave it on,” Hank said, rubbing her shoulders gently.
“I’m sure. I’ve got my ring from Papa on. The pearls will look nice with the dress.” She smiled at him in the mirror.
Hank nodded and carefully worked the slide knots to loosen the turquoise and silver piece. He took the pearls from the wooden carved box on the vanity and carefully fastened the gold clasp. “There. Beautiful.”
Megan touched them and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” He picked up his suit bag and kissed her softly. “Call if you need me.”
Hank quickly rinsed off the road dust in the hall shower before pulling the black suit that he usually wore to mass with Mama out. It was still pressed from the last time Mama had done it. He pulled the white collared shirt on over his wife beater and fussed with how high to button it. He couldn’t decide if the tie was a good idea. He finally decided against it and left his collar unbuttoned as well.
As he was fixing his hair, there was a knock at the door. He quickly went to answer it, calling out “I got it” so Megan wouldn’t come out.
EZ stood there with the biggest bouquet of mixed wild flowers and roses Hank could order in a vase with a grin on his face.
“Any trouble with the pick up?” Hank asked.
“Nah.” EZ handed him the flowers and a small white box.
“Good. Get going before she gets curious,” Hank told him with a grin.
EZ laughed quietly and threw his hands up in surrender for leaving Hank to finish getting ready.
In the bedroom, Megan also had quickly rinsed the tunnel dust off in the shower without getting her hair wet. She couldn’t do much with it with the soft cast still on, so she pinned her twin braids into a knot at the base of her skull. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best that she could do without Taza there to help. Besides, this way her helmet wouldn’t knock it too badly.
She slipped into the shorts Letty had bought her for dresses and figured out how to make the sticky bra work after a quick text chain with the teen herself. Then she stood in front of the dresses in her closet and froze.
Which dress? Hank had said “nice” but what did that mean, really? Before she could get too deeply in her head about it, Megan called Diana.
“Hola, Sweetheart. Everything alright?” Diana asked through the phone.
“Hey Tía. Sorry. I forgot you might still be driving. Everything’s fine. Just having a bit of a fashion trouble,” Megan assured her.
“You’re fine, Sweetie. I was just about to text you. We just got inside. What’s the matter?” Diana asked.
Megan could hear rustling as her aunt sat things down. “Well, Hank and I are finally going out tonight, but I’m not sure what to wear. He asked for dress because we’re going dancing.”
Tía Diana chuckled. “Ah. I understand. Can’t figure it out?”
“Yeah. Any chance you could help me?”
“Of course, Bebita. What’s Hank wearing?” she asked.
“He took his suit bag to change in Papa’s room.”
“Ah. Perfect. So he’s wearing a suit. What did the doctor say? Do we need to work around your sling?” Megan could hear the change as Diana sat down somewhere.
“No sling,” Megan told her.
“Beautiful. Alright, Sweetheart, swap me to video call so I can see what we’re working with.”
Megan carefully swapped the phone to a video call to show Diana her packed closet. “He said ‘nice’. What does that mean?”
Diana chuckled. “Good question. Which of these have you already worn?”
Diana walked Megan through narrowing down her choices. Both of the final contenders were very different. One was black with tiny spaghetti straps and a back that started right beneath her tattoo. The v-neck allowed her jewelry to be the spotlight as did the plain black fabric. The skirt went to just below her knees and was loose enough to be able to get on the bike.
The second dress was a deep red. The skirt was short, but full and would make a statement if they actually went dancing. It had a sweetheart neckline and straps that went off the shoulder. The back though, was where it really shined. The dress was backless to the small of her back, putting her tattoo on full display as well as a lot of her skin.
Either dress would pair nicely with the classic black ballet flats that were her only dress shoe option until after her quince.
“How do I figure out which to wear, Tía?” Megan asked, staring down at her two choices spread on her bed.
“How do you want the night to end?” Diana asked. “That should give you an idea of how daring you want to be.”
Megan felt her cheeks warm as she thought about Hank’s promises for after she was out of her sling.
Diana laughed. “That face screams red dress, Sweetheart. I left a lipstick that should be great with it on your dressing table along with an eyeliner pencil and mascara. I know you know how to use those even if you don’t do it often.” She smiled. “You don’t need much makeup anyway, Princessa.”
“Thank you, Tía. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
Diana waved her off. “You’d have been fine, Sweetheart. Send me a picture when you’re dressed.”
They said their goodbyes and Megan hurried to use the makeup products Diana had left her before sliding into the red dress and flats. She smoothed her hair and took a few pictures with her phone to send to her tía and Letty. As a last minute decision, she also sent one to Taza.
A moment later, her phone dinged with a text from her father. She checked it. “You look beautiful, Chica. Enjoy your night.”
Megan smiled and tucked her phone, wallet, and lipstick into a small black purse. She was ready.
Hank had just slipped into his dress boots and suit jacket when his phone chimed three times from the table. It was his personal cell, not the club burner, so he didn’t worry too much about the texts being anything that could mess up his night. He laughed as he realized they were texts from Taza, Bishop and Marcus. He opened Bishop’s first.
“Take your gun, brother. YOu might need it to keep the pendejos under control. She’s fucking beautiful.” Hank chuckled, but checked his ankle holster for his back up anyway.
The text from Marcus simply said “you better do this right,” and Hank couldn’t help but smile. As the only married Mayan currently in Santo Padre, Marcus was certainly a man with strong opinions on how his god daughter should be treated.
Taza’s text was a little different. “Be sure to tell her how beautiful she looks. Show her how a princessa should be treated. And lock the damn bedroom door!”
Hank laughed. He only replied to Taza’s message since he knew they were all together. “I’ll take good care of her. I promise. And yes - I’ll lock the door.” He slipped his phone into his jacket pocket before he settled it across his broad shoulders and reached for the flowers and box that EZ had dropped off for him.
He knocked on the bedroom door gently. “Mi reina? I take it from the text message I just got from Taza that you’re ready. Can I come in?”
“Come on in,” Megan called through the wooden door.
Hank opened the door carefully with his full hands and stepped into the bedroom.
Megan was standing in the middle of the room fiddling with her purse. She looked up and smiled as Hank came in.
His breath caught in his throat and his jaw dropped. He barely held onto his gifts. “Dios mío, eres tan hermosa, mi reina. How’d I get so lucky?”
Megan’s smile widened. “Usually when you slip into Spanish, I did good, so I’ll take that as a compliment.
Hank chuckled. “You’re beautiful, Megan. So God damned beautiful that my brain shuts down.” He stepped forward and offered her the flowers.
“Thank you! They’re beautiful. My first real flowers…” Megan bent to smell them with a giggle.
“There will be plenty more, mi amore. I promise.”
Megan sat the vase on her dresser and fussed with them a moment before turning back to him. “You look great too.”
He smiled and offered her his hand so he could pull her close. He gently kissed her knuckles and smiled. “I got you one more thing.” He offered her the small white cardboard box that was tied with a green ribbon.
Megan took it, stepping closer to him to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”
“Open it.”
She pulled the lid off the box to find a delicate pearl bracelet to match the rest of her jewelry. “Oh Hank… It’s gorgeous.”
He took it from the box and showed her where the clasp had an H and an M entwined engraved on it before fastening it around her left wrist. He pressed a kiss to the skin of her inner wrist with a smile. “Ready for a real date?”
“With you? So ready,” Megan said with a smile.
Hank helped Megan into her armored leather jacket and helmet before putting his own on. EZ had also detailed Hank’s bike during Templo and dropped it off with the flowers and jewelry. It was parked out front.
Hank mounted his bike and helped Megan to settle behind him. He savored how close she was to him and felt her arms come around his waist tightly before he started the bike and headed for town.
Taglist
@jemmakates
@msjava1972
@drabbles-mc
@delightfulheroshoeflap
@iamthegraham
@oureternalbond
@camelia35
@anaeve
@tallrock35
@keyweegirlie
As always let me know if you want added or removed from the list
#lost princessa#mayans mc#meet the reaper#lost princessa sequel#taza x daughter!oc#megan(oc) x hank#che taza romero#hank loza#mayans mc fanfic#bishop losa#marcus alvarez#ez reyes
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
HC | Being Bishop’s Daughter & Dating Angel
Fandom: Mayans M.C.
