I’m not English speaker, so probably it doesnt make sense, but I decided to write down some images i have in mind. Probably there is more mistakes then words, but I would appriciate some feedback.
The bicycle was in parts, you just hoped all parts were there. You brushed your hair back from your sweaty forehead and took another look. The bicycyle was your only hope of getting out of this shithole. An idyllic holiday on your father's farm was supposed to be the beginning of a new life. You were glad you were going to spend some time with your father. And you were hoping to recover a little from the toxic relationship you'd been in for the last 7 years. 7 years of a wasted life.
But here in Southern Cali, nothing was as it was supposed to be. The farm was no longer a farm, but a house in the middle of the great semi-desert hills, and it was a house in need of a lot of renovation. Southern California was no paradise either, but a sunburned dusty place. And as soon as you arrived, your father left you the keys to his old truck, muttered some words, something between goodbye and apology, got on his motorcycle and drove off into the blue, which was really not a blue, but a dusty road ahead.
You didn’t have much to do. You should be looking for a job, but first, you wanted to get some rest. And after cleaning the old house, making the beds where you planted tomatoes and peppers, and in the boxes on the terrace, herbs, you found resting is boring. Especially as the phone coverage was really poor and certainly didn't allow you to watch Netflix. So the next day you packed a small bag, grabbed a map and decided to make a trip to the ocean. The truck made strange sound. It stated somehow strangly, jerked and stalled. Gentle speech, swearing and kicking did little. It was still working 3 days before when you went shopping in Santo Padre and everything seemed fine. But now it wouldn't move.
You returned home and realised that all you had left was a hammock on the terrace and admiring the blue sky. An idyllic holiday in the middle of nowhere.
After a few days of lying in a hammock, you understood that, yes, it was nice, but you also had to eat. And even if the fasting is good for your figure, it cannot go on indefinitely. You didn't really know who to call. Anyway, the phone most of the time didn't want to connect. You considered walking towards the city, but Santo Padre was too far to walk. And then you remembered that you saw a bicycle in the shack. You went to inspect it and you quickly realised that these were bicycle parts rather than a bicycl. But you dragged everything outside the house and decided to try to put it back together. There was not a single cloud in the sky. It was hot.
You brushed your hair off your sweaty forehead. And then you heard the whirr of a motorcycle. Motorcycles - you corrected yourself while still leaning over the bicycle. You were a little relieved that your father was coming back and would take care of the truck. The sun was shining straight into your eyes, so you shielded them with your hand and looked out the way. Two motorcycles were coming along, but it wasn't until they got closer that you realised that neither looked like your father's. Neither of the motorcyclists was your father. You bent down and discreetly picked up the wrench you were using to assemble the bike.
They stopped two metres in front of you and removed their helmets. You involuntarily stepped back without letting go of the wrench.
The one with a smaller posture and a moustache smiled and as he did so his whole face lit up.
- Are you Taza's daughter? We came to check on you.
You didn't say a word because you didn't know what was going on. And who was Taza?
The other, taller, with a round, nice face and hands tattooed up to his wrists noticed your confusion.
- We're friends of Che. I'm Hank and this is Bishop - he pointed at the other guy. - Let me see what you have got here.
He walked over to the bike parts and before you knew it he took the wrench out of your hand.
He looked at the parts and put the frame of the bike upright.
- Let me help you here.
- Che is not at home. - you murmured.
The other one smiled.
- We know he isn't. He asked us to stop by and see if you were okay. Let's go inside. - He passed you by and entered the house. You followed him in. The man opened the fridge. It was clearly not his first time here. He looked inside.
- it’s empty. Not even a beer.
- I can make tea. Or give you water, if you like.
- Tea? - he laughed again.
He took a glass and poured himself some water from the tap. He sat down at the table. You leaned against the kitchen table. Now you could look at him. He was quite a bit younger than your father. He had a moustache that quite suited him, a very nice smile and warm eyes. On the cut he wore he had similar stripes as your father. Now you noticed it. Only where your father had “Vicepresidente”, and that one had “Presidente”. “Interesting” - you said to yourself. He had a nice smile, but you also saw his muscular hands and knew it was better not to get in his way. Just like the one who stayed outside. That one looked a bit like a wrestler.
- Are you all right, sweetheart? - He looked at you until you blushed. You were wearing a tiny blouse that you had put on to repair your bicycle and quite short trousers. You were sweaty and dusty, but he was looking at you with... admiration?
You didn't really know what to say, so you just wrapped yourself in the scarf that was lying on the back of the kitchen chair and poured yourself some water too.
- It's not going to work, princesa - you heard Hank's voice. - One of the wheels is missing a hub. And the brakes are missing too. Unless you have them somewhere.
- I don't have any - you sighed.
- Why do you need a bicycle, where would you like to go in this heat?
- I need groceries.
- Shopping? And you know that the nearest store is 30 miles away.
- I have no choice. The truck broke down.
- Broke down? Then why didn't you tell me right away?
- When was the last time you ate? - Bishop was concerned and threw a meaningfully look at the fridge.
- Jesus christ, girl. - Hank just sighed.
- Let's go - Bishop moved to the door. - Come on, you need to be fed.
- I need to get changed. - The conversation about food finally convinced you to trust them.
An hour later you were finishing your burger at the diner and talking to Bishop like you'd known him for ten years. Hank left you by the dfiner alone with Bishop. And it didn't bother you at all. Bishop wanted to order you some more dessert, but that was too much.
- We'll go to the club now and figure out what to do with your truck.
- I need to do some groceries.
- Don't worry about it, querida. - Bishop put his arm around you and led you toward his motorcycle. And smiled to you. You suddenly felt as safe as never before. And that's when you realized that despite thousands of promises that it would never happen to you again, it did.
My discovery of fanfic happened about 2 years ago. I was bored. I wanted to read something, coudnt figure out what to read. And then i realised that few years back i had read interview with a girl who was writing her PhD about fanfic. I get curious then but never tried to read it. So it was the time. But, well… fanfic has to be about something, some fic. right? I had one choice, the best tv show ever Sons of Anarchy. First fanfic i googled was “The other Guy” by charmingoutlaws (twdsunshine) published on AOO. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895078) It was good! Really good. I think that if i googled something else, I would never continue to read.
I read many SOA fanfic later. Some were good, some were… just to forget. Tumblr is my recent discovery, but it favours short pieces. I’d recommend to read @imagineredwood, @putas-in-suffering and @everyhowlmarksthedead if you like short stories (@imagineredwood has longer story too).
