summary. how maddy and bishop would connect after the final episode; a set of headcanon.
ft. madeline "maddy" perez x bishop
: a/n. i knew they were buzzy from the very beginning.
⊱ MADDY would be quick to notice that bishop harbored some kind of feelings/attraction toward her ever since he drove kitty & her back to cassie’s house after the alamo incident.
⊱ BISHOP knows that she knows, but he’d just continue staring blankly at her as maddy sized him up– her mind working quickly in assessing this new bit of information. plotting, marking, connecting. bishop lets her.
❧ —— “wait,” she’d say, stopping bishop from pulling away from cassie’s driveway that night. “where will you go?”
“i have a place. not too far out from here.”
“okay,” maddy nodded, carefully storing away cryptic pieces of the former right-hand man’s life. “but how would i reach you?”
bishop would stare right into her dark eyes. lifeless to her intense pair. they’ll have these staring matches often in the near future, though right now, bishop opted to give an answer instead of his usual silence.
“i’ll reach you,” he’d say.
“well, that’s not fair,” she quickly countered. “i need to know how to reach you too.”
“why?”
kitty– still cold and shocked– would mutely watch their interaction from the side, pressing down the needy urge to flee inside for comfort after everything she went through that night, but she couldn't exactly sprint without her boss in tow.
thankfully, maddy just cocked her head to the side, shrugging at the man in the car. “just because.” —— ☙
⊱ they ended up becoming business partners of some sort. MADDY would text him first, asking for a meet-up to discuss finances since their worlds are heavily intertwined and always would be, anyway.
⊱ MADDY would ask for these “strategic meet-ups” a lot and BISHOP would be in his car before he could even text her back with a short “Alright.”
⊱ people genuinely think BISHOP is maddy’s bodyguard with the way he would always be glued to her like a second shadow.
⊱ would ask him to come over for “advice” because … her business affects his business and vice versa, obviously.
⊱ “the metal strap-on is definitely more eye-catching. bee, what d’you think?”
she’d earn an immediate “yeah.” from him, even though he wouldn’t spare a glance at the barely clothed models sprawled over cassie’s bed.
⊱ MADDY would shove two different gag balls in front of his face & he’d just stare at her smirking face all unimpressed, knowing she was trying (failing) to tick him off.
❧ —— “which one, bee?”
“neither.”
she’d snort. “you’re no fun.” —— ☙
⊱ deep down, BISHOP never minded that maddy “drags”– as Q’s disrespectful ass would say– him around because the other option would entail him just coming over unannounced like a fool to a house brimming with women. worse: he’d be a fucking creep.
❧ —— “i think snowflake misses you.”
maddy would glance up from her phone, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “yeah?”
“yeah,” he’d confirm. so unaffected.
“did he say that he misses ‘the pretty lady with the designer fits and great hair’?”
he’d hum. the edge of his mouth quirking up the tiniest bit and maddy would smile at his reaction.
“word by word,” he’d say. —— ☙
⊱ would call BISHOP for pretty much everything.
⊱ need a new toy for the girls’ content? bishop. forgot the bikini set she'd order three weeks ago? bishop, since he’s heading this way anyway. lunch for the entire house? bishop knows a great place where they went once & she’ll tell him order it from them.
⊱ drunk out of her mind? god have mercy, BISHOP’s her speed dial.
⊱ MADDY would wake up up in bishop’s neat bed more times than she’ll ever admit. an advil, water, and a sandwich already perched on the side table.
⊱ BISHOP wouldn’t be there.
⊱ he’d hang with snowflake in his living room as MADDY makes her way to the massive couch, toppling down beside him.
⊱ BISHOP would look away from the TV. ten seconds later, he'd still be watching maddy– disheveled with mascara running down her eyes, perplexingly gorgeous– trying to massage out her headache.
❧ —— “you good?” he’d ask.
she’d hum back in response, and he’d slowly return to his TV, LOST blaring over the wide flat screen, as she watched him in return.
“you’re never there when i wake up,” she’d point out. blunt, matter-of-factly.
he’d slowly swivel his head back toward her. his left hand still mindlessly combing through snowflake’s impeccable fur. it would prove contagious, and soon maddy would be busy petting the poodle’s round head.
“i never sleep in my bedroom when you’re here,” he’d simply answer.
maddy’s eyebrows would furrow as she continue scratching snowflake behind the ears. “why?”
“that’d be inappropriate.” he’d gaze right at her. “impudent.”