Pairing: Angel Reyes x Bishop’s Daughter (Reader).
Words: 804.
Warnings: Some bad words. Slightly sexual talk.
A/N: English is not my first language, so, sorry if there are grammar mistakes or if the redaction is poor. *Gif is not mine* Maybe I’ll write more about Bishop’s daughter x Angel, don’t judge me, I really like the idea, also... what would it be if Bishop’s daughter dates Miguel? Oh god, stop me!
|| MY MASTERLIST ||
||
No one knew that Bishop had a daughter until one day, you appeared in the clubhouse ‘cause your mother’s boyfriend kicked you out.
“We’ve talked about this, you can’t be here”
“I’m a grown-up, pa! I can stand your life now. But, if you don’t want me here, I can move in with Dylan, he asked me to three weeks ago”
Bishop took your phone from your hands when he saw you were about to call someone. He pointed at you with his index finger “I have to go to templo, don’t move”
The truth was that you had broken up with Dylan three months before that happened, but you knew how much your father hated him so he would let you stay at his house.
After that day, you started to spend a lot of time in the clubhouse, and, you made friends with everyone very quickly.
Everyone but Angel.
Angel kept his distance. He saw you twice or three times in a bar before, but you were always with Dylan so he never talked to you. He promised himself he would make a move the next time he’d see you.
But now, he could never make a move knowing that Bishop is your father. I mean, you’re literally his boss’s daughter.
One day, you came from the supermarket with a lot of bags ‘cause you said you’d cook for the club. When you were coming outside to grab more bags, Angel came inside with the rest of them.
Since that day that Angel helped you to cook lunch, he never came inside or left the clubhouse without talking to you.
One night, at a party of the MC, you both got drunk in a way you never got before. The next day, you woke up in his bed, not remembering what happened, but it was very obvious.
Since then, your relationship turned to a friends with benefits thing.
Flirting and teasing in front of everyone —always being careful when Bishop was around—
Kisses in the cheeks when no one was looking.
When they had to go to a run, Angel pulled you to somewhere where no one could watch, just to kiss you.
Bishop was known for being observant, so, he started to suspect something was happening between you two, but he would never say anything, mostly because he loved to scare you whenever he appeared in the room.
“We need to tell him,” Angel said one day when you were lying in his bed looking at the ceiling and covered only with the sheets “I’m sick of hiding and always worrying whenever he wants to talk to me”
“What are we gonna say? ‘Hey, pa, guess what? The nights when I come home late, it’s because I was fucking with Angel at his place, isn’t that nice?’”
You pulled the sheets off of your body and got up from bed to get dressed and go home while Angel stood in the same position.
“Is only that for you?” he asked when you were about to ask for an uber.
“I don’t remember you asking for something more”
That night, when you were about to grab your shoes, Angel pulled you back to bed. You were on top of him, his arms hugging you tightly when he said: “I’m asking for something more right now”
At that moment, Bishop knew what was going on. After all, you two were not that careful as you thought and your father was enjoying his time scaring the shit out of you.
“He’s gonna kill me, I swear,” Angel told you after talking to Bishop. You two were outside, he was fixing something in his bike and you were at his side just watching him. Your father thought it would be hilarious to call him to templo.
“I’ll talk to him tonight”
“Why don’t we tell him together?”
“I know my father; I’ll talk to him first”
When you talk to your father, he started laughing and that’s when you knew he knew it all the way. You were so pissed ‘cause all your worry was for nothing.
But with Angel…
Your father didn’t laugh.
Bishop was serious, like, really serious.
Angel had never seen him like that before, not even with something with the club.
“How it went?” you asked, offering him a beer when he went out of templo.
“He said he’ll chop my dick off if I hurt you”
You laughed and nodded “Be careful, I’m pretty sure he’d do that” you winked at him, and leaned to kiss his lips “And it would be a shame because you really know how to use it. Surely I’d miss it”
“Don’t say things like that if you don’t want me to take you upstairs to fuck you right now”
“Who says I don’t want?”
|| MY MASTERLIST ||
Everything tag list: @may114
#angel reyes#angel reyes drabble#angel reyes x reader#angel reyes fic#angel reyes fanfic#angel reyes headcanon#angel reyes x oc#angel reyes x female reader#angel reyes x you#angel reyes x female oc#Mayans MC#mayans mc x reader#mayans mc fanfiction#mayans mc imagine#mayans mc fic#bishop losa#bishop losa daughter#bishop losa x reader
193 notes
·
View notes
Text
Benito - Bishop Losa x Reader
Tagging: @fanfic-n-tabulous @anime-weeb-4-life @keyweegirlie @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @est1887 @oklahomapeach @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @adaydreamaway08 @spookyboogyuniverse @librarian1002 @thanossexual @kishie8 @fleureeee @saltyunicorn079 @thebaileybugle @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @doggirlforever @justreblogginfics @skyesthebomb @beccabarba @legally-a-bastard @trublu2u @lora21 @jp1019 @fanfic-n-tabulous @just-a-throw-away @kabloswrld @thekirbishow
Black Satin (NSFW) - Bishop discovers a surprise Christmas gift.
Gingerbread - Bishop comes home to a problem.
Snow - Bishop talks to you about something that's been on his mind.
Miracle - You and Bishop get an extra Christmas gift this year.
Kicking - Bishop feels his daughter kick for the very first time.
It’s the shouting that alerts Bishop to the fact there’s a problem. He’s fixing one of the shelves out in the corridor when he hears the sound of your voice carrying through the space. It sends the hair on the back of his neck standing up because he’s never heard you raise your voice before, it simply isn’t your temperament.
When he hears a male snap back it sends a every single one of his protective instincts into overdrive. He’s inside that office in less than five seconds, door slamming open as he hurtles inside. He doesn’t expect to see your ex-husband Benito standing there in front of your desk. His dark eyes burning with ire as he stares at you with an anguish that feels visceral.
Bishop pauses because the thing is you and Benito, you’re cordial. He’s as mild mannered as you are. There’s no animosity between the two of you, the split was entirely amicable.
You’d set up the network together, aiding immigrants coming over The Wall, helping them relocate. Benito’s an architect, it’s him who built the safe houses along the route, who continues to set up communities all over the country. He usually rolls into town once a year, taking both you and Bishop out to dinner to discuss the next steps. The issue is only getting bigger, which means you need constantly need to re-evaluate and expand.
Bishop realises what the problem is almost immediately.
The reason for your divorce was children.
Benito wanted them and you couldn’t have them. The two of you had endured years of trying to conceive and the one time you had fallen pregnant, you had suffered a miscarriage. The doctor had told you to stop after that, the baby you had longed for it wasn’t going to happen.
“Was it me?” Benito asks you, his voice anguished. “Did you just not want children with me?”
“I didn’t do this on purpose,” You respond shrilly, your palm coming to rest on the space where your child resides. “Luna was a complete surprise…”
You’re hit with a sudden stabbing pain just under your ribs, one that steals away your breath as you place both palms on your desk to hold yourself up as your knees go weak. You taste metal in your mouth and it takes you back to the last time. You feel tears leaking down your cheeks because it’s happening again, only you’re five months pregnant instead of three, and the man you’re having baby with…
He’s already lost one child.
Bishop’s by your side in an instant, his hand smoothing up and down your back as he whispers soothing words into your hair. You can’t make them out over the sound of your own sobs, each one feels like it’s been ripped out of your chest as you cradle your baby bump gently in your hands.
It’s Benito that drives you both to the hospital. Benito that sits quietly alongside Bishop in the waiting room as an act of solidarity because the other man’s going to pieces. It’s Benito that listens diligently to the doctor as she explains what happened and the prognosis, because it’s all too much for Bishop to take in.
Preeclampsia, Benito explains carefully. Your blood pressure had spiked due to the argument. You and the baby are recovering, the outlook was positive but you need to reduce your stress. That means partial bedrest for the duration of the pregnancy.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to lose my temper.” Benito says, rubbing his hands over one another. “We tried for years, it ruined our marriage…”
He trails off because its inconsequential at this point. He still loves you, he always will but that chapter is closed, it has been for a long time.