But. There is one story that i still making me crazy. It’s not SHORT STORY. It’s regular NOVEL. It’s AMAZING. Well written, long (I love long!), and it’s about Happy. We love Happy, right?
So, if you dont know it yet, please read: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7435004/1/Stylized-Violence by xsparklesthemagicalunicornx
And if you read that story, please share your thoughts with me!
The bicycle was in parts, you just hoped all parts were there. You brushed your hair back from your sweaty forehead and took another look. The bicycyle was your only hope of getting out of this shithole. An idyllic holiday on your father's farm was supposed to be the beginning of a new life. You were glad you were going to spend some time with your father. And you were hoping to recover a little from the toxic relationship you'd been in for the last 7 years. 7 years of a wasted life.
But here in Southern Cali, nothing was as it was supposed to be. The farm was no longer a farm, but a house in the middle of the great semi-desert hills, and it was a house in need of a lot of renovation. Southern California was no paradise either, but a sunburned dusty place. And as soon as you arrived, your father left you the keys to his old truck, muttered some words, something between goodbye and apology, got on his motorcycle and drove off into the blue, which was really not a blue, but a dusty road ahead.
You didn’t have much to do. You should be looking for a job, but first, you wanted to get some rest. And after cleaning the old house, making the beds where you planted tomatoes and peppers, and in the boxes on the terrace, herbs, you found resting is boring. Especially as the phone coverage was really poor and certainly didn't allow you to watch Netflix. So the next day you packed a small bag, grabbed a map and decided to make a trip to the ocean. The truck made strange sound. It stated somehow strangly, jerked and stalled. Gentle speech, swearing and kicking did little. It was still working 3 days before when you went shopping in Santo Padre and everything seemed fine. But now it wouldn't move.
You returned home and realised that all you had left was a hammock on the terrace and admiring the blue sky. An idyllic holiday in the middle of nowhere.
After a few days of lying in a hammock, you understood that, yes, it was nice, but you also had to eat. And even if the fasting is good for your figure, it cannot go on indefinitely. You didn't really know who to call. Anyway, the phone most of the time didn't want to connect. You considered walking towards the city, but Santo Padre was too far to walk. And then you remembered that you saw a bicycle in the shack. You went to inspect it and you quickly realised that these were bicycle parts rather than a bicycl. But you dragged everything outside the house and decided to try to put it back together. There was not a single cloud in the sky. It was hot.
You brushed your hair off your sweaty forehead. And then you heard the whirr of a motorcycle. Motorcycles - you corrected yourself while still leaning over the bicycle. You were a little relieved that your father was coming back and would take care of the truck. The sun was shining straight into your eyes, so you shielded them with your hand and looked out the way. Two motorcycles were coming along, but it wasn't until they got closer that you realised that neither looked like your father's. Neither of the motorcyclists was your father. You bent down and discreetly picked up the wrench you were using to assemble the bike.
They stopped two metres in front of you and removed their helmets. You involuntarily stepped back without letting go of the wrench.
The one with a smaller posture and a moustache smiled and as he did so his whole face lit up.
- Are you Taza's daughter? We came to check on you.
You didn't say a word because you didn't know what was going on. And who was Taza?
The other, taller, with a round, nice face and hands tattooed up to his wrists noticed your confusion.
- We're friends of Che. I'm Hank and this is Bishop - he pointed at the other guy. - Let me see what you have got here.
He walked over to the bike parts and before you knew it he took the wrench out of your hand.
He looked at the parts and put the frame of the bike upright.
- Let me help you here.
- Che is not at home. - you murmured.
The other one smiled.
- We know he isn't. He asked us to stop by and see if you were okay. Let's go inside. - He passed you by and entered the house. You followed him in. The man opened the fridge. It was clearly not his first time here. He looked inside.
- it’s empty. Not even a beer.
- I can make tea. Or give you water, if you like.
- Tea? - he laughed again.
He took a glass and poured himself some water from the tap. He sat down at the table. You leaned against the kitchen table. Now you could look at him. He was quite a bit younger than your father. He had a moustache that quite suited him, a very nice smile and warm eyes. On the cut he wore he had similar stripes as your father. Now you noticed it. Only where your father had “Vicepresidente”, and that one had “Presidente”. “Interesting” - you said to yourself. He had a nice smile, but you also saw his muscular hands and knew it was better not to get in his way. Just like the one who stayed outside. That one looked a bit like a wrestler.
- Are you all right, sweetheart? - He looked at you until you blushed. You were wearing a tiny blouse that you had put on to repair your bicycle and quite short trousers. You were sweaty and dusty, but he was looking at you with... admiration?
You didn't really know what to say, so you just wrapped yourself in the scarf that was lying on the back of the kitchen chair and poured yourself some water too.
- It's not going to work, princesa - you heard Hank's voice. - One of the wheels is missing a hub. And the brakes are missing too. Unless you have them somewhere.
- I don't have any - you sighed.
- Why do you need a bicycle, where would you like to go in this heat?
- I need groceries.
- Shopping? And you know that the nearest store is 30 miles away.
- I have no choice. The truck broke down.
- Broke down? Then why didn't you tell me right away?
- When was the last time you ate? - Bishop was concerned and threw a meaningfully look at the fridge.
- Jesus christ, girl. - Hank just sighed.
- Let's go - Bishop moved to the door. - Come on, you need to be fed.
- I need to get changed. - The conversation about food finally convinced you to trust them.
An hour later you were finishing your burger at the diner and talking to Bishop like you'd known him for ten years. Hank left you by the dfiner alone with Bishop. And it didn't bother you at all. Bishop wanted to order you some more dessert, but that was too much.
- We'll go to the club now and figure out what to do with your truck.
- I need to do some groceries.
- Don't worry about it, querida. - Bishop put his arm around you and led you toward his motorcycle. And smiled to you. You suddenly felt as safe as never before. And that's when you realized that despite thousands of promises that it would never happen to you again, it did.
Happy Birthday Baby: Something that has been sitting in my documents with Bishop until the mood struck to post it . 18+ fluff, maybe smut later. Married people. birthday celebration and time together .747 words.
You had just been told to meet him at the clubhouse and to pack a light bag that would fit on his bike with things for the weekend . So you had done that and had parked your truck in the usual slot where it would be safe while you were away. You walked your Rottweiler puppy to where EZ’s trailer was and smiled when the door opened and Sadie began to play with his pitbull mix Gypsy. You knew she would be in good hands here and be more than likely spoiled as well.