“well, you should,” she’d tell him. “it’s fucking freezing at night in a bed that big.”
his dull eyes would track over her face in earnest. “i can turn the heater up.”
maddy would grin, eyes now on snowflake who had began yelling out his excited little barks.
“that’s stupid,” she’d comment. “i prefer human warmth. i might get hypothermia, you know.”
“you won’t.” and there’d be a note of fondness threaded through his monotone voice. “but alright, maddy perez.” —— ☙
synopsis: reader tries to set boundaries between her and Jordan, per the recommendation of her boss, and instead finds her mind filling the gaps she was blanking from her imagination.
warnings: mature content! MINORS DNI oral, male receiving, brief intercourse that is implied to be unprotected. Not proofread!
word count: 2.9k
•••
Another late night at the practice facility with Jordan meant another night of tossing and turning in your bed, trying not to think too much about him.
He’s just a basketball player.
The simple statement was being thrown around your head like a lost ball. Nowhere to go, no direction in mind. Just aimlessly floating through every corner of your mind, bouncing off of walls just to cross to the front of everything again.
“He’s just a basketball player,” you mumbled to yourself as you clicked off your desk lamp after slinging your bag over your shoulder.
It was just past 10 pm, and you were exhausted. Saying goodbye to Jordan on the court some 5 minutes ago was hard. Talking to him felt like talking to someone you’d known your whole life. Conversation flowed so easily, and time passed in the blink of an eye. Just the other day, he’d walked past as you were grabbing an energy drink from the vending machine down the hall from your office, and when you returned to your desk, more than 45 minutes had passed. You could’ve sworn it had only been five minutes – you couldn’t believe it.
You’d packed your camera away just before 9 pm that night, and Jordan had said that he was probably going to head home soon, too. But then you got talking, and he asked about your weekend plans, which somehow led to discussing your families and the holidays. At one point, the two of you were just passing the ball back and forth, kind of making comments about the upcoming games he had, but mostly just staring at each other and smiling.
You needed to set boundaries with him, like actual, solid boundaries. Or this was just going to get worse and worse. A workplace crush was fine as long as it didn’t get in the way of you doing your work; that had always been your mentality. Work crushes made the days more fun and kept you entertained when you were stuck with your head down. There was no way you could bend this statement to apply it to your current situation, though. Jordan was your muse, 75% of your workday evolved around him. He was the centre of your job and your biggest projects. The fine lines that so often separated these parts of your life were blurred and almost invisible.
You needed boundaries, or everything you had worked so hard to get would crumble around you. It was on your to-do list, literally the second item under ‘get new toothpaste’ was ‘set boundaries with Jordan ASAP’. You were going to the grocery store on your way home, and after that, it would be at the top of your list. A bottle of Pinot Gris and rewatching Love Island were calling your name, alongside your favourite pen and journal that never went longer than two days without you scribbling in it.
The next week, you were determined to establish the boundaries. This time, when Jordan and you bumped into each other, you kept an eye on your watch and excused yourself when five minutes passed.
“You know I like talking to you,” you had said as you took a few steps away from him, you needed to create more space, “but I really have to get back to work.”
“Don’t let me hold you back,” Jordan smiled, throwing his hands up in a playful manner, “go be great.”
You waved goodbye and quickly made your way back to your office. It felt so wrong ending the conversation before you were ready. It was like a full-length 80-minute episode’s script was stuffed at the top of your throat and waiting to be spit out. On top of feeling like you could talk about a million other things with him, you were praying that cutting the conversation short didn’t come off as rude.
Jordan wasn’t stupid, and you knew for certain that it wouldn’t take long for him to pick up on the fact that you were barely talking to him outside of work-related things. You didn’t want him to think something had happened between the two of you, or that you didn’t like him anymore. That wasn’t true. If anything, you were starting to like him way too much. But you couldn’t tell him, and you sure as shit weren’t about to blow up the boundaries you’d just set for yourself.
“Are you good?” Jordan had asked you in your office after he’d approved a video, a few weeks after you’d implemented the boundaries. “You’ve seemed a little off recently.”
You smiled up at him, picking up a stack of papers to straighten and file away in your bottom drawer of used video ideas.
“I’m okay,” you reassured him, “things have just been really hectic recently, and I’m just trying to find a proper balance and routine, you know?”
Jordan nodded his head in response, jutting his bottom lip out a bit as he did so. “I feel you,” he nodded one last time before patting your door frame.
“Same time tomorrow?”
“Same time.”
With that, he disappeared from your office, and you felt a weight lifted from your shoulders. You slumped back in your desk chair and blew air through your lips in frustration. The same words that had been replaying in your mind over and over again came out of your mouth without you even thinking, as had become your new normal.