“You need to make sure she slows down.” Benito tells him resolutely. “This is her last chance…”
“I know.” Bishop says, tilting his head back and raising his eyes to the fluorescents. “I can’t lose her, I can’t lose this baby. They’re everything to me…”
Benito remembers thinking something similar the last time he was here. He’d lost the both of you that night, his wife and his child. He raises to his feet, his hand clasping Bishop’s shoulder gently.
“Do you need me to call someone for you?” He asks quietly.
“Taza.” Bishop says roughly. “I need Taza.”
Love Bishop? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Want more Bishop? Read his masterlist here!
Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!
Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee
#bishop losa#bishop losa x reader#bishop losa x you#obispo losa#obispo losa x reader#obispo losa x you#obispo bishop losa
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
El Presidente y La Princesa
Day 28 - Huddle for Warmth || Warm bodies, steady breaths, and comforting feelings. (Bishop Losa x F!Reader)
(For the 2021 December Challenge. The event masterlist is here.)
CW: So many! Angst, fluff. Mentions of violence. Mentions of drug usage. Death. Mentions of attempted sexual assault. Language, smoking. Smut (PiV, protected). 18+ only.
Word Count: 8423
AN: This is what happens when insomnia rears its ugly head. This got way out of control. It was supposed to be a drabble. It’s also riddled with typos, and I don’t have beta readers so....
Requested by: the soon-to-be-hit-with-a-class-action-lawsuit for her Bishop Thots (tm), the lovely @massivecolorspygiant.
Politics in any M.C. is a tricky proposition. It’s complicated enough, handling the various personalities in a single charter. More complicated to navigate the various charters within a single club. The worst? Managing relations between clubs, especially those whose borders bump up against each other.
Obispo Losa has to deal with a lot of shit as el presidente of the Santo Padre Mayans. Helping a woman linked to a Sons of Anarchy club get revenge? It is the last thing he is expecting to deal with when he rolls out of bed that morning.
It’s Les Packer from SAMDINO that calls. Gives Bishop the entire rundown before the man even has his coffee, and so he’s pissed when he gets to the scrapyard. He calls the guys into Templo, and a headache is already building like a low pressure storm in his skull.
Thing is, this isn’t just Anarchy business: it’s Mayans business too. It’s that sticky, shadowy middle area between the two clubs. Bishop puts it to a vote, but he already knows he’s gonna do it, with or without official club support.
The play is this: the Reno branch of the Sons is led by a man named Hench. His only daughter—you—is on a fucking warpath, and apparently you’re both unstoppable and untouchable, being something of M.C. royalty within that club. Packer is hazy on the details, but apparently you are looking for a man from Santo Padre.
Scratch that. You’re looking for a man who was a prospect for the Mayans from a few years back. The man was named Ruiz, and he had failed to patch in almost immediately; he had been unreliable and was moreover a fucking idiot. Bishop pinches his nose and wonders why he hadn’t just killed the fucker back then.
His guys vote unanimously to help. It’s diplomatic relations, staying friendly with the Sons of Anarchy. Besides, Packer vouches for you, and SAMDINO has helped the Mayans more than once. Bishop owes them one—or ten.
“Great news,” Packer tells him when Bishop calls and offers their help. “I’ll let Hench know to send his girl your way.”
-----
Bishop waits at the scrapyard for you. Hank, Riz, and Angel wait with him, and even though it’s been a few days between now and the meeting in Templo, Bishop’s headache has never really waned.
He only knows two things about you: you’re Sons royalty, and you’re bent on revenge. The first fact makes him roll his eyes. He can imagine you as spoiled, the only daughter of a chapter president and his old lady, getting all these M.C. guys to rearrange their lives to help you. The second fact, though? What could drive a woman to hunt a man other than a few things? Bishop assumes the worst, so he softens his initial preconceived notions about you.
The rest of those notions fall away the moment you pull into the scrapyard. Chucky opens the gate and waves you through, and if Bishop was expecting a pampered princess in a nice ass car….well, it’s the first surprise of this entire enterprise. You pull in on a bike—an old-looking one with a motor like a tiger purring—and the only luggage you have is the saddlebags on the bike and a backpack on your back.
You pull right up to them, park the bike. Kill the ignition and when you take off your helmet, your hair tumbles out like you’re in one of those fucking music videos from the ‘80s. It’s one of the hottest things Bishop’s ever seen—you on that bike, hair cascading out in slow motion, gorgeous as all hell—and he draws a sharp breath.
So does Riz. So does Angel.
You dismount your bike, tug off your gloves, and your eyes flicker between the four men. You read their patches, and your eyes settle on Bishop. It’s a fucking jolt to his dick, making eye contact with you, but you’re all business.
“My Spanish is shitty, el presidente” you tell him, your hand outstretched. “But I’m guessing you’re the president here.” You introduce yourself, and your palm is warm in his.
“Obispo Losa,” he replies. “You can call me Bishop though.”
If he was expecting a spoiled princess, he is sorely disappointed. You’re polite. You introduce yourself to the others with the same straightforward manner, and then you’re back to business.
“Can we go inside and discuss the play?” you ask, and it takes every bit of Bishop’s restraint to not put his hand on your back as he leads you inside the clubhouse.
-----
Bishop can’t provide all of the resources of the club, and you understand. You nod along when he circuitously describes “on-going business” that can’t be neglected. But he offers Coco and Angel, and now that he’s seen you, he offers himself. He amends the original plan, because he doesn’t want fucking Riz cozying up to you.
He’s the damned president. He can run business from his phone if he needs to.
“That’s more help than I expected,” you say. “But I appreciate it.”
Angel and Coco do reconnaissance while you and Bishop cool your heels at the clubhouse. You pace, and you study the clubhouse walls. You turn down his offer for a beer, and you go outside to smoke even though the clubhouse reeks of old cigarettes. He joins you.
You’re solemn as a stone, and while you’re polite, you don’t smile. You present the same grim face as you had when you arrived. You take a new pack out of your pocket and light a cigarette, and then you turn to Bishop with a grimace as you exhale a plume of smoke.
“Just undid a year of cold turkey,” you tell him.
“You can always start again tomorrow.” He lights his own, inhales. “A year is about three hundred days longer than I’ve ever gotten.”
You snort at that and then sit on the steps. When Bishop hesitates, you gesture for him to join you.
Normally Bishop would charm you. He’s got a killer smile and dimples and all the charismatic shit that women eat up. But you’re a daughter of a president, and you’re stone-faced and solemn with the task at hand. Bishop has an unpleasant guess as to why you’re hunting Ruiz, and he is loathe to bring it up yet.
“That’s a nice bike,” he says instead. He points at where you’ve wheeled your ride, right beside his.
“Yeah?” You stand up, jerk your head in a “come on” way. He stands up too, and you walk over to where your bike is parked.
“1923 Indian Scout,” you tell him, and the pride is apparent in your voice.
Bishop tosses his half-smoked cigarette and grinds it out with his heel, then he studies the motorcycle closer. It’s a deep cherry red and chrome. Not mint after nearly a hundred years, but well-maintained. Well-loved. Well-loved by you.
It’s simply made compared to his giant custom bike. Lightweight. Looks like the clutch is foot-operated, and the numbers on the speedometer are ornate in an old-timey script.
“Indian started making these because they were lighter than their 1000cc PowerPlus bikes. This is 600cc. Easy to handle for beginners. My great-grandfather bought it for my great-grandmother so they could ride together.”
Bishop smiles. “A family heirloom then. Riding’s in your blood.”
You nod, smile back. “Before motorcycles, we were ranchers. Horses, bikes. It was a natural evolution.”
His phone rings just then, and it’s Coco. Ruiz has split from the apartment where he was squatting, so they are on their way back to the clubhouse to regroup.
-----
The day is a waste. You leave to get a hotel room, and you leave your number with Bishop in case anything develops before you regroup in the morning.
Something develops overnight, and he calls you. You answer on the second ring, your voice husky with sleep. Within seconds, you’re clear and understanding him and on your way back to the clubhouse.