Then you walked to the front door and inside. He greeted you with a hug and a kiss. “ Sweetheart purple is your color.”
You smiled. “ Thank you mi rey.”
You heard him talk to Taza and Hank for a few minutes and then he came over and wrapped an arm around your waist. “ Now you have my full attention.”
Then you went outside to his bike and he took your bag and helped you onto the back.
“ Is Sadie all settled?”
“ She was already playing with one of Gypsys toys when I left her,”
“ Good,”
You put your helmet on and moved into your usual position against his back with your hands around his waist.
“ So where are we going for this long weekend?”
“ If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise now would it .”
“ Well then I will just let you do this for me.”
He laughed a little . “ Thank you .”
A few hours later you stopped at a little hole in the wall type Mexican place to eat a light lunch. You shared some fish tacos and steak fajitas from each other’s plates . You finished after a while and then Bishop said “ Another hour and we’ll stop.”
You smiled. “ All right so far this has been amazing just being with you .”
He kissed your cheek. “ I know querida , it’s been a while since we just went for a ride just the two of us away from all the shit back home .”
Your fingers played with his hair for a moment. “ You know that has never mattered to me, otherwise I would have backed out when I met you in Oakland, sure as hell wouldn’t be wearing your ring in Santo Padre right now.” You gently smacked his ass and heard that wonderful laugh .
You had missed it recently .
Then you felt the bike turn and you rode along a gravel road until you saw a small blue house at the end of a little trail. The bike stopped and you both got off of it.
Bishop got your bag and his and pulled a key out of his pocket to open the front door.
“ Welcome to our space for the weekend baby.”
You smiled. “ This is amazing , who does it belong to?”
“ This is Padrino’s rental property, right now it’s vacant since it’s changing to fall but he let me use it for your birthday weekend.”
“ Oh that’s so sweet. Remind me to make Marcus an apple pie when we get back home for a thank you .”
Then the two of you unpacked your things and found the big bathroom with a shower and large copper tub in it .
“ I feel like a bath after the road, do you want to join me ?”
Bishop gave you a certain smile. “ If you let me scrub your back hell yes.”
“ As if I would stop you .” You winked at him.
Then you went to get some comfortable things for after a bath and you found some scented bath salts and soaps under the sink that you liked and poured some under the running water.
You stepped in first slowly and turned on the IPod on the dock next to the tub . You were surprised when a mix of your favorite soft rock songs began to play. Then you felt the water move and Bishop got into the tub behind you. His hands pulled your hair up into a clip gently and he kissed your bare shoulder.
“ How is your birthday weekend so far ?”
“ Perfect, I’m making another trip around the sun while being in your arms. I couldn’t ask for more.”
He turned your face toward his and kissed your lips.
Inspired by Day 23 of the July Prompts: underwater
Warnings: language, angst
Word Count: 1.4k
A/N: I can’t believe it took me till day 23 to write an angst story for one of these prompts. But, here it is! It’s….sad. Don’t say that you weren’t warned beforehand.
I’m not English speaker, so probably it doesnt make sense, but inspired by @everyhowlmarksthedead I decided to write down some images i have in mind. Probably there is more mistakes then words, but I would appriciate some feedback. I’m not going to write anything longer, i dont think it would be easy to read for English speakers, but in the future i would like to to write some very short images. All about Mayans MC of course and probably some SOA.
So here comes a Night in the desert
———————-
The rock you were sitting on was warm after the whole day. It was amazing to sit there and feel the warmth in the cold air of the night desert. Another source of warmth was your Old Man that was sitting tightly by you. As always he was invading your personal space and was holding you as tight as it is possible. You get used to it. When you started to date Bishop it was hard for you. Your northern soul and body had much wider personal space then anybody you’ve met here in the Southern Cali. It bothered you that everybody tried to touch you, hug you, kiss you on a cheek. You flushed when you remembered the face of Angel when you punched him with your elbow. That morning he just tried to greet you with a hug. It was a more subconscious way of trying to fight for your space, then the self-defence. Sometimes you felt trapped in southern closeness. But it was months ago. You get used to it now, and it didn’t bother you as much. And, to be honest, since you started dating Bishop you loved how he was always finding a way to be as close as it is possible. When he was seeing you he could barely keep himself from touching you, wrapping his arms around you, just having you as close as it is possible. In his sleep he always pulls you closer to him, holding his arm around you, as he is afraid you disappear.
And you were sitting on the desert rock as tightly as it is possible. You felt his smell, that lovely mix of dust, leather, cologne he used, and cigarettes. It was another thing you learnt to like, even if you hated smokers in your previous life up north.
- I love you, querida - he said, breaking the silence of the night.
You hugged him and laid your head on his shoulder.
- Y/N, you know you supposed to tell me that back - he teased you.
- Obispo - you sighed. - I feel so good with you. In my whole life, I have never felt so in a place like now.
- Y/N, I’m still waiting - you heard a smile in his voice. He knew you had problems with big words.
- I love that the stars are so bright here in the desert - you changed a topic.
- You love the stars, and you don’t love me?
- Oh, I love you Bishop - the word burst out your mouth quickly before you even thought. He tilted your head to himself, turned slightly and kissed. He looked into your eyes and smiled.
The stars were not so bright anymore, as you drowned in his smile.
- I want to stay here forever - you murmured.
- I have an extra blanket in a side bag by the bike, but it will be much colder later. - your man was practical as ever. - We can camp out one night, but now, let me take you home and I will show you how much I’m crazy about you, querida.
Summary: Stopping at a bar on your trip through California finds you a kindred soul.
Warnings: NSFW 18+ only; 1.9k words; knife play; very minor blood mention; infertility mention; slight choking mention
Author’s note: I’ve been feeling creatively stunted recently and I’m hoping this helps pull me out of it. I just want to be able to put the thoughts in my head into words, why is it so hard? As always, unedited because it’s who I am as a person.
**Reblogs and comments are encouraged!!**
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You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony as you downed your fifth beer in the crowded biker bar. With a name like Charming, you’d expect the town to be full of picket fences and colorful flower beds, not harleys and leather. But when you had asked around about a loud place to get lost in a crowd, they’d directed you to a local MC’s clubhouse.