“He’s just a basketball player.”
Lying in bed without distraction was always the hardest part after a day spent working with or around Jordan. Every time you closed your eyes, flashes of him flickered across your eyelids.
Him training, him laughing, him wearing casual-wear, him in only his basketball shorts rolled all the way up, him drenched in sweat and zoned in, him carefully adjusting his clothes before walking out of the hotel for game-time fits. You were documenting a majority of his life for this little PR project. That meant there was little you hadn’t seen him do. It made it so easy for your mind to spin tales higher than the trees are tall and longer than the river that runs through Tanzania.
The scenes that untangled when you finally drifted into a light slumber were nothing short of creative and intense. You could practically feel Jordan’s lips drag against the skin of your stomach as his large hands parted your thighs. Your bed dipped and your sheets twisted under both your squirming bodies. From dusk till dawn, your bodies were intertwined, your arms holding each other close. Lips constantly almost touching, drifting over one another but never meeting.
This was all that you wanted. Your mind never let it fall too far away. The issue was that you were sure Jordan had picked up on the way you looked a little too long when he was drenched in sweat and shirtless. There was no reason for him to stand as close to you as he had recently. Did he really need to see the photos you’d just taken right then and there?
The smell of his cologne and his sweat was intoxicating. You could practically predict how beautifully it would mix with the thick scent of sex. You’d been drunk off of him in no time, eyes squeezed shut with his name passing through your lips over and over again while he pushed into you from behind. Begging for more and more, you’d watch his hand disappear between your thighs, him forcing you to look him in the eye while he took what was his.
You could see it unfolding anywhere. You finally reaching your peak and locking the door to your office one day after showing him a video. Jordan would be sitting there with his legs spread in some grey sweatpants. He’d be leaning forward, watching the video intensely. It would take everything in you not to stare at his crotch, wondering what was going on under there and if you really could deal with seeing him walk around. He would approve of the video; he always did, but this time, when you would stand up, you wouldn’t start directing him out the door. Instead, you would stand between his spread legs, put your hands on his shoulders and kiss him. Hard.
You sighed, rolling onto your side in your bed and gently caressing your own thigh. You needed to stop getting so caught up in all these thoughts. One day, it would backfire. One day, a part of your daydream would slip into reality, and you would be fucked.
One day, exactly like today.
You were staying late again, it was an agreement you and Jordan had come to share. He came and knocked on your office door when he was about to head down to the court. It was just going to be him getting shots up, he reassured you, though it always was just him. You joined him on the court after what felt like 5 minutes, but already, Jordan had taken off his shirt, and he was drenched in sweat.
He looked delicious. You couldn’t help but stare. Every part of you just wanted to pull him into the locker room and lick up and down every part of his body.
“You’re staring,” Jordan said, standing in front of you, looking down at where you sat on the benches. You looked up at him quickly, away from his beautiful torso and V-line that was right in your eyeline and made you want to pull down his shorts and take in every inch of him.
“Now you’re really staring,” Jordan remarked, and you finally pulled your eyes away and looked up at him.
“Sorry,” you mumbled. You had sworn you did look away the first time. “You just look really yummy.”
Your cheeks burnt the second the sentence left your mouth. You had heard it, not in your head, but outloud. And worst of all, so had Jordan.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” you started blubbering as you apologised, shaking your head and avoiding looking at him. You stood up quickly, not even thinking about how close you were to him, and suddenly, his hands were on your shoulders, pushing you down again.
“Don’t be sorry,” he shook his head, that crooked smile, ever so charming, lulling you into a sense of security. “I stare at you all the time, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he nodded and reached his hand out to cup your chin. His thumb caressed your face gently.
“I can’t help myself. Sometimes, you just look too damn sexy, especially when you’re walking away from me, or when you’re tryna get the perfect shot. You get this hard look on your face, and you’re completely in the zone. Every time I see it, it makes me wanna kiss you. Honestly, most of the time when I see you, I’m trying not to press you up against a wall and feel you all around me.” Jordan’s doe eyes lazily drifted over you, taking in how you reacted to his words. He smiled at you, as if he knew more than he should.
“That’s exactly why I limit our time together,” you confessed, leaning into his hand. “There are so many places I’ve thought about us, so many ways I’ve thought about you.”
“What about just now? What were you thinking then?” He cocked his head to the side and took the slightest step closer to you.