-----
Day breaks early, and you and Bishop leave just as the sun is setting the east alight in soft oranges and pinks.
You leave your bikes behind. You grab your backpack and twist your hair into a tight, no-nonsense bun and nod at him that you’re ready. The two of you take a non-descript car from the scrapyard, but halfway to your destination, Bishop pulls over.
“I can’t let you see where we’re going,” he says apologetically. “It involves club business, you understand.”
You do. You understand the secrets and mysteries of M.C. life all too well, and you don’t say a word when he reaches over to blindfold you. It sends another pulse of arousal through him, to be so close to you. To lean that close, to brush his hand over your hair as he ties the blindfold. You smell warm, like caramel and brown sugar, and he swallows hard.
Maybe you sense his growing desire for you. The insane crush threaded through with lust. Your lips slant into a slight smile and you murmur, “most guys at least buy me dinner before we get to the kinky shit.”
He chuckles and grins back at you, though you can’t see it. “I’ll take you out for a nice steak after this is over,” he promises. “Do it out of order, I guess.”
He drives the rest of the way to Vicky’s, and then he helps you out of the car. You’re unsteady and uncertain on your feet, and he takes your hands. Helps you down the ladder into the tunnel under the border, and he settles his hands on your waist to help you hop that final step.
Still, you stumble, unsure of the distance to the ground, and he holds you. You lay your hands on his chest to steady yourself, and then huff in frustration.
“Almost there, querida,” he murmurs, and he leads you into Mexico.
-----
On the other side of the border, he removes your blindfold. You blink at the sudden light, take in the scene. Bishop points at the dusty truck parked nearby, and the two of you climb into it.
They got intel during the night: Ruiz is hiding west of Laguna Salada, in the rocky outcropping and little mountains there. There’s some family land, a shack hidden away in the hostile environment. He apparently fled there when he heard that you were looking for him.
You find the shack. You don’t find Ruiz. Judging from the lack of tire tracks and the layers of dust in the place, he never was there at all.
Back to the tunnel entrance. Blindfolded again, and back to the States. Bishop can hear you grinding your teeth in rage, so he circles around in the car for a mile and then returns to Vicky’s. Takes the blindfold off of you and takes you in for a beer.
A lot of women would be outraged to have a drink at a brothel. You are just your polite self—shaking Vicky’s hand, introducing yourself to the few girls milling around.
Then you turn to Bishop with that same slanted grin. You don’t say anything, but you’re obviously thinking something amusing.
-----
Over a few beers, you open up a little about your life with the Reno charter.
“Hench is a good president,” you say as you raise your bottle to your lips. “Fair. Tries to keep drama to a minimum.”
“All good presidents should do that.”
You shrug. “All should. Not all do. Some guys make it to the top of a charter just to live out their macho bullshit fantasies of guns and women.”
Bishop chuckles. He’s seen it happen to other clubs. “Yeah, I try to avoid unnecessary drama.”
You smile around the edge of your bottle. “That why you’re helping me track a nobody prospect who flunked out of the Mayans?”
“That’s just good politicking, sweetheart,” he replies. “Besides, I’m always down for a little revenge.” A beat, and he asks what’s been tormenting him this whole time. “What’d Ruiz do to you?”
You drain your bottle and wave for another, and you don’t start the story until you’re halfway through that one.
It’s pretty near to what Bishop had thought: Ruiz tried to rape you. There’s no easy way to say it, because that’s what it was.
“The Sons in Reno have a big blow-out party every June,” you tell Bishop. “Anniversary of the founding of the charter and all that. The clubhouse is out in the desert, and the cops look the other way so long as we keep it tame.” You pause, smile at him. “Tame for an M.C., at least.”
You continue, sketching out the scene. Tons of food and booze, loud music. A bonfire. Bikes revving as guys compared the latest tweaks to their rides. All the bikers and their old ladies, their adult children and girlfriends and buddies. You were there, of course, as were your cousins.
“My cousin Jess is…” You trail off, hold your hand out and make a see-sawing motion, indicating instability. “Been in and out of rehab, hangs out with a questionable crowd. She brought along a few guys that seemed grimy but okay, I guess. One of them was Ruiz.”
The rest of the story is a slide into darkness, and Bishop clenches his jaw until it creaks from the pressure. Ruiz, denied a patch by the Mayans, nurses a grudge against all clubs now. You were wary of him—he creeped you out—but when Jess handed you a drink, you assumed it was safe.
“My own mistake,” you tell him, shaking your head. “The drink was drugged. My cousin was in on it, and they got me alone in the back of the clubhouse. But I had a bad reaction to whatever they slipped me because I started throwing up, and once it was out of my system….” You pause, polish off the rest of your second beer. “Ruiz didn’t do anything other than rob me. No time to do any real damage. But he stole my purse and the jewelry I was wearing, and then he and my cousin and his guys left before one of the Sons found me and got Hench.”
“Fuck,” Bishop breathes out.
“Yeah.” You sit back and look at him, your expression grim and resolute again.
“Why isn’t Hench handling this though?” he asks.
You lean forward again and fix Bishop with those solemn eyes of yours. “He took care of Ruiz’s buddies and Jess. They are handled.” The way you say the last word, there’s no doubt what you mean. “But he also knows that I need to get my own justice against Ruiz himself.”
Bishop nods and then gives you a small smile. “I guess you’re not the type of woman to sit back and let the guys have all the fun.”
You return his smile with your own. “You guessed right, Obispo.”
-----
It takes days to get solid intel on Ruiz. Coco and Angel beat on doors, and sometimes they beat up people, but there’s no good lead at first.
“I’m taking up a lot of your time and resources,” you apologize to Bishop a few days after Vicky’s, but he chances to put his hand on your shoulder, squeezes it reassuringly.
“Ruiz was a Mayans prospect,” he tells you. “So he’s our problem too.”
You stay in a nearby hotel, and you spend your days at the clubhouse. You’re naturally restless, Bishop guesses. He gives you a tour of the clubhouse, shows you Templo. You whistle appreciatively at the table, his heavy gavel.
“You guys do it up with a little more style than our club,” you joke.
You chat with E.Z. when he’s cleaning or tuning up the bikes, and you ask all the guys endless questions about their bikes. Your own bike is tucked away safely, but Bishop learns it’s not your only one. You have five motorcycles altogether: a small chopper that Hench got you when you graduated from high school, an all-purpose touring bike, a basic standard, and an ultra-fast Yamaha that’s earned you more speeding tickets than everything else combined.
And your vintage Indian. It means something, Bishop guesses, that you came on that and not a faster or more powerful bike.
Bishop eats dinner with you every night. Sometimes he takes you out to local places, but just as often he orders in and the two of you eat at the clubhouse. Over the days, you and he get to know each other better. He tells you about growing up near the Salton Sea, being in the service.
You tell him about life in Reno. Hench is your stepfather, technically, but he’s the only father you’ve ever known. Your mother died from cancer when you were in middle school, and the man never once treated you as anything less than blood.
Bishop admits, after a few drinks, that he thought you’d be more spoiled. More precious or fussy.
“Thought you’d be a real princess,” he remarks, and it makes you laugh for the first time since he’s met you. Your laugh is deeper than your voice, rougher. Smoky in a way that curls around the base of his spine and makes that spark of lust light up in him.
“How do you know I’m not just on my best behavior?” you tease. “Maybe I’m a complete bitch once I’m comfortable with people.”
“I doubt it, princesa,” and that’s what he calls you going forward, even when it earns him a playful frown and a little growl in the back of your throat.
-----
A week into the entire operation, Coco gets a lead that proves good. Ruiz has a place, his home base, in the nothingness that stretches between Joshua Tree and Mohave, but it’s not a needle in the haystack that it may seem to be. Ruiz has done a lot of damage over the past few years, and a friend of his—who Ruiz frauded—rats out the man in exchange for an easy hundred.
You want to move immediately, so it’s just you and Bishop. The club’s work for the Galindo cartel still needs to happen, so Bishop leaves Hank in charge of the Vegas delivery so that he can help you.