It was easy enough to get in, almost laughable really, for being an outsider. You’d parked down the street after driving by to scope it out. When you’d got to the yard, you’d simply tugged your low cut top a little lower and walked in and sat at the bar. The loud music, the cloud of smoke, the clanking of bottles and pool balls were almost loud enough. You’d never been one for the quiet, uppity bars. Your demons never really shut up, so the only way to get some peace was to drown them out.
Starting on your sixth beer, you sense someone occupying the stool next to you.
“Not interested,” you shout to be heard over the noise.
“Not offering.”
The deep gruffness of the voice draws your curiosity, so you sneak a peek out of the corner of your eye while taking a drink.
“Who are you?”
“That line work for you often?” You finally turn to look at the guy next to you. He’s older than you, but he still looks good. Like whatever workout routine he perfected in his probable prison stint, he managed to keep up on the outside. He’s got tattoos down both arms, light colored baggy jeans and a black leather kutte over his white shirt, which means he’s one of the members of the club.
“Not a line, little girl. Who are you?” he growls again, toothpick flicking around his parted lips showing his agitation.
You can’t help but laugh. “‘Little girl’? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, old man?”
This actually gets a reaction out of him, granted it’s just the raising of an eyebrow. He brings his hand up, tapping the patch sewn to his vest. “Sergeant at Arms, my job to protect this club. I haven’t seen you around before and you didn’t come with a croweater,” he says. “So again, I’m fucking asking - who are you?”
“Cute patch,” you say, taking another drink. After setting your beer down you hold out your right arm so your inner arm is visible, your two tattoos on display. “That one,” you say, pointing to the marines tattoo, “means that I could whoop your ass. And that one,” you continue, pointing to the simple crosshair design below it, “means that I could do it from two thousand yards. If I wanted to start shit, I could also end shit. I’m just here for some drinks then I’ll be on my way, okay?”
During your show and tell, the toothpick has stopped moving. He grabs it from between his lips, and you can’t help but notice how long his fingers are. “Okay, little girl. But I’ve got my eye on you,” he says, getting up. You raise your beer to him before turning back to the bar, downing it and signaling for another. One good thing that came from your time as a Marine was your ability to hold your alcohol.
Some time later, after quite a few more beers, you were finally in your happy zone, everything in your head a peaceful, continuous hum, nothing being able to break through the fog of your drunkenness to poke at your conscious. The crowd has started to thin, mostly only the club members left. You should leave, you know it, but the quietness of your thoughts is so alluring.
Eyes closed, enjoying the tranquility, your body reacts before your brain. Grabbing the hand reaching for your shoulder, you throw the body it’s attached to on the counter, reaching to the waistband band, ripping the knife from its sheath. Before you toss it, your foggy thoughts catch up and you recognize it’s the guy from earlier. You let up, but he immediately makes a grab for his knife, then wrapping his hand around your throat, holding your back to his chest as he brings the knife up in front of your face.
“Thought you could whoop my ass, little girl,” he murmurs, right into your ear. Maybe it’s the booze, maybe it’s being pressed against his hard body, but either way, your toes curl at the rasp of his voice.
Reaching up, you grab his hand holding the knife and bring it closer to your face. He loosens his grip slightly, clearly intrigued as to why you are pulling the knife closer instead of trying to disarm him. Tilting your head forward, pushing your neck tighter in his grasp, you run your tongue along the spine of the knife, groaning when you reach the tip and feel it knick your tongue slightly. You swallow the tangy taste quickly.
“Thought you weren’t interested?”
“Thought you weren’t offering?” You throw your head back on his shoulder, grinding your hips back into the hardness that had made itself known since your tongue met metal.
His hand grabs your breast roughly as his lips meet yours fiercely over your shoulder. You would turn into him, but he still has the knife at your throat and it's doing nothing to stop the fire raging through your veins.
“Get a room,” you hear someone yell.
You break from the kiss panting heavily. He looks down at you, the dark brown of his eyes almost completely engulfed in black, and slightly raises an eyebrow. Your eyes flick to his wet, swollen lips and you give an almost imperceptible nod. The world tilts as he bends and tosses you over his shoulder before making his way down the hallway at the back of the room. You’d spotted it on arrival as a possible exit, which now you see would have been correct. Before you reach the exit sign, however, he makes a sharp turn into a small room before tossing you on the bed in the middle of it.
You scan the room quickly, there is a high window across the room and a door in the back, which you assume is a bathroom. The floor is clean of any tripping hazards and you determine either this guy is a neat freak or this room hasn’t been used in awhile.
“Strip,” he commands from his spot beside the bed.
You look up at him in disbelief. “Really are a lady killer, aren’t you?”
“Don’t kill women,” he grumbles, but then a dark look crosses his features. He shakes it off quickly, bending over you on the bed. He brings the knife, still in his hand from the bar, and very carefully, slides it up your thigh, under the edge of your denim shorts. “Strip, or I’ll do it for you.”
You want to ask about the look. Does this man wrestle with the same kind of demons you do? You shake your head lightly, now is not the time. Your fingers start on the button of your pants and you chuckle at the almost disappointed look on his face as he slides the knife away. You shimmy out of your shorts quickly. “Gotta have something to go home in tomorrow,” you say, tossing them to the side of the bed. You slide your fingers in the edges of your lace panties. “But you can have at these if you want.”
You almost laugh at the speed he brings the knife back to your smooth skin, but the contact of the cool metal on your heated thigh takes your breath away. “What’s your name?”
He stops, looking up at you with a furrowed brow.
“I figure I’m going to need something to yell tonight,” you say with a shrug.
He looks like he’s contemplating answering you as his eyes flick back down to the knife and he mutters, “Happy.”
“Happy?” If you had spent the last ten years coming up with possible names for this man, Happy would have never been one of them. He pauses, watching your face as if waiting for you to make fun of him. “I’m Y/N.”
He nods, then turns his attention back to his task. He’s moving glacially slow and you can’t help but start fidgeting. His other hand comes up, engulfing your entire hip as he holds you down onto the mattress. “Hold still, woman.”
You still as the knife slides under the edge of the lace before he jerks, slicing through the panties. The moan that escapes your throat shakes your whole body.
“Like that?” Happy asks, gruffly.
“Fuck yes,” you moan.
He quickly addresses the other side, sitting back and watching you tremble as the lace parts from your body. He pushes your legs apart, pulling the destroyed material from underneath you and tossing it away. Without warning, he buries his head between your thighs, assaulting your sensitive core with powerful licks as he slides his arms under your legs to hold your thighs open.