“I was thinking about licking you all over,” you blushed, “licking the sweat off of you, following this line all the way down to your cock.” Your finger dragged along his V-line, and you felt yourself pulling closer to him.
“You can, you know,” you didn’t dare look up at him, “I wouldn’t stop you.”
You nodded your head and cautiously moved your face closer to his body. You stuck your tongue out and just kissed it over his skin, dragging from one ab muscle to another. He was so salty on your tongue, so sweet and smooth, and perfect. You moaned at the taste of him. When you licked him next, it was longer, braver. You found his V-line and licked both sides of his hips. He brushed your hair out of your face as you did it, quite hums of pleasure pouring out of him.
Then, like magic, you were on your knees on the hardwood floors and nothing hurt. His shorts were down around his ankles, and his cock was in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat while he moaned and groaned your name.
“Fuck, yes baby,” he spoke harshly in a way you’d never heard him, “take this big dick down your throat like a good girl.” You moaned at his words, opening your throat as much as you could.
Your throat burnt every time he thrust into you, but you kept wanting more and more. You grabbed at his hips and hollowed your cheeks. You loved the feeling of his cock in your mouth; you could feel every vein, every ridge, and you couldn’t help but think about how that would feel in your pussy.
“That’s it,” Jordan praised you as you swirled your tongue around his tip, spitting on top of him and playing with his balls, “you’ve been waiting for this dick, huh?”
“Oh, I’ve been dreaming ‘bout this dick,” you pumped him slowly, long strokes with his tip in your mouth, “you ain’t even had it, and this pussy’s all yours.”
“Come with me,” Jordan said, helping you to your feet quickly, “we gotta go somewhere else for this.”
You didn’t ask any questions but watched as Jordan quickly pulled his shorts up before grabbing your hand again and leading you away. You followed quickly, your pussy calling out for whatever was coming, excited and ready for whatever was coming.
He led you to your office, the last place you thought he would go. He closed the door and locked it behind you, dropping his pants before he turned to face you and pushed you against your desk.
“I’ve had this exact dream,” you half moaned as he pulled your pants down, his hands rubbing up and down your body afterwards. He groped your breasts with both hands, groaning at the feeling and bit at your neck. Your head lulled back, and you breathlessly moaned his name.
“Stop teasing me,” you moaned, turning in his arms, “don’t you want to be inside me?” You pushed your ass back into him, presenting your wet pussy for him. He grabbed at your ass, spreading your cheeks and groaned your name before his hand landed hard on your cheek.
“You want me so bad,” he teased, his hand pressing into your lower back so you would arch more, “you want me to fuck you right here, against your desk so you can remember me every time you’re sitting here, working.”
“Yes, baby,” you moaned, “I wanna be thinking about you and how you feel inside me every time I’m sitting right here.”
Jordan spanked you, mumbling something about a naughty girl to himself, “I’ve wanted to do this to you ever since that first night we met.”
“Stop teasing me, Jordan,” you pushed your hips back against him, this time feeling his cock against your ass cheek, “take what’s yours, baby, come inside this pussy.”
“You’re such a greedy girl, aren’t you?” Jordan teased, his hands now firmly on your hips, holding you in place. “You don’t just want this cock, you want my babies too.” his lips pressed against your bare shoulder; you didn’t remember taking off your shirt.
You couldn’t even process what he’d say before he’d lined up his dick with your entrance and had pushed himself inside of you. You called out his name loudly and started moaning like a pornstar with every steady stroke he made. His groans joined yours as his hands moved around your body. He groped at your tits, pinching your nipples and jiggling them, feeling how they moved with his stroke. He watched your ass cheeks bounce back at every thrust of his hips, and he felt how you moved with him, throwing it back to meet you.
He felt so deep inside you, stretching your pussy out. It felt so good, so real. It almost didn’t make sense when your phone started to buzz from your bedside table, your alarm echoing throughout your room.
It was 5 am. You needed to get up and get to the gym before work. You needed to deal with how your body was burning for Jordan, begging for him. You needed to pull it together.
But still, you smiled to yourself as you dragged your hands up your torso and over your breasts. You pictured the rough pads of his fingers and let out a sigh of content, and then a groan of frustration.
The season would keep moving, you reassured yourself, and once it ended, everything would change. Boundaries would no longer push the two of you apart; in fact, you’d tear every wall down the second you handed in your letter of resignation.
It was decided, probably long before you’d even acknowledged the thought. You were quitting once the season ended, and then you were going straight to Jordan and making all these wet dreams a reality. Who cares how it looked? You needed him more than sleep, more than oxygen.