You and Bishop leave in the scrapyard’s truck. Just before you climb in, you stride over to your bike and pull a wicked looking knife from your saddlebag, and you slide it into your boot before straightening up and looking him dead in the eye.
That’s the problem with you, Bishop decides in that moment: everything you do is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Taking off your helmet. Draining a longneck of beer. Smoking a cigarette with a guilty expression. Sliding a Bowie knife into your battered motorcycle boots and then glaring at him, as if daring him to comment on it.
“Let’s go, princesa,” is all he says, and you nod and climb into the truck.
-----
The closest landmark is Ludlow, so Bishop pulls off at a gas station to refuel. You go inside to use the bathroom and to buy snacks, which makes Bishop smile when he sees the haul: sour gummies and pretzels and beef jerky and soda. But your face is solemn when you climb back into the truck.
This part of the world, there’s not a lot to see other than sand and scrub. Bishop follows the GPS, turns off onto a narrow road about five miles past Ludlow, and the narrow road eventually cedes to little more than rutted tire tracks.
A quarter mile from Ruiz’s trailer, Bishop kills the engine.
“We go the rest of the way on foot,” he says.
If this were Hollywood, there’d be a spectacular showdown. Bishop would use the handgun he’s holding, you’d take the second pistol he hands you. You’d surround the rusty trailer, taunt Ruiz, maybe land a debilitating shot before rushing inside and finishing him off.
But this is real life, and real life often disappoints. Ruiz is inside the trailer, but you’re too late to get revenge: the man is dead on his couch, stretched out and clearly the victim of his own addiction. His skin is a greyish color, and he must have been dead for over a day.
“Fuck!” you shout, and you turn to kick the cheap paneling of the wall. Your boot goes through it, and your foot gets caught. Bishop slides his gun back into his waistband and helps extricate you.
“I’m sorry—” he starts to tell you, but you jerk yourself out of his hold. You storm past Ruiz’s body and disappear into the back of the trailer. Bishop follows.
“It’s gotta be here,” you mumble, and Bishop watches as you toss the bedroom with the efficiency of a tornado. “Jess said he kept it.”
“What are you looking for, princesa?”
You turn and glare at him, but Bishop knows the heat behind your expression isn’t for him. You’ve been denied your revenge, given an anticlimactic moment in the desert. The blade of that wicked knife tucked in your boot won’t get to taste any blood.
But it isn’t just revenge after all. You run your hand through your hair in frustration, tug against it as you look around the room. “When Hench and the guys questioned my cousin, she said that Ruiz kept trophies. That he’d use the cash and credit cards he stole from me, that he’d sell most of the jewelry, but that he’d keep a trophy.”
“So…” Bishop isn’t quite tracking with what you’re saying.
“So I don’t give two shits about the cash, and I already cancelled the credit cards. I found the pawn shop where he dumped most of the jewelry, and I found everything but the necklace. Ergo, it’s here somewhere.”
“You’re looking for a n—”
“It has to be here.” You stare back at Bishop, and for the first time since he’s met you, he sees an emotion that isn’t cool cunning or smirking sarcasm. Your eyes shimmer with tears, and you swipe them angrily, as if you hate showing any weakness.
“Okay. So let’s find it. What’s it look like?”
You describe it, and you start to attack the room like a dervish again, so Bishop walks up to you. He lays his hands on your upper arms and stills you. Your anger radiates off of you like heat, and if he thinks you’re gorgeous any other time, you look luminous when you’re angry. He wonders what it would be like to fight with you, get your blood boiling like it is now, then take you to bed. He thinks, if you were his old lady, he might pick fights with you just to get you torqued up like this.
“Take a breath,” he tells you in his most official president-voice. “We’ll find it if we do this smart.”
You take a deep breath and then another. He breathes with you, the two of you matching your inhalations together. He helps you steady yourself. You nod at him and some of the tension leaves your frame, so he nods back at you.
The two of you take it inch by inch. It takes an hour, which is just enough time for your simmering rage to rise back up in you, but Bishop eventually finds it. Ruiz had a battered shoebox hidden away in a top cabinet in his kitchen, and Bishop pulls it down and sets it on the counter. He opens it, sees what’s inside. He calls you over.
You stand next to him, close enough that he can smell that warm caramel scent of you. You look over his shoulder, brushing against him, and then you whistle low.
“Shit,” you say, taking in the contents of the box. “That’s a lot of trophies.”
It is. Ruiz had been a busy little monster, judging from the jumble of stuff in the box. There’s driver’s licenses and photos. There’s a set of keys, two saint’s medals, and a little resin statue of the Lady of Guadalupe. There’s a tarnished silver hair clip, and a dried out flower like something a woman might have worn in her hair.
There’s also jewelry, probably stuff too insignificant to pawn. Cheap charm bracelets and mood rings. You dig through the stuff, and then you cry out in relief and hold up the necklace: a thin silver chain with three silver charms—a sun, a moon, and a star.
“That’s the one?” Bishop asks, but he already knows. You’re already putting it back on your neck, and any remaining tension melts away.
You don’t give Ruiz’s body a second glance as you march out of the trailer. Justice came for him in the form of death, and judging by the number of trophies in that box, it was justice that was well deserved.
-----
It’s only when you’re halfway back to Santo Padre that you run into trouble.
The truck has a habit of overheating, but E.Z. was supposed to have fixed the thermostat issue. On a lonely stretch of Route 62, the truck starts to sputter and the dashboard lights up with warning lights. Bishop pulls over just before the truck stalls, and when he climbs out and pops the hood, a plume of white steam greets him.
It’s not a great situation. He calls Hank, but nearly everyone is in Vegas making a run. He tries to call Packer, but the call doesn’t go through. The two of you are too far from Twentynine Palms to walk, and besides, the sun is setting.
People who’ve never been in the desert wouldn’t know, but it gets cold quickly once the sun goes down.
“Bad news, princesa,” Bishop tells you. “Help is a ways away.”
You aren’t much of a princess, though. You only grin at him in the deepening dusk and hold up your armful of snacks from the gas station.
“Looks like we’re sheltering in place then,” you reply. “Thank god I got provisions.”
The two of you eat. It’s a feast of jerky and candy and pretzels, all washed down by atomic yellow Mountain Dew and dark colas. There’s still a restless energy to you, but the solemn, serious rage you had been harboring is gone. Ruiz, your would-be attacker and feckless thief, took himself out. You retrieved what belonged to you.
“What is it about that necklace?” he asked in the darkness of the truck. It’s not too cold yet, but the temperature is dropping noticeably now.
You turn on the bench seat, and he can feel your eyes on him. “It was my mom’s,” you tell him quietly. “Hench bought it for her when he proposed. She was pregnant with me, and her fingers were too swollen for a ring at the time.”
Bishop gets the whole story there. How your mother, when she got pregnant, was abandoned by your biological father. How she met Hench soon after, and how she doubted his instant infatuation for her.
“She thought he’d skip out once she started to show,” you tell Bishop. “But he was in it for keeps. Kept telling her that he wanted to marry her, raise me as his own. It was love at first sight for him, and she just couldn’t believe that this tough fucking biker could be such a softy, especially for a pregnant waitress in a Reno diner.”
“There are a lot of preconceived notions about us bikers,” he replies.
You snort. “Yeah, well…Hench proposed with this necklace. Told my mom that her and I were his sun, moon, and stars, and it was so corny she finally said yes. He eventually got her a ring, but she always wore this necklace. Every day until a few days before she died. She gave it to me herself.”
“I can see why it was important to you.” His voice is quiet, and he can hear you moving beside him, as if you’re nodding.
Bishop won’t tell the other guys in the club the exact story. He’ll embellish some parts so that it sounds more impressive than it was, the two of you coming upon Ruiz already dead and just tossing the trailer until you found a simple necklace with a lot of history to it. Didn’t you travel from Reno on a family heirloom too? The bike from your great-grandmother, the necklace of your mother…you value the legacy of things more than the things themselves.
Bishop will keep a lot of this between you and him, because he feels like he’s in rare company, being let into your inner life like this. Bishop guesses that you’re a private person, and he feels honored somehow to have been on this mission.