“Fuck, Happy,” you moan, bringing your hands down to his head. There’s a light fuzz on his head, almost imperceptible to the eye, but you can definitely feel it against your palm as you alternate pulling him closer to you and pushing him away.
“Happy, I’m gunna,” you pant, tightening your legs in his grasp, arching yourself forward as the muscles in your core tighten. Before you can chase that feeling to completion, he pulls away, leaving you hanging and breathless. He brings his hand up, wiping the glistening wetness from his face. “Not yet, little girl.”
He stands up, dropping his kutte on the ground, before striping himself of the rest of his clothes. You watch in awe as he unveils the hard body you had felt against your back. His torso is littered with tattoos and you can’t help but smirk at the smiley face tattoos on his lower abdomen. You recognize kill tallies when you saw them. Seems like the two of you are even more alike than you thought as you brush the flock of birds on your rib cage while taking off your top.
When he is naked and standing proud in front of you, you can’t help but drop your eyes to his cock, even bigger than you expected, as he wraps his hand around himself tugging lazily. He drinks in your nude body a few more moments before walking to the side of the bed. He pulls the drawer open, grabbing a condom.
“No need,” you say.
“This shit’s potent, little girl. Want all the protection we can get,” he says, giving himself a good stroke.
You trace your finger over the scar low on your belly. “No oven to bake your bun in, tough guy. Permanent birth control courtesy of the United States Marine Corps.” You almost regret the words, worried that he is going to give you that terrible look of pity most people do when they find out you can’t have kids.
Instead, a smile breaks out on his face as he drops it back into the drawer. “Oh, you’re in for it now,” he says as he crawls over you.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m cheap, condoms are expensive.” He chuckles at the confusion that crosses your face. Leaning down, he rasps in your ear, “Most girls can’t walk after the one round they get.” You feel the head of his cock touch your folds and he rolls his hips, sliding up and down your wet slit a couple times until he settles at your opening. “But you,” he says, sliding into you in one thrust, making you scream, “You, I am going to fuck all night.”
You got off the back of Happy's bike and handed him back his helmet. You had no idea where you were aside from some small town close to the border. You had passed through so many towns on your travels from Florida to here. The past two years had passed by in states not time. You had been through Georgia, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Washington, Oregon and finally California.
You never had a destination in mind, just away from home. You had no money and only a backpack of clothes as you ran from your home town of Naples. Armed with a pocket knife and a hitchhikers thumb, you started your journey. You had only had to use your knife once with one man who wanted you to pay your way with a favour you weren’t keen on. The man could still be limping even now as you thought about how you stabbed him just above his knee. Everyone else had been kind, even fed you and offered you a place to stay most of the time.
You had come across your current lift at a gas station in Wheeler Ridge. The group had been filling up and you had just been dropped off there after your last ride had reached their destination from San Francisco. The men had no problem picking up a stray but then again anyone with a protective streak would want to help. At barely 5ft tall your short ass looked like a pint size adult.
You didn't care where they were going and climbed on behind the tall bald biker with an ease that showed you had ridden bitch a few times at least. Your short arms couldn't even reach the entire way around the bikers muscled torso so you gripped his hips instead. They had ridden south passing LA until the air got dryer and hotter. It reminded you of home except the heat in Florida was a sweltering humid heat. Finally, they stopped at some metal yard as the sun set and you heard it had music playing loudly and people milling about.
"You wanna drink?" Happy asked.
"Uh sure." You replied and the biker sent the guy who had driven the van to fetch two beers.
A chilled beer was placed in your hand and you watched as another group of bikers came out and greeted them. A few glances were given your way but most paid you no attention. It was the other women hanging around that looked at you curiously. You knew you stuck out with your height. It wasn't until a tall lady walked over and looked down at you that you straightened your back.
"You one of Vicky's new girls?" The towering lady asked with attitude.
"No." You replied. "I don't know who Vicky is."
"You should leave then." The woman said trying to intimidate you.
You were used to people trying to intimidate you. You knew if you were bigger you wouldn't get as much hassle so you had learnt to be a scrapper to make up for it.
"I'm fine right here chica." You said sarcastically and took a drink from your beer.
The woman knocked the bottle from your hand and the men stopped their greetings to watch curiously at the scene. It turned out Marissa was a regular hang about that was never welcoming to newcomers, especially if she thought they might take some of the guys from her bed.
"That was just rude." You said before you received a slap to your cheek.
"No, that was rude." The bigger lady smirked.
You looked at the men watching and wondered if they were going to step in but it didn't look like it. You bent your knees before launching yourself at the tall woman. You wrapped your legs around her waist, grabbing her hair with one hand and pulling your fist back. You quickly punched the woman in the face three times before Happy grabbed your waist and pulled you off her.
"Woah there, Pocket Rocket." He growled as he tried to keep ahold of you as you twisted out of his grip.
"What's your name?" A man asked you and you stopped to look at him upside down.
"Y/N." You replied. "Can I get down now?"
"Let her down." The man said and Happy lowered you down. "I'm Bishop."
You shook Bishop's hand and saw he had the presidents patch for his club. Feeling a bit sheepish for your actions you blushed and looked at your feet.
"Sorry about that." You muttered but he just chuckled.
"I get it." He said smirking. "Plenty of people make the mistake of taking on the smallest guy in the room."
You looked at him fully and saw he was shorter than all the men around him. He was still a good 9 inches taller than you though. Your eyes drank him in from head to toe and back again. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, he was handsome even though he could be 20 years older than you. It was then you realised you were at an odd stage in your life where you would keenly fuck this man but also he could have a son your age that you would probably be attracted to too.
"Do you have any kids?" You blurted out suddenly.
"No...why?" Bishop asked you confused.
"No reason. Do you have anywhere I can clean up?" You asked as you touched your burning cheek.
"I'll show you." He said pressing his hand to the bare skin above your shorts.
He walked you up the stairs and into the building that revealed a busy bar full of tables and chairs. You walked through the throngs of people and to a door at the back. It revealed a hallway with some rooms along it. He took you to one at the end and opened it to a bedroom. A small double bed and a set of drawers with a mirror were all that decorated as you stepped in further.
Bishop opened a drawer and pulled out a small first aid kit while you looked in the mirror and saw some blood on your cheek. You swore softly as you touched it and realised the bitch must have been wearing a ring or something when she slapped you.
"Here. Let me." Bishop said and he carried a wipe and a pack of butterfly stitches.