You feel it too. “Thank you for your help, Obispo Losa,” you tell him. “I know you had better things to do, so I’m in your debt.”
“No debt, princesa. But I do owe you that steak dinner before you go back to Reno.”
You laugh. “The beef jerky doesn’t qualify?”
“Nope. You bought that, and the steak is on me.”
You laugh again, and you start to say something, but then you shiver against the mounting cold in the cab.
“Come here,” he says. He shrugs out of his kutte, and he hands it to you. You hesitate for a second, probably understanding how intimate the gesture is, wearing a man’s patch like that, but then you pull it on. It’s big enough on you that you pull your arms in like a turtle, making it warmer.
Bishop rolls his sleeves down to cover his own arms, and he settles against the back of his seat. Makes himself comfortable, then extends an arm to you.
In the dark cab, you understand his meaning, and you scoot over and nestle under his arm. He wraps it around your shoulder, pulls you closer to him. Waits for you to get comfortable too, which means your head is tucked under his chin, and the warm scent of your hair is right under his nose.
“You’re warm,” you say after a stretch of silence, and Bishop chuckles.
“The Losa’s are a warm-blooded people.”
“Thank you again, Obispo.”
“You can call me Bishop, princesa.”
You turn your head against his chest to stifle a yawn. “I like Obispo. Not a name you hear all the time. It’s a good name.”
He’s still thinking of a funny reply when he feels you falling asleep against him, then hears the light snoring. He wraps his arms tighter around you, and when you adjust sleepily, when you end up curled against him with your head in his lap, it takes every bit of his strength to keep himself under control.
When Hank and Riz turn up hours later, Bishop has never been so happy to see the cavalry.
-----
You are planning to return to Reno the next day, but true to his word, Bishop takes you out for a nice steak dinner in celebration. He skips the fancy places where people like Galindo and his wife dine, and instead he takes you downtown. There’s a place owned by an old Santo Padre family—the restaurant isn’t anything special, but the steaks are fucking divine.
You agree to let him pick you up at your hotel, and you shake your head playfully when he pulls up on his bike. You step back inside your room and grab your helmet, then you climb behind him and wrap your arms around his waist.
He takes the long route to the restaurant.
It’s a nice meal, just as he promised. He orders a bottle of good wine for the table, and the two of you chat more. The conversation is light now—no more stories of revenge or sad personal histories. The two of you flirt, and Bishop realizes halfway through his porterhouse that you aren’t just flirting lightly. You are flirting with intention: you’re studying him, watching to see how innuendo lands with him.
By the time the two of you are sipping some after-dinner brandy, you are pretty much openly ogling him in the middle of the restaurant.
Bishop settles the bill, and you murmur your thanks again. On the bike, behind him again, he can’t tell if you’re settled closer against him, the swell of your breasts against his patch, or if it’s just wishful thinking.
At the hotel, he parks the bike. He walks you to your door, and he pauses as you scan your key card.
“Want to come in?” you ask, and you arch an eyebrow at him to make your meaning clear. Bishop wants nothing more, but etiquette tugs at his conscience.
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I feel like the daughter of a president is off limits.”
You frown but reach out to finger the edges of his kutte, straightening it a little. “In all of the time we’ve spent together in the past week, have you gotten any impression that Hench is overprotective of me?”
“No, but—”
“Did Hench let me seek my own vengeance, or did he keep me locked up in a tower while he got it for me?”
Bishop smiles. “I doubt that any tower could hold you, princesa.”
“Damned straight, Obispo. I’m a grown woman, and Hench lets me settle my own scores. He also lets me handle my own love life.”
“I still can’t imagine he’d be happy with you hooking up with an M.C. guy.”
You laugh at him, run your finger over the collar of his shirt, toy a little with the first button. “Yeah, he’d rather see me married off to some white-collar middle manager who cheats on me with his secretary.”
“Point taken.” Bishop takes a half step closer to you, enough for his nose to pick up that warm, sweet scent of you. Like caramel, he’s always thought, and he actually salivates at the thought that he could put his mouth to you…
You step backward through your open door, but you pinch the edge of his kutte between your thumb and forefinger. You tug him gently inside, and it’d be easy to break your hold and leave. He should, probably. He might be stepping into a world of hurt, despite your reassurances about your father.
But he’s spent over a week with you. Went to sleep with the scent of you his in nose, the sound of your low voice in his ears. Actually held you in his arms last night and tucked you in his vest to keep you warm. He kept himself under control because of the mission at hand, but now…
He crosses the threshold of your hotel room, and he kicks the door shut just as you move towards him, pushing yourself up on your toes to kiss him. It’s a clash at first, because both of you try to take control—your mouth fuses to his, and you lick at the seam of his lips boldly until he opens his mouth to you. It’s a fucking jolt to him, how pushy you are. Bishop wonders if you’ve been measuring him the past week too, thinking about him in the same salacious way.
Bishop can’t remember the last time he’s been with such an assertive woman. Such a pushy one. He’s usually the one leading the dance, el presidente, but he’s been calling you a fucking princess for days, and that probably outplays a president. He groans as you kiss him, as you sweep your tongue into his mouth and taste him. You taste like the brandy you had after dinner, and you taste like the ghostly, guilty cigarette you probably snuck before dinner.
Then he feels your hands on him. You push his kutte off, tug at the buttons of his shirt, and he has to hurry to catch you up. Normally he’d make his hands gentle, but you nearly have him naked before he’s even figured out the fastenings on your shirt, all the tricky little buttons and hidden button and decorative hardware the passes for fashion in your world. When he tugs it off of you finally, you actually growl against his rough treatment and arch into it. Keening for more.
He obliges.
It takes no time at all for you to get him out of his clothes, and once he understands the tenor of the situation, he gets you stripped too. He regrets that he doesn’t get to savor it, to take his time, but there’s been a pent-up energy growing between the two of you, and this is it’s breaking point.
It’s a frantic moment. There’s no foreplay, or rather—the foreplay was over dinner, or even further back, like the night in the truck where he gave you his kutte to keep you warm. No foreplay means you push him backwards, your warm hands groping him the same way he’s groping at you, and then you push him off balance until he falls onto the bed.
Bishop also can’t remember the last time a woman has wanted him so fiercely. There’s no shyness, not an ounce of coyness or restraint when you climb onto him and slot your mouth over his again. He’s slowed down since his younger days: he sometimes hooks up with women who come to club events, and sometimes he indulges with one of Vicky’s girls, but he’s never felt so pursued. Like he’s the prey instead of the predator.
The thought, if possible, makes him even harder. Makes his cock twitch against the soft skin of your inner thigh where you’re straddling him.
“I suppose I should ask if this is okay,” you murmur against his lips, but you shift your head to kiss his neck, nipping at his pulse point and making him growl before he can answer.
“Fuck, are you kidding?” His hands on your hips, he pushes you down more firmly onto himself, breathes deeply through his nose at the feeling of your wet heat against his leg.
You answer him by pulling away a little, gazing down at him with a studious look. Like you’re gauging his words against his wants, and Bishop imagines that his desire for you is apparent on his face…and elsewhere on his body. You finally give a satisfied nod and climb off of him.
For the scant moment where you’re standing by the bed and rooting through your backpack for a condom, Bishop gets to study you. The jeans and shirts you’ve worn over the past week did little to hide the shape of you—the curves of your ass and hips, your breasts. But naked, he can see that you have almost as much ink as him. It’s just been hidden by your clothes until now.
There’s a reaper on one shoulder, a variation of the Sons logo. You aren’t a patched member, obviously, but it marks you as part of their family. On the other shoulder is a bloom of cherry blossoms with what he assumes is your mother’s name in elaborate calligraphy. A line of small moons march down the knobs of your spine, from crescent to full and back to crescent, right near the small of your back.
When you turn a little, he sees one he can’t quite make out on your ribcage along the side, and another on your hip. But by then, you have the condom in hand, and you toss it to him, and his study of you is over.
It goes too fast. Far too fast for Bishop’s liking, actually. He rolls the condom onto himself, and then you straddle him, and after you ask again if it’s okay and he gruffly says ‘yes,’ you are sliding onto him.
Even through the latex, he can feel the incredible heat of you, the vice grip you have on him. There’s no time to enjoy it, because you don’t wait: you start to ride him at a frenetic pace, your gorgeous tits bouncing, and even when Bishop lays his palms on your hips, there’s no holding you back. You’re taking what you want from him, and it makes his blood heat up to be so passive to such a pushy woman.
“Fuck, princesa,” he groans out. He can already feel his control unraveling, can feel the tension tightening at the base of his spine. “I’m not gonna last long.”
“I know,” you pant out, and Bishop registers the words but doesn’t consider them in that moment. He’s focused on you—the warm scent of you that’s filled the room, the throaty whine in the back of your throat as you impale yourself on him over and over. Your eyes are narrowed in concentration, and your hands brace yourself against his chest—until you shift one back to yourself, circle a skilled finger around your clit, hastening your own release too.
When you come, Bishop isn’t sure what part of it pushes him over the edge with you. You still against him, you arch your back as you cry out, but he can feel every twitch and tremor along your molten cunt. You throw your head back, but the hand still on his chest spasms too, cuts your short nails into his skin with a sting of pain, and Bishop comes too.
After you both calm, and after you dismount, Bishop goes into the bathroom to clean up. When he returns to the room, you’re stretched out on the bed, the sheets pulled up to your waist. You open your mouth to say something, but he crawls into bed beside you, and the surprise is apparent on your face. It takes him aback.
“You want me to leave?” he asks, but you shake your head and move over to make room for him. He tugs you to him, and it’s like the night of the truck again—you nestled against his chest, right under his chin.
There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you, and then Bishop asks, “was that okay for you?”
You shift a little, nuzzle against him more. “Yeah, it was great.” A beat. “Was it okay for you?”
He glances down at you but can only make out the curve of your cheek from his vantage point. “Also great. A little fast, maybe.”
That makes you shift again. You lift your head to look at him, those curious eyes of yours still giving him a jolt like the first time he met you. “That was fast for you?”
“It wasn’t fast for you?”
You shake your head and smile. “No, that was about the average amount of time. You gotta go quick or…” You trail off and shake your head again, and Bishop tries to parse out your meaning. Your earlier words return to him, when he warned he wouldn’t last. I know, you’d said.
He can fill in what you leave off. You gotta go quick or you won’t get to come too.
Bishop chuckles and tweaks your chin, pulls you in for a gentle kiss. “What two-pump fuck boys have you been messing around with, princesa?”
Unbelievably, that seems to embarrass you. Not tearing him out of his clothes and wantonly fucking him in the span of minutes. You slide your eyes away from his, but he cups your face. Makes you look at him.
No wonder you reached down to help yourself along. You’ve probably been fucking with boys who don’t take care of you. No wonder you took care of yourself. And no wonder you looked surprised when he climbed back into bed with you after it was over.
“I can last longer than that,” he tells you, and he sees how his words make a shimmer of desire pass over your face before you school yourself.
“Sure,” you reply, unconvinced.
“I can. And I bet I can make you come again without you even having to touch yourself.”
You roll your eyes at that. “Big talk, Obispo.”
“No talk then. I’ll just show you.”
He slides out from underneath you, turns to press you down onto the mattress. He catches the look of surprise, then your smile just as he kisses you.
Bishop goes slow. Probably slower than he ever has before, though maybe it just seems slower because of how fast you went. If you were a dervish with all that restless energy, Bishop moves like a glacier. He puts his mouth to every inch of you, gentle and deliberate, until you are trembling underneath him and whining for release. He doesn’t give it; he just teases you more: drags the tip of his tongue over the outlines of your ink, slides one and then a second finger into you. Crooks them until he finds the spot that makes you gasp, and he grins against your hip, bites lightly against the curve of you.
He only breaks away long enough to retrieve a second condom from your backpack, and then he’s on you again, parting your thighs to make room for him, teasing at your swollen folds with the tip of his cock. You raise your hips, try to hasten him along, but he doesn’t allow it.
“Patience, princesa,” he growls by the delicate shell of your ear, and that makes you shiver. Makes him smile again, and he kisses you lazily as he slides into you a second time.
Bishop can guess at the sort of men you’ve been with before. Probably bikers, or biker-adjacent assholes. The type of men who consider a woman a conquest just for fucking her, not for leaving her satisfied. Bishop’s always considered it a mark of pride, making his women come, but this feels different.
This isn’t just the satisfaction of leaving you fuck-drunk and sated afterwards. It also isn’t the pride of being an older man fucking such a young woman brimming with life. It’s more than that—it started the second you pulled into the scrapyard, the moment you shook his hand and gazed into his eyes. The moment he edged out Riz and kept Coco and Angel from you, kept you to himself.
Hasn’t he been looking for a woman like you forever? A bold one, an audacious one. One who knows the life, who accepts it but challenges it where necessary. A woman who lets the men in her life handle some battles for her, but who takes her revenge where she sees fit. A woman who can be lead but not ruled.
He buries himself into you, notes the way you whimper softly when he stills. You’re probably sensitive from the first round, so you probably feel every inch of him inside you. He can certainly feel the way you twitch against him, the involuntary way you clench at him.
He keeps it slow. Deliberate. Pulls out a fraction before pushing back into you, and he adds an extra swivel of his hips that grinds the base of his cock against your swollen clit. He knows it’s working for you: you gasp every time he does it, and your eyes get glassy and dazed. You reach a hand down, but it isn’t to touch yourself. Instead, it settles on his hip, your warm palm just feeling him as his pistons himself into you.
Who knows how long it takes? To you, it probably feels like an eternity, given your disappointing past lovers. In that span, though, Bishop makes you come twice…and he doesn’t slow down or speed up, but just drives through it. He grits his teeth against how tightly you grip him, but he doesn’t slow.
“Obispo,” you pant out after you come the second time. “Are you—”
“You got one more for me, princesa,” he whispers against your neck. “One more, and I’ll come with you.”
It’s easy to coax a third one out of you. After the first, you’re so sensitive that everything he does gets a response. The slow, deliberate drive of his cock into you. The calloused thumb that tweaks your diamond-hard nipples. The way he kisses and sucks against your neck, his bristly mustache and stubble raising a red burn that he soothes with his tongue.
Then you finally come again. You gasp out his name, and you arch underneath him, and then both of your hands are on his head, hauling his mouth to yours. You sigh into the kiss, breathe out a whimpering ‘fuck’ as he feels your orgasm roil through your body like a tidal wave. He gives up too, abandons his own restraint, and the coil of tension snaps as he buries himself into your clenching heat and spills harmlessly into the condom.
Then it repeats. He climbs off you, goes to clean up. Climbs back into bed, only this time you look stunned into lazy satisfaction. He pulls your lax body to him and waits for you to say something.
It takes a long beat before you do.
“Jesus Christ,” you finally mutter.
“Told you.”
You tilt your head to look up at him. “You smug bastard.” He can hear the smile in your voice, and he grins down at you.
“Don’t they make ‘em like that in Reno?” he asks.
You snort. “I don’t think they make them like that anywhere. You might be a custom model, Obsipo.”
“Damn straight.” He strains his neck to kiss your mouth, your lips kiss-swollen and red. Then he releases you, presses your head into the space between his chin and his chest where it fits so perfectly.
There’s no pillow talk. Like last night in the truck, you fall straight to sleep, snoring lightly against him. Bishop isn’t long in joining you—good sex makes him relax, and great sex makes him sleepy too.
But already the calculating part of his president’s mind is planning: you’re going back to Reno in the morning, but would it be that hard to build something with you? It would be an easy thing, he thinks. Las Vegas is about the same distance from Reno and Santo Padre. He’s in Vegas all the time—how hard would it be to get you there, sync up your schedules? Ease you into the life of his charter, have you meet all the guys, come to a party or two?
He’s el presidente, after all, and he’s been searching for a woman like you for a long time. Not an old lady for a biker, but a princess who can hold her own against a king.