You turned and found he was right behind you. This close you could smell the woody scent of his cologne and it set your body on fire. He lifted you by the waist to sit on the top of the drawers. Now you were at his height and he stepped into the space between your legs to get even closer. It took everything in you not to moan as his buckle pressed against your centre. It had been too long since you last indulged yourself in a man.
His brown eyes bored into yours as he wiped the blood away from your cheek. He apologised softly as you winced at the stinging pain before he pressed the butterfly stitch across the wound. He had done this to himself many times over the years, fixing cuts and scrapes but he hadn't had to do it to a female before, especially one giving him the fuck me eyes she held. The more he looked into those eyes the more his erection pressed against his jeans.
He rested his palm against your soft cheek when he was finished and you closed your eyes at the touch, another blush creeping up your face. Unable to stop himself, he tilted your chin up and claimed your lips with his. You moaned as he ran his hand through your hair and your legs wrapped around him, pulling his body in closer to yours. Picking you up by your ass, Bishop walked you over to his bed without breaking away from your lips.
He laid you on the bed and your hands immediately began to pull his shirt buttons undone. He knelt between your legs and threw his shirt and kutte onto the drawers before leaning back into your touch. Your hands gripped his strong muscled shoulders before you raked her nails down his chest. The animalistic growl he gave at the sensation had you dripping before he even popped the button on your denim shorts.
You lifted your hips up as he shuffled back pulling your shorts down with him. They were tossed on the dresser with his clothes and you sat up to pull your shirt over your head and add it to the pile. You knelt in front of Bishop and wrapped your arms around his neck as his fingers unclipped your bra and his tongue fought for dominance. With your body bare you let go of him and fell back on to the bedspread.
Bishop had seen plenty of beautiful woman but there was something different about you. You had fight, you had a determination in your eyes and that made you more beautiful than anyone else that had laid before him. The bravery and ferocity that you had to attack Marissa had left him wanting to know where it came from. Who had attacked you before that you had to learn to defend yourself? Who ever it was, he wanted to put a bullet in them.
He grabbed your legs and pulled you to the edge of the bed and heard your giggle before it turned to a breathy moan as he buried his lips between your thighs. Your fingers twisted in his short hair as he found your sensitive spot and licked it. Your sweet scent and moans filled his sensors as he licked, nipped and sucked on your clit. As your cries grew louder you wrapped your legs over his shoulders wanting more of his tongues talent.
Bishop slipped his hands under your ass and raised you up to the angle he wanted, where he could dip his tongue between your entrance. He growled at the taste of your nectar that he lapped up hungrily before moving back up to your clit. Your legs trembled against his ears as you cried his name out as you came and he had to have more. He stood up and grabbed a condom from his bedside and dropped his jeans. You watched with eagerness as his long length was freed from his jeans and you licked your lips as he rolled the sheath down his cock.
He grabbed your hip and rolled you over and you crawled further onto the bed. He watched as you looked over your shoulders at him and he held those eyes as he entered you. Your eyes fluttered in pleasure and he ordered you to open them, he wanted to see your pleasure as he gave it to you. Gripping your hips he pulled you to him as he thrust in, both of you moaning at the depth achieved.
You obeyed his order and kept your eyes on him while you slipped your hand between your legs. He felt your core clench around him as you played with yourself in time to his rough thrusts. Letting go of your hips he grabbed a handful of your ass in each hand and spread them wide so he could watch his cock disappear into you. He couldn't help the groan that escaped as he thought of taking the hole in front of him. He ran his thumb over the puckered hole and promised himself if he ever got the pleasure of another round in bed with you, he would plough that pretty ass.
He felt your walls contract around him and he pulled out making you whimper as you were ready to orgasm but he wanted to see your face completely as you came around him. Bishop laid down against his pillows and you quickly climbed up his body and swung your leg over his waist before impaling yourself on his man-sword. You pinched your nipples as you rode your pussy over his dick. You wanted the release he had stopped you from having moments ago.
It didn't take long for the pressure to build up and you had to press your hands to his chest so you could get the angle you desperately wanted. You had felt the gentle prob he had given your ass earlier and was a fan of it but thought maybe he was too shy to ask you. You moved up to slide back down but his cock slipped out and fell against your ass. Your reached back and held it steady as you lowered yourself onto it slowly.
Bishop couldn't believe it as he felt the tightness of your ass grip his dick. It was like his prayer had been answered and he bit his lip to stop himself from slamming into you. Your eyes had fluttered closed against his order but he didn't care right now, he was about to do the same as you came to rest on his hips.
"You like that papi?" You asked and he opened his eyes to see your sexy smile aimed at him.
"Fuck yes." He growled painfully, gripping your hips. "I just want to slam into you."
You tsked at him and winked. "Nah-Uh. I'm in control now."
He growled and rolled you over still inside you and you panted as he bent your knees up and slammed into you with long, sure strokes. Your cries of joy had his balls tightening as he tried to keep up the pace but as you reached between your legs and he watched you pleasure yourself between them he couldn't hold out. Your fingers rubbed over your clit quickly bringing you to an orgasm that clenched your ass tight around him and he buried himself as deep as he could before emptying his seed into the condom.
He laid his head between your breasts panting as he tried to catch his breath. When he finally felt his cock slip out of you he got up to dispose of the condom before climbing back onto the bed beside you. Without a word he pulled you into his arms and found your tiny form fit perfectly into his side. You snuggled in enjoying his scent that reminded you of a quiet, peaceful woodland and found a comfort you hadn't been able to find anywhere else you had travelled.
Hi there, would you write for me Bishop 3 words drabble with: rain, wrench and tree?
Hey there! So I’ve written 100 drabbles now (keep your eye open for a post about that soon!) and I have noticed that my drabbles 100% reflect my moods/frustrations in real life. Lord, I sure hope no one from my life ever finds my tumblr! Hope you enjoy! 💋
+++++++++
You'd just started the dishes when you heard Bishop’s steps come through the back door.
“Sweetheart, have you seen my monkey wrench anywhere?”
“Did you try the tree in the backyard?” When you didn’t hear him respond, you’d looked over your shoulder, scoffing at the look on his face. “Don't ask silly questions if you don’t want silly answers, Obispo.”
“It’s going to rain soon, I want to get the bike finished before it does,” he said grumpily.
“You’ve caught me, I’m hiding your tools in the dishwater.” He stomped out the door as you went back to washing.