~~~Tag List~~~
@bananas-pajamas @massivecolorspygiant @imspillingcoffee @amneris21 @paintballkid711 @mad-girl-without-a-box @bestattempt @rosiefridayrogersunday @strawberrydragon @hoeforthefictional @greeneyedblondie44 @leannawithacapitala @stardust-galaxies @glimmerglittergirl
#obispo losa#bishop losa#bishop losa imagine#bishop losa x reader#obispo losa x reader#obispo losa imagine#mayans#Mayans MC#aerynwritesdc21
299 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mother’s Day Drabbles
Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Reader, Miguel Galindo x Black!Reader, EZ Reyes x Black!Reader, Obispo Losa x Black!Reader
Summary: Four drabbles with my four favorite men from Mayans MC commemorating Mother’s Day with their loves.
Warning(s): Grief, loss of a child in the last drabble (sorry to my bishop girls) but the other ones are all fluffy goodness
Word count: 1,545
AN: It’s almost Father’s Day so y’know what sounds good? Reading some EXTREMELY late Mother’s Day drabbles!! lol. I haven’t posted anything in so long and these were in the drafts so here we are. Enjoy these random ideas that popped into my head. Trying to force myself to get into shorter form writing like drabbles and headcanons. As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcomed. Happy reading! xo
Breakfast in bed - Angel (fluff)
“Daddy shhh! You gots ta be quiet.”
“Lo siento princesa.”
You fought to keep your eyes shut and not smile as they tried and failed at surprising you. You wouldn’t ruin their efforts so you just listened as they came into the bedroom and something was set on your nightstand.
It was silent for a moment before a ball of energy landed firmly on top of you, knocking the wind out of you and fully waking you up.
“Good morning mommy. I made you breakfast in bed.” Your beautiful little girl told you once she saw your eyes open.
A throat cleared and your eyes connected with your husband’s.
“Oh, Daddy helped too.” She added, getting comfortable in your lap as you sat up against your headboard and adjusted the bonnet on your head.
“Oh he did? Well thanks for helping Daddy.” You teased, as he took a seat on the bed next to you.
“Anything for you. Happy Mother’s Day.” Angel leaned in and kissed you on the lips once, twice, three times. The last peck lingered a little too long and the princess was not amused.
“Let her eat! The food is gonna get cold.” She grumbled, and you broke down in giggles. That daughter of yours was a sass machine and she stayed on her daddy’s head. He loved every bit of it.
“Okay, okay.” He relented, a grin on his face. Anything for his girls.
Coming home to a spotless clean house - Miguel (fluff)
As your driver pulled into the driveway of your large home, she sighed knowing your day had only just become. After a full day of work, she knew as soon as you stepped foot in the house you would need to pick up after the kids from their time running the nanny ragged. Then, you’d have to get dinner cooked before wrangling the kids to eat, bathe, and then sleep. No clue if you’d see your husband or if he was having a late night.
You loved your life. You loved your family. Sometimes things could just be a little tiring. But you put that smile on your face and you made your way into the house.
The quiet was the first thing to hit and surprise you. Your home was never this quiet at this time of day. You slowly walked further into the house, your nose guiding you to the kitchen where a delicious aroma caught your attention. As you rounded the corner, you were shocked to see your husband standing at the stove.
“Miguel?” You asked, confused at his presence and the state of the house. Everything was clean and put away. He was at home at a decent time and not off somewhere handling business. Something was going on.
“Hello mi amor.” He walked closer to you before grabbing your face and kissing your lips. You’d missed him today so you added a little pressure to the kiss, but it didn’t last long as there was a burning question on your mind.
“What’s going on? Where are the kids?” You asked, head swiveling, as soon as you ended the kiss, to see if you could spot them. You didn’t even notice Miguel maneuvering you onto one of the kitchen stools.
“The kids are in their rooms, dinner is cooking, the house is clean and you are going to enjoy this chardonnay I bought for you.” He handed you a glass and you took it without complaint. A sweet smile spread across your lips as you realized he did all of this for you.
“You do so many wonderful things for this family. I want you to enjoy your night to yourself. I will handle putting the children to bed and you will relax for the night. Your dinner should be done by the time I get back downstairs but in the meantime, I know you’ve been wanting to catch up on the new season of A Black Lady Sketch Show. It’s queued up in the living room.”
A kid wrangling free night? Your favorite tv show and wine? He already bought you everything you could ask for but this? This is so much better than any present he could have come up with. “How did I get so lucky?” You pondered, a dreamy smile on your face.
“I ask myself the same question every day. Happy Mother’s Day.” He replied, kissing you again before going to fulfill his promise.
Spa day for expectant mom - EZ (fluff)
Knowing what comes with being pregnant and actually experiencing the symptoms are two very different things. You don’t wanna say you underestimated things, but you were in the middle of your third trimester and you weren’t handling things very well.
“EZ!! EZEKIEL!” You hollered for him, from where you sat propped up on the couch. Your back was killing you, you couldn’t see your feet but you knew they were a hot mess, and you just generally felt uncomfortable. You knew it would all be worth it in the end, but the end was taking too damn long to get here.
Your boyfriend had been incredibly understanding of your constant mood swings. When you first told him you were pregnant, he went out and bought a bunch of pregnancy books. He was always reading one that first trimester. Angel would tease him and say he could just google everything, but EZ had always preferred having physical copies of text. He wanted to know everything you’d go through so he could help you deal with it.
You call him now and he doesn’t respond. You grow annoyed, but also slightly concerned because he never doesn’t answer you.
It took several tries but you manage to get yourself off the couch and head back towards your bedroom. When you push the door open, a wide smile breaks out on your face. The lights in the room were dimmed and your favorite candles were lit, bathing the room in a soothing scent. Songs from your ‘self care day’ playlist filled the otherwise silent air. On the bed was the biggest, fluffiest robe you’d ever seen in your life. There was also a basket filled with goodies including face masks, different color nail polish, massage oil, and your favorite snacks.
“What is all of this?” You asked your boyfriend who had almost as big a smile on his face as you did.
“You didn’t seriously think I’d just let your first Mother's Day go by with no acknowledgment, did you?”
You blinked somewhat in surprise. “I...I mean yeah I guess. My first Mother’s Day is next year. Baby Reyes isn’t even here yet.”
“So? You’re carrying our child. You gonna let me spoil you or you gonna keep making excuses why I can’t?” He asked, his eyebrow raised and a sly smirk on his face.
“Spoil away then.” You grinned, holding out a hand for him to take before pampering you for the rest of the night.
Cuddles - Bishop (angst, heed the tw up top please)
The ray from the television was the only light source illuminating the living room. You were laying on your side on the couch, eyes on the tv but not truly paying attention to it. The light from the tv reflected off the tear stains left in her cheeks.
Bishop came back from dealing with club stuff and leaned on the doorway just watching you. He knew it was a rough day for you. Everyday was hard, but today was especially hurtful. He’d be feeling the same way just next month.
He placed his kutte onto the armchair and slipped off his shoes before climbing over you. You jumped a little at his presence but he just gently nudged you up so he could squeeze between you and the back of the couch.
One arm slid under your head and the other rested on your waist as he settled in. The hand on your waist reached out and gently ran a thumb over the little face in the picture frame you held tightly in your hands.
“Our sweet boy.” He whispered, a sad smile on his face.
Your breath hitched and your shoulders began to shake as you silently cried. You missed him so much. The whole day you stayed inside hoping to avoid all the mother celebrations, but that didn’t help. The hurt ran deep and no amount of avoidance could stop it. This day was a special slap in the face and every year the last three years have been spent like this.
Bishop curled the arm under your head until his elbow laid on your clavicle. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you tight against him.
“You’ll always be his mother. That love is forever.” He softly but firmly stated before pecking your shoulder over and over.
You released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in at the feel of him squeezing you tightly. It was comforting. He was always holding you together. He understood your pain and even though it hurt worse some days than others, you knew you had to continue on.
But for right now, you would cry in your man’s arms and hope next year went better.
#mother's day drabbles#angel reyes#ez reyes#miguel galindo#bishop losa#obispo losa#black reader#hhgbyebruh fics
174 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cosmodontics
Untitled
skaterattleandroll
House of No Shame
shiromahou
anime gif blog.
visasmarr
lady sorrow
littlered-2000
LittleRed2000