A/N: This was just a random little thing that’s been sitting in my WIP folder for ages so I figured I’d wrap it up. Idk if I originally had more in mind for this story when I started it forever ago but oh well haha. Just a cutesy lil ficlet. Hope you enjoy!
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Hey girl, what your front name is? You come here often? 😏 enjoy 💋
**********
Yawning loudly, you stumble into the kitchen to start a much needed pot of coffee. Opening the cupboard elicits a blood curdling scream from you that has Bishop skidding into the kitchen.
“What?” he yells at your retreating back, having found no obvious threat.
“Mug.”
He gives you a puzzled look before opening the cupboard and chuckling at the tiny spider perched on your favorite mug.
You poke your head back in the kitchen. “Is it gone?”
“Yes, sweetheart, it’s dead. The body has been disposed of,” Bishop says, proceeding to make you a cup how you like.
The bicycle was in parts, you just hoped all parts were there. You brushed your hair back from your sweaty forehead and took another look. The bicycyle was your only hope of getting out of this shithole. An idyllic holiday on your father's farm was supposed to be the beginning of a new life. You were glad you were going to spend some time with your father. And you were hoping to recover a little from the toxic relationship you'd been in for the last 7 years. 7 years of a wasted life.
But here in Southern Cali, nothing was as it was supposed to be. The farm was no longer a farm, but a house in the middle of the great semi-desert hills, and it was a house in need of a lot of renovation. Southern California was no paradise either, but a sunburned dusty place. And as soon as you arrived, your father left you the keys to his old truck, muttered some words, something between goodbye and apology, got on his motorcycle and drove off into the blue, which was really not a blue, but a dusty road ahead.
You didn’t have much to do. You should be looking for a job, but first, you wanted to get some rest. And after cleaning the old house, making the beds where you planted tomatoes and peppers, and in the boxes on the terrace, herbs, you found resting is boring. Especially as the phone coverage was really poor and certainly didn't allow you to watch Netflix. So the next day you packed a small bag, grabbed a map and decided to make a trip to the ocean. The truck made strange sound. It stated somehow strangly, jerked and stalled. Gentle speech, swearing and kicking did little. It was still working 3 days before when you went shopping in Santo Padre and everything seemed fine. But now it wouldn't move.
You returned home and realised that all you had left was a hammock on the terrace and admiring the blue sky. An idyllic holiday in the middle of nowhere.
After a few days of lying in a hammock, you understood that, yes, it was nice, but you also had to eat. And even if the fasting is good for your figure, it cannot go on indefinitely. You didn't really know who to call. Anyway, the phone most of the time didn't want to connect. You considered walking towards the city, but Santo Padre was too far to walk. And then you remembered that you saw a bicycle in the shack. You went to inspect it and you quickly realised that these were bicycle parts rather than a bicycl. But you dragged everything outside the house and decided to try to put it back together. There was not a single cloud in the sky. It was hot.
You brushed your hair off your sweaty forehead. And then you heard the whirr of a motorcycle. Motorcycles - you corrected yourself while still leaning over the bicycle. You were a little relieved that your father was coming back and would take care of the truck. The sun was shining straight into your eyes, so you shielded them with your hand and looked out the way. Two motorcycles were coming along, but it wasn't until they got closer that you realised that neither looked like your father's. Neither of the motorcyclists was your father. You bent down and discreetly picked up the wrench you were using to assemble the bike.
They stopped two metres in front of you and removed their helmets. You involuntarily stepped back without letting go of the wrench.
The one with a smaller posture and a moustache smiled and as he did so his whole face lit up.
- Are you Taza's daughter? We came to check on you.
You didn't say a word because you didn't know what was going on. And who was Taza?
The other, taller, with a round, nice face and hands tattooed up to his wrists noticed your confusion.
- We're friends of Che. I'm Hank and this is Bishop - he pointed at the other guy. - Let me see what you have got here.
He walked over to the bike parts and before you knew it he took the wrench out of your hand.
He looked at the parts and put the frame of the bike upright.
- Let me help you here.
- Che is not at home. - you murmured.
The other one smiled.
- We know he isn't. He asked us to stop by and see if you were okay. Let's go inside. - He passed you by and entered the house. You followed him in. The man opened the fridge. It was clearly not his first time here. He looked inside.
- it’s empty. Not even a beer.
- I can make tea. Or give you water, if you like.
- Tea? - he laughed again.
He took a glass and poured himself some water from the tap. He sat down at the table. You leaned against the kitchen table. Now you could look at him. He was quite a bit younger than your father. He had a moustache that quite suited him, a very nice smile and warm eyes. On the cut he wore he had similar stripes as your father. Now you noticed it. Only where your father had “Vicepresidente”, and that one had “Presidente”. “Interesting” - you said to yourself. He had a nice smile, but you also saw his muscular hands and knew it was better not to get in his way. Just like the one who stayed outside. That one looked a bit like a wrestler.
- Are you all right, sweetheart? - He looked at you until you blushed. You were wearing a tiny blouse that you had put on to repair your bicycle and quite short trousers. You were sweaty and dusty, but he was looking at you with... admiration?
You didn't really know what to say, so you just wrapped yourself in the scarf that was lying on the back of the kitchen chair and poured yourself some water too.
- It's not going to work, princesa - you heard Hank's voice. - One of the wheels is missing a hub. And the brakes are missing too. Unless you have them somewhere.
- I don't have any - you sighed.
- Why do you need a bicycle, where would you like to go in this heat?
- I need groceries.
- Shopping? And you know that the nearest store is 30 miles away.
- I have no choice. The truck broke down.
- Broke down? Then why didn't you tell me right away?
- When was the last time you ate? - Bishop was concerned and threw a meaningfully look at the fridge.
- Jesus christ, girl. - Hank just sighed.
- Let's go - Bishop moved to the door. - Come on, you need to be fed.
- I need to get changed. - The conversation about food finally convinced you to trust them.
An hour later you were finishing your burger at the diner and talking to Bishop like you'd known him for ten years. Hank left you by the dfiner alone with Bishop. And it didn't bother you at all. Bishop wanted to order you some more dessert, but that was too much.
- We'll go to the club now and figure out what to do with your truck.
- I need to do some groceries.
- Don't worry about it, querida. - Bishop put his arm around you and led you toward his motorcycle. And smiled to you. You suddenly felt as safe as never before. And that's when you realized that despite thousands of promises that it would never happen to you again, it did.
Warnings: Language, heavy angst, heartbroken Bishop (our novio is going through it)
Word Count: 2.1K
Summary: You answer a call from the past.
A/N: Bishop is sad. So you know what your putas did? We added to it. Because we’re sad girls 24/7 365. Get ready to get in your feels. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖
warnings: swearing, fighting - all the good sons stuff :)
———————
The clubhouse was lit up, packed from wall to wall with people. There was always a buzz around this place when there was a party, drinks flowing - and falling - in all directions. This was your first time back here since the break-up.
You and Happy had been together for over two years, up until a month and a half ago. There was a blowout fight, about what you can’t even remember, most likely something stupid. But it led to the end of your relationship, you being unable to deal with his lack of emotions any longer than you already have. But now sitting in the car, you felt nervous. You had been absolutely miserable since the breakup, you refused to even leave the house for weeks to go to the shops and this was the first social gathering you had been brought to.
Your friends wanted to go to the party since they were always deemed legendary and you were dragged along. What a great idea. Send you directly into the lion’s den. You hadn’t seen him since that blowout disagreement all that time ago so of course, you were slightly skittish. Would he have someone else? Would he even acknowledge you in the first place? You didn’t even want to think of the possibility of any of these evens taking place.
The girls quickly exited the car, going around to your door and practically pulling you towards the door of the all familiar place. Every step brought back a memory of the million times you were previously here. Your friends pushed in the door and you followed along begrudgingly. The smell of alcohol and sweat hit you like a truck as soon as you entered.
You made a beeline to the bar, wanted something to put your nerves in check. Some random woman was working the bar who you’d never seen before. You smiled politely and asked for a shot of tequila which she brought to you promptly.
As you were raising the small shot glass to your lips, you heard someone speak from beside you, “Will need a chaser for that one Darling”. You looked up, once again seeing someone you’d never seen before. Your eyes flicked to his patches on his kutte, prospect. You raise your eyebrow at this statement, “I’m sure I’ll be fine”.
“Most women wouldn’t be able to handle that without one, I’m impressed” he chuckled, making you nearly gag. As if you had to impress him in the first place. Self-entitled and sexist, what a delightful combination.
The man who was now sitting on a barstool beside you looked short, definitely in comparison to the rest of the sons who were usually over 6 foot. He looked around 5”10, which was usually fine in a man, except this one looked like he could use the extra few inches for the ego and the entitlement that just came off him.
“So, where you from pretty girl?” He said as he scooted his chair close to you, as a result making you move your chair back behind you. What you didn’t realise was that you were being watched from the other side of the room. Your powerful ex noticing you as soon as you walked into the room, leading him to follow you with his eyes to what was happening right now. The prospect only came around about three weeks ago so he wouldn’t know who you are and your history with the Tacoma Killer.
Happy was standing, leaning slightly against the wall with his arms crossed. Murder was in his eyes as he was gnawing on a toothpick to stop him from grinding his teeth. He was over ten feet away from you and even he could tell from where he was that you didn’t want to talk to the new runt of the litter, but of course, the prospect was getting too big for his boots and thinking he could pick up any girls he wanted. Happy knew that you wouldn’t go for him but there was a slightly growing urge to swing at him because deep down he was afraid that you would go home with someone at this party.
Back at this catastrophe of one siding flirting at the bar, the prospect wasn’t giving up. You had given him the bare minimum answers to be polite but he took it as you were interested in him. He was trying to flex the prospect the patch, not knowing that before you stood with someone who was both a full patch and the sergeant at arms nonetheless.
The prospect, whose name was Robert, had started to try and get touchy. He placed a hand on your thigh as he ordered more drinks, which you swiftly tried to push off. He flicked his eyes back to you and tightened his grip on your leg so you now wouldn’t be able to get it off. The smirk on his face would turn anyone off their drinks for the rest of the night.
The shots were put on the counter, the shots you told him that you didn’t want because it was obvious he was trying to get you as drunk as possible to urge you to sleep with him. He turned to you once your hand didn’t go to the glasses straight away and basically spat at you “drink it”. You just tried to push his hand away and move your chair back, anything to get him off of you.
“She doesn’t want the drinks prospect,” a booming voice came from behind you. You felt a rollercoaster of emotions straight away, knowing exactly who it belonged to.
“We were just leaving anyway, weren’t we sweetheart?” He smiled a sickly smile as if you would agree. The poor boy didn’t catch onto what was going on yet.
“I’ll give you two seconds to fuck off away from my girl” Happy threatened without changing his facial expression once. My girl. You were Happy’s girl.
The prospect seemed to think he could take on the killer as he stayed in place with his hand on your shoulder and opened his mouth to speak. Except no words came out, Happy’s fist had connected with his jaw before he could say anything. Robert stumbled back into the bar as Happy spat “two seconds up dickhead”. You could pretend you were surprised at his actions, but to be completely fair to Happy, he did warn him. But he had also lost the privileges to protect you when he broke it off with you.
Happy lunged at him again and the other sons came to his side, to hold him back from beating the prospect to a pulp. They just knew what had happened when they saw the fire in Happy’s eyes, especially with you sitting on the chair as this was all happening.
Jax pushed Happy to you and quickly told you to take him outside and that he’ll deal with the prospect. You nodded and grabbed Happy by the arm and quickly shoved him towards the door. He followed, too angry to even do anything other than follow you.
The light rain fell on top of both of your heads as you pulled the door shut behind you. There was no one around so you could shout to your heart’s content.
“Happy what the fuck was that? You can’t just punch-“ you were cut off from your screaming by Happy bringing his lips to yours. The scene was like something out of a movie, a misty rain surrounding you both as a party continued to go on without you both.
You brought your arms up around the back of his neck to deepen this kiss, which seemed to last a lifetime but in fact, was only some seconds. He pulled away first and looked straight into your eyes.
“Don’t want you to leave, come back please” he whispered against your skin quietly as he took you in an embrace.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you told him sincerely as you brought him back in for a kiss once again.
Request by @garbinge: So I did some prompt searching today and found this and thought about maybe a little best friends to lovers trope with Bishop: “look, i know that we rarely agree on things, and i know that you’re not happy about how i choose to do things, but you’re here, and i love you for it.” anddddd “are you gonna pull the trigger?”
Warnings: language, angst (with a happy ending), Bishop being the stubborn man that he is
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N: I haven’t shown Bishop some love in a while and I really liked these prompts for him. Hope y’all enjoy! xo
